She grabs the freak, her bony fingers working into his hair, yanking back, as Dace pries his jaws wide apart, and I feed the snake in. My chest squeezing tight, my breath held fast in my cheeks, praying Paloma’s soul will emerge unharmed, delivered safely to me.
Gasping when the snake returns with a glowing white orb delicately clasped in its jaws, amazed by how light and airy it is when it lands flat on my palms.
The Bone Keeper’s voice hissing in my ear when she says, “You got what you wanted—now go! Leave them to me!” Her face transforming back into a skull when she takes in the bounty of bones at her feet.
I do as she says, eager to get as far from her as I possibly can. Glancing over my shoulder to say, “There’s more. I have no idea where they are by now. But they’re out there, somewhere, of that I’m sure.”
She kneels before her bones, getting them organized, sorted, appearing to ignore me, until we’re walking away and she says, “No matter. I will watch for them, just as I will watch the two of you. It’ll be a good show, of that I am sure. The Echo and the Seeker.” She laughs among her treasures. “Who would’ve thought?”
fifty-two
With Raven’s guidance, we find our way back to Wolf. My excitement vanishing when I see him just barely hanging in there.
“Leftfoot did what he could,” Dace says. “But without the soul, he couldn’t do much. Whatever happens next, depends on you. Have you done this before?”
I shake my head. Gnaw the inside of my cheek. All too aware of how big the risk is. Failing at this means losing Paloma—an option I cannot accept.
“Have you?” I turn to him, my voice sounding too small for the stakes I now face.
“No,” he admits. “This is way out of my league.”
“What should I do?” I switch my focus between the orb and Wolf.
“I think you’re supposed to go with your instincts,” Dace says, his voice quiet but sure, and the moment our eyes meet, I’ve no doubt he’s right.
It’s like Paloma said—this is part of my ancestral legacy, my bloodline. The knowledge lives inside me—all I have to do is find a way to discover it.
“Open his mouth,” I say, the words sudden but sure. Remembering how the Richters swallowed the souls—how the souls seemed to survive it without being harmed, including this one. Besides, Wolf would never do anything to intentionally damage it. And who knows, maybe the infusion of energy will help save him too? A quick look at Raven’s purple glimmering eyes confirming I’m on the right track.
“Hurry!” I say, watching as Dace opens Wolf’s jaws, careful to move out of the way as I bring my hands to Wolf’s mouth and ease the soul in. Dace’s arm sliding around me, as we search for some sign of change, some sign of life that wasn’t there earlier. Overcome with relief when Wolf’s ears perk, his eyes open, his tail thumps hard on the ground, and he lets out a long, plaintive howl as he struggles to his feet.
“Can I?” Dace sweeps toward him, ready to lift him, the question so much bigger than it seems on the surface.
He’s asking if I’ll trust him enough to carry this out.
Trust him enough to let him deeper into my life.
Trust him enough to give him my heart.
I close my eyes for a moment, blocking out all that I see with my eyes, in order to see in the dark—see with my heart—it’s what a Seeker does.
Overcome once again with the same impression I had from the start: one of kindness, compassion, and unconditional love—and it’s all directed at me.
I nod my consent. There’s no need to question or push him away.
He’s a pure and beautiful soul—a Whitefeather. That Richter bit is a mere technicality.
With Wolf in his arms, he leads me through the bushes and out to the clearing. Glancing at me when he says, “Since you’re trusting me with this, I’m going to trust you as well. We’re going to return the way I came in. It’s a sacred vortex that leads straight to the reservation. It’ll allow us to reach Paloma much quicker, though you can never tell anyone about its existence.”
I’m quick to agree, watching in fascination as he leads me to an area where the energy feels palpably lighter—where the light shines just a little bit brighter. And the next thing I know, we’re swept away in a whirl of uplifting energy, spinning and swirling until it deposits us in a field of deeply twisted juniper trees.
The same juniper trees I saw on the horseback ride with Chay that caused him to cut the ride short and turn away. I may not have been ready for it then like he claimed, but it seems I am now.
We rush to the small adobe home where Paloma lies dying. The sight of us bursting through the foyer, Wolf in tow, causing Chepi to gasp—clutch her hand to her heart—as Chay sags with relief, and Leftfoot and his apprentice rush us into the room where Paloma lies prone on the bed.
Taking Wolf from Dace, Leftfoot settles the animal next to Paloma, watching as he licks her cheek in a gesture so tender and caring, it stirs Paloma from whatever deep state of unconsciousness she found herself in. Her fingers seeking his muzzle, stroking softly, using the minuscule strength that remains to mutter a long stream of words I can’t comprehend, as Wolf throws his head back and lets out a terrific howl that prickles my skin.
And that’s when I see it.