I curve my body over hers. Sink into her arms. Desperately seeking the sweet scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the mysteries of her flesh.
And when she smiles and nods, inviting me in, I fall deeper into her than ever before.
thirty-seven
Daire
By the time we make it to Leftfoot’s all of the elders are gathered around the kitchen table, as though they’ve been not so patiently waiting for us.
Everyone except Paloma, that is.
She’s the only one missing.
Chepi’s the first to react. At the sight of Dace, she bolts from her chair, and hurries toward him in a blur of whimpers and tears.
She hugs him tightly, murmurs softly in their native tongue. Then draws away, cups her palms to the sides of his cheeks, and carefully studies his eyes.
“You are back.” Her voice rings surprisingly steady and sure, defying her highly emotional state. “Yet a darkness remains.”
Dace averts his gaze, extricating himself from her grip. His features softening in relief when Leftfoot pulls him away and says, “Come on, let’s have a look at you.” The old medicine man leads him into the spare room to check his vital signs, and Chepi’s quick to follow, leaving me alone with Chay.
I claim the seat beside him and say, “Where is she?” My gaze skims over his broad nose, defined cheekbones, and hooded brown eyes, before coming to rest on the dark glossy ponytail that hangs just past his collar. “I assumed Paloma would be here, awaiting our return with the rest of you.”
Chay hesitates. Making careful study of the intricate silver eagle-head ring he always wears with deep golden stones standing in for the eyes. “Paloma stayed back at the house,” he finally says, the words as guarded as the expression masking his face.
“Why?” I lean toward him, alerted by the nagging twinge that pulls at my gut, along with his clouded gaze and grim lips. Chay’s far too honorable to be a good liar. Deception is not a sport that comes easily to him. If he’s not lying, at the very least, he’s holding something back.
“She’s not feeling well,” he says, exhaling deeply as he squares his gaze on mine. “I urged her to rest. Promised her I’d hold vigil until you and Dace returned.”
I splay my hands on the table and take a series of slow steady breaths in an attempt to center myself and quell my growing alarm. It’s more than that. Something’s wrong. I can tell. Chay is far more concerned than he lets on.
“Okay,” I say. “Now that I’ve heard the story you’ve both agreed on, what’s really going on with Paloma? C’mon, Chay. I need you to tell me the truth. I can handle it, whatever it is.”
“It’s nothing that can’t be remedied,” he says, but again, the words ring untrue. “Leftfoot has tended to her. And he will do so again as soon as he’s finished with Dace. I’ll head over there as well, and stay through the night in case she needs something.” When that clearly doesn’t quash my fears, he creases his brow and goes on to say, “Look, Daire, Paloma’s been under a lot of stress, as you already know. Stress that began sixteen years ago with the death of your father. The stress of losing her only child, the stress of keeping the Santos legacy alive far longer than normal, along with the stress of keeping the Richters contained, especially with Cade coming into his own and branching off from Leandro’s more modest goals in the way that he has—all of it’s contributed to the way she’s feeling now. But make no mistake, your arrival in Enchantment was the best thing to happen to her in a very long time. Your work as a Seeker has not only relieved the burden she bears, but you’ve also made her inordinately proud.”
I sit quietly before him, taking a moment to weigh his words. No matter how guarded his message, I see right through him. He’s trying to assuage my worst fears. Insisting that I’m not one bit responsible for Paloma’s failing health. But I won’t take the bait. Unfortunately, I know better.
“I was a reluctant Seeker.” I frown, plagued by the bitter memory of my ill-fated attempt to run away. “And because of it, I put her through hell. Delayed the whole process. From the moment I finally got my act together, I’ve had the undeniable feeling we’re in a race against time. Time that was lost because of me.”
“You did nothing out of the ordinary,” Chay says, covering my hand with his own. His palm is warm, welcome, but it fails to provide the comfort intended. “Your reaction was perfectly normal, understandable. Your father did the same thing.”
I dismiss the words with a defiant shake of my head, refusing to be let off so easily. Learning from my failures requires me to face my failures. Not to hide behind a bunch of convenient excuses.
“Paloma didn’t rebel against it. She embraced her destiny right from the start. I saw the whole thing. She gave me a lineage transmission. Shared her entire life’s journey. It was amazing. Awe-inspiring. And I was humbled by the level of personal sacrifice she endured for the greater good of all—” My voice falters, needing a moment before I can continue. “Her life’s contained so much hardship and loss, and I—” Before I can finish, Chay interrupts.
“All life comes with hardship, Daire. That’s just the nature of things. Every difficulty, every struggle, serves as a signpost that leads us to the ultimate truth that none of us stands alone. There is no us versus them. There is only we. We are as connected to this earth as we are to each other. But, for most of us, the journey to enlightenment begins with despair. The moment we’re brought to our knees, left with no choice but to admit that the old ways are no longer working, serves as a portal to a greater understanding. Paloma has always been aware of the perils of her position. She was well prepared by her mother, the Seeker before her. She’s always understood that great privilege comes with great responsibility. She has never dwelled on her tragedies. Same way she doesn’t gloat over her triumphs. She stays steady, humble, and present. With one eye fixed on the horizon ahead. And I’m sure I’m not remiss in saying she would wish the same thing of you.” He gives my fingers a reassuring squeeze. The cool silver band of his spirit animal ring pressing into my skin. “She’s stronger than you think. I’m sure she’ll get through this in no time. She’s just a little under the weather, that’s all.”
“Paloma doesn’t get under the weather.” I slip my hand from his, and rock my chair back on two legs. Allowing my gaze to wander, seek solace in the handwoven Navajo rugs hugging the dark wood floor, the short, sloping ceiling overhead, the deep niches carved into the walls filled with all manner of crosses, fetishes, hand-carved santos, and other powerful objects of worship that Dace always refers to as the tools of the light worker trade. “She’s immune to things like cold and flu. She only falls ill when she’s been impaired in some way. Which means there has to be a reason for this. Is her soul still intact? Cade didn’t manage to steal it again, did he?” I return my focus to Chay, relieved to see he’s quick to rebut it with a firm shake of his head. “Well, maybe it’s Wolf then…” My voice fades as I try to make sense of the idea that just occurred to me.
Chay swivels in his chair, tracking my progress as I push away from the table and roam about the room. Stopping before the niche that holds the beautiful wolf fetish carved from a single, shiny, white stone.
“For the last week, up until today, the Lowerworld was in an icy, frozen state that forced all of the spirit animals into hibernation so they weren’t available to guide us. So I’m thinking that maybe Paloma was adversely affected by Wolf’s absence.” I fold the stone in my palm, surprised by its heft and warmth, as Chay leans back in his chair and takes a moment to consider my words.
“Daire, while I can’t know for sure if Wolf’s lack of influence is to blame, what I can say is that the last week without you has taken its toll. In an attempt to hasten your return, Paloma entered into a deep state of fasting and prayer—as did Chepi and Leftfoot—while I was in charge of holding down the fort. I’m sure the fast left her a bit weakened. I’m also sure that now that you’re back, she will start to mend. But remember, you only just returned. It’s going to take some time for her to regain her strength.” He nods as though he’s convinced, but I can tell that he’s not, and neither am I.
I’m about to press further, when I notice a new furrow etched at his brow that makes his eyes appear even deeper, more hooded. This talk isn’t just to quiet my fears, it’s to quell his as well. Paloma is his lover, his partner, his closest companion, and friend. The mere thought of losing her is a burden he’s not ready to bear.
I return the wolf to its niche and cross the room to the sink where I pour Chay a glass of water and place it before him. “Change of subject,” I say, eager to move on to less emotional ground.