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Paloma’s face lifts, her sadness easing when she says, “To heed the call of the windsong on one’s first journey…” She shakes her head as her gaze travels a very long distance. “It is virtually unheard of. You know this makes you a Wind Dancer, nieta? Which means the wind is your elemental teacher. If you honor it, follow its song, it will never steer you wrong. The wind is a powerful force, one to be reckoned with, for sure. And as it turns out, soon, much sooner than I thought, you will be a force to be reckoned with too. You have surpassed all my expectations. You have accomplished in one single journey far more than any of your ancestors before you.”
I pick at the ribbed hem of my sweatshirt, wishing I could drum up the same kind of excitement but unable to get there.
She’s wrong about the dream. No one was reborn. Nor were they transformed. The boy was slain pure and simple—left for dead in my arms. And Raven’s the one who forced me to be there.
“I’ve been having that dream for a while now.” I pause, my eyes meeting hers. “The first night I came here, I had it again, and that was when I watched the boy die. The other times were more…” I strugg
le to find the right word, a grandmother-friendly word. “Well, the other dreams were more playful … more romantic. But the last one was more like an expanded version. It had an actual beginning, middle, and a very unfortunate end.”
She nods, her gaze urging me on.
“I saw the boys that night at the Rabbit Hole, and then, just now, I saw one of them when I was at the gas station with Chay. It’s the eyes that give them away. In the dream they’re a strange icy-blue—and while one boy’s eyes reflect, the other one, the evil one, his absorb like a void—and it’s the same in waking life too. I don’t know why I’m dreaming about them—about real people I’ve never actually met. I don’t know what any of it means, but the thing is, the boy who died in the dream—he didn’t transform and he wasn’t reborn. His soul was stolen, pure and simple. So if this dream is supposed to be prophetic, I want nothing to do with it. It was horrible to watch, there was no way to save him, and I can’t help thinking if I hadn’t followed Raven, it never would’ve ended that way. So excuse me if I’m unable to be as excited about Raven as you are!” My voice breaks, I can’t help it, and as much as I try to blink back the tears, one still gets away.
I mash the heel of my hand hard against it, obliterating it and all the others that follow. Paloma’s voice gentle, her hand on my shoulder, she says, “You are on the verge of a very important transformation. Make no mistake, nieta, you will return to the Rabbit Hole. You will meet the boys again. And yes, you will even learn to trust Raven, for his wisdom is far greater than yours. But first, we must get you prepared. It is time to skip forward in your training and get you started on your vision quest.”
seventeen
“Make no mistake, nieta, your powers will be great—greater than you can comprehend at this point.” Paloma flies down the hallway in a bustle of activity it’s all I can do to keep up with. Charging into my room, she grabs jeans, a white tank top, a black V-neck sweater, my olive-green army jacket, and some dusty old tennis shoes that belong to someone else. Thrusting them into my arms, she tells me to change, while she retrieves a small, black bag from a high closet shelf she needs a step stool to reach. Then she bolts from the room and heads down the hall, storming toward her office when she says, “You must never forget that great power comes with great responsibility.” She glances over her shoulder, making sure that I heard. “You will gain much knowledge. You will discover the healing powers of herbs, along with a variety of songs and chants that contain powers that must never be underestimated or abused. Some of them can harm, most of them can heal—though it’s absolutely imperative that you always hold your skills in the highest regard. You must never use them for trivial things. And, more important, you must learn to overcome any and all small-mindedness.” She leans against the arched doorway, her eyes meeting mine in a serious stare. So caught up in her talk, she fails to notice the small trickle of blood that drips from her nose. “If someone does you wrong, you must learn to turn your cheek. Your powers must never be squandered on protecting your ego—rather they must be channeled toward the greater good of all.”
She retrieves a crumpled tissue from her pocket and heads inside. And I’m just about to ask if she’s all right when she faces me and says, “There is an old and very wise Native American saying: Every time you point a finger in scorn—there are three remaining fingers pointing right back at you.” Her gaze settles on mine. “You must always bear that in mind, nieta. You must never be quick to judge. Though, that said, you must also be aware that Seekers have enemies. There are those whose sole intent is to overpower us, if not destroy us. Which means I will teach you how to deal with the dark, just as I will train you to embrace the light.”
She moves toward the shelf along the far wall, thumping the red-painted drum as she passes—the move causing it to reverberate in a way that prompts me to cover my ears and cower in fear. My reaction so odd and unexpected, Paloma turns, eyes narrowing when I say, “Sorry. It’s just … that sound really bothers me. I know you didn’t mean to hit it—but, still, I really prefer not to hear it.”
She leans against the shelf, tissue still pressed to her nose. “The drum is a sacred instrument,” she says, pausing long enough to allow the words to settle, take shape. “It’s like I told you before, everything contains energy—everything maintains its own spirit—and the drum is no different. Its sound is akin to a heartbeat, a life pulse. It’s often referred to as a Spirit Horse as its tempo provides a portal, allowing one to journey to the otherworlds.” Then, catching my expression, she adds, “There is nothing to fear, nieta.”
I toy with the hem of my sweatshirt, not the least bit assured by her words. “That may be so,” I say. “But back in that Moroccan square, as well as in the Rabbit Hole, it was the sound of the drums that made the world stop and urged the glowing people and crows to appear.”
Paloma’s eyes shine as she crumples the bloodstained tissue into a ball. “And so you have already experienced its power,” she says. “Tell me, nieta, did the air grow hazy and shimmery?”
I twist my fingers, digging my nails hard into my flesh. Watching as she makes for the sink where she disposes of the tissue and washes her hands.
“Had you followed them and done as they asked, you would’ve found yourself in another world—another dimension.” She drops the towel, reaches into a cupboard, and pulls out a small black bag.
“So … you’re saying I should’ve gone with them?” I tilt my head and shoot her a skeptical look.
“No.” She flings her braid over her shoulder, allowing it to fall down her back. “I’m not saying that at all. It’s better you ignored them. You weren’t ready to heed their call, and there’s a good chance you would’ve been lost. Of course, I would’ve found you … eventually. But no, you did the right thing. Much like the tea allowed your soul to journey, the drumbeat allows your body to journey. Though it’s just a matter of time before you will require neither. Soon you will be able to determine the portals on your own. Enchantment has several, as you will soon see.”
“And exactly why do I want to travel to these other dimensions?” I ask, tracking her moves as she whirs about the room, collecting an assortment of what appear to be random, completely unrelated things: a small box of matches, a red bandanna, a slim white candle, a few stubs of chalk, a small rattle made of rawhide, along with a few other items I can’t quite make out.
“Because you have important work to do there. You’re about to journey down the Spirit Road where many things will be revealed—your greatest gifts, your greatest weakness, along with your true purpose for your time here in the Middleworld. Though be aware, they may not all be revealed at once. In some cases, it takes years to decipher them—though I have a feeling that for you, the reveal will come quicker than most.”
“But I thought you said I was about to start my vision quest, and now you’re talking about a walk down the Spirit Road, and, well, I’m a little confused. Which is it? What’s the difference?”
“It is all a part of the same, and it will all become clear soon enough.” Her shoulders rise and fall, signaling the explanation is over, despite the fact that she only succeeded in confusing me more.
She motions for me to sit as she riffles through a drawer, returning with a small buckskin pouch that looks a lot like the one she wears. Draping it around my neck, she says, “A Seeker has many tools, and this is probably the most important of all. You are to wear it at all times. You may remove it to sleep and bathe if you like, but you must always keep it well within reach, well within sight. You must never leave home without it. And you must never allow anyone else to wear it or look inside it, not even briefly, or its power will be lost.”
I hold it before me—a soft, yellowish piece of leather that hardly looks all that significant, and I’m just not sure I’m on board with it. Not quite sure how to incorporate it into my usual, minimalist uniform of dark skinny jeans, fitted green army jacket, and tank top. I prefer to keep it simple. I’m not all that big on accessorizing.
Paloma makes for the counter, fussing for a moment before she returns with the pot and places it before me. The two of us gazing at the purple-eyed raven resting on a bed of faded, limp herbs.
“Since Raven has revealed himself as your spirit animal—this talisman must remain with you at all times. Place it inside your pouch so that you will always be able to access his wisdom and guidance whenever you find yourself in need of it. What he wants may not always make immediate sense, but you must learn to trust him. Over time, you will add other items as well—items that will be revealed to you along the way. For now, it is just you and Raven. Do you understand, nieta? Do you understand the seriousness of all this?”
I nod, like I do even though I really, truly don’t. But it’s what she expects, and as soon as I’ve shoved Raven inside, she seems to relax.
Then the next thing I know, she grabs the small black bag and motions for me to follow as she makes for the courtyard and over to the old white Jeep she keeps in the detached garage.
“Where are we going?” I ask, straining against the strap of my seat belt as the Jeep bounces down the rutted dirt road. Squinting into the dark, trying to get my bearings, but it’s no use—this town is a mystery to me.
