Echo Soul Seekers

ridiculous. I saw the way she looked at me today in the parking lot. Same way I looked at her. Besides, isn’t that exactly what I told her to do? Stop thinking of me—stop loving me—for as long as it takes?
    God, I hate my brother.
    I swipe a hand through my hair, pushing strands away from my face. “Can we just move on to the prophecy?” I say, more than ready to hear it, even though I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.
    She bobs her head back and forth, not entirely ready to give up on the game. Sighing in surrender, she says, “I read it in the codex.”
    I nod impatiently, not really sure what that is but eager to get on with it.
    “It’s an impressive book. Everything an ancient and mystical tome should be. With curling vellum pages and elaborate illustrations, it’s like something you’d probably see in a fantasy movie.…” She pauses, probably just to torture me. She’s a sweet girl, one of the sweetest I know, but she loves to play her little games. “Not that I could actually see the illustrations, though I could read their energy. Anyway, there’s a lot to it. Loads and loads of pages, all of which are written in a special code that takes forever to decipher. I wish you could see it: its energy is so vibrant, so alive…”
    My thumbs tap the wheel, as I bite back the urge to demand she just get to it and tell me already.
    “Anyway,” she says, a ghost of a smile lighting her face. “Here’s the part that you need to know…”
    When she’s finished reciting, all I can think is how artless it seems.
    How inconsequential.
    With the sort of book she described, I guess I was expecting it to be bigger, more involved, than what I already knew.
    Especially when you consider that actual lives are at stake.
    Yet, according to Xotichl, the version in the codex is an exact match of the verses that were revealed during my sweat lodge experience.
    A deceptively simple quatrain, stating:
The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung
Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come
Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed
Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire
    “So it’s true. The light will be eclipsed. One of us will die.” I stare at the dirt road ahead, barely able to focus on anything other than the words that continue to play in my head.
    Taunting.
    Haunting.
    Refusing to loosen their hold.
    “But I guess we already knew that,” I say, needing to remind myself that there’s nothing new here. Xotichl’s merely confirmed it, that’s all.
    “Daire’s going to kill Cade,” Xotichl says. “Not only so she can succeed as a Seeker, keep him from ascending, and set things right in the Lowerworld, but also to fix things with you. And while I totally get it, and while I completely support her wanting to do it—I also don’t want her to get hurt. And I’m not sure what I can do to help keep her safe.”
    “She won’t,” I say, my voice determined as I veer onto Xotichl’s street, parking outside the modest adobe home where she lives. “She won’t get hurt. She won’t have a chance to, because I’m going to get to him first.”
    Xotichl nods. It’s the answer she was hoping to hear.
    “There’s a vortex in the Rabbit Hole.” She props open the door and slides free of my truck. “If you enter from there, you stand a better chance of finding him.”
    “Leftfoot wants me to find it. Says you can show me where it is.”
    “It’s tricky.” She closes the door and leans through the open window. “It’s also guarded by demons, so make sure you pack plenty of nicotine to appease them. But tonight, after the gifts are exchanged, I’ll show you where it’s located.”

 
    twenty-six
    Daire
    “Stop fidgeting. And stop eye rolling too. The longer you resist me, the longer this’ll take.” Jennika frowns, hooks her thumb under my chin, and tilts my head toward hers as she swipes an arc of deep purple shadow over my lids. “I thought you were in a hurry to get out of here and hang with your friends?”
    “I am. And if you’ll remember, that’s exactly what I was trying to do when you barged in and insisted I needed a makeover.” I shoot her a mock-scathing look that quickly turns to laughter when she returns it with one of her own.
    “Well, excuse me for saying so, but no daughter of mine is going to a party looking like…” She cocks her head and squints, searching for the perfect way to both finish the sentence and properly