Fated (25 page)

Fluid.

Graceful and agile in a way I’ve never known—never could’ve imagined.

Crossing the wall with my tail pitched high, I stop in midstep, alerted to some kind of change, aware that something’s intruded, though it’s only a moment before I realize the intruder is
me.

I rise up on my paws and arch my back high, enjoying the stretch and holding the pose for a few seconds more before I set off again. Moving with such delicacy and finesse, I’m absolutely giddy with the feel of it.

Then, without any warning, his body springs forward as he leaps away from the wall and lands out of sight. Our connection so suddenly severed, I collapse on the bench in a heap.

Paloma stands before me, hands clasped over her heart, exclaiming, “Wonderful,
nieta
! You blended your essence with his, I could see it on your face. You became one with him! Tell me, what did you experience?”

I take a moment to settle myself, find the right words. “I felt peaceful … and light. I felt a deep profound joy at being alive … I felt all of his deep-seated instincts that guided him to do what he does … and I was painfully aware of the deep stirrings of hunger.” I look at her, push my hair from my eyes. “I think we should leave him some food so he doesn’t always have to hunt the fields and fend for himself.”

Paloma sits beside me, slips an arm around my shoulders, and says, “You are very kindhearted,
nieta
. Consider it done. Though I warn you, you will never get rid of him once you start feeding him.”

I shrug. Sounds good to me. For someone who was never allowed a pet, I’m building up quite the menagerie now with my horse and my cat.

After merging my energy with a spider, a lizard, and another cat—this one gray and quite fat, which pretty much covers the variety of wildlife found in Paloma’s yard—it’s time to fly with the birds.

“It’s basically the same thing,” she tells me. “But as you’ll soon see, it is very exhilarating, which is why it’s always saved for last. One needs to work their way up to such an experience. Though seeing as you are a daughter of the wind, a Wind Dancer as it were, guided by Raven, you are likely to soar ever higher. Which is why I wanted to ensure you were fully prepared before we progressed to this step. So, what do you say—are you ready?”

I nod. I’m more than ready. I can’t wait to get off the ground and soar through the clouds—or at the very least, flit from tree to tree.

Paloma’s eyes narrow, performing a quick survey of the land. Her arm lifting, gesturing toward a large, shiny black raven perched on a nearby branch.

“This is no accident.” She nods, turning toward me. “He is here for a reason. He senses who you are—knows he shares the bloodline of your spirit animal, and he is ready for you to make the bond. While he should not be mistaken for your actual spirit animal—the raven you met in the Lowerworld as well as the cave—he is still considered a brother, as are all ravens that inhabit the Middleworld. Crows are also part of the family—your arrival was heralded by them. Along with the other things I’ve already told you, 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. And in some legends it is said he stole the sunlight from Coyote who was determined to keep the world shrouded in darkness—a legend that happens to be true, as it was during Valentina’s time, and she made sure to document it in some writings I will one day share with you. Though, as you well know, everything is cyclical,
nieta,
and it was just a matter of time before El Coyote regrouped and came back stronger than ever…” She picks at the hem of her dress, as her gaze joins her thoughts on a long-distance journey. Then shaking her head, she returns to me and says, “Anyway, enough of that—now it is time for you to join him, to soar with the raven.”

Just like I did with the cats, the lizard, and the rest, I narrow my gaze until I see only him, and a moment later it clicks. With a minimum of effort we’ve merged, and when the raven springs from his perch and soars overhead, I’m soaring right along with him. The experience so freeing, so exhilarating, it’s like every cell in my body is vibrating with the pure life force of his energy.

I gaze down upon treetops. Get a bird’s-eye view (literally!) of my neighbors’ roofs. I am the surveyor of everything. My eyes see all. Tracking the white cat I will soon claim as a pet, I watch as he stalks his prey, a small gray field mouse, then move on well before he can leap.

I soar above rutted dirt roads, over small adobe homes with rusted-out cars in the yards. Wishing we could soar all the way to the mountains, the Sangre de Cristo range that looms in the distance, but the raven has other plans. And while I’m pretty sure I could steer him, if not convince him, there’s something specific he wants me to see.

We arc left, dipping lower, gliding just shy of the telephone wires, before stopping on the shelter of the bus stop just opposite the Rabbit Hole. And it’s then that I realize what’s really happening here—while my body remains with Paloma, by merging my energy with the raven’s, I can watch the goings-on in various locations—see what he sees, no matter the distance.

We flit closer, the raven and me landing on a light post overlooking the alleyway. Seeing Auden’s station wagon parked near the back door as he and his bandmates haul equipment into the club.

My interest further piqued when Dace exits through that same door, lugging two heavy trash bags, one in each hand, stopping to allow passage for Auden’s bandmates, before making his way down the alleyway. Arms flexing from the weight of the bags, gait confident and long, moving in a way that makes the diminishing sunlight seem to shimmer around him.

I note every detail. Track every move. Torn between feelings of exhilaration and shame for spying this way. Repeating Paloma’s words in my head:

He’s not your enemy—not like the other Richters—his soul is good and pure.

He stands before the Dumpster, taking a moment to survey the alley, ensure no one’s watching, before he closes his eyes, lets go of the bags, and I stare in astonishment as they leap from his hands and dunk straight into the large metal bin.

Guess I’m not the only one around here who enjoys a little telekinesis.

He wipes his palms down the sides of his apron and makes for a redbrick building, where he pulls his phone from his pocket, inserts his earbuds, and shutters his eyes as he leans against the wall and listens to a melody that leaves him looking so peaceful and dreamy, I’m tempted to land on his shoulder and listen in too.

I flit from my perch, desperate for a better view. Using the raven’s eyes to soak in the casual slant of Dace’s shoulders, the gleam of his hair falling down the front of his tee, the long, lean line of his body, the way his apron dips low at his waist and skims over his thighs. Content with watching him for as long as it lasts, regretting the moment he sighs, pushes away from the wall, and heads back.

I follow his lead, careful to keep close to the buildings, remain unobtrusive, unseen. Tracking him all the way to the back door of the club, where Auden and his bandmates have been replaced by the waitress who served me the last time I was here.

She stands in the doorway, posture stooped, arms folded across her chest, while Cade looms before her, berating her in a way that leaves her wincing in shame.

I creep closer, wondering if I should do something to stop him, jab my beak into those creepy blue eyes—when Dace moves in and handles it for me in a less violent way.

He slips an arm around her, murmuring soft words of comfort, as he fixes a hard stare on his brother, and says, “That’s enough.”

Cade glares. Dismisses his brother with a wave of his hand. “Stay out of it, Whitefeather. This is none of your business,” he snaps, returning to the waitress, picking up where he left off, when Dace interferes once again.

“You’ve made it my business,” Dace says, turning to the waitress and ushering her into the club.

Her sudden departure causing Cade to erupt in fury when he shouts, “You’ve no right to interfere!”

Dace lifts his shoulders, shoves his hands into his pockets, and says, “She works hard, you need to cut her some slack.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Cade’s voice bearing the same outrage he wears on his face. “Unless you’ve decided to change your last name to Richter, I don’t see how you have any say in it. You’re nothing more than hired help around here. Never forget that.”

Dace stands before him, not the least bit intimidated. “You’d get a lot more out of your employees if you treated them with a little respect,” he says, not so much as flinching when Cade steps forward, face fully inflamed.

“What gives you the right to tell me how to run
my
business—huh?” His hands curl to fists as he reaches for his brother, only to have Leandro appear in the doorway, his large form crowding the space.

“
Your
business?” He stares hard at his favored son, the one he engineered to his exact specifications. “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?” He grips Cade’s shoulder and yanks him away from Dace. “Stop making trouble. Leave your brother alone. I mean it, Cade, do not make me warn you again.” He nods at Dace, motions him through the door, returning to Cade, voice lowered when he says, “I don’t like him any more than you do, but your actions only prove that you’re nowhere near ready to take over this business or any other business. It’s time you learn a little diplomacy.”

He heads inside, leaving Cade to grapple with his words—grapple with an anger so intense, so palpable, it transforms him into the blazing-eyed, snake-tongued, demon boy I know him to be.

The effect lasting only a moment, yet long enough to shock me in a way that causes the delicate balance of energy to shift. So when the raven springs from the roof and soars toward the heavens—he goes without me. Leaving me an inert, glassy-eyed mess, slumped over a bench in Paloma’s backyard.

thirty

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” I glance at Paloma through the bathroom mirror. “You know, the grandmother urging the granddaughter to go clubbing, and even offering to drive her?”

Paloma forces a smile, as though she’s in on the joke, but the way it fails to reach her eyes tells me her mind is preoccupied with a new set of worries.

“What is it?” I take a moment to face her, mascara wand hovering before me.

“I’m afraid this isn’t just about going clubbing with your friends,
nieta.
” She meets my gaze with a look of regret. “While I want you to have fun with Xotichl and Auden, you should know that there’s much more at stake than listening to music and enjoying yourself.”

I nod, waiting for her to reveal the agenda. But Paloma being Paloma—a person who likes to dole it out slowly—she turns her focus to fussing with her sky-blue cardigan instead. Taking way too long to get it draped over her shoulders
just so,
despite the fact that she rarely wears it inside. It’s a delay tactic, no getting around it, but I decide not to push it and return to coating my lashes the way Jennika taught me—swiping the brush horizontally at the base, then nudging it vertically all the way to the tips.

“As I mentioned before, Enchantment is a place of many vortexes that provide portals that lead to the various worlds,” Paloma says in a voice that’s dry and tight. “But what I didn’t tell you, is that there’s one at the Rabbit Hole as well. The Rabbit Hole holds many secrets, though their portal is not only difficult to find but also well guarded. Only the most gifted Seekers have been able to locate it—though no Seeker has ever been able to enter.”

I shoot her an uneasy look, wondering if that’s what she’s expecting me to do—not only find it but enter it too. If that’s the plan, then I’m sorry to say that kind of espionage is way out of my league.

“Make no mistake,
nieta,
I don’t ask you to access it tonight. In fact, I strictly forbid it,” she says, her hands clasping as her gaze locks on mine. “Even if you are able to find it, under no circumstances are you to enter. You’re not yet ready, and there will be plenty of time for that later. For now, all I ask is that you try to locate it, then report back once you’ve succeeded.”

I take a deep breath, turning to face myself again. My hair is lank and straight, and that’s the way it’ll stay; I’m not one for fluff and curls. And after enhancing my eyes with dark liner and a third coat of mascara, I add a hint of peach blush at my cheeks, and complete the look with my usual dab of lip salve. No need to overdo it. No need to look like I’m trying too hard to impress.

I return to Paloma, leaning against the counter when I say, “Okay, so, how do you suggest I do that? How will I recognize it? What does a portal even look like? And didn’t you say that it’s guarded? So how am I supposed to get anywhere near it?” The second the words are out, my eyes bulge in horror when I realize I sound exactly like Jennika—shooting a full stream of questions, without once pausing for breath. Which isn’t exactly one of the traits I’d hoped to inherit.

“I guess it’s safest to say that you’ll know it when you see it. I’m afraid there is no set standard for what a vortex looks like. Sometimes you know it by the way the air grows suddenly hazy and shimmery—like you saw in Morocco. Other times, it’s more dense, greasy, and bleary looking. Sometimes, it’s more of a feeling—a perceptible rise in energy—as though the area is vibrating higher and faster than anywhere else. In that case, you will often notice the entire area affected as well. Twisted Juniper tree branches are always a good indication,” she says, her words reminding me of the time I rode on the reservation with Chay, when I saw a twisted juniper tree, and he wouldn’t let me get anywhere near it, said I wasn’t ready just yet. But I don’t mention it to Paloma, I just nod for her to continue.

“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.”