cheeks. Staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes, as though she can’t bear to have me out of her sight for one second more.
“It’s a long story,” I say, eager to brush it aside in order to get to more urgent topics, like Dace. Just about to ask where he is, when I’m distracted by the deep lines of worry now permanently etched around her wise brown eyes, and the stark streaks of silver in her long dark braid that weren’t there before. Her face is drawn. Her body frail. Clearly my disappearance has taken a toll.
I switch my focus to my friends, noting the way they hover on the sidelines, too tentative to approach. Xotichl with her light brown hair, soft gray eyes, and beautiful heart-shaped face—and Lita with her gorgeous dark eyes, and long dark hair with ends that were recently dyed to look as though they were dipped in red paint. For someone who’s not used to having friends, I’m amazed by how much I’ve missed them. Still, I rushed back for a reason, and I need to confirm that Dace is okay.
“Where’s Dace?” I glance between the three of them. “I really need to see him—let him know I’m okay,” I say, only to have Xotichl’s voice overlap with mine when she raises a hand toward the scar marking my chest.
“You’re injured!” she cries, face creased with worry. “I can sense it from here.”
“Oh my God!” Lita slaps a hand over her mouth. “Who did that to you?”
“Cade.” I shrug, allowing Paloma to guide me to the couch where she settles a blanket over my shoulders, lowers the slim straps of my dress, and examines the wound. “He killed me,” I say, amazed at how easily the words just roll off my tongue. “And then Axel saved me.”
Axel.
I close my eyes at the memory, but I’m quick to open them again. There’s no time for guilt. No room for remorse. I did what I had to. He left me with no other choice.
“Axel? Nobody mentioned an Axel.” Lita glances between Xotichl and Paloma. She hates to be out of the loop.
“Axel is…” I shake my head, having no idea how to explain him.
Axel is my savior.
Axel is my captor.
Last I saw, Axel was sprawled in an unconscious heap on the floor.
“Axel lives in the Upperworld,” I say, figuring it’s best to stick to the facts as I know them. “He’s the one who stitched the wound closed. He’s the one who stopped Cade from stealing my soul.”
“What did he look like—was he cute?”
Lita leans forward, eyes wide, as Xotichl shakes her head and says, “Lita—honestly! I can’t believe you sometimes.” She mumbles something unintelligible under her breath and tucks a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.
“Well, was he?” Lita insists, ignoring Xotichl as she returns her focus to me. “I mean, since there’s no cute boys here, I was thinking maybe…”
“You were thinking what? That you’re going to move to the Upperworld so you can check out the hotties?” Xotichl groans, feigning complete exasperation that doesn’t hold for very long before it turns into a grin.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Lita folds her arms across her chest and frowns, as the two of them go at it like an old married couple. Their ease with each other making me wonder just how long I was gone, how much I might’ve missed.
“To answer your question, he had platinum hair, fair skin, and lavender eyes.”
“Seriously?” Lita squints as her lips twist to the side, presumably trying to assemble those pieces in her mind.
“You met your spirit guide?” The folds around Paloma’s eyes deepen.
“I’m not sure. He never did say. He referred to himself as a Mystic. That’s the most I ever got out of him. Though he failed to explain what that is.”
Paloma assumes a thoughtful expression. “The Upperworld is populated by Mystics,” she says. “Spirit guides and Mystics—and sometimes they’re one and the same. Though Mystics are thought to be even more powerful than guides. The tales of their magick are
“It’s a long story,” I say, eager to brush it aside in order to get to more urgent topics, like Dace. Just about to ask where he is, when I’m distracted by the deep lines of worry now permanently etched around her wise brown eyes, and the stark streaks of silver in her long dark braid that weren’t there before. Her face is drawn. Her body frail. Clearly my disappearance has taken a toll.
I switch my focus to my friends, noting the way they hover on the sidelines, too tentative to approach. Xotichl with her light brown hair, soft gray eyes, and beautiful heart-shaped face—and Lita with her gorgeous dark eyes, and long dark hair with ends that were recently dyed to look as though they were dipped in red paint. For someone who’s not used to having friends, I’m amazed by how much I’ve missed them. Still, I rushed back for a reason, and I need to confirm that Dace is okay.
“Where’s Dace?” I glance between the three of them. “I really need to see him—let him know I’m okay,” I say, only to have Xotichl’s voice overlap with mine when she raises a hand toward the scar marking my chest.
“You’re injured!” she cries, face creased with worry. “I can sense it from here.”
“Oh my God!” Lita slaps a hand over her mouth. “Who did that to you?”
“Cade.” I shrug, allowing Paloma to guide me to the couch where she settles a blanket over my shoulders, lowers the slim straps of my dress, and examines the wound. “He killed me,” I say, amazed at how easily the words just roll off my tongue. “And then Axel saved me.”
Axel.
I close my eyes at the memory, but I’m quick to open them again. There’s no time for guilt. No room for remorse. I did what I had to. He left me with no other choice.
“Axel? Nobody mentioned an Axel.” Lita glances between Xotichl and Paloma. She hates to be out of the loop.
“Axel is…” I shake my head, having no idea how to explain him.
Axel is my savior.
Axel is my captor.
Last I saw, Axel was sprawled in an unconscious heap on the floor.
“Axel lives in the Upperworld,” I say, figuring it’s best to stick to the facts as I know them. “He’s the one who stitched the wound closed. He’s the one who stopped Cade from stealing my soul.”
“What did he look like—was he cute?”
Lita leans forward, eyes wide, as Xotichl shakes her head and says, “Lita—honestly! I can’t believe you sometimes.” She mumbles something unintelligible under her breath and tucks a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.
“Well, was he?” Lita insists, ignoring Xotichl as she returns her focus to me. “I mean, since there’s no cute boys here, I was thinking maybe…”
“You were thinking what? That you’re going to move to the Upperworld so you can check out the hotties?” Xotichl groans, feigning complete exasperation that doesn’t hold for very long before it turns into a grin.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Lita folds her arms across her chest and frowns, as the two of them go at it like an old married couple. Their ease with each other making me wonder just how long I was gone, how much I might’ve missed.
“To answer your question, he had platinum hair, fair skin, and lavender eyes.”
“Seriously?” Lita squints as her lips twist to the side, presumably trying to assemble those pieces in her mind.
“You met your spirit guide?” The folds around Paloma’s eyes deepen.
“I’m not sure. He never did say. He referred to himself as a Mystic. That’s the most I ever got out of him. Though he failed to explain what that is.”
Paloma assumes a thoughtful expression. “The Upperworld is populated by Mystics,” she says. “Spirit guides and Mystics—and sometimes they’re one and the same. Though Mystics are thought to be even more powerful than guides. The tales of their magick are
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