Echo Soul Seekers

me.
    Longing to explain how whenever I’m with him, it’s as though I’m filled with helium—my feet don’t quite touch the earth.
    We’re destined.
    Fated.
    But now, after weeks of being his girlfriend, this is the very first time the L word was mentioned.
    Dace cocks his head, shooting me a look so dreamy, I’m sure he’s going to say it—those three not-so little words—and I ready myself to utter them too.
    But he just turns on his heel and heads for the bubbling hot spring with the fine mist of steam dancing along the surface. Leaving me disappointed that the moment was lost—yet secure in its truth all the same.
    We rid ourselves of our clothes until Dace is stripped down to his navy blue trunks, and I’m shivering in the plain black bikini I wear underneath. Merging into the water with Dace just behind me, my heart racing in anticipation as I head for the wide bank of rocks, knowing the hunt is now over—the fun will begin.
    I smile shyly. Captured by the sight of his strong, square shoulders, gleaming brown skin, the promise of his hands hanging open and loose by his sides. Wondering if I’ll ever get used to this—used to him. So many kisses have passed between us, and yet whenever he’s near, whenever we’re alone, it feels like the first.
    He moves in beside me, the water rising to his chest as our lips press and merge and our breath becomes one. My fingers seeking the sharp angle of his jaw, tracing the shadow of stubble that prickles my skin, as he toys with the strings of my bikini top. Taking great care to avoid the buckskin pouch that hangs from my neck, knowing it holds the source of my power, or one of them anyway—that its contents may only be viewed by Paloma and me.
    “Daire…” My name is a whisper soon chased by the path of kisses he trails along my neck, over my shoulder, and down farther still, as I close my eyes and inhale a sharp breath. Torn between the lure of his touch, and the memory of a horrible dream that took place in this very spring—in a moment much like this one.
    A dream where his brother raided our paradise—stealing Dace’s soul along with his life, while all I could do was look on.
    “What is it?” Sensing a shift in my mood, he lifts his gaze to meet mine. But I just shake my head and pull him back to me, seeing no reason to share. No reason to wreck the moment by mentioning Cade.
    His breath quickens as his lips meet mine once again. And when he lifts me onto his lap, I have the vague sensation of something slimy and foreign passing over my foot.
    I lean into the kiss, determined to ignore it, whatever it was. It’s a hot spring—an enchanted hot spring, but still a hot spring. It’s probably just a leaf or even a fallen flower bud from the canopy of vines that swoop overhead.
    I focus on the feel of his lips molding hard to my flesh as I squirm tightly against him. Entwining my legs with his when another slimy object skims past my hip before surfacing beside me with an audible plop that’s soon followed by another.
    And another.
    Until the chorus of objects popping to the surface forces us apart. Forces us to blink free of the fog of each other, only to gape in horror as the spring fills with swollen, lifeless, gaping-mouthed fish—their vacant eye sockets staring accusingly.
    Before I can so much as scream, Dace swoops me into his arms and hauls me out of the spring. Clasping me tightly to his chest as the two of us stare, breathless and horrified, at a truth that cannot be denied.
    The enemy is still out there—alive and well and corrupting the Lowerworld.
    And if we don’t find them soon, they’ll corrupt the Otherworlds too.

 
    two
    “Did you tell her?” Dace gestures toward Paloma’s blue gate as I slip inside his old beater truck and settle beside him.
    “Not yet.” I gnaw the inside of my cheek and steer my gaze from his. Hearing his softly muttered hmmm as he pulls away from the curb. Recognizing it as Dace-speak for: I’m not sure I agree with your methods, but I’m sure you have your reasons.
    Dace doesn’t judge.
    He’s so nice, kind, and accepting, he wouldn’t even consider it.
    He’s the literal definition of good .
    The result of a split soul—his is the pure half—the opposite of his twin’s. While mine is of the more usual variety—straddling the varying shades of light and dark, swaying toward one or the other depending on the circumstance.
    “I was going to,” I say, my voice pitching too high to