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“What you need to understand is that you can’t hear anything, feel anything, or see anything unless you focus on it with intent.” She pauses, the blank look on my face prompting her to explain. “Right now you’re focused on me. You’re looking at me, listening to me, struggling to understand me—” She flashes a grin. “And you’re successful in this endeavor because I am already a solid part of your consciousness. I already exist within the field of all the things that you know and have come to expect of the world. But now that you realize there is more to this world than you thought—now that you know that this particular Middleworld dimension is just one of many and that there are vortexes and portals that lead to other worlds, and other dimensions within those worlds—it won’t be long before you’ll become proficient enough to locate them easily. But for now, for tonight, all I ask is that you take a good look around, stay alert, and if you do notice something that appears out of the norm, take careful note, observe the area well, then get yourself out as quickly as possible.”
I fumble with the strap on my watch, remembering the first and last times I visited the Rabbit Hole. How the whole place seemed odd, off, and definitely out of the norm. From the bleary-eyed patrons at the bar, to the bartenders, bouncers, and waitstaff who worked there, and now I understand that they’re all under the spell of the Richters.
“The place is rigged with surveillance cameras,” I say, my eyes meeting Paloma’s. “Right before I left, I went into an office where I saw Cade monitoring the entire building, inside and out, from a large set of screens. It won’t be easy to poke around in there. No matter where I go, they’ll be able to watch me. And believe me, once they realize I’ve entered the premises, they’ll be watching for sure. There’s no way I can sneak under their radar.”
But despite all I’ve said, Paloma meets my words with a smile. “But you will sneak under their radar, nieta. And you’ll do so quite easily, with very little effort, as you will soon see. They won’t even notice you, I promise you that.”
I peer at her, having no idea what she’s getting at, and not sure I want to. “So … you’ve got an invisibility cloak for me to wear?” I say, hoping the joke will calm my nerves, and it does. But only until she reaches into the side pocket of her dress and retrieves a small glass jar with tiny holes poked in the lid and an unhappy cockroach inside.
“Much like you merged your energy with the cat, and the lizard, and the spider, and the raven—when you get to the club, you will go into the bathroom, find an empty stall, and you will merge your energy with this cockroach, which will allow you to get a good look around without getting noticed.”
“A cockroach?” I glance between the jar and her. There’s no way. The mere thought makes my skin crawl. “Seriously. La cucaracha?” I say, using up all the Spanish I know.
“Yes, nieta.” She grins. “And while I’m sure there is no shortage of them at the Rabbit Hole, in this case, we just can’t take the chance that they run a much cleaner establishment than I suspect. So, I’m afraid you’ll have to bring your own.”
She hands me the jar, and even though I can hardly wrap my head around what’s being asked of me, I find myself taking it with less hesitation than I ever would’ve thought. After checking the lid and making sure it’s screwed on good and tight, I tuck the jar deep into my bag, heave it onto my shoulder, and say, “So, out of all the vortexes and portals in Enchantment, what makes this one so important?”
Paloma faces the mirror, assessing her reflection as she pulls her cardigan tightly around her, then turning away well before she can spot the small pool of blood gathering at the corner of her nose. She looks at me and says, “Because that’s where the secret of their strength lies. If you can locate it and, eventually, breach it, you can stop them forever.”
thirty-one
After slipping on the same dark skinny jeans I wore to school—the only ones spared the fate of Paloma’s scissors, intent on making room for my cast, I add a clingy, hip-grazing, black tank top, my favorite black ankle boots, a large pair of silver hoop earrings, and, of course, my olive-green army jacket. Arranging my soft buckskin pouch inside my clothes, where it rests against my skin, I’m just exiting my room and careening down the hall, when Paloma steps before me.
“Here, nieta, you will need this.” She offers two worn and crumpled twenties, but I’m quick to wave them away. I can’t take her money. From what I can tell there’s not a lot of it, and it doesn’t feel right.
She sighs, tucks it into her pocket, and leads me outside to her Jeep. And for all the talk and excitement we engaged in from the moment I got home from school, I’m surprised to find how quiet we are for most of the ride into town. It’s only when she brakes at a stoplight just a half block away from the Rabbit Hole, and reaches for a fresh tissue to dab away the bright spots of blood accumulating at her nose, that I say, “Paloma, about the nosebleeds—”
But just like every other time I’ve mentioned it, she’s quick to silence me. Her foot moving from the brake to the gas when she says, “When you’re ready to leave, Chay and I will be happy to come get you, all you have to do is call. And if you fail to find the portal and want to stay late and have fun, that’s okay too. I’m sure Auden or Xotichl will find you a ride, they’re good kids.”
She stops before the club, but I make no move to leave. Not until she tells me, once and for all, just what the heck is going on
with her.
But, as usual, she senses my mood and turns in her seat, placing her hand over mine, giving it a nice, reassuring squeeze as she says, “Now go, nieta.” Her tone along with her gaze signaling she has no intention of answering my questions, so I might as well get on with it. Softening a bit when she adds, “And try to have some fun—you’ve certainly earned it.”
I sigh, wishing she’d confide in me. But knowing there’s no point in pushing it, I hop out of the Jeep and make my way down the alleyway to the side door, thinking how different the place looks from the other two times I was here. First as a terrified, hallucinating, confused train wreck of a girl, which only served in making everything appear dark, foreboding, scary, and sinister. Then, just a few hours earlier, when I saw it through the eyes of the raven—when it seemed almost ordinary, mundane, boring even. Though that’s what the Richters want you to see. It’s like Paloma said, now that I’m trained as a Seeker, now that I know the truth about the world, I definitely get the the sense of something much darker lurking beneath.
I head for the door, edging my way toward the front of the line, unable to keep a grin from slipping onto my face when the bouncer stamps my hand with the same stamp they used the first time I visited: a cartoon coyote with gleaming red eyes.
El Coyote, it’s time to meet a new generation of Seeker.
My bravado lasting all of ten seconds, until I step inside and the first thing I see is Lita and the rest of the Cruel Crew, as Xotichl called them, hovering just steps from the door.
But instead of the usual sneers I expect, I’m met by three pairs of narrowed, interested eyes that carefully track my progress as I make my way past the bar, through a maze of crowded tables and chairs, all the way to the front of the stage where Xotichl stands with her eyes squeezed shut, palms pressed flat against one of the speakers, as Auden runs through a series of sound checks.
“You made it.” She smiles, eyes still closed, head turning toward me.
“I did indeed,” I say, wondering what it is that she’s doing, but she tells me well before I can ask.
“I can see the music’s energy.” She opens her eyes, though her gaze remains unfocused, far away.
“You can … see it?” I study her closely, taking in her cute denim miniskirt and black tee, the word EPITAPH scrawled in silver across the front. “But … how?” I ask. I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“Amazing—isn’t it?” She grins in a way that makes her whole face illuminate. “It’s probably not what you think. It’s not like actual images or anything. It’s more like bright, intense flashes of color. Music is energy—you know that, right? Well, actually, everything is energy, it’s been scientifically proven. But anyway, back to music—you see, each note contains its own energy, its own vibration, which in turn contains its own corresponding color. I’m not sure if Paloma told you, but this is how Auden and I met. I mean, not here at the Rabbit Hole, but because of the whole energy/music/color/connection thing. Actually, when you come right down to it, it’s all Paloma’s fault.” She laughs. “We’ve been working on this for about two years now—she’s the one who helped me discover it. Then when Auden agreed to help me fine-tune it, she put us together and it was love from the start! His music is amazing,” she gushes, her face soft and dreamy. “You should see how much color it radiates. It’s as vibrant as he is.”
I stand beside her, having no idea what to say. Having never imagined I’d find myself jealous of a blind girl—or any girl, for that matter. I’ve always been more or less content with just being me, for better or worse. But Xotichl’s joy is so contagious I can’t help but wonder what it might be like to be her. To live in her skin. To be so filled with happiness and love it can’t be contained.
To never face the burden of merging your energy with that of a cockroach in order to go vortex hunting.
