Echo Soul Seekers

snuggle against her. “Besides, I wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”
    She shakes her head slightly, tightening her blanket around us, as we gaze into the flames. Watching as they crackle and spit, devouring the vertically stacked logs in Paloma’s kiva fireplace.
    Our reverie broken when Paloma says, “Look—it’s raining!”
    I look toward the window and, sure enough, the panes are streaming and wet.
    “Not quite the snow I tried to manifest, but it’s a start, right?” I glance between my mother and grandmother.
    Smiling with contentment when they say, “It is indeed.”
    We remain like that for the better part of the morning. Three generations of females, staring into the rain—contemplating a future that yawns wide before us.
    *   *   *
    “I can’t believe you’re leaving.” I glance around the tiny hotel room while Jennika packs up the few things she brought. “I mean, I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay—this place is pretty dismal. Still, I’m going to miss you. It’s nice having you around. Especially now.”
    “Why especially now ?” She starts to fold a T-shirt into thirds, then gives up and squashes it instead.
    “Because I hated lying to you. It feels so much better to have it all out in the open. It’s good to know you’re on board.”
    “Did I have a choice?”
    We exchange a look.
    “At least you know for sure I’m not crazy. The visions—the crows—the glowing people—it’s all real.”
    She sighs in a way that tells me that just because she accepts it, doesn’t mean that she likes it—doesn’t mean she wants to delve into the details. Then she motions for me to sit on top of her suitcase so she can zip it shut.
    “So, where do you go from here?” She grits her teeth and tugs hard on the zipper.
    “The Rabbit Hole. You?” I push down with both hands in an effort to help her.
    “First home and then Harlan’s.” She secures the shiny black lock with a satisfying click .
    “Yeah?” I look at her, my smile growing bigger when she swats at me, pushes me to my feet.
    Doing her best to nix my hopes, she says, “I’m committing to meeting him for a drink. And if that goes well, I’ll let him buy me dinner. We’ll see where it leads. Baby steps, right?” She heaves her bag off the bed and yanks hard on the handle, pulling the bag upright. “Need a ride?”
    I shake my head and follow her to the door. “It’s not far. Besides, I could use the walk.”
    “It’s still raining,” she warns.
    “Yeah, and I’m still trying for snow.”
    She hugs me to her. Crushing me so tightly, I’m left gasping and laughing, as I croak, “I can’t breathe!”
    “You be careful out there.” She slowly draws away. Fussing with my hair, rearranging the tumble of curls that survived the night surprisingly well.
    “You be careful too.” I follow her to the car. Waiting until she drives away before I cross the street, ready to make good on my destiny.

 
    thirty-one
    Dace
    “You know I can’t let you go any farther,” I say, seeing Xotichl standing beside me so tiny and frail she looks like she’s about to be swallowed by the heavy blue parka she wears.
    We were lucky to have made it this far without being seen. Managing to slip past a horde of undead Richters too absorbed in the task of setting up some so-called job fair to take notice of us. Though that doesn’t mean our luck won’t run out. And I’d never forgive myself if Xotichl got hurt on my watch.
    “Honestly, I can’t say that I want to,” she says. “Something strange is going on around here.” She tips her chin, sniffs at the air. “Stranger than normal, that is. Those people we passed earlier, the ones setting up the tables and hanging the signs?”
    “Yeah?” I slant my brow and lean toward her.
    “They’re undead.”
    I exhale, amused to find I’m relieved by her words. Shows how much my life has changed in just a handful of weeks. “I know.” I tell her. “It’s Cade’s pet project. He reanimated a bunch of long-deceased Richters on the Day of the Dead, fueling them on bits of souls—both animal and human. Just one more reason he has to be stopped. The last thing we need is more Richters lumbering around.”
    Xotichl squeezes her cane, shoulders cringing inward, as she says, “I think the job fair is bogus. I think it’s a front for something far more sinister.” She pauses, allowing me time to respond, but I have nothing to add. I don’t disagree. “Maybe