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Fated

Fated

Titel: Fated Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Alyson Noel
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they at least know about each other? This town is so tiny—how’s that even possible?” I ask, knowing she’s hiding something, though I can’t imagine why, much less what.
    She clasps and unclasps her hands, debating whether or not to tell me, then she takes a deep breath and says, “Dace grew up on the reservation—he and Chepi rarely left—while Cade lived in town. His father’s family, the Richters, are quite wealthy, they own most of the businesses here and run all the public services, not to mention his father’s been mayor for many, many years. Chepi had nothing to do with their world. When she found herself pregnant with the twins, she was the beautiful young daughter of a well-respected medicine man named Jolon—a truly revered, much-sought-after healer, who was said to work miracles and have a direct link to the divine.”
    “So, let me get this straight.” I look at her. “Chepi, the good girl, decides to hook up with Leandro, the bad boy—trouble ensues—she gets knocked up—the news devastates her father who held such high hopes for her…” I frown, trying not to judge, but it sounds like the Django and Jennika story. Except Jennika was never what you’d call good, and Django wasn’t all that bad ; still, the stories aren’t without their similarities.
    But before I can finish, Paloma’s already shaking her head, saying, “No, nieta, it’s not nearly as simple as that. You see, Chepi was very young, very innocent, and very devoted to Jolon. She never would’ve gone off with Leandro on her own. She was studying as Jolon’s apprentice, and many say she showed great promise. Everyone assumed she’d succeed him someday—but Leandro interfered, making sure to derail all their plans.” She looks at me, gaze clouded with memory. “Leandro is very much the opposite of Jolon. He’s a dangerous sorcerer who hails from a long line of them. The Santoses have been battling the Richters for years … centuries really, and not always here. While we made very good progress for a very long time, while we were able to subdue them and keep them in line, in more recent years, with the arrival of Leandro, things have changed for the worse. They’re no longer happy with just amassing their fortune—their ambitions extend far beyond that. They’re changing this town. It wasn’t always so depressed, like it is now. It used to be a good match for its name—if you can imagine such a thing. But over the past few decades it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them contained. They’ve messed with so many minds—the townspeople feel alternately awed by them and indebted to them. And without Django’s help, I’m afraid I’m no match for them on my own, their ranks are too strong.” She takes a deep breath—runs both hands over the lap of her dress. “Anyway, Leandro was determined to use Chepi for his own sordid purposes, and so, on the night of Día de los Muertos, he set out to find her, and from that moment on, life as she knew it was over.”
    Reading my look of confusion, she says, “The Day of the Dead, nieta. It’s a ritual that’s been celebrated for thousands of years, traced all the way back to the Aztecs. It’s a time when the veil between the living and dead is lifted, as well as a time to honor all those who’ve passed. Here in Enchantment, we celebrate it in place of Halloween, and the whole town takes part. People don masks resembling skulls—they head to cemeteries where they decorate the graves with marigolds, beads, and old photos. And they remain by those graves throughout the night—dancing, drinking, turning the dirt, and communing with their deceased loved ones. Though lately, over the last several years, many have abandoned the graveyards in favor of the Rabbit Hole, which, as you know, the Richters own.”
    I stare at her wide-eyed, urging her to continue. It’s the first I’ve ever heard of it, and I’m fascinated by the idea.
    “There was a time when death wasn’t viewed so much as the end of life but rather a continuation of life. It was life that was regarded as a brief fleeting dream, while death allowed one to truly wake up. The Bone Keeper presides over the festival. She rules the lowest level of the Lowerworld where she keeps watch over the bones. They say she has a skull for a face, wears a skirt made of serpents, and her mouth is extra wide in order to feed off the stars during the day. And yet, despite my numerous journeys to the

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