Is he surprised? Disappointed? Jealous? Or is that just me, projecting my own conflicting emotions onto him?
“I think he was more amused than anything,” I finally say. “It seemed like he was kind of stringing her along. You know how he loves his little games.”
Dace flattens his lips in reply.
“Can I ask you something?” I pause, unsure exactly how to proceed. But I need to know, so I force myself to press on. “This’ll probably sound weird, but—was Phyre a really wet kisser?”
Just as I expected, Dace shoots me an incredulous look.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I say, my voice hurried, eager to explain. “And the only reason I ask is because she kept wetting her lips till they were all gloppy and dripping. And, even before that, I watched her spit on her hand and stare at her own saliva like she was totally transfixed by the sight of it. And I’m wondering if it has something to do with that weird vial she drank from?”
Dace shifts uncomfortably, looks behind him again, even though we both know whatever it was he was worried about is now gone. “A preoccupation with saliva doesn’t ring any bells,” he finally says, reluctantly voicing the words. “As for the vial—who knows? Knowing Suriel, it’s probably holy water—specially blessed by his own crazy, delusional self.”
“Okay, so basically she’s just a weird girl, then.” I lift my shoulders, aware of a slight rush of blood coloring my cheeks.
“I think we’ve already confirmed that.” Dace’s bottom lip tugs at the corners, but the mirth is short lived. Next thing I know, he’s back to peering behind us, as I take a moment to look all around, trying to get my bearings and figure out where we are.
“Are we anywhere near the reservation?” I ask.
“We can be. Why?”
“Phyre was headed there when I lost contact. It might not mean anything, but I think we should check in, see what she’s up to. Make sure Chepi’s safe.”
“I don’t think Phyre would hurt Chepi. She looked to her like a mother after her own mother went missing.” Dace speaks with confidence, but I’m not convinced. I wouldn’t put anything past her.
“Yeah, well, she also claims to be madly in love with you, and yet, look what happened there. Her father gave her strict orders to kill you, and it’s not like she warned you.”
That’s all it takes to convince him to nudge Kachina toward the reservation. After stopping by Chepi’s and learning she’s not home, we’re on our way to Leftfoot’s when I spot Phyre’s dirty white car parked just before the grove of twisted juniper trees.
“She knows about the Lowerworld?” I shift my gaze between the vortex and Dace, catching the deeply troubled look on his face, but he just shrugs in reply.
Quick to dismount, he offers a hand and helps me down as well. Then we step between the grove of trees and leap into the vortex that sees us tunneling deep into the earth before landing in a heap. We take a moment to collect ourselves, take a good look around. The surrounding landscape just as frozen as the last time I came here with Lita and Xotichl.
“This isn’t natural.” Dace’s eyes narrow. His lips fall flat and grim. “Of all the years I’ve been coming to the Lowerworld, I’ve never seen it like this.”
“I’m afraid the snow is my doing.” I make a guilty face. “It was my dying wish—only now, it won’t seem to stop.”
Dace studies me for a moment, then turns to survey the land once again. “And where’s Horse? He’s always here to greet me.”
“My guess is he’s hibernating.” I rub my palms together in an attempt to keep warm. “I haven’t seen Raven either. Not since Christmas Eve. And until this is settled, I don’t expect to. But the real question is, where’s Phyre? Where do you think she went?” I study Dace’s profile, his high, sculpted cheekbones, his wide brow, as he squints against the glare and looks all around.
He shakes his head, runs a hand through his glossy sheet of hair, but it’s not exactly the answer I was looking for. I need something more.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to ask the question that leaves me feeling more than a little intrusive. More than a little ashamed. At the risk of sounding like a nosy, jealous girlfriend, I say, “Dace, did you and Phyre ever come here together?” I clamp my lips shut before I can say anything more. My desire to hear his most heartfelt denial, in direct conflict with my need for a good jumping-off point. The Lowerworld is huge. Any hint on where to start looking would be a big help.
“I never came here with her.” He leans toward me, takes my hands in his. Squeezing them warmly, he says, “Daire, you need to understand that our relationship—if you can even call it that—was fleeting. We weren’t together nearly as long as you think. I had no idea she knew about this place. Just as I have no idea what she might be doing here. But we have one thing in our favor.”
I look at him.
“Snow.” His eyes glint, crinkling at the sides. “Maybe all of this snow is a good thing. With the spirit animals in hiding, it’s remained fairly undisturbed. Which should prove a big help in finding her tracks.”
It’s a good theory—or at least on the surface. But what he forgets is that the Lowerworld is home to many dimensions. Which means Phyre could’ve landed just about anywhere. Which also means we could wander for days and never catch sight of either her or her tracks.
Then again, she hasn’t been here all that long. So there’s still a good chance she hasn’t made it beyond this very first level.
Dace laces his fingers with mine, and we set off exploring. Our voices silenced, feet trudging forward, eyes constantly darting, surveying an all-white landscape. Having covered a good distance, before we finally reach a place where the snow’s been disturbed.
“Looks like she landed here.” Dace moves ahead, circling the area where a bank of snow has been flattened. Shifting his gaze to a trail of small footprints, he says, “And this should lead us to her.” He grasps my hand with his much cooler one. And I can’t help but wonder if his energy infusion is starting to wane, or if it’s a result of this frozen landscape we’re in.