Echo (30 page)

“They’re taking a little break,” Xotichl cuts in, supplying a truth that’s too painful for me to admit.

“What? Exactly when did this happen? Are you saying we’re both single now? Does that mean I’m competing against
you
?” Lita squints, trying to decide how she feels about that.

“Competing for
what
?” Xotichl says. “You just said girls have to stop competing for boys. You also said there’s not a single interesting boy in this town.”

“True.” Lita turns to face Xotichl. “And I meant every word of it. What can I say? Sometimes there’s a bit of a delay in putting my words into practice. Besides, the whole thing’s moot. You snagged the only good guy to be had in these parts. Where is Auden, by the way?”

Xotichl tilts her head to the side. “He just arrived.”

Lita and I look toward the door, where, sure enough, Auden stands, scoping the room, searching for Xotichl.

“How do you do that? How does she do that?” Lita glances between us, but I just shrug in response. I’m too busy forcing myself not to obsess over Dace.

“I’m here to collect,” Auden says, working his way toward Xotichl. “Unless something drastic happens in the next few hours, the most we can hope for is a
wet
Christmas, not a
white
Christmas.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Xotichl grins. “Don’t you know it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings and the white stuff drifts from the sky?”

I look at them. Hardly able to believe I’d been so busy trying to find answers in the codex, trying to rearrange the prophecy in my head and come up with some kind of plan, that I forgot about the snow.

Forgot about the one thing that’s still—maybe—within my realm of control.

“I’ll be back!” I turn away from my friends.

“Where you going?” Lita calls, as Xotichl’s face creases with worry.

“I’m going to give Xotichl her white Christmas.” I speed toward the exit, leaving Lita, Xotichl, and Auden staring after me.

forty-one

Dace

I barely make it halfway down the hall before Phyre finds me. Like she’s brandishing some sort of invisible radar that’s programmed to track only me.

She steps free of the shadows, stands right before me, and says, “Hey, Dace.” Her voice soft, her smile pretty.

But it’s the wrong pretty.

Not the pretty I seek.

I nod in acknowledgment. Start to move away. Stopped by her fingers circling my wrist as she pulls me back to her.

“Can we talk?”

I slide my eyes closed. Search for a kind way to tell her to quit thinking of me. Quit stalking me. To leave the past where it belongs—dead and buried.

Opening my eyes again to find myself staring at Daire on the other side of the room, unwilling to break the gaze now that I’ve found her.

“You’re always in such a hurry. You never have any time for me.” Phyre tugs on my arm. Using the tip of her fingernail to trace light circles over my skin in a desperate bid to claim my attention.

I drag my gaze from Daire and focus on Phyre. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I twist free of her grip.

“You say that—but how can you be sure?” She cocks her head to the side, allowing a spray of curls to slide across her cheek. It’s a well-rehearsed, overplayed move. “For starters, aren’t you curious as to why I came back?”

I just shoot her a patient look, hoping it’ll help speed things along.

“It’s no accident, you know.”

“If memory serves—nothing you do is an accident,” I say, remembering all the random times she seemed to just happen to be in the same place as me. How it took a while to realize there was nothing random about it. Though it’s not like I cared. I was just happy to be noticed by a female who wasn’t my mom. The fact that Phyre was so pretty was an added boon.

“You were always so quiet, so introspective. It wasn’t easy to get your attention.”

“You managed though, didn’t you?” My gaze meets hers, and when I see her flinch, I’m surprised to find I enjoy it, which is not at all like me. Must be that piece of Cade asserting its influence. Reminding me I’m no longer the same guy I used to be.

“True,” she admits, shoulders lifting. “What can I say? When I set my sights on something or someone, I usually—no, scratch that—I
always
get what I want.”

Her gaze is open. Direct. A challenge I’m meant to either deflect or accept. But, instead, I meet it with a face so impassive it gives nothing away.

“After all, I got you, didn’t I?”

My eyes graze over her, allowing myself to indulge in a few clips from the memory reel.

Sneaking away from our parents’ prying eyes in pursuit of a few heady moments under a blanket of stars … a first kiss—her lips determined and sure, mine overeager and inexperienced … a first feel—my awkwardness trumped by her surprising proficiency … another first—the one she insisted upon—though that’s not to say I wasn’t willing … and right after that, they were gone …

Cutting the movie that plays in my head, I meet her gaze and say, “Temporarily. For a short while, I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

“It may have been brief, but for me it was totally worth it. Then again, I was all too willing to settle for whatever crumb you tossed my way.”

“You sure about that?” I fetch a whole different memory—one where she manipulated me into wanting her, needing her, having her—and then,
bam
—next thing I knew, her family packed up and left, never to be seen or heard from again. The only thing that surprised me is how quickly I recovered. I thought it would hurt more than it did. It’s because of her that I learned to differentiate lust from love. Shortly after, I made a deal with myself to never settle for less.

“It’s not my fault we moved.” She wages a playful defense. “But just so you know, now that I’m back, I’m unwilling to settle again. While it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, truth is, I never stopped missing you. I never stopped thinking about you.” She pauses, allows her tongue to cross her lips, leaving them shiny and wet. “I never gave up on you.”

I swipe a hand over my chin, deciding brutal honesty is the only way to derail this. “Phyre. You were young and sad. You’d just lost your mom, and you were looking for a way to feel better—a way to feel alive—and I just happened to be there. That’s all it ever was. Don’t romanticize it into meaning something it didn’t.”

“Funny, that’s not at all how I remember it.”

I shake my head, try to look away. But the next thing I know, she’s grabbed my wrist again. Her lips softly parting, hovering mere inches from mine. Her determination so steady, she barely reacts when I say, “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Her fingers form circles, her mouth angles toward mine.

“Don’t force me to say the kind of things you don’t want to hear.”

She loosens her grip, casts a glance toward the far side of the room, the place where Daire stands. “Like what? That you’re in love with the Seeker?”

I frown, not liking the sound of that coming from her.

“What? You think I don’t know who she is? You think I don’t see all the signs?” She gazes up at me from under a thick row of lashes, speaking in a voice gone throaty and low. “You’re not the only one who grew up surrounded by mysticism. Unlike the rest of these people, my eyes have never been closed to the truth of this town.”

“What do you want?” My tone is impatient, tired of playing this game. It’s definitely not just me that she’s after. There’s always a deeper motive where Phyre’s concerned.

“I want the same thing you want.” Her shoulders rise and fall, abandoning all attempts at flirtation and pretense.

“Doubtful,” I mutter, already turning away. Having tolerated more than enough of her manipulative game.

“Does that mean you
don’t
want Cade dead?” She cocks her head, buries the tip of her tongue in the corner of her lip, challenging me with her gaze.

It’s a gaze I hold for too long.

While the words are right—the energy’s wrong.

I consider a soul jump. Promising myself I’ll be brief. But nix it just as quickly. I can’t afford to do anything that might compromise the work I’ve already done. Besides, I’m pretty sure there won’t be much to see. It’s obvious she’s been listening to gossip. Thinks that claiming to share my newfound hatred for Cade is a sure way to get with me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her, and this time I succeed in walking away.

My eyes briefly meet Daire’s as I make for the door. A mistake I shouldn’t have made. Knowing I can’t cross the room to be with her leaves me feeling more isolated than ever.

I shove my hands in my pockets and exit the club. Ducking against the constant veil of drizzle as I make my way to the old chain-link fence, seeking assurance from that little gold lock.

Needing to see if the symbol of our love is still right where we left it—stronger than the forces bent on destroying it.

Wanting one last reminder before I find Cade.

forty-two

Daire

I slip down the alleyway, sneak around the crowd of people taking part in the candlelight vigil, and move toward a place in back where no one can watch as I clasp my pouch tightly and call upon the elements. Summoning Air, Fire, Water, and Earth, I sing their individual songs under my breath and beg for their favor. Pleading with them to do me this one small bidding. Bestow the gift of a Christmas snowfall for a beleaguered town and its people, who because of my failings—my failure to sacrifice Paloma’s soul, my failure to evict all the Richters from the Lowerworld—have suffered far more than anyone rightfully should.

A rustle of wind lashes my hair. A surge of flame licks a path near my feet, leaving a trail of freshly scorched earth.

Though the promise of snow is soon dashed when the light steady drizzle increases to a hard sheet of rain.

I sigh in frustration. Bury my face in mitten-covered hands. Unwilling to reenter the club and face my friends, I head for the chain-link fence. Hoping to lift my spirits by confirming the lock is right where I left it, I round the corner only to find Dace there instead. One hand gripping the lock, the other fidgeting with the key that hangs from his neck.

My knees go feeble and weak, buckling beneath me.

My hand instinctively flies to my chest, as though to keep my heart caged, keep it from leaping free of my flesh.

While my eyes remain riveted on the very thing I’d hoped to never see.

Dace—holding the lock—wielding the key.

Dace giving up on us—giving up on me.

He turns, sensing my presence as his eyes light on mine. One look at my grief-stricken face enough to prompt him to drop the key, abandon the lock, and call out my name—but I’m already gone.

Already turning away.

Catching a glimpse of Phyre watching from the shadows, her eyes strange and glittering as they stare into mine.

I veer toward her. Deciding Lita’s right, it’s time I confront her, demand to know what she’s up to—what it is that she wants. Having just reached her when the rain ceases and becomes something else.

Something lighter.

Drier.

Something that lands in small white squares at my feet.

I lift my chin, close my eyes, and allow it to drift softly onto my cheeks.

Heart soaring in triumph—knowing I did this—I’m responsible—it’s because of me that it’s snowing!

Excited shouts reverberate all around me, as the club empties into the alleyway, crowding the street. Throngs of people pushing and shoving, eager to get to it first—to take part in the miracle, my miracle, the one that I wrought. Voices overlapping, they call, “Snow! It’s snowing—you’ve
got
to come see it!”

I turn, searching for Dace, needing to see his reaction. Finding him still beside the fence with his hands splayed before him, welcoming the bright white squares that fall onto his flesh.

His chin lifting, gaze darkening, as he motions to me—urges me to see what he sees.

It’s not at all what we think.

Snow is crisp. Pure. Wet.

It doesn’t smudge.

Doesn’t leave a trail of charcoal when rubbed.

Only ash can do that.

We gaze at each other, separated by a shroud of white ash falling steadily between us, and a surge of people eager to witness a miracle that’s really a curse. Dancing and twirling under the deluge, not realizing they’ve got it all wrong.

Not realizing they’re in the grip of something far darker, far more sinister than they could ever conceive.

The earth beginning to tremble as those same squares of ash become a torrent of flames that fall from the sky.

It’s the prophecy come to life, just like the codex foretold:

The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung

Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come

Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed

Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire

All around me shouts of excitement quickly turn to fear, as a crowd of people fight to take cover, push their way back inside. Forcing me to shove my way through them, my need to confront Phyre all but forgotten, as I go in search of my friends. Warning Xotichl, Lita, and Auden to run, to find a way out of here—to get as far from this place as they possibly can.

“What about you?” Xotichl’s face pales as her fingers push into my sleeve, understanding all to well just what this means.

“I’m going to stop this. Fix this. If it’s the last thing I do.”

I jerk free of her grip, aware of her voice calling after me but unable to distinguish the words as I race toward the vortex.

forty-three

Dace

“What have you done with her?” I grip Phyre by the shoulders, demanding an answer. Last I saw, Daire was standing before her, and now she’s as good as disappeared.

Phyre smiles, her gaze heavy and glazed. “Wasn’t me. I swear it,” she says, her voice adopting a tone so strange I have no idea how to interpret the words.

“Where’d she go?” My own voice is frantic, determined. Sure she’s playing some sinister part in this, no matter how crazy it seems. But she just remains propped between my hands, staring dreamily at a night wrought with flames.