Echo Soul Seekers

.” Her voice is accusatory, eyes sharp and knowing.
    “I don’t even know where she is.” I swipe a hand over my chin, hiding the lie to come. “We haven’t talked for days. But then you already knew that. You’ve made sure of it.” I swallow hard, force myself to meet her gaze.
    A fleeting expression crosses her face—a mixture of sadness and apology that’s gone in a blink. “You’re still healing.” She reaches for my arm, attempts to inspect a wound that’s already faded. “I can’t let you go until you’re well. I promised Leftfoot I’d make sure you got plenty of bed rest.”
    “You can tell Leftfoot I’m fine, fully healed.” I yank on the hem of my shirt, pull it up over my torso so she can see that not only are the bandages gone, but also, thanks to a thick layer of Leftfoot’s poultice, along with a little magick I’ve worked on my own—magick that’s better left unmentioned—I’m left with only the faintest trail of scars, that promise to fade, if not disappear.
    I drop the hem, allow the shirt to fall to my hips. Wondering what argument she’ll try to wage next. Sure there will be one.
    Her concern for my health replaced by the plea: “But it’s Christmas!” She stands before me, refusing to let go of my sleeve. She’s playing the mom card—playing on my sympathies. But tonight, it won’t work. Can’t work. I need to get out of here. Need to handle my own business, my own way.
    “Tomorrow is Christmas,” I say. “And I’ll be back to spend it with you. I promise.” I bend toward her, depositing a soft kiss on the top of her head as I gently curl my fingers around hers. Giving them a meaningful squeeze, hoping to convey what I’ve failed to say with words. Then I loosen her grip from my sleeve and make for the porch as she calls after me.
    I turn. Try to contain my annoyance by reminding myself her intentions are good.
    “Be careful.” She steps toward me. Studying me with a critical eye, as her hand finds its way to my cheek. “Don’t let your regard for others compromise your safety. I need you here.”
    I close my eyes briefly and send her a silent apology for the hurt I may cause her. But when my gaze meets hers, I just say, “Good night, Mother.”
    There’s no need to cause any further alarm.
    No need to inform her that during the past several days spent holed up in my room, it wasn’t just healing I’d been focusing on.
    She stands on the stoop, one hand hanging loose by her side, the other clutched close to her heart. The bright overhead light falling languidly upon her, engulfing her in an incandescent veil of white light that makes her appear luminous—radiant—angelic and saintly.
    Her tortured image the last thing I see before I head for my truck and ease onto the road. Ready to put my newly honed skills to the test.

 
    thirty-eight
    Daire
    Paloma pokes her head into my room, frowning when she finds me sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor amidst a scattering of feathers, crystals, candles, the pendulum, my rattle, the drum, and the athame, its blade polished and gleaming. The trappings of the Seeker trade—along with the codex propped open beside me. “Any luck?” She leans against the doorjamb, surveying the mess.
    I lift my shoulders. Allow my eyes to meet hers. “Sure. I’m loaded with luck—at least where my magick’s concerned. Thanks to you and all that you’ve taught me, I’m amazed at how far I’ve come, and how quickly. And yet, I’m not sure how it’s going to help me defeat Cade.”
    “Every bit helps, nieta . Every piece fits neatly into the other.”
    I sigh. Having no doubt it’s true, though the pieces I seek seem to lie just outside my reach, and I don’t hesitate to tell her as much.
    “What does the book say?” She crosses her arms before her, tilting her head in a way that encourages her braid to slip over her shoulder and fall to her waist.
    “The book says plenty, most of which I don’t understand. You’ve read it, so you tell me, what is it I’m missing?”
    She glances down the hall, as though she’s worried about someone overhearing, then in a lowered voice says, “I’m not sure that you’re missing anything. I’m not sure Valentina was able to foresee all that you’re up against. Some things are for you to discover on your own. That is always the way.”
    I sigh. Wishing this wasn’t always so difficult—wishing that just this once, the answers would come easily. Then I discard