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  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.”

  “And exactly why do I want to travel to these other dimensions?” I ask, tracking her moves as she whirs about the room, collecting an assortment of what appear to be random, completely unrelated things: a small box of matches, a red bandanna, a slim white candle, a few stubs of chalk, a small rattle made of rawhide, along with a few other items I can’t quite make out.

  “Because you have important work to do there. You’re about to journey down the Spirit Road where many things will be revealed—your greatest gifts, your greatest weakness, along with your true purpose for your time here in the Middleworld. Though be aware, they may not all be revealed at once. In some cases, it takes years to decipher them—though I have a feeling that for you, the reveal will come quicker than most.”

  “But I thought you said I was about to start my vision quest, and now you’re talking about a walk down the Spirit Road, and, well, I’m a little confused. Which is it? What’s the difference?”

  “It is all a part of the same, and it will all become clear soon enough.” Her shoulders rise and fall, signaling the explanation is over, despite the fact that she only succeeded in confusing me more.

  She motions for me to sit as she riffles through a drawer, returning with a small buckskin pouch that looks a lot like the one she wears. Draping it around my neck, she says, “A Seeker has many tools, and this is probably the most important of all. You are to wear it at all times. You may remove it to sleep and bathe if you like, but you must always keep it well within reach, well within sight. You must never leave home without it. And you must never allow anyone else to wear it or look inside it, not even briefly, or its power will be lost.”

  I hold it before me—a soft, yellowish piece of leather that hardly looks all that significant, and I’m just not sure I’m on board with it. Not quite sure how to incorporate it into my usual, minimalist uniform of dark skinny jeans, fitted green army jacket, and tank top. I prefer to keep it simple. I’m not all that big on accessorizing.

  Paloma makes for the counter, fussing for a moment before she returns with the pot and places it before me. The two of us gazing at the purple-eyed raven resting on a bed of faded, limp herbs.

  “Since Raven has revealed himself as your spirit animal—this talisman must remain with you at all times. Place it inside your pouch so that you will always be able to access his wisdom and guidance whenever you find yourself in need of it. What he wants may not always make immediate sense, but you must learn to trust him. Over time, you will add other items as well—items that will be revealed to you along the way. For now, it is just you and Raven. Do you understand, nieta? Do you understand the seriousness of all this?”

  I nod, like I do even though I really, truly don’t. But it’s what she expects, and as soon as I’ve shoved Raven inside, she seems to relax.

  Then the next thing I know, she grabs the small black bag and motions for me to follow as she makes for the courtyard and over to the old white Jeep she keeps in the detached garage.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, straining against the strap of my seat belt as the Jeep bounces down the rutted dirt road. Squinting into the dark, trying to get my bearings, but it’s no use—this town is a mystery to me.

  “To your vision quest, ” she says, tightening her grip on the wheel as the road takes a turn for the worse. Looking at me when she adds, “Please use this time to rest, nieta. You will need all of your strength if you are to endure.”

  “If?” I swivel in my seat until I’m fully facing her. My eyes practically popped from their sockets, challenging her to explain.

  “There are no guarantees,” she tells me, her voice calm and sure. “Though I’ve no doubt you’ll prevail.”

  I turn back toward the window, having no idea how to reply. Too wound up by her words to even think about resting.

  We travel for miles. Travel over unfamiliar terrain that grows increasingly rugged the farther we go. And when we finally stop, braking just a few feet from the water, I see we’re not the only ones here—Chay’s luring two horses from their trailer, one that I recognize as Kachina, the other his Appaloosa.

  “I’m afraid I must leave you now,” Paloma says, voice laced with regret. “This part of your journey involves a long ride on horseback, and these old bones aren’t fit for the saddle.” She tries to smile, but there’s something behind it, something I can’t quite grasp. Though it’s only a moment later when she’s turning away, retrieving a tissue she presses over her mouth, coughing up a thick spray of blood she can’t hide no matter how hard she tries.

  “Paloma—are you okay?” I ask, having no idea what’s going on with her, but knowing that coughing up blood never leads to anything good.

  “I am fine, nieta. I assure you.” She waves away my concern. “Chay will accompany you and see you there safely. Though once you’ve arrived, he will leave you as well. A vision quest is a solo journey, and your supplies are quite meager. Though please be assured you need far less than you think to survive. Rely upon the matches and candle only when necessary, for they must last t
he duration. As for food, there is none. The fast is deliberate—it is how you’ll begin to purify yourself. You will stay for as long as it takes—there is no time limit. And you will head back when it is right to do so. You will know when that is.”

  “You seriously expect me to go, now?” I fold my arms before me, hugging myself hard around the waist. “But it’s nighttime—it’s cold—and, for the record, I’m starving. I never even got a chance to eat dinner!”

  Though my arguments are all good and valid, the words are lost on Paloma. She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

  “What about my cast?” It’s a last-ditch effort, about as obvious as it gets, but still worth a shot.

  Paloma smiles. “You are already healed, nieta, as I’m sure you have guessed. You are no longer in need of it, and I have no doubt you will return without it. Its materials are nonpolluting and biodegradable. The cast will take care of itself.”

  Chay approaches, announcing the horses are saddled and ready, but I’m not. I have so many questions I’m not sure where to start. Though I don’t get the chance to say much of anything before Paloma’s hugging me tight, whispering, “Good-bye and good luck.”

  And the next thing I know, Chay’s lifting me onto Kachina’s back and we’re heading into the dark.

  eighteen

  We ride through the night. Our horses picking their way across a difficult trail, guided by the moon, the stars, and not much more.

  Our conversation kept to a minimum, with mostly Chay asking: “You okay? Need anything?”

  And on the two occasions when I dozed off and almost fell from my saddle: “Careful now!”

  Until finally, when the dawn begins to break and the sun begins its slow ascent over the ridge, he looks at me and says, “We’re here.”

  I gaze all around, my eyes so tired and bleary I’m unable to see what makes this particular place any different from all the other places we passed earlier. It’s got dirt, weeds, rugged cliffs, and barren trees. There’s nothing of note, nothing special about it—just more of the same.

  “What do you say we leave the horses here and get you settled?”

  I screw my mouth to the side and hold tight to my mount.

  “Daire, it’s time,” he says, voice as gentle as the fingers that pry Kachina’s reins from my hand.

  “I don’t want to go.” I chew my bottom lip, embarrassed by the words, by the way my voice broke, but still I continue. “I’m tired and hungry and … I don’t like it here. I don’t feel safe.” My gaze pleads with his, but he stands firm and offers a hand.

  “C’mon.” He coaxes me to my feet, motions for me to walk alongside him. “It’s better to hurry. The sooner we get you started, the sooner we can get you back home.”

  He keeps his tone light, almost playful, but it doesn’t quite work. Chay’s a good and trustworthy man—a man of good character and noble intentions. This alone makes him a terrible liar.

  When the trail narrows, he veers to the front, leading me up a long, winding path that leaves us both winded. Stopping before a large dark opening that appears to be the mouth of a cave, he says, “Many of your ancestors have endured their vision quest here, including Paloma back when she was your age.” He turns to me. “As you know, Django never made it this far, which means it hasn’t been used for many, many years.”

  “How can you be sure?” I glance between him and the cave. “Paloma’s vision quest must’ve been what—almost forty years ago? So how can you be so sure no one’s used it since then?”

  Chay nods toward the ground, the toe of his boot nudging at some grainy white substance that forms a thick border along the entrance, reminding me of the white line that lies inside the adobe wall and coyote fence that surrounds Paloma’s house. “I said it hasn’t been used in many years. I didn’t say it hasn’t been tended to. The salt works to protect it—keeps the energy pure and the predators at bay.”

  Predators.

  Now there’s a word I wish I hadn’t heard.

  I peer into the mouth, not liking what I see. Not that I can see much of anything, but still, just knowing it’s deep, dark, and cavernous is enough to give me the creeps.

  “I’m not going in there,” I say. Even though we both know I will. But I’m not ready yet. I need a little more convincing, a little more time to gather my courage.

  Chay nods, waiting patiently as I peer in again. But it’s the same as before—all I can see is a solid wall of black. “What’s in there?” I ask, figuring he must’ve checked it out once or twice.

  “Beats me.” He shrugs. “Only the vision quester is allowed entrance. It’s a sacred space. I just swing by on occasion to maintain the border for Paloma, no more.”

  I frown. That hardly makes me feel better. “How long have you two been dating?” I ask, aware that I’m just stalling, though I am a little curious.

  Chay laughs, rubs a hand across his brow. “Is it still dating at our age?” He laughs again, shaking his head as he hands me the small black bag Paloma packed, saying, “Daire, don’t worry. You’ll do fine. Really.”

  I swallow hard, not believing a word of it but taking a long deep breath and stepping across that thick line of white anyway.

  “What am I supposed to do in here?” I ask, testing my surroundings by running a finger down a wall that’s surprisingly smooth to the touch.

  Seeing Chay squint when he says, “Well, it’s been a long time since my own vision quest, but—”

  “Wait—you did this too?” I step toward him, staring incredulously. “Are you a Seeker too?”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I am. Though the idea of the vision quest is no stranger to my people—my people being the Native Americans.” His eyes twinkle when he says it. “When I was a young man, about the age you are now, I felt conflicted about my future, wasn’t sure which direction to take. My quest helped me realize my affinity for animals was more than a hobby—it was an actual calling. So, I enrolled in vet school and never looked back.”

  “And how long did you have to starve in a cave to come to that conclusion?” I ask, sorry about the way my voice sounded much snottier than intended. It’s not his fault I find myself here. Still, when Paloma said I’d have to change my diet in order to purify myself, I didn’t realize that meant fasting in a dark, abandoned cave until I pass out.

  “I spent three full days on the mountain.” His gaze grows distant, carried away by a long-ago memory. “It was an intense experience—one that revealed many things—many prophetic things. Some that have already happened, others that might still happen—the kind of things I will never forget. I expect you’ll have a similar experience. So it’s best you get started.”

  I glance behind me, finding it so dark I can’t even see how deep it is, can’t see much of anything.

  “Remain calm,” Chay tells me. “Find a place to sit quietly, and it won’t be long before your eyes adjust to the dark so the light can find you.”

  I turn to face him. That’s exactly what Jennika used to say back when I was a child to wean me from the night-light she found so annoying. Same thing I told myself when I followed Vane into that deserted Moroccan alleyway. In both cases, it worked to quell my fears—so hopefully, it’ll work here as well.

  “The white line will keep you protected, ensure that no intruders find their way in. But make no mistake, Daire, you’re only safe as long as you remain inside. If you head out, if you’re lured from the cave before the time is right—all bets are off.”

  I nod, watching as he retraces the border with a fresh pour of salt. Clinging to his parting words, “You can do this,” as he disappears down the trail, leaving me to face the dark on my own.

  nineteen

  I hover by the entrance—toes on the right side, the safe side, of that thick white border. My heart leaping into my throat when a rattlesnake slithers past, paying me absolutely no notice, and I watch in fascination a few minutes later when a scorpion follows suit.

  Well, it works on
reptiles and insects. Let’s hope it works on bigger animals too—like those of the warm-blooded, carnivorous, mammal variety.

  It’s not until the sun rises high enough to hang in the middle of the sky that I venture farther in. Noting how the cave’s smooth walls narrow—how its ceiling shrinks until it ultimately ends at a point in the dirt.

  It’s not nearly as big as I thought.

  It’s not nearly as scary either.

  I consider that a good thing. I’ll take what I can get.

  At first glance, it seems there’s nothing special about it. Seems like any other cave I’ve ever seen on TV or in movies, despite the lack of stick-figure battle scenes and other kinds of hieroglyphs.