“They’ll be up soon. If they’re not already,” Dace whispers into my ear. “Suriel likes to greet the start of each day.”
He slides off Kachina’s back and helps me do the same. Then, not wanting her to attract any unwanted attention, I slap her on the rear, and tell her to find a nice place to graze. While Dace and I duck behind the old, broken-down shed just off to the side that’s even more dilapidated than the trailer.
A moment later, just like Dace said, a light switches on from inside. Allowing us to make out two shadowy figures moving behind a filmy yellow curtain.
“It’ll start with a sermon,” Dace says, and, sure enough, Suriel’s voice pierces the silence, roaring so loudly it bleeds through the walls of the trailer and into the yard. I stare at Dace, wondering how he knew that. “He’s a creature of habit.” He grins. “Never deviates from his routine.”
Though the words aren’t easily discerned, every now and then we’re able to catch one of Suriel’s favorite catchphrases. Last Days are here … Shining Days of Glory shall commence … Suriel is but a humble servant, his daughter a tool of thy will … More Apocalyptic nonsense. The guy is obsessed.
When he reaches the end, he leaves his daughter to dress as he stumbles from the trailer, turns toward the mountains, drops to his knees, and begins once again. Only this time we get to watch it as well. His body listing from side to side, his head rolling back, his tongue lolling free of his mouth.
“Guess you’re not the only one connected to the earth,” I joke, trying to make light of the scene unfolding before me. Mostly because it’s giving me a serious case of the creeps.
“He claims spirit has ahold of him when he does that. Used to freak us out when we were kids.”
Poor Phyre. To have to grow up like that …
I start to feel sorry for her. Start to feel a flood of compassion for her predicament. I used to think Jennika was embarrassing with her crazy hair colors and piercings and penchant for drama, but compared to Suriel, Jennika looks like a 1950s sitcom mom.
Though the sentiment is short lived. Vanishing the moment Phyre exits the trailer and I remember her goal to kill Dace.
She runs an uncertain hand over her halo of curls. Tugs her black miniskirt to better cover her thighs. Standing straight and rigid beside her father, as though she doesn’t dare move. Her features blunted, her face inscrutable, as she watches Suriel shake and sweat and convulse in a frenzy of righteousness.
With spot-on timing, she anticipates the exact moment he wakes from the trance. “I’m headed out,” she says. “Thought I’d get an early start.”
Suriel gets to his feet. Runs his palms down the front of his suit and straightens his tie. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small glass vial filled with some sort of cloudy liquid. His voice as stern as his face, he says, “It is time.”
Phyre nods. Tilts her head back. Parts her lips.
“This is your final chance to redeem yourself.”
She closes her eyes and offers her tongue.
“You know our deal. See that it’s done by midnight, Phyre. Any later is too late.” He shakes the vial into her mouth, counting the drops until he’s satisfied it’s enough.
As soon as she’s absorbed it, she tucks her chin to her chest and casts her gaze to her feet. Assuming a pose of supplication.
“I think you know what awaits you if you lie to me again…” Suriel’s voice drifts with implied threat.
Phyre nods. Squeezes her palms tightly together.
“You were begotten in sin and you shall end in sin!” Suriel shouts in a voice so thunderous my body gives way to an involuntary shudder. “It is your role. Your birthright. The destiny you were born for. It is a great honor to be called upon and used in this way. Now leave and do what you must. May the Glory of the Shining Days be upon us!”
In an emotionless voice, Phyre repeats that last part, then turns and heads in our direction. Making straight for the shed as Dace and I freeze with our breaths held in our cheeks.
The door squeals in protest as she forces it open. Emitting another shrill, creaking sound when she exits just as quickly, and heads for Suriel’s car.
“What is that?” I whisper, squinting into the distance, trying to make out the rectangular object she hauls into the trunk.
“Looks like an old gas can,” Dace says. Still squinting, he turns to me and adds, “What the hell are they up to?” His eyes meet mine.
“I have no idea,” I say. “But I’m about to find out. Will you watch over my body and make sure I stay safe?”
His questioning gaze follows mine to the raven that’s landed on the roof just above us. Reminding me of one of Paloma’s earliest teachings.
While he should not be mistaken for your actual spirit animal—he is still considered a brother, as all ravens are that inhabit the Middleworld. Raven is a messenger of the spirit realm—the things he will show you can shift your life dramatically. He will teach you to venture into the dark in order to bring forth the light …
The raven appearing at exactly this time is an omen, not an accident. Of that I am sure.