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My eyes slide shut as I try to imagine it. Imagine myself making a soul jump into Cade.
What would it be like to to peer into that dark and hollow core and learn the secrets of his nature—go in search of his weak spots?
This is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for.
It’s a game changer, for sure.
If I can just get inside, get a peek at whatever darkness lurks there, I’ll know exactly how to exploit it when it’s time. Maybe I’ll even claim a piece of it for my own. If my love for Daire strengthens him—then surely it can work the opposite way? Surely I can armor myself with his malevolence?
I focus on Leftfoot, eager to get started. Sure this’ll prove to be far more useful than soaring over the landscape via that red-tailed hawk, despite how exhilarating that was.
“There is one caveat…” His eyes narrow on mine. “You must never teach another person what you’ve learned—not even Daire.” He pauses long enough for me to agree, before he continues. “And you must never abuse the gift. Ever. I can’t stress this enough. You use this gift if, and only if, you find that you must. You must first exhaust all other options. It is meant to be a last resort. The rest of the time you’re to keep the knowledge locked safely inside. And you must vow to carry it to your grave. Even Chepi and Paloma have no idea that I know how to do this. As I’ve already said, it’s been forbidden for years.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” I’m quick to agree. “I swear.” The vow sounding a bit too eager even too my ears, which is probably why Leftfoot shoots me a look that tells me he remains unconvinced.
“There’s more.” His brow droops low as his gaze travels a very long distance. “Something I hope will illustrate the seriousness of all this…”
I wait for him to spill it, but really I just want to get started.
“Leandro didn’t kill Jolon.”
I stare hard at Leftfoot, shocked by his words.
“That story is a disservice to Jolon. Though I’ve never tried to defend him because the truth is much worse.”
He turns toward the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, grimacing when he takes in the lack of snow at the cap, or maybe he’s grimacing at what he’s about to say next. It’s hard to tell with Leftfoot.
“The truth is, Jolon’s defenses were much too strong for Leandro to penetrate, and Leandro was at least smart enough to know that. When Chepi arrived home that day, battered and bruised, Jolon decided to use the forbidden art we merely toyed with as kids to enter Leandro’s experience. Remaining there long enough to view the contents of his wretched, debauched life—including the horrible acts he performed on Chepi. He thought he could handle it, and, at the time, Jolon was so strong I would’ve bet on it too. But the events Jolon witnessed were so horrific they weakened him in a way he never imagined. He died shortly after making the soul jump. So while the essence of the oft-repeated story is the same—that Jolon died from a broken heart over the things he witnessed—the truth is that Leandro didn’t force Jolon to witness it. He didn’t alter Jolon’s perception like they claim. Jolon chose to make the jump. He chose to witness the dregs of Leandro’s dark soul. And what he saw cost him his life.”
I stand before him, suitably sobered by the tale.
“All magick comes with a price. You must never forget that.”
I work my jaw, curl my fingers to fists, and nod like I mean it. I do mean it.
“Okay,” Leftfoot says, finally convinced. “Here’s how you do it…”
twenty
Daire
The second we spot Jennika parked outside Paloma’s adobe, I’m not sure who groans louder, Paloma or me.
“Great. So much for fire starting.” I stare incredulously as my mom leans against some generic rental car, furiously punching numbers into her cell. Probably calling me and getting my voice mail, since my phone has been off for the better part of the day.
Her chin lifts as she hears our approach—her expression changing from angry to relieved, before settling on completely annoyed. “Hello, Daire,” she says, coming around to my side. Her arms spread wide for a hug, despite a demeanor that’s hardly what I’d call welcoming. “Where the hell have you been?” She releases me from her grip. “I’ve been calling for hours. Even dropped by your school only to be told that you didn’t bother to show. I was worried sick!” She grabs hold of my braid, then frowns when her fingers come away wet. Shifting her anger to Paloma, she says, “Well?”
“Please, come inside.” Paloma ducks around her and leads us to the door. “I’ll make us some tea, something to eat, and we can all sit and talk. It’s nice to see you.” She smiles at Jennika, but Jennika merely grunts in response.
I sneak a peek at Paloma, my gaze filled with questions. How did this happen? How did my mom show up in Enchantment without my knowing—without any advance warning? But Paloma se
ems as clueless as I am.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, claiming a seat at the kitchen table and motioning for Jennika to do the same, which she reluctantly does.
“I wanted to surprise you. And judging by the horrified look on your face when you saw me, I did.”
I fumble for a grin. Try to act as though I’m not nearly as horrified as she thinks. A little surprised, but mostly just happy to see her.
