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I huff under my breath and avert my gaze. Refusing to answer, to engage any more than I have.
“Hey, come on, now. Throw me a bone, will ya? A simple yes or no will do. I can’t help being concerned about you.” He grins, not at all daunted by my unwillingness to play. “Every time I see you, you’re in some kind of trouble, and I have to confess—I find the whole damsel-in-distress thing completely irresistible. I blame it on Disney movies and fairy tales, what’s your take?”
I frown, eyes leveled on his when I say, “I’m not looking to be rescued. I do just fine on my own.”
His gaze grows deeper, the flat expanse of his irises becoming a fathomless void that lures everything in—everything but me. “Wow, you really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?” He shoots me a wounded look I don’t buy for a second. “Isn’t there some way we can move past this? Convince you to give me a chance?”
I roll my eyes, tug on the reins, ready to leave this behind, when he reaches for Kachina’s bridle again, and I jab my heel so hard into her side she ends up charging right at him.
It’s only after he’s lunged out of her way that I realize how close I came to killing him, if not seriously maiming him. And the realization fills me with doubt.
Doubting my ability to distinguish between reality and dreams.
Doubting my ability to seek the truth behind the mirage.
Every time I’ve seen him he’s been smarmy but kind. The only time he’s ever proved himself to be evil is in my darkest moments—and during my sleep.
Our gaze meets—mine horrified—his flat and unreadable.
And that’s how I leave him.
Kachina and I storming the trail as fast as we can, unable to rid myself of the overwhelming burden of doubt that chases me all the way home.
the raven’s song
twenty-four
Chay pulls up to the curb, stopping outside a large two-story building that, despite its efforts to mimic the ever-popular adobe style, is really no more than a concrete slab with a sandstone façade, surrounded by a big iron gate, with a scowling man standing guard at the entrance and a large painted sign on the side stating: MILAGRO HIGH—HOME OF THE MAGUS—with a cartoon wizard just underneath it.
Milagro High.
Miracle High.
From the looks of it, it’s as poorly named as the town it resides in.
My face goes grim as I try to take a fortifying breath, which comes out shaky. Reminding myself how I came away completely unscathed and empowered from full-body dismemberment in the cave—so surely I can survive this: my first day of eleventh grade at this prison-like school.
Though try as I might, the pep talk’s a fail. Today marks a major letdown in more ways than one.
After leaving the cave in triumph, I was eager to face whatever came next, excited about this whole new world that was open to me—sure that being a Seeker would be way more Superhero than Student. But despite my praising the wonders of Internet school—explaining how it improved my vocabulary and made me a math whiz—Paloma still wouldn’t budge. According to her, now that I’ve completed my vision quest, it’s imperative I get out into the community, and, unfortunately for me, that involves going to school.
“They need you, nieta,” she’d said, her gaze fixed on mine. “They don’t yet know it, but they do. You alone will keep the community in balance. No one else can do what you do.”
“What about you?” I’d asked, seeing her turn away, her fingers curled around a bloodied tissue in an attempt to hide it from view.
“My powers are diminishing.” Her gaze grew distant, far away. “It was never meant to be this way, it’s supposed to be parent and child working in tandem. But I’ve been on my own for so long, trying to compensate for Django’s loss, I’m afraid it’s taken its toll. And now I must hang on to whatever’s left, so I can pass it to you. Soon you will be stronger than any other Seeker that’s come before. There is nothing to worry about, nieta—you are more than ready for this.” She turned to me then, her expression telling me the discussion was over.
The decision was made despite all my protests, and now I’m clinging to the door of Chay’s truck, staring down my new school on a gloomy Wednesday morning, which still seems ridiculous. Who the heck starts school on a Wednesday?
“It is better this way,” Paloma says, in her uncanny way of tapping into my thoughts. Her hand patting my knee when she adds, “You will take a few days to get adjusted, meet a few people and find your way around, and by Monday, you’ll be ready to face the whole week, and all those that follow.”
Despite her words of encouragement, I can’t help but feel disappointed. I had high hopes for this school. It’s the first one I’ve ever attended, and I was hoping it would be prettier, more inviting. I was hoping it would look more like the fancy schools you see on TV, and less like the bleak house of doom that sits right before me.
“Remember what I told you, nieta.”
I lick my lips. Flick my gaze toward hers.
“Cade will be here, so you must be on guard. Do not let him intimidate you. Do not let him manipulate you. And never allow yourself to doubt his true nature again. Your impressions of him were right all along. He is a powerful sorcerer—his entire clan, the Richters, also known as El Coyote, are masters at manipulating perception. Controlling the consciousness of others is the very thing that’s allowed them to hang on for so long. It’s a skill the Seekers have yet to accomplish and have fought hard to overcome. Though even if we do find the key, we would never use it in the way they do. They’ve chosen to play in the dark—while you, my nieta, are a Santos, a Seeker, and we always remain firmly entrenched in the light, no matter what. You are ready to face him, I assure you of that. Otherwise, you would not be here, so there is no reason to worry.”
