Fated (16 page)

I glance down at my hands, two cloth-covered mounds, saying, “I followed the wind.” I kick a leg up under me, squirm in my seat, feeling more than a little ridiculous for admitting such a thing.

“And your teacher, he showed himself three times?”

I nod. My fingers curling tighter, pressing the rock so hard it makes my hand ache. “He did indeed. But just so you know, it’s not the first time we met. He came to me in a dream that didn’t end well. No thanks to him.”

Her eyes grow dark and serious in a way that prompts me to continue.

“Long story short, someone close to me, someone I really care about—or at least in the dream anyway—well, he died. And my teacher’s the one who purposely led me to witness that death. It’s the dream I told you about when we were in the graveyard—only I guess I failed to mention that part.”

Her gaze grows wide as her hand flutters over her heart like a hummingbird searching for nectar. “
Nieta,
this is wonderful!” she says, her eyes beginning to glisten. “This is more than I ever could’ve imagined—more than I ever dared hope! And you say the wind led you there?”

I frown. Pull my shoulders in. More than a little put off by her excitement, my failure to make myself clear. “Someone
died,
Paloma.” I level my gaze on hers. “
Murdered
by a
demon.
And my so-called
teacher
is the one who’s
responsible
for leading me there. It may sound dumb to you, but the dream felt so real, I haven’t been able to shake it no matter how hard I try.” I stare at her, pleading to be heard, but despite all the emphasized words, she still doesn’t get it. I can tell by the way her face softens, as her eyes grow increasingly misty.

She lowers her lids, keeping them closed when she says, “Dreams cannot always be taken literally,
nieta.
Sometimes death is really just a metaphor for rebirth. Allowing the old version of one to slip away so that a newer, better, stronger version can stand in its place.” Her eyes meet mine. “If your teacher led you there, then I’m sure there was a reason. Though there is only one way to be sure that he is your teacher—do you still have the stone that I gave you?”

I uncurl my fingers and present it to her. Watching in dismay as she carries it over to the burner and motions for me to join her as she drops it back into the pot, sets the water to boil, and stares into the cloudy mixture of herbs with an infinite patience I can’t even fathom.

She murmurs in Spanish, her hand fisted, pressed close to her heart. And though I stare into the pot right alongside her, I can’t, for the life of me, determine what she’s so excited about.

A few moments later, she reaches for the strainer and drains the hot water into the sink. Then lowering the pot onto the counter, she turns to me and says, “Is this what you saw? Is this the teacher you met on your journey?”

I lean over her shoulder, not expecting to see much of anything, and gasping in shock when I find that the small black stone morphed into the shape of a raven. Its wings clearly etched, its eyes glimmering purple.

“Is this the teacher you saw?”

I gulp. Nod. It’s all I can manage. The sight of it has rendered me speechless.

I continue to stare at the stone-turned-raven, knowing there’s no way it can be true, and yet there it is, sitting right smack in front of me. Reminding me of the stone animal fetishes I once saw in a tourist shop in Arizona—so shiny and intricate, hand-carved by the Zuni tribe, bearing a close resemblance to the one in this pot.

“We all have an animal guide—each and every one of us.” She gazes upon the stone replica. “Though sadly, most people live long full lives without ever realizing theirs. Different animals bear different purposes, different meanings. And as it just so happens, yours, the raven, is a very fortuitous one indeed. He represents magick, a change in consciousness, and the power of stunning transformation.” She looks at me, eyes shining with pride when she adds, “He soars into darkness only to return with the light. He will whisper the secrets of magick—though those secrets must never be revealed. Raven’s arrival heralds the fulfillment of prophecy.” She presses a hand to her mouth, overcome by a rush of emotion I can’t quite grasp. “It also appears that the wind is your element. Oh,
nieta
!” she cries, her voice hoarse, thick. “I didn’t expect you to determine that so quickly, which is why I didn’t bother to mention it. That sort of thing usually comes much later in the training. This is very unexpected, to be sure.”

“Is that …
good
?” I ask, still trying to make sense of the rock and her words, but feeling more confused than ever.

“It is more than good!” She smiles, hands clasped together. “It is wonderful! Though I suppose I should have guessed. You come from a very strong bloodline—a bloodline that contains powerful magick on both sides. And, in addition, you’re infused with Django’s untapped potential, it had to go somewhere, so it found its way to you,” she says, her words triggering a question I didn’t think to ask until now.

“When you say ‘a very strong bloodline with powerful magick on both sides…’”

Paloma shoots me an apprehensive look, as though she already senses the question to come, which she probably does.

“What does that mean? Who is Django’s father—my grandfather?”

She sighs, her voice as resigned as her face when she says, “His name is Alejandro.”

I lean toward her. “
Is
—so he’s still alive then?” Brightening at the idea of having two living grandparents.

“No,
nieta.
Sadly, he is not alive in the way that you mean. Though, like Django, his presence is everywhere, which is why I refuse to refer to him in the past tense. Alejandro and I were brought together for a purpose. His family hails from a long line of very powerful shamans—Alejandro was known as a Jaguar Shaman of the highest order. Our match was arranged by our parents in the hopes that our union would result in offspring bearing the kind of gifts I’m seeing in you. Though it wasn’t long before we grew to love each other, which is why I was devastated when he was called back to Brazil on a family emergency only to have his plane crash shortly after takeoff. It wasn’t long after when I learned I was pregnant—not unlike what happened with Jennika and Django. I’m afraid Seekers aren’t known for their happy, long-standing unions,
nieta
. That’s a part of the legacy I hope you’ll escape.”

It takes a moment to digest—three grandparents lost to a plane crash—Paloma discovering she was pregnant just after losing him—what a strange way history has of repeating itself.

“It’s no accident,
nieta.
” She addresses the thoughts I failed to speak. “The dark forces are responsible for these tragedies. It’s their attempt to prevent us from producing offspring who will one day join the fight against them. But both times they were too late, a child was already well on the way—one of them you.”

“So, that’s why you think I’m advancing so quickly—because of all this untapped potential that’s finally unleashed?”

Paloma’s face lifts, her sadness easing when she says, “To heed the call of the windsong on one’s first journey…” She shakes her head as her gaze travels a very long distance. “It is virtually unheard of. You know this makes you a Wind Dancer,
nieta
? Which means the wind is your elemental teacher. If you honor it, follow its song, it will never steer you wrong. The wind is a powerful force, one to be reckoned with, for sure. And as it turns out, soon, much sooner than I thought, you will be a force to be reckoned with too. You have surpassed all my expectations. You have accomplished in one single journey far more than any of your ancestors before you.”

I pick at the ribbed hem of my sweatshirt, wishing I could drum up the same kind of excitement but unable to get there.

She’s wrong about the dream. No one was reborn. Nor were they transformed. The boy was slain pure and simple—left for dead in my arms. And Raven’s the one who forced me to be there.

“I’ve been having that dream for a while now.” I pause, my eyes meeting hers. “The first night I came here, I had it again, and that was when I watched the boy die. The other times were more…” I struggle to find the right word, a grandmother-friendly word. “Well, the other dreams were more playful … more romantic. But the last one was more like an expanded version. It had an actual beginning, middle, and a very unfortunate end.”

She nods, her gaze urging me on.

“I saw the boys that night at the Rabbit Hole, and then, just now, I saw one of them when I was at the gas station with Chay. It’s the eyes that give them away. In the dream they’re a strange icy-blue—and while one boy’s eyes reflect, the other one, the evil one, his absorb like a void—and it’s the same in waking life too. I don’t know why I’m dreaming about them—about real people I’ve never actually met. I don’t know what any of it means, but the thing is, the boy who died in the dream—he
didn’t
transform and he
wasn’t
reborn. His soul was stolen, pure and simple. So if this dream is supposed to be prophetic, I want nothing to do with it. It was horrible to watch, there was no way to save him, and I can’t help thinking if I hadn’t followed Raven, it never would’ve ended that way. So excuse me if I’m unable to be as excited about Raven as you are!” My voice breaks, I can’t help it, and as much as I try to blink back the tears, one still gets away.

I mash the heel of my hand hard against it, obliterating it and all the others that follow. Paloma’s voice gentle, her hand on my shoulder, she says, “You are on the verge of a very important transformation. Make no mistake,
nieta,
you will return to the Rabbit Hole. You will meet the boys again. And yes, you will even learn to trust Raven, for his wisdom is far greater than yours. But first, we must get you prepared. It is time to skip forward in your training and get you started on your vision quest.”

seventeen

“Make no mistake,
nieta,
your powers will be great—greater than you can comprehend at this point.” Paloma flies down the hallway in a bustle of activity it’s all I can do to keep up with. Charging into my room, she grabs jeans, a white tank top, a black V-neck sweater, my olive-green army jacket, and some dusty old tennis shoes that belong to someone else. Thrusting them into my arms, she tells me to change, while she retrieves a small, black bag from a high closet shelf she needs a step stool to reach. Then she bolts from the room and heads down the hall, storming toward her office when she says, “You must never forget that great power comes with great responsibility.” She glances over her shoulder, making sure that I heard. “You will gain much knowledge. You will discover the healing powers of herbs, along with a variety of songs and chants that contain powers that must never be underestimated or abused. Some of them can harm, most of them can heal—though it’s absolutely imperative that you always hold your skills in the highest regard. You must never use them for trivial things. And, more important, you must learn to overcome any and all small-mindedness.” She leans against the arched doorway, her eyes meeting mine in a serious stare. So caught up in her talk, she fails to notice the small trickle of blood that drips from her nose. “If someone does you wrong, you must learn to turn your cheek. Your powers must never be squandered on protecting your ego—rather they must be channeled toward the greater good of all.”

She retrieves a crumpled tissue from her pocket and heads inside. And I’m just about to ask if she’s all right when she faces me and says, “There is an old and very wise Native American saying:
Every time you point a finger in scorn—there are three remaining fingers pointing right back at you.
” Her gaze settles on mine. “You must always bear that in mind,
nieta.
You must never be quick to judge. Though, that said, you must also be aware that Seekers have enemies. There are those whose sole intent is to overpower us, if not destroy us. Which means I will teach you how to deal with the dark, just as I will train you to embrace the light.”

She moves toward the shelf along the far wall, thumping the red-painted drum as she passes—the move causing it to reverberate in a way that prompts me to cover my ears and cower in fear. My reaction so odd and unexpected, Paloma turns, eyes narrowing when I say, “Sorry. It’s just … that sound really bothers me. I know you didn’t mean to hit it—but, still, I really prefer not to hear it.”

She leans against the shelf, tissue still pressed to her nose. “The drum is a sacred instrument,” she says, pausing long enough to allow the words to settle, take shape. “It’s like I told you before, everything contains energy—everything maintains its own spirit—and the drum is no different. Its sound is akin to a heartbeat, a life pulse. It’s often referred to as a Spirit Horse as its tempo provides a portal, allowing one to journey to the otherworlds.” Then, catching my expression, she adds, “There is nothing to fear,
nieta.
”

I toy with the hem of my sweatshirt, not the least bit assured by her words. “That may be so,” I say. “But back in that Moroccan square, as well as in the Rabbit Hole, it was the sound of the drums that made the world stop and urged the glowing people and crows to appear.”

Paloma’s eyes shine as she crumples the bloodstained tissue into a ball. “And so you have already experienced its power,” she says. “Tell me,
nieta,
did the air grow hazy and shimmery?”

I twist my fingers, digging my nails hard into my flesh. Watching as she makes for the sink where she disposes of the tissue and washes her hands.

“Had you followed them and done as they asked, you would’ve found yourself in another world—another dimension.” She drops the towel, reaches into a cupboard, and pulls out a small black bag.

“So … you’re saying I should’ve gone with them?” I tilt my head and shoot her a skeptical look.

“No.” She flings her braid over her shoulder, allowing it to fall down her back. “I’m not saying that at all. It’s better you ignored them. You weren’t ready to heed their call, and there’s a good chance you would’ve been lost. Of course, I would’ve found you … eventually. But no, you did the right thing. Much like the tea allowed your soul to journey, the drumbeat allows your body to journey. Though it’s just a matter of time before you will require neither. Soon you will be able to determine the portals on your own. Enchantment has several, as you will soon see.”