Echo (The Soul Seekers 2)

Barely making it halfway down the hall before he turns into the beast I know well.

The beast I was hoping to see.

I stare hard at his back, narrowing my focus until I’ve projected myself into his skin. Making the soul jump in the way Leftfoot taught me. Delving into his depths and exploring every dark facet, every shadow-drenched corner. Until I’m left gaping in wonder at the the bleak and wretched state of his soul.

Guided by his most primal, unbridled desires to slay and screw, conquer and consume—at first glance he appears animalistic—just your everyday beast. Though a deeper look reveals a mad quest for personal exaltation and ego gratification that makes him dangerously human.

I drag out the visit—lingering, stretching, making myself at home in his skin. Exploring the rawness of his anger, the very core of his malevolence, the naked brutality that drives all his actions. And despite my initial revulsion, despite my complete abhorrence for all that I see, I waste no time in claiming a sizeable chunk of that darkness for me. Needing to examine it—understand it—in order to conquer it.

My body strains against it, struggles to reject it, to sever our connection for good. But my resolve to possess my brother’s power, to feel his evil flowing inside me, prevails. And the longer I stay, the more I’m able to claim, until the surge of his strength reveals a truth I could only guess at before.

Just as he’s able to tap into my love for Daire that drives me, I can tap into the unadulterated evil that drives him. And that’s just what I do. Absorbing all that I can, well aware that the power I steal is power my brother can’t use against Daire.

My body convulses. My blood boils violently through my veins, scorching and burning and cooking my insides, leaving a horrible pock on my skin. The pain so excruciating, I stagger forward, grasp myself low at the waist. Left gasping and shivering, unable to stop my breath from coming too hectic and fast, I slide my eyes shut and wait for it to pass. Committed to enduring this for however long it takes. Having no plans to surrender. With my brother’s power now roiling within me, my original plan has changed. Instead of stealing his power to weaken him, I will use what I’ve taken to destroy him.

Leftfoot’s warning a faint echo in my head: You must never abuse the gift. Ever. I can’t stress this enough. You use this gift if, and only if, you find that you must. You must first exhaust all other options. It is meant to be a last resort.

This is a last resort. The only real option left.

The only way to conquer Cade is to claim a piece of Cade—become Cade—albeit temporarily.

It’s like the lesson Leftfoot unwittingly shared with me: Sometimes you must venture into

the darkness to bring forth the light.

Which is exactly what I’m doing. It’s the finishing touch on the choice I made in the sweat lodge. Hazarding the darkness to save Daire—the light of my life.

It’s a risk.

One that puts my very soul as stake.

Still, there’s no price too high to save Daire.

Besides, I have no intention of losing.

As soon as it’s done, I’ll cast out my brother’s shadow and return to myself.

Only better.

Purer.

For I will have confronted the very worst of men and lived to tell the tale.

I lift my head, watching as my brother ambles toward the vortex. The sight causing my blood to cool, my pulse to regulate, and when he bursts through the wall, our connection is severed.

All except for the piece of him lodged deep within me.

I stand before Leandro’s door, stealing a few moments to center myself. And when I’m back to being the Dace everyone knows and expects, or at least on the surface anyway, I push inside and take my brother’s place before Leandro’s desk.

forty

Daire

“What’s this?” I pause just shy of the entrance. Peering down the alleyway at a throng of people standing before a wall plastered with pictures, flickering tapered candles clutched in their hands.

“Candlelight vigil for the missing.” Lita chases the words with a groan. “As if this town isn’t depressing enough.”

I glance among the photos, recognizing many of the faces from Cade’s bogus job fair, as Lita steers Xotichl and me away from the crowd and inside the club. Easing into her usual smiling, waving, air-kissing routine, she turns to us and in a mocking voice says, “Hello-hello! Kiss-kiss! Wave-wave!” She frowns and shakes her head. “What am I—the freaking welcome wagon?” Spying Jacy and Crickett waiting in the usual place, she purposely veers the opposite way. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep it going. I’m so freaking sick of this scene that for the first time ever, I’m actually considering early retirement. If Phyre’s so eager to replace me, let her. She can be the new queen, for all I care.”