by Alyson Noel
I wipe the dirt from my clothes and make for the shore. On the lookout for spinning dolphins, breaching whales, and all the other creatures I’ve grown used to seeing. But while the sea appears as calm and inviting as ever—or at least it does from a distance—there’s no sign of activity, no sign of life. Even the usual schools of small silver fish are nowhere to be seen. The water is darker, murkier, and when I dip a finger inside, it comes out coated with a greasy film of dark sludgy ick.
I wipe the gunk on my jeans, watching in horror when that same finger swells and flares into a bright angry red. The water’s polluted—grossly so. Leaving no doubt it’s the same contamination that’s responsible for killing those fish we found in the hot spring, and that it’s Cade Richter’s doing.
All it takes is a quick glance all around to leave me feeling small, overwhelmed, and so ill matched against the task at hand, even I’m betting against me.
Without Raven’s guidance, without Dace beside me, I’ve no idea where to begin. The Lowerworld is an immense place of many dimensions and no conceivable end. It’s a haystack-meet-needle situation.
I grab hold of my soft buckskin pouch and wrap my fingers around it. Hoping the pendulum was right, that I really should continue to wear it in good faith—I send a silent plea for help. Appealing to the elements, my ancestral spirits—whoever and whatever might be willing to guide me. Then I tuck the pouch back in place and start walking with no real direction in mind, but determined to cover as much ground as I can.
Though I don’t actually see any undead Richters, their presence can be sensed in the lack of chirping birds, the absence of animals at play. Even Wind, my guiding element, usually so willing to serve, is felt only by its lack—resulting in the grim weighted silence that surrounds me. While the terrain grows increasingly bleak with each passing step.
The lawns normally so luxurious and verdant are now a muddied patchwork of browns. The grove of tall trees normally cloaked with a thick blanket of leaves are reduced to mere skeletons of their former selves. Their trunks scorched and hollowed, the remaining foliage parched and split at the edges. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve come to expect.
I consider a trip to the Bone Keeper, but nix the idea just as quickly. She may hold a certain insight into Dace and my destiny, she may know just exactly what the Echo is, but she’s also made it clear she’d much rather mock than help. Besides, I doubt she’d be the least bit disturbed by the way this place has transformed. Bones are her game, and death is the vehicle that brings them to her.
I continue walking, journeying for what feels like forever. Well past the point when my feet are blistered and sore, my legs shaky and fatigued.
Continuing until I’m sure I can’t take it anymore—and then I go on some more.
Stopping only when I come across a large, smooth boulder, where I plop myself down and bury my face in my hands. Wondering what to do next. Wondering how I’ll ever succeed when all I seem to do is wander in circles with no hint of progress.
So immersed in despair, I nearly miss the swoosh of wings flapping overhead.
Raven.
My Raven.
His purple eyes wildly glimmering as he flies a perfect circle above me.
I frown, unsure if I should trust him. There’s a good chance he’s working for the enemy … then again, I did ask for help, and maybe he’s simply answering the call?
He lands right beside me, purple eyes glimmering as he drops a flower bud onto my lap and gives it an insistent nudge with the curved tip of his beak.
I grab it by the stem, examining the satiny petals, trying to remember where I’ve seen this particular bloom, when Raven lowers his head and pecks hard at my leg.
I scowl. Push him away with my knee. Watching as he spans his wings wide and lifts into flight—circling insistently over my head until I heave a deep breath and give in. Convincing myself that even if he is leading me into some kind of trap, it’s still better than wandering aimlessly. If I end up in the Richters’ lair, at least it’ll give me something to do—something to work with. Anything is better than this.
The thought vanishing the instant I realize he’s led me to the Enchanted Hot Spring where Dace stands at its edge. Poking deep into the water with a long sharp branch he’s plucked from the canopy of blooming vines that swoop overhead.
Vines that bear the same type of flower Raven dropped in my lap.
“Why aren’t you at work?” I ask, taking a moment to appreciate the long lean line of his back.
He turns, eyeing me slowly when he replies, “Why’d you ditch school?”
My eyes dart toward Raven, now comfortably perched on Horse’s neck, then I head for the place where Dace stands. “Guess this seemed more important.” I reach for his hand, lace my fingers with his.
“Ditto.” He grins, his icy-blue gaze fixed on mine. Though it’s only a moment later when he’s frowning at the spring once again.
“More fish?” I ask. “Or, God forbid, something worse?”
He shakes his head and prods the stick into the water once more. Swishing it around a few times before he tosses it aside and says, “Not worse, just weird. From what I can tell, it’s perfectly clear.”
“But that’s a good thing, right?” I crane my neck to get a better look. Confirming that the water is indeed back to the way I first encountered it—bubbling, enticing, and free of dead, bloated fish. But one look at Dace tells me he remains unconvinced.
“There’s no doubt they’ve gone—but where did they go?” he asks.
I screw my mouth to the side and stare hard at the spring. Noticing for the first time how everything about this place appears brighter, lusher, than all the other times we were here. The vines are springier—their blooms fatter. Even the water seems extra sparkly. The bubbles skimming the surface resembling delicate crystal orbs that float ’til they pop and then reform again.
“It’s like it’s been restored.” I blink, stare, blink again—unwilling to trust what I see. Glancing at Raven and wondering if he’s maybe not nearly as corrupted as I thought.
Is there a small part of him that’s still on my side?
Is he trying to show me that things are not as bad as I think?
“It’s like it never happened—like it was never contaminated. Unlike the rest of this place.”
Dace looks at me, alerted by the edge in my tone. “I came straight here. Horse led me. I haven’t had a chance to explore. Is it bad?”
I nod. Hoping my look can convey what words can’t. I’m exhausted. My feet hurt. My finger is still a bright angry red, only now it’s swollen to twice its normal size. I study the spring once again, longing to take a quick dip. Surely a short break will rejuvenate me enough to go hunting again?
I kneel beside the water, about to immerse my finger, when Dace stoops beside me, grasps my hand, and says, “What happened?”
“Nothing.” I jerk free of his grip. “Really. It was just a small cut, but then I dipped it into the ocean and it came out like this. The sea is polluted. It’s awful. You gotta see it to believe it. But if this place truly is enchanted, if it truly is exempt from all the other contamination around here, if it really can heal itself, well, then it should also be able to heal me too, right?”
Dace meets my gaze, not the least bit convinced.
“Look,” I say, unwilling to argue. “I’ll either keep a finger or lose a finger. But either way, I have to try.”
Then before he can stop me, I plunge my hand in. And the relief I experience is so overwhelming, it’s not long before the rest of me plunges in too.
six
I submerge myself underwater—wonderful, warm, silky, soft water. Holding my breath for as long as I can, intensely aware of my cells being rejuvenated, revived. The knots in my shoulders unraveling, while the seeping blisters on my feet shrivel and close, leaving the skin smooth and healed, bearing no trace of injury.
My transformation complete, I spring to the surface—resurrected, reb
orn. Finding Dace right beside me, his icy-blue eyes glittering, his smile beckoning bright as a beacon, guiding me into his arms.
He covers my mouth with his—our lips merging, colliding, tasting, exploring—while our tongues swirl and dance—finding and losing each other again and again. Our bodies melting, conforming, as his hands seek my flesh, causing ripples of pleasure wherever they pass. Drawing away ever so slightly, he presses his forehead flush against mine. His gaze blunted by a yearning matched by my own.
I hasten my breath and press toward him, eager to claim his kiss once again. But Dace holds me firmly in place, voice thick with meaning, as he says, “Daire—I love you.” His lids narrowing, jaw tensing, as he studies my face, waits for me to respond.
Those same features softening in relief when I say, “And I love you.” Surprised by the way the words just rolled off my tongue. It was so much easier than I imagined. The big, sturdy wall I’ve spent a lifetime building, in an effort to shield myself from moments like this, came crashing down with one little push.
Though it’s only a second later when my heart fills with panic—feeling vulnerable, exposed. Unused to baring itself after a lifetime spent frozen in ice, placed under quarantine, and neatly tucked away in a corner no one could reach.
If I know one thing for sure, it’s that nothing lasts forever. Relationships end, good-byes must be said, and that’s the part I’ve never been any good at. It’s always been easier just to skip out of town, board the next flight, and never look back.
I take a deep breath. Fight to steady myself. Forced to acknowledge that the words have been spoken, the walls have crumbled, and there’s no way to reverse it—no way to return to that safe, lonely place I called home.
But when I meet his gaze once again, seeing the way it brims with reverence and love, my heart swells until the panic’s edged out. Replaced by the pure joyful giddiness of breaking free of my cage.
I say the words again.
And then again.
And then a few more times after that.
My lips moving along the edge of his jaw, slipping down to the hollow of his neck, where I seal the words in his flesh.
Each declaration leaving me increasingly strengthened. Finally understanding what they mean when they say that love heals—empowers—that love conquers all.
I shift until I’m sitting astride him. Running my palms up a chest slick as silk, I cup my hands to his shoulders. My gaze deepening, my intentions laid bare. The declaration was just the beginning—the act will now follow.
“Are you sure?” he asks, reading the look on my face.
I nod. I’ve never felt surer. Of anything. Ever.
He runs a finger down my cheek, his touch tender and sweet, as he moves to kiss me again. His lips falling lightly upon mine, when something odd and slick skims past my shin and plops to the surface beside me.
I gasp. Already bolting from the spring, scolding myself that I should’ve known better—that it was too good to be true—when Dace stops me and pulls me back to his lap. Displaying the object now cupped in his hand—an overripe bloom that must’ve fallen from the canopy of vines overhead.
He smiles softly, lifts me out of the water, and deposits me on a soft patch of grass where he lies down beside me. Studying me with a look so conflicted—so full of longing, wonder, and nervous anticipation—I can’t help but draw him to me, eager to assure him that this is exactly where we’re both meant to be.
His lips find mine, but just as the kiss grows deeper, more heated, he pulls away, saying, “I hope you don’t think this is weird, but—I’ve only done this one other time.”
“Anyone I know?” I avert my gaze, biting back a small stab of jealousy.
Please don’t let it be Lita. Or Jacy. Or Crickett. Or Xotichl. Or anyone else I’ve befriended …
“No,” he murmurs, gaze far away. “No one I know anymore.”
I weave my fingers into the soft silken strands of his long, glossy hair, trying to temper my relief. I say, “Well, that’s still one more time than me.” My eyes meet his, fielding his curious look when I add, “Despite what you may have heard about my wild Hollywood past.” I know what he’s thinking: That someone who’s lived the kind of life I have, who’s hooked up with someone as presumably hot as Vane Wick, must’ve been here at least once, and I’m quick to refute it. “Seriously, I never quite got to this point. Guess I was waiting for you.”
He angles closer, not saying a word. His face clouded with emotion as he traces a finger along the strap of my buckskin pouch, circling the place where it rests just over my heart.
Leaving me so dizzy with his touch, I can’t help but whisper, “Though I have seen enough movies to know this is how it starts…”
My fingers inch lower, peeling his briefs from his hips, as he rids me of my underthings. Absorbed by the sheer glorious sight of him, I allow my hands to roam the curve of his shoulders, the taut muscles of his chest, the lean valley of his abdomen. My skin sliding deliciously against his when he pulls me tightly to him, trails his lips over my flesh, and eases his body into mine.
I gasp—stunned by a sharp stab of pain that’s soon eased by his hips pressing and circling, as his heart pulses wildly. And it’s not long before I lose myself in sensation. In the feel of him—the magick of him—the euphoria of him.
All of him.
Surrendering to the wave of splendor rolling through me—leaving me untethered—released. Floating free of my body. Soaring beside him.
Two souls ascending at dizzying speed—swirling through constellations—skimming across a bright pool of stars.
The words unspoken but true all the same: This is the moment that joins us—unites as—for all of eternity.
His gaze never once leaving mine, he cradles my face in his hands and guides me back toward the earth where he draws me into his arms and nestles his body around me. His face buried in my hair, he breathes deeply, slowly, seeking rhythm with mine, as I fight to hang on to the moment. Desperate to fend off all thoughts of the real world but not coming close to succeeding, I say, “I refuse to feel guilty.”
Dace lifts himself onto his elbow and stares down at me, unsure of my meaning.
“For this.” I roll over to face him, flattening my palm against his taut bare chest, aware of his heart beating against it. “I refuse to feel guilty for us—for pausing the hunt to be with you.” My gaze burns on his, wanting so badly for the words to be true. But with so much chaos occurring around us, it’s a pretty tough sale. Still, I go on to add, “I’ve been down here for hours. I was an exhausted wreck when Raven led me to you. And look, the spring really did heal me.” I wiggle my finger as proof, smiling when he latches onto it, curls his around it.
“Daire, you don’t have to make excuses,” he says. “Love is the highest energy of all. It needs no forgiveness, no apology.”
“I like when you say it.” I grin. “In fact, I was wondering when you’d get around to it.”
He laughs, tossing his head back and exposing a glorious column of neck. “That’s a pretty big declaration to put out there, you know. Guess I wanted to be sure there was a chance it might be reciprocated.”
I study him closely. Amused he couldn’t see what I thought was so clear. “Did you seriously doubt me?” I slide my leg across his, reveling in the deliciousness of his skin.
He smiles softly, focusing his gaze on the vines overhead. He summons a glorious red bloom to his fingers and tucks it into my hair. “You can be a little guarded sometimes—a little tough to read.” He shrugs.
“Oh yeah?” I grin. “Then tell me, Dace Whitefeather, how would you read this?” I pull him back to me.
He replies with a kiss.
seven
“I’m glad this place was spared.” I pull my sweater back over my head, as Dace pulls on his jeans. “It really is enchanted, able to heal itself—just like it healed me.”
I look to Dace for confirmation, but he’s no longer listening, his attention’s
been claimed.
“What is it?” I start toward him, halting when he turns, presses a finger to his lips, then continues creeping ahead.
I snatch my jacket from the ground, shrug it onto my shoulders, and rush to catch up. Nearly smacking into his back when he stops without warning, only to peer past his shoulder and find a familiar coyote with gleaming red eyes and Dace’s twin brother Cade standing beside it.
So this is where he’s been all this time.
His ultimate plan—despite a few hitches—has been a success.
Those undead Richters—initially fueled on the pure love and goodness of Paloma’s soul, which allowed them to breach the Lowerworld—a world long denied them—have managed to wreak just enough havoc, just enough damage and corruption, to allow Cade the admittance he sought all along.
Clearly reminded of the last time we met when he ripped a hole in my jeans and I reciprocated by slamming my foot in his snout, Coyote lowers his head, flattens his ears, and springs into attack. His burning red gaze fixed on mine, he comes at me in a blur of glistening fangs and razor-sharp claws. Jaw gaping wide as though starved for my flesh, about to claim a piece, when Dace shoves before me, offering himself in my place.
I shriek in horror, regain my footing, and try to intervene, only to have Dace drive his shoulder into mine and push me away once again. Somehow managing to stand his ground, as Coyote descends on him in a snarling rage. Clamping hard on Dace’s arm, he tears at his flesh, savagely biting him again and again, until Cade calls him off by grabbing the beast by the neck and dragging him back to his side. Leaving Dace’s arm a mess of bite marks and blood I try to attend to, but his pride won’t allow it.
Sparing an impassive glance at Dace’s wound, Cade says, “A noble display, brother. Very noble indeed. And yet also incredibly, absurdly naïve.” He makes a face of disdain, then turns to me with an icy-blue gaze fixed on the bloom still tucked in my hair. “Trust me when I say you couldn’t protect her if you tried. Only I can do that.”