Echo Soul Seekers

shifts in his seat, tugging hard on the cuff of his sleeves in the same way he does every Sunday, right before taking his pulpit. “Then maybe I should bring one of your sisters down here to take care of it for you. Ember or Ashe—which would you prefer?”
    “Neither.” The answer comes quickly, without hesitation. Swiveling in my seat until I’m fully facing him, I plead, “Leave them be. I can do it. I will do it. I just—”
    He stares at me—his eyes dark and merciless.
    “I just need a little more time. Two years is a long time to be gone. It’s like starting over. I have to build his trust again. It’s not so easy anymore. He has a girlfriend. Thinks he’s in love. And he is. I’ve seen the way he looks at her.” The truth leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.
    “Well then, I guess you’ll just have to find a way to distract him, won’t you?”
    I swallow hard. Nod in the way he expects. Focusing my attention on the other side of the windshield, watching the snow collect in small scattered mounds on the car’s dirty white hood.
    “Time’s running out.” He eases off the brake, allowing for a slow roll down the dirt road.
    Time’s always running out. Has been since I was a child.
    “It’s already started. The signs are everywhere.”
    Everything’s a sign. A piece of toast weirdly burned—a cloud formation that resembles something unholy—a six-toed cat—he sees proclamations of doom wherever he looks .
    “And you know what that means. You know what’s expected of you.”
    I nod again. I’ve spent my entire life training for the Last Days, if only to spare my sisters the task.
    “Your sacrifice is a serious one, though it is for the greater good of all. You’ll be hailed as a savior—a saint!” He sings, eyes shining, lost in the false glories of his own weary diatribe. Never stopping to question why I would possibly care how I’m remembered when I’m dead. He turns, focusing hard on my eyes when he says, “Why is your makeup smeared? Were you crying? ” His voice rises in outrage, prompting me to bring a hand to my face, wiping furiously at my eyelids, my cheeks. “You stop that at once! Do you hear me?”
    He shoots me a look of warning, returning his focus to driving only when he’s sure I’m resigned to obedience. Falling into a welcomed silence for the rest of the ride, until he parks before the small, abandoned trailer he’s claimed as our home.
    “I want the boy dead by New Year’s Eve,” he says. “Long before the clock strikes twelve. Dace—Cade—doesn’t matter which. For all I can see, they’re one and the same. Ruled by darkness. The absolute manifestation of evil. You do your job right, make the sacrifice you were put on this earth for, and the Last Days will be followed by the Shining Days of Glory I’ve long since prophesized.” He looks in the rearview mirror, adjusts the lapels of his suit—the one he saves for holidays, Sundays, and his most favored apocalyptical occasions.
    “Would you look at that?” His voice turns bright and cheery as he glances at his crappy watch with the cheap leather band. “It’s the other side of midnight. Merry Christmas,” he says.
    “Merry Christmas,” I repeat, dully.
    Slipping free of the car and tipping my face toward the sky. Anointed by the snow left to melt on my cheeks, obscuring the tears I’m forbidden to cry.

 
    Xotichl
    “Stop the car!”
    Auden slams hard on the brakes, arcs his arm toward me, trying to protect me from crashing into the dashboard, but I’m already out the door.
    Already seeking purchase with the slick, wet road, before moving to the center of the street where I turn my face skyward, allowing fat drops of snow to fall onto my cheeks.
    “What are you doing? What is she doing?” Lita cries, throwing open her door and racing to catch up with me. Her tone instantly switching from reproach to delight when she says, “No. Freaking. Way!” She runs up beside me, as Auden joins me on my other side. “Time to pay up, Auden!” she cries, voice jubilant as she wraps her arms around me and does a little dance as she carefully spins me. “Looks like Xotichl was right—it really is the season of miracles!” She returns me to Auden, freeing herself to skip up and down the street. Or at least I think that’s what she’s doing judging by the surge in her energy, the swish of her feet.
    “Hey, flower, looks like you got your Christmas wish after all. I promise I’ll never doubt