Fated

I do my best to ignore her.
    I just wait until she pulls into the drive, then I bid a quick good night and make for my room. Only to find a beautiful, carved wooden chest placed next to my bed that Paloma must’ve put there before she fell ill.
    I run my hands over the top, my throat closing in on itself when I look inside and find it filled with the same kinds of things she keeps in her office. There’s a small black-and-white hand-painted rawhide rattle on a long wooden stick; a large drum bearing the face of a purple-eyed raven stretched over a round wooden frame; three beautiful feathers bearing tags that identify them as a swan feather to be used for transformative powers, a raven feather bearing magickal powers, and an eagle feather used for sending prayers; along with what looks to be a pendulum with a chunk of amethyst attached to the end—all of it lying on a soft, handwoven blanket, including a small, white card from Paloma that reads:
Nieta—
These are but some of the tools you will use on your journey as a Seeker. Soon I will teach you how to use them all—their power will amaze you!
I am so very proud of you.
Paloma
    I gaze upon it, my eyes burning with unspent tears, wondering if Paloma will last long enough to teach me. Other than the rattle, I have no idea what to do with any of it. For someone who’s supposed to be brimming with untapped potential—I feel just the opposite. Powerless. Useless. With no idea how to access the gifts of my ancestral legacy. Unable to do anything more than collapse on my bed.
    Jennika was right.
    She was right all along.
    If this is what loss feels like, then I’d prefer to have never known it.
    I’d prefer to have never come to this place—never been foolish enough to allow myself to care as much as I do.
    This horrible feeling goes way beyond pain—miles past debilitating.
    It’s reduced me to a numb, frozen shell, huddled on my bed—forced to remind myself to breathe in and out.
    I curl into a ball, trying to silence my mind and shut down my heart. Yanking the blanket high over my head, desperate to block out the room since everything in it reminds me of Paloma. Though it’s no use. Turns out, the scent of lilac laundry soap that clings to the sheets is just as big a culprit as the dream catcher that hangs over the windowsill. Enough to prompt the image of her that blooms large in my mind—kind, loving, trusting me to live up to my birthright. But I’ve no idea where to start.
    According to Paloma, every time the El Coyote clan has managed to break through to the Lowerworld, chaos reigned in the Middleworld. And now that they’re planning to draw upon the power and chaos of Día de los Muertos to use all those regenerated ancestors to penetrate the Lowerworld—with more power than ever before—I have no idea how I can possibly stop it.
    I have to do something, but I’ve no idea what. No idea how I’m supposed to face off against Cade and his army of undead ancestors.
    There’s no way I can beat them. Heck, I haven’t even completed my full Seeker initiation. And yet I have to find a way to fight them. I can’t let them win.
    I gaze at my father’s photo, remembering what Paloma said about him being everywhere—that I can call upon him anytime. But without Paloma’s guidance, without her beside me, I can’t seem to summon his presence.
    Without her, this house feels too lonely, too empty. A cold, blank space that only magnifies my inability to deal with all this.
    Too wound up to sleep, too wound up to do much of anything, I dress for the day and head out. Finding my way to Kachina’s stall and feeling a tiny bit better when she lifts her head high, paws hard at the dirt, and lets out a soft snort of greeting when she sees my approach. Her reception far more enthusiastic than my newly adopted cat’s, who was perfectly content spending time with Kachina until he caught sight of me and decided to scram.
    I duck into the stall, busying myself with filling her feeding trough and replenishing her water, then I stand just beside her while she eats, telling her all the things I’m too worried to voice to myself.
    My long list of worries multiplying until I’ve lost track of time. And the next thing I know the sky is draped with thick ribbons of orange and pink, the sun is hanging much higher than it was when I arrived, and Jennika has managed to find me. Her eyes darting between Kachina and me when she says, “Don’t get too attached to