Echo (The Soul Seekers 2)

et there. I’m just the chauffeur.”

I sigh. Slink toward the edge of my seat. All too aware there’s no use pushing for more. Chay and Paloma are far too tight to fall for a game of Divide & Conquer.

A ribbon of scenery unfurls past my window—a smear of stark barren shapes in dark beiges and browns, set against a sky bleached white as bones. Despite the cold and dreary weather, Xotichl’s claim that it’ll snow by Christmas seems more improbable by the day.

We travel for miles. Travel over unfamiliar terrain that only seems to grow increasingly rugged the farther we go. And when we finally stop just a few feet from the water, I spot Paloma’s Jeep parked near the shore.

I ease out of Chay’s truck, watching as the two of them confer, with their heads bent together like fellow conspirators. Any chance of eavesdropping nixed by the rush of water raging so loudly it drowns everything out.

“Are you ready?” Paloma looks at me, her expression carefully guarded.

My eyes dart all around. Seeing a raging river and two people who may or may not have my best interests at heart.

“Ready for what?” I ask, though I’m afraid I already know. I begged Paloma to complete my Seeker initiation, to teach me as much as she could, as quickly as she could, and this is her way of making good on her word. “You seriously expect me to go in there? Now?” I point toward the river and shake my head. “You’ve got to be joking!” I fold my arms across my chest. “No way, Paloma. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s freezing. Not to mention, I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

It seems like a good excuse to me, but the words are lost on her. Without so much as a pause, she says, “I brought you a change of clothes. As soon as you’re ready, you will enter at this point here—” Her arm arcs before her, fingers pointing toward the place where the water meets the dirt. “And you will head downstream and find your way to the waterfall where you will endure its deluge until you manage to merge with its power and it reveals its song to you.”

I blink. Shake my head. Blink again. Though it’s not like it does any good. Every time I open my eyes I see them standing before me, waiting for me to quit wasting time and get started already.

“Remember what I told you: Everything is alive, nieta. The elements are our allies, a friend to all Seekers. They each have something to teach us, something to reveal to us. You’ve already met the power of Wind and Earth, and now you must learn the power of Water. There’s an ancient saying that states: The softest things in the world overcome the hardest things in the world—and Water is a good example of that. It’s silky, fluid, yet it’s also responsible for carving those rocks at your feet. You must strive to listen to the Water, discover what it offers, and determine its song. If not, I’m afraid you’ll succumb, and all will be lost.”

I swallow hard. Try to determine what’s worse—getting decapitated on an LA freeway like my dad or drowning in a murky New Mexico river, like I’m pretty sure I’m about to.

“One of the most important things you’ll ever do as a Seeker, aside from keeping the balance between the worlds, is managing the weather by manipulating the elements. But before you can handle the elements, you must first learn to bond with them. And now it’s time for you to bond with the water element. Many Seekers before you have undergone these trials, it’s simply your turn.”

She hands me the clothes she brought and tells me to change in her Jeep. When I emerge, she opens her arms as though to embrace me. And though I’m not feeling especially huggy toward her at the moment, I do so anyway.

It may be my last.

It may give me the strength I need to get through this.

When my eyes meet Chay’s and he nods his encouragement, I square my shoulders, face the river, and wade in. Walking straight into the freezing cold water that soaks me in an instant, chilling my body to the verge of hypothermia in just a handful of seconds. Telling myself that if this is what it takes to kill Cade Richter, I’ll do it.

At first, I fight the current, insisting on going at my own pace, my own way. Though it’s not long before the effort exhausts me, forcing me to loosen my limbs and literally go with the flow. Clutching the buckskin pouch with one hand, I do what I can to keep my head above water as I’m carried downstream.

Fingers seeking the hard edge of the raven stone lurking inside, along with the spine of the feather, and the curve of Django’s bear. Teeth chattering, lips quivering, I press the pouch between my palms, fold my fingers in supplication, and say, “If there’s any good left in you, then please guide me through this. Please help me endure. Do not let me die. Not here. Not like this. Not before I get a chance to do what I was born to do.”

seventeen

Dace

I grind my jaw hard. Cringing as Leftfoot pours more of that foul-smelling liquid onto my wound. Stuff burns like I can hardly believe.

“I think you’ve covered it.” I push the words between gritted teeth. “Any more and I’ll think you’re just bent on torturing me.”

“How’d you get this?” He squints, focusing on threading the needle he’ll use to sew the gash closed.

“Had an unfortunate encounter with a crazy coyote.”

He pauses, studying me for a long moment, then he jabs the needle into my flesh. “Relax. The more you resist, the worse it gets. That goes for everything in life, by the way, not just stitches.”

I shake my head. Mutter a stream of curses under my breath. While it’s hardly the first time Leftfoot’s sewn me closed, this wound goes way deeper than most.

“I’m afraid it’s even worse than you think.” He weaves the needle and thread in and out of my skin.

I glare at the wound. If that coyote was rabid, I’ll kill it too!

“No, not that.” Leftfoot yanks on the thread before tying a knot. “The Middleworld is also suffering the effects of Cade’s actions.”