Mystic (The Soul Seekers 3)

I slip off my jacket and pull it over my head. Prepared to charge through the flames and reclaim my soul, when Phyre catches hold of my arm and with a hardened gaze says, “I was hoping I could give you salvation with a kiss—but you never let me get close enough. So now, I’m left with no choice. Fire is the only way to deliver your doomed and damaged soul.”

She fills her lungs with air, and exhales with all that she has. The sheer force of her breath meeting the flames, causes them to explode into a raging inferno that triggers the diamond shell to collapse, as I’m swept off my feet and slammed hard into a snowbank.

My vision tunnels.

Daire screams.

And the stake plunges straight for my soul.

thirty-five

Daire

Dace falls.

The dagger drops.

And I leap over his body and rush toward the blaze, fully intending to breach it like I did in the cave.

But when the toe of my boot smolders and burns, when the hem of my jeans scorches and singes, I realize this particular fire is not mine to control. It’ll burn me. Possibly end me. And I can’t take the chance.

I whirl toward the stake, overcome with relief when I see the uppermost part of the rope is still frozen, still attached to a barren limb, still hanging on, if only barely.

And of course, there’s still Phyre. Crazy Phyre. Seeming not to notice or care that the so-called love of her life has fallen into an unconscious heap. She turns on me, not so much as missing a beat in her continued attempts to hurt me.

“I can’t help but be jealous of you.” Her gaze is open, direct. I can feel the weight of it nudging my cheek. “But make no mistake, that’s not why I’m doing this. It’s not a pathetic, if I can’t have him, then nobody can, kind of moment. There are much bigger things happening here. Do you know about the bigger things?” She pauses, waits for me to reply, and when I don’t, she goes on to say, “You probably think you do, being the Seeker and all. But the world is much bigger than you and me. As soon as that stake drops, the twins will be gone, and not long after, I’ll be gone too. I used to resent it. Used to fight against it. But now I’ve learned to accept it.”

She leans forward, forces a smile to her lips. And I know this is it. One more exhale, that rope will snap, and Dace and Cade are history.

While I’m nearly ready for her, nearly ready to put the plan I’ve been working on this whole time into action, I need a few moments more. So I do what I can to distract her.

“I have a similar situation,” I say, chancing only the briefest glance her way, enough to make sure I’ve successfully stalled her, if only temporarily. “I was furious when I first learned I was the Seeker. I even tried to run away. Though clearly, I didn’t get very far.”

“It’s not the same.” She scowls, rolls her eyes, and gets into position again.

“Not the same, but similar. You have to admit that it’s similar.” My voice rings too frantic, too desperate, I seriously need to tone it down. Still, it does seem to bear some effect. As witnessed by the way Phyre leans back ever so slightly, closes her lips, twists her mouth to the side. “Like you, I also have a destiny.” I swallow hard. Remind myself I can do this. Try not to think about how many times it’s recently failed. “But unlike you, my destiny is for the greater good…” I rub my lips together. Start counting down in my head.

One … I slowly lift my hand.

Two … I flatten my palm, turn it toward the dagger.

Three … I beg a silent plea to the universe: Please, don’t let this fail me!

“And mine?” Her voice is snappy, impatient.

“And yours…” I grit my teeth, spread my fingers, and prepare for what’s next.

“Speak, Seeker!” she screams. Her voice reverberating so loudly, it causes the flames to surge, the tree limbs to shake, and the dagger to drop even farther, dangling precariously.

“And yours is just a bunch of made-up bullshit created by your psychotic dad.”

My eyes meet hers, confirming the outrage I intentionally put there. I only hope my timing was right.

She leans toward the sculpture and heaves an exhale so forceful, the heat from the flames causes the rope holding the dagger to instantly snap, allowing it to careen straight for Dace’s soul.

I watch the progression.

I don’t dare blink.