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The ignorant are definitely the lucky ones here.
Though unfortunately for me, I’m no longer part of that group. I’ve split from their ranks.
Now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen, know what I know, I can no longer turn my back on the truth, no matter how much I’d like to.
According to Paloma, I have to find a way to embrace it—otherwise, I won’t just be sitting at my father’s grave, I’ll be lying right there beside him, six feet under.
“In Morocco … in the square, the Djemâa el Fna…” My stomach churns, my head screams, warning me not to say it, afraid of having it confirmed, but I force myself to push past it. It’s time I finally tell her. “I saw him.” I lift my gaze to meet hers, needing to see how she reacts to my words, but Paloma just nods in her usual calm, sage way, encouraging me to continue. “The square was filled with horrible, bloody heads hanging from spikes—and the one front and center, the one that called out my name—well, I recognized it from the old black-and-white photo I keep in my wallet. It was Django. I knew it the second I saw him.”
My voice cracks, my eyes start to sting, and Paloma wastes no time in comforting me. Her slim, cool fingers brushing over my forehead, over my cheeks, murmuring a stream of words I can’t understand, as I fight to gain control of myself.
“Jennika mentioned it,” she says, switching back to English, her voice steady, matter of fact. “She relayed the stories you told her. After we spoke, I did a little research and discovered that the area you mention—the name translates to meeting place at the end of the world, and in its earlier history, it was used as a place for the public to view the severed heads of criminals that hung on stakes around the square.”
I pull away. Gaze hard into her eyes. Torn between the relief of confirming I’m not crazy—that what I saw was real—and wondering how that could possibly be considered a good thing in this particular case.
“I’ve no doubt what you saw was as real as the glowing people and the crows you’ve already told me about. Your father had similar visions. I did as well. They’re terrifying, I know. And as you’ve already discovered, you cannot outrun them. They’ll go to great lengths to get your attention—they’ve no choice; there is too much at stake. They can’t afford to lose one, and luckily it’s not often they do. It puts great stress upon the one who is meant to pass down the gift, and leaves everything in a perilous state.”
I’m not entirely sure what that means. She’s always so cryptic, and while she’s willing to answer some of my questions, for the most part she usually just shakes her head and says, “In time, nieta. In time.”
Still, it’s not like that stops me from trying. “You said the official cause of death was decapitation—but what was it really? Was it the crows? Did they cause the accident—or maybe something like them?” I peer into her eyes, desperate to understand.
“It was neither the crows, the glowing people, nor any of the other heralds that might’ve shown themselves to him. It was Django’s refusal to listen—to acknowledge them—to heed their call once and for all. That alone is what triggered his untimely end. Believe it or not, the visions are our allies. Their arrival signals that it’s time for us to wake up, acknowledge our calling, and heed the destiny we are meant for. The signs are sporadic at first, then, sometime around the sixteenth year, they intensify. There is only a short window to act. The training must begin without too much delay. If not…” She pauses, struggling with just how much to divulge, before she adds, “Let’s just say there are other forces at work—those whose sole purpose is to defeat the Seekers so they can rise up and rule. It’s a battle as old as our time here on earth, and I’m sorry to say, but there is no end in sight.”
I squint, unsure I heard right. My voice gone high-pitched and screechy when I ask, “Did you say, the Seekers?” I lean toward her, wait for her reply.
But she just nods, as though it’s not nearly as strange as it sounds to my ears. “Make no mistake, Daire, your calling is an important one. Many people will come to depend on you—the majority of whom won’t even realize it, much less think to thank you. Still, you must learn to persist, just like all of your ancestors before you. There are other forces among us, forces so dark and powerful that at first they’re hard to fathom. But not to worry, I will prepare you to face them. The training consists of several well defined steps. We all endure the same initiation—I did it, my mother did it, as did countless generations before her. Though I will warn you that there is nothing easy about it. It will test every part of your being, and at times it will feel like torture, and during those times you will hate me, blame me, and consider running again. But you won’t.” Her gaze levels on mine. “Now that you know where that leads, you will never run again, will you, nieta?” Her eyes soften, but her words leave me chilled.
>
“There are several purposes to the initiation—to strengthen you in ways you cannot yet fathom and to prepare you for a future that will probably seem unimaginable to you at this point. But soon it will all fall into place, and before you go thinking it’s all bad, be assured you can expect plenty of enchanting moments as well. You will visit mystical worlds you never dreamed of. You will experience magick in its purest form. And then, when it’s time to head out into the community again, you’ll be ready. I’ll make sure that you’re ready, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Her voice so grave, gaze so far away, the jokey retort I had planned dies on my lips. I have no idea what’s in store, but it’s clear that she’s serious and that I need to get serious too. “I think I may have already met that dark, powerful force,” I say, momentarily silenced by the stricken look on her face. “I’ve had dreams—dreams that started off nice, but then they took a turn. And that night at the Rabbit Hole—just before the accident, I met the boys from my dream. At first I thought I was going crazy, hallucinating again, but now I’m not sure. They had similar eyes—strange, icy-blue eyes. And while one is…” my one true love—my fated one—I shake my head and start again. “While one is … nice, the other … well, he turned into a demon.” I stop, pick at a blade of grass I rub between my index finger and thumb. Feeling embarrassed to voice it out loud, but sensing that, unlike everyone else who’d prefer not to hear it, this is exactly the kind of thing Paloma wants me to share. “I guess I didn’t mention it before because I wasn’t sure it was real—but now, well, I’m thinking it might’ve been some kind of warning.”
Paloma nods, her face fixed, serene, though her hands give her away—there’s no missing the way they tremble when she reaches for a tissue she then brings to her nose. “I’m afraid things have advanced far more than I realized.” She crumples the tissue and hides it from view but not quickly enough to conceal the bright spot of blood that blooms wide across it. “I’m afraid we don’t have nearly as much time as I thought.” She shoots me a troubled look.
“So when does the initiation begin?” I ask, watching as she rises to her feet, taking a moment to steady herself before she offers a hand.
“I’m afraid it has already begun, nieta,” she says, helping me settle onto my crutches. “It has already started.”
thirteen
“Ever ridden before?” Chay glances over his shoulder, catching my eye as I stand right behind him, watching as he secures the saddle on the horse, a beautiful paint with a perfectly striped brown and white mane.
“A few times the grooms on movie sets let me ride. Back when I was a kid. But it’s been a while. I’ve pretty much forgotten everything I learned,” I say, feeling both nervous and excited by the prospect of riding this big, gorgeous animal as soon as I’m free of my cast. According to Paloma, graduating from crutches to the Frankenstein boot just isn’t enough.
“Not to worry. I think you’ll find Kachina to be a gentle sort. You two will get along fine,” he says, voice smooth as a smile. “In fact, giving her a treat usually works as an icebreaker. If you look in the back of the truck, you’ll find a cooler.” He nods in that general direction. “And if you look in the cooler, you’ll find a few carrots to feed her.”
I do as he says, returning with two big carrots that, in a bout of overeagerness, I’m quick to shove toward her mouth. The move sloppy, inexperienced, and when she curls her lip to accept them, the size of her teeth causes my hands to shake so badly the carrots fall to the ground, forcing Kachina to lower her head and swipe them up off the dirt.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I wipe my palms on the back of my jeans, forcing a laugh as I say, “Do you think she’ll hold a grudge?”
“I’m sure in time she’ll forgive you.” Chay grins, causing his eyes to fan at the sides and his forehead to crease under the rim of his bandanna. “Horses startle easily. For such large animals, they’re all a bunch of scaredy cats. You have to approach them slowly, gently, same way you’d like someone to approach you. Call her by name, coo to her softly. Then take a moment to stand quietly beside her. Keeping your breath nice and even so she can have a chance to adjust to your energy as you adjust to hers. And then, when the time is right, you may pet her like this.” He demonstrates the move, his large hand smoothing her mane in a way that causes his eagle ring with the yellow stone eyes to glint in the sun, as he works his way down the swoop of her neck. Giving her a series of gentle pats, before scratching the space between her eyes, just under her forelock.
“Is she yours?” I watch as Chay presses his mouth close to the horse’s ear and mumbles something in an unfamiliar language, whispering for so long, I’m not sure if he heard.
“Is she mine?” He chuckles, glances at me. “Technically, I suppose that she is. I got her from a client who’d lost his job and could no longer afford to care for her. But in the grand scheme of things—no. Kachina belongs to herself. Now that she’s entered my life, I’ve agreed to watch over her for however long she chooses to stay. Unless you’d like the job, that is?”
I squint. Sure I misunderstood.
