Read Online The Soul Seekers: Horizon by Alyson Noël - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alyson Noël
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plead for the guidance and help of the dead. I’m on my own now. Something made all too clear the day the lone raven circled Paloma’s grave. I’m
merely in search of the calming encouragement only they can provide.
I need a father’s protective embrace.
I need a grandmother’s wisdom.
I need the reassurance that I really am equipped to deal with the Richters, now that I’m sure they’re preparing a comeback.
And while Jennika would be here in a heartbeat—all I have to do is call and she’ll come running—I’m reluctant to do so when it was hard enough to convince her to
leave.
Besides, Jennika’s finally settling into a life that’s good for her. She finally has a shot at forming a real and lasting relationship with Harlan. One where she’s not up and
running the second things start to progress. I need to leave her to it. Give her the room she needs to make it work without my interference.
Like me, Jennika’s been running too long.
It’s time for us to lay down some roots.
I settle between the graves and ease onto my back. Reveling in the coolness of the earth, the fading wisps of clouds overhead, I stretch my arms to rest on each mound, and try to divine what to
do next.
As Paloma once taught me, everything is made of energy, which means everything is alive. According to her, it’s as easy to scry from fire and tea leaves as it is to receive messages from
the face of a rock. All that’s required is a willingness to believe, an ear tuned toward one’s inner voice, and a bit of focused concentration.
Only this time, despite my intent, despite my desire to
see,
the clouds remain an unreadable, stringy, white blur. Until a sudden stir of wind brushes past, lifting the strands of my
hair and riffling the frayed hem of my faded denim cutoffs—and I take it as a sign.
As a daughter of the wind, this is no accident.
Rather it’s a timely reminder that I’m not as alone as I feared.
Never have been.
As Paloma once said:
To become powerful is to allow a great power to work through you. No one walks alone.
While I know she was referring to the ultimate power, at the moment, I take great comfort knowing she and Django are included.
The sun continues to drop. Wind swirls and skips. And I rise to my feet and brush myself off.
Soon, it’ll be time to head back and confront the night still to come, but well before then, I have something important to do.
Though I didn’t realize it until now, as it turns out, it’s the reason I’m here.
I heave a deep breath and face the glorious, sun-shadowed peaks of the Sangre de Christo mountains. Finally willing to admit that until I confront my grief, I won’t be able to confront
anything else.
For the last six months I’ve buried my sorrow in a punishing regimen of grueling workouts and daily six-mile runs. Then, after tending to the never-ending stream of Paloma’s former
clients I’ve taken on, I drop by Dace’s apartment in a state of exhaustion, looking to numb myself in his arms.
Yet, in the wee hours of the morning, when the streets grow hushed and Dace is slumbering beside me, there’s nowhere to hide. And that’s when the pageant of
things I
should’ve done differently
parades through my mind. The most glaring among them: allowing Cade to get the best of me—the best of us—when I gave that cursed tourmaline to
Paloma.
Still, no matter how many times I reframe it, it’s not like I can change it. The outcome is final.
What’s done is truly done.
In the end, life amounts to little more than a series of choices. Some big, some small, but every action causes a reaction—and there’s no doubt it’s my own actions that landed
me here.
Just like Paloma and Django’s actions landed them six feet below.
Despite Paloma’s warnings, Django chose to run from his destiny and it ended tragically.
Despite suspecting the tourmaline was cursed from the moment she laid eyes on it, Paloma chose to keep it.
Tormenting myself
merely in search of the calming encouragement only they can provide.
I need a father’s protective embrace.
I need a grandmother’s wisdom.
I need the reassurance that I really am equipped to deal with the Richters, now that I’m sure they’re preparing a comeback.
And while Jennika would be here in a heartbeat—all I have to do is call and she’ll come running—I’m reluctant to do so when it was hard enough to convince her to
leave.
Besides, Jennika’s finally settling into a life that’s good for her. She finally has a shot at forming a real and lasting relationship with Harlan. One where she’s not up and
running the second things start to progress. I need to leave her to it. Give her the room she needs to make it work without my interference.
Like me, Jennika’s been running too long.
It’s time for us to lay down some roots.
I settle between the graves and ease onto my back. Reveling in the coolness of the earth, the fading wisps of clouds overhead, I stretch my arms to rest on each mound, and try to divine what to
do next.
As Paloma once taught me, everything is made of energy, which means everything is alive. According to her, it’s as easy to scry from fire and tea leaves as it is to receive messages from
the face of a rock. All that’s required is a willingness to believe, an ear tuned toward one’s inner voice, and a bit of focused concentration.
Only this time, despite my intent, despite my desire to
see,
the clouds remain an unreadable, stringy, white blur. Until a sudden stir of wind brushes past, lifting the strands of my
hair and riffling the frayed hem of my faded denim cutoffs—and I take it as a sign.
As a daughter of the wind, this is no accident.
Rather it’s a timely reminder that I’m not as alone as I feared.
Never have been.
As Paloma once said:
To become powerful is to allow a great power to work through you. No one walks alone.
While I know she was referring to the ultimate power, at the moment, I take great comfort knowing she and Django are included.
The sun continues to drop. Wind swirls and skips. And I rise to my feet and brush myself off.
Soon, it’ll be time to head back and confront the night still to come, but well before then, I have something important to do.
Though I didn’t realize it until now, as it turns out, it’s the reason I’m here.
I heave a deep breath and face the glorious, sun-shadowed peaks of the Sangre de Christo mountains. Finally willing to admit that until I confront my grief, I won’t be able to confront
anything else.
For the last six months I’ve buried my sorrow in a punishing regimen of grueling workouts and daily six-mile runs. Then, after tending to the never-ending stream of Paloma’s former
clients I’ve taken on, I drop by Dace’s apartment in a state of exhaustion, looking to numb myself in his arms.
Yet, in the wee hours of the morning, when the streets grow hushed and Dace is slumbering beside me, there’s nowhere to hide. And that’s when the pageant of
things I
should’ve done differently
parades through my mind. The most glaring among them: allowing Cade to get the best of me—the best of us—when I gave that cursed tourmaline to
Paloma.
Still, no matter how many times I reframe it, it’s not like I can change it. The outcome is final.
What’s done is truly done.
In the end, life amounts to little more than a series of choices. Some big, some small, but every action causes a reaction—and there’s no doubt it’s my own actions that landed
me here.
Just like Paloma and Django’s actions landed them six feet below.
Despite Paloma’s warnings, Django chose to run from his destiny and it ended tragically.
Despite suspecting the tourmaline was cursed from the moment she laid eyes on it, Paloma chose to keep it.
Tormenting myself
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