I told her we were different. Not like the others. That our paths were chosen for us and it was our job to follo
w them and live up to the task. Something of which I become more convinced each day.
Then I gave her a glimpse of her future.
Showed her the radiant, magnificent being she could someday be if she could just stay the course.
Luckily, it worked.
Still, being here now somehow feels wrong. This cave belongs to the Santoses. Without Daire, I have no right to enter.
The elders move a round me, as though I’msome annoying obstacle they’re forced to tolerate. Chay sprinkles a fresh layer of salt along the front entrance that’s meant to keep it free from predators and intruders—including, possibly, us? As Leftfoot looks at me and says, “You recognize it?” Accurately reading my expression.
I nod. “It’s sacred ground for Seekers.” I meet his gaze. “I’m not sure we have any right to intrude. We have our own sacred places—why force ourselves on theirs?”
“Since when have I ever forced myself anywhere?” Leftfoot makes an exasperated face, and pushes ahead of me until he joins Cree and Chay inside the cave, while I remain stubbornly fixed outside. Trying not to cringe under the weight of Leftfoot’s scrutinizing glare when he says, “You questioning me?”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, knowing I shouldn’t, that I have no place to doubt his wisdom, yet there’s no denying the truth.
I rub a hand over my chin, shoot him an apologetic look.
Only to see him grin as he says, “Good. You passed. Never trudge onto sacred land without a proper invitation. But now that you’ve been summoned, you have a handful of seconds to join us, before the offer will close and you’ll be shut out for the duration.”
EIGHT
DAIRE
I enter the house to the sound of shrieks and giggles drifting from under the door of my old room that can only mean one thing: Lita and Axel are at it again.
I head for the sink, drop my cap on the counter, flip on the faucet, and stick my head under the spray. Looking to cool off after a long run in the scorching heat, and hopefully drown out the blare of the love-fest down the hall.
With my ponytail clinging to my neck, and water streaming down the back of my tank top, I pour a tall glass of iced ginger tea and position myself before the fan I’ve propped on the counter. Surveying the pile of dirty bowls in the sink, the mixer stand speckled with crud, the baking pan left to cool on the stove—all the usual remnants of yet another failed breakfast experiment.
I’m annoyed by the mess.
Annoyed to always return home to this.
But mostly, I’m annoyed by the sheer force of their happiness—and my inability to warn them of their ill-fated future.
We’re doomed.
Every last one of us.
Making me feel like a virus—infecting everyone around me.
The only ones who stand half a chance are Auden and Xotichl. And yet, there’s no denying that things between them aren’t quite as intense as they were. Ever since he left Epitaph to work on a solo act, he’s off playing gigs in other faraway cities. And while I know it’s been hard on Xotichl, she’s mostly really proud of him. She knows how hard he’s worked for this, and how much it means to him.
I turn back to the sink and flip on the faucet again. This time filling the basin with warm sudsy water, preparing to clean up Lita’s mess, when she enters the kitchen with gleaming brown eyes, cheeks flushed light pink, and a tumble of dark waves cascading messily over her shoulders, the newly bleached ends nearly meeting her waist.
“Didn’t hear you come home.” She grins happily as Axel comes to stand beside her in a pair of dark denim jeans and a white V-neck tee that Lita picked out for him. And though he looks undeniably good, it’s still weird seeing him in anything other than the white tunic he wore in the Upperworld.
“You were busy.” The words come out gruffer than I intended, or maybe not. My mood is unstable, my nerves are jangled, and while I’m tempted to blame the heat, I know better. This is about the dream. No matter how hard I pushed myself during my run, I just couldn’t ditch it.
“Sorry.” Lita’s tone is as sheepish as the look on her face. “Sorry for the noise, the mess, and the overall intrusion on your life.” She sneaks a peek at Axel, motioning for him to grab the dish towel as she edges me back toward the fan and takes over the washing. “To be honest, Daire, I’m not quite sure how to be around you anymore.”
I lean against the counter, unsure how to take that. Catching the cautionary look Axel shoots her as he whispers, “Lita—”
But Lita’s not one to be shushed, and so she hands him a bowl to dry as she looks at me and says, “Truth is, when you’re not outwardly irritated, you’re so cut off and withdrawn it makes me miss the annoyed sighs and frowny faces you make.”