by Элисон Ноэль
I sigh, disappointed but having to agree. “I guess I’ll see you back at the house then. My house, if that’s okay?” I place my hand over his and give it a squeeze, reluctant to revisit his depressingly barren room and unsure where he stands on the whole karma curse thing now that his memory’s returned.
And no sooner has he nodded and closed his eyes than he’s vanished from sight.
So I take a deep breath and close my eyes too, thinking:
I need help. I’ve made a huge and horrible mistake and I don’t know what to do. I need to either find an antidote to the antidote—something that’ll reverse the effects of what Roman’s done—or find a way to get to him, convince him to cooperate with me—but only in a way that won’t require me to—um—seriously compromise myself in a way I’m not comfortable with . . . if you know what I mean . . .
Focusing my intention, replaying the words again and again. Hoping it’ll grant access to the akashic records, the permanent record of everything that has, is, or ever will be done. Praying I won’t be shut out again like the last time I was here.
But this time, when I hear that familiar buzz, instead of the usual long hallway leading to a mysterious room, I find myself right smack in the middle of a cineplex, its lobby empty, snack bar abandoned, with no clue of what I should do until a set of double doors opens before me.
I step inside a dark theater with sticky floors, worn seats, and the scent of buttery popcorn permeating the air. Squeezing down the aisle and choosing the best seat in the house, the one halfway down and dead center, I prop my feet on the chair just before me as the lights go dim and a big tub of popcorn appears in my lap. Watching the red drapes retract as the large crystal screen begins to flicker and flare in a profusion of images that quickly race past.
But instead of the solution I’d hoped for, all I get is a series of clips from movies I’ve already seen. Resulting in a sort of homemade montage of my family’s funniest moments, lifted straight from my old life in Oregon and unfolding to a soundtrack that only Riley could make.
Watching a clip of Riley and me, both of us hamming it up on a homemade stage in our den, dancing and lip-synching for an audience consisting of our parents and dog. Soon followed by an image of Buttercup, our sweet yellow lab. Tongue straining toward her nose, licking like mad, trying to get to the chunk of peanut butter Riley had dabbed there.
And even though it’s not at all what I’d hoped for, I know it’s important all the same. Riley promised she’d find a way to communicate with me, assuring me that just because I can’t see her anymore doesn’t mean she’s not still around.
So I push my quest aside, and sink down in my seat. Knowing she’s sitting beside me, silent and unseen. Wanting to share this moment together, two sisters sharing the home-movie version of what used to be.
CHAPTER 9
By the time I make it back to my room, Damen is waiting, sitting on the edge of my bed, cradling a small satin pouch in the palm of his gloved hand.
“How long was I gone?” I ask, plopping down beside him as I squint at my bedside clock and figure the math.
“There’s no time in Summerland,” he reminds me. “But on the earth plane, I’d say you were gone for a while. Did you learn anything?”
I think about the home movies I watched, Riley’s version of “The Bloom Family’s Funniest Videos,” then I shake my head and shrug. “Nothing useful. You?”
He smiles, handing over the silk pouch as he says, “Open and see.”
I pull on the drawstring, slip a finger inside, and retrieve a black silk cord bearing a cluster of colorful crystals held together by thin gold bands. Watching it catch and reflect the light as I dangle it before me, thinking it’s beautiful if not a bit odd.
“It’s an amulet,” he says, watching me carefully as I take in the individual stones, each of them bearing a different shape, size, and color. “They’ve been worn through the ages and are said to hold magical properties for healing, protection, prosperity, and balance. Though this particular one, being created solely for you, is heavy on the protection element since that’s what you need.”
I look at him, wondering how this could possibly help. Then I remember the crystals I used to make the antidote that saved him, and how it really could’ve worked—if Roman hadn’t tricked me into adding my blood to the mix.
“It’s completely unique, assembled and crafted with your own personal journey in mind. There’s not another one like it, not anywhere. I know it doesn’t solve our problem, but at least it’ll help.”
I squint at the bundle of rocks, unsure what to say. Just about to slip it over my head and give it a go, when he smiles and says, “Allow me.” Gathering my long hair and draping it over my shoulder as he reaches behind me and secures the small golden clasp, before tucking it under my tee where no one can see.
“Is it a secret?” I ask, expecting the crystals to feel cold and hard against my skin and surprised to find them quite warm and conforting instead.
He brushes my hair back over my shoulder, letting it fall just shy of my waist. “No, it’s not a secret. Though you probably shouldn’t flaunt it either. I have no idea just how far Roman’s advanced, so it’s better not to draw his attention to it.”
“He knows about the chakras,” I say, seeing the surprise in his gaze and choosing to omit the fact that he’s actually responsible for that. Having unwittingly revealed all kinds of secrets while under Roman’s spell. He feels badly enough already, so there’s no reason to make it any worse.
I tap my fingers against the amulet beneath my shirt, surprised by how solid it feels from the outside, compared to the inside, the part that rests on my skin. “But what about you? Don’t you need protection too?” Watching as he unearths a similar amulet from under his long-sleeved tee, smiling as he dangles it before me. “How come yours looks so different?” I ask, squinting at the cluster of sparkling stones.
“I told you, no two are alike. Just like no two people are alike. I’ve got my own issues to overcome.”
“You have issues?” I laugh, though seriously wondering what they could possibly be. He’s good at everything he does. And I mean every single thing.
He shakes his head and laughs, a wonderful sound I don’t get to hear nearly enough anymore. “Believe me, I’ve got my share,” he says, laughing again.
“And you’re sure these will keep us safe?” I press it against my chest, noticing how it feels like a part of me now.
“That’s the plan.” He shrugs, getting up from the bed and heading for the door as he adds, “But, Ever, please do us both a favor and try not to put it to the test, okay?”
“What about Roman?” I ask, taking in his long, lean form as he rests against the jamb. “Don’t you think we should come up with some kind of plan? Find a way to get him to give us what we need and be done with all this?”
Damen looks at me, gaze narrowed on mine. “There’s no plan, Ever. Engaging with Roman is exactly what he wants. We’re better off finding a solution on our own, without relying on him.”
“But how? Everything we’ve tried so far has been a total bust.” I shake my head. “And why should we run ourselves ragged, searching for answers, when Roman’s already admitted to having the antidote? He said all I have to do is pay the right price and he’ll hand it over—how hard can that be?”
“And you’re willing to pay his price?” Damen asks, voice steady and deep as his dark eyes sweep mine.
I avert my gaze, cheeks heating to a thousand degrees. “Of course not! Or at least not the price that you think!” I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “It’s just—” I shake my head, frustrated at having to plead my case. “It’s just that—”
“Ever, this is exactly what Roman wants.” His jaw tightens, his features harden, before meeting my gaze and softening again. “He wants to divide us, make us question each other, break us apart. He also wants us to go after him and start some kind of war. You’ve no reason to trust him,
he’ll lie, manipulate, and make no mistake, it’s a very dangerous game that he plays. And while I promise to do everything in my power to protect you, you have to help me here too. You have to promise you’ll stay away from him, ignore all his taunts, and won’t rise to his bait. I’ll find a solution. Figure something out. Just please, look to me for the answers, not Roman, okay?”
I press my lips together and look away, wondering why I should promise any of that when the cure is right there for the taking. Besides, I’m the one who caused this situation. I’m the one who got us into this mess. So I should be the one to get us both out.
I switch my gaze back to his, an idea beginning to form—one that might work.
“So we’re clear about Roman?” He tilts his head and lifts his brow, unwilling to leave until I consent.
I nod, just barely, but still enough to convince him to head down the stairs so fast I can’t distinguish his form. The only hint of his having been here are the stones against my chest and the single red tulip he left on the bed.
CHAPTER 10
“Ever?”
I close the window on my computer and switch it to the essay I’m supposed to be writing for English. Knowing Sabine would freak if she caught me running a Google search on ancient alchemical formulas, rather than the homework she’s expecting to see.
Because as nice as it is lying beside Damen, the beat of our hearts connecting as one, in the long run, it’s just not enough. It’ll never be enough. I want a normal relationship with my immortal boyfriend. One with no barriers. One where I can truly enjoy the feel of skin as opposed to the way I remember it in my head. And I’ll pretty much stop at nothing to get it.
“Did you eat?” She places her hand on my shoulder as she peers at the screen.
And since I didn’t prepare, didn’t guard myself from her touch, that’s all it takes to see her version of the infamous Starbucks meet and greet. Which, unfortunately, is not so different from Munoz’s version—the two of them acting all happy and giddy, smiling at each other with an abundance of hope. And even though she seems really happy, and no doubt deserves to be happy especially after all that I’ve put her through, I still comfort myself with the vision I had a few months back—the one where she clearly ends up with some cute guy who works in her building. Wondering if I should say or do something to temper her excitement since it’s not like this little flirtation is going anywhere. But knowing I’ve already taken too big of a risk by outing myself to Munoz, I don’t say a word. I can’t afford to tip her off too.
I swivel around in my chair, releasing myself from her grip. Wanting to avoid seeing anything more than I already have, waiting for her energy stream to fade.
“Damen made me dinner,” I say, voice steady and low despite the fact that it’s not exactly true. Unless you count the elixir I drank.
She looks at me, gaze suddenly troubled as it narrows on mine. “Damen?” She steps back. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
I cringe, wishing I hadn’t just put it out there like that. I should’ve broken her in slowly, gotten her used to the idea of seeing him again.
“Does this mean you’re back together?”
I shrug, allowing my hair to fall in my face so it’s partially hidden. Grasping a chunk and twisting it around, pretending to inspect for split ends even though I no longer get them. “Yeah, um, we’re still—friendly.” I shrug. “I mean, actually, we’re more than friends, we’re more like—”
Dating and doomed—destined to spend an eternity in the abyss—madly in love but unable to touch—
“Well, yeah, I mean, I guess you could say we’re back together again.” Forcing a smile so wide my lips practically split down the middle, but holding it anyway, hoping it’ll encourage her to join in.
“And you’re okay with that?” She runs her hand through her golden blond hair, a shade we used to share until I started drinking the elixir which turned mine even lighter, then perches on the edge of my bed, crosses her legs, and drops her briefcase onto the floor—four very bad signs that she’s settling in for one of her long, awkward talks.
Her gaze moves over me, taking in my faded jeans, my white tank top and blue tee, searching for symptoms, hints, clues, some kind of telltale sign of adolescent distress. Having only recently ruled out anorexia and/or bulimia when my elixir-fueled growth spurt added four inches to my height and bulked up my frame with a thin layer of muscle even though I never work out.
But this time it’s not my appearance that’s got her unnerved, it’s my on again/off again relationship with Damen that’s rung her code red. Having recently finished yet another parenting book claiming that a tumultuous relationship is major cause for concern. And even though that may be true, nothing about Damen and my relationship could ever be condensed into a chapter in a book.
“Don’t get me wrong, Ever. I like Damen, I do. He’s nice and polite, and he’s certainly very composed—and yet, there’s something about that cool self-assurance, something that seems rather odd for a young man his age. Like he’s somehow too old for you—or—” She shrugs, unable to place it.
I push my hair off my face so I can see her better. She’s the second person today who’s noticed something off about him—about us. First it was Haven with the whole telepathy thing, and now Sabine’s taking issue with his maturity and poise. And even though it’s easy enough to explain, the fact that they’re even noticing in the first place is what worries me.
“And while I know there’s only a few months between you, he somehow comes off as—more experienced. Too experienced.” She shrugs. “And I’d hate for you to feel pressured into doing something you’re not quite ready for.”
I press my lips together and try not to laugh, thinking how she couldn’t have gotten it more wrong. Assuming that I’m the innocent maiden being chased by the big bad wolf, never imagining that I’m actually the predator in this particular tale, dangerously pursuing my prey to the point of risking his life.
“Because no matter what he may say, you’re in control of you, Ever. You’re the one who determines who, where, and when. And no matter how you may feel about him, or any boy for that matter, they have no right to push their agenda on—”
“It’s not like that,” I tell her, cutting in before this gets any more embarrassing than it already has. “Damen’s not like that. He’s a perfect gentleman, an ideal boyfriend. Seriously, Sabine, you’re way off course. Just trust me on this one, okay?”
She looks at me for a moment, crisp orange aura wavering, wanting to believe, unsure if she should. Then she picks up her briefcase and heads for the door, stopping just shy of it when she says, “I was thinking—”
I look at her, tempted to peek at her thoughts, despite my vow to never intentionally breach her privacy like that—unless it’s an emergency of course, which this clearly is not.
“Since school’s letting out soon, and since I haven’t heard you mention any summer plans, I thought it might be good for you to find a job, spend a few hours each day working at something. What do you think?”
What do I think? I gape, eyes bugging, mouth dry, at a complete loss for words. Well, I think I should’ve peered into your head after all, because clearly this does qualify as a major distress call!
“Nothing full time or anything like that. There’ll be plenty of time for the beach and your friends. I just thought it would be good for you to—”
“Is this about money?” My mind reeling, desperate to find a way out. If it’s a simple matter of pitching in for the mortgage and groceries, then I’ll gladly come up with whatever she needs. Heck, she can even take whatever’s left of my parent’s life insurance policy for all I care. But what she can’t have is my summer. Unh-uh. No way. Not even a day.
“Ever, of course it’s not about money.” She averts her gaze as her cheeks flush soft pink. Oddly averse to discussing all things financial for someone who makes a living as a corporate litigator. “I just thought it might be good f
or you to, you know, meet some new people, learn something new. Get out of your usual environment for a few hours each day, and—”
And get away from Damen. Not needing to read her thoughts to know what this is really about. Now that she knows we’re back together she’s more determined than ever to break us apart. And while I get how concerned she was by all the moodiness and depression I subjected her to when we were apart, this time she’s got it all wrong. It’s not like she thinks. Though I’ve no idea how to explain that to her and still keep my secrets intact.
“—and as it so happens, a summer internship just opened up at the firm, and I’m sure it’s just a matter of speaking with the senior partners and the job will be yours.” She smiles, face radiant, eyes bright, expecting me to join the celebration as well.
“But aren’t those positions usually reserved for law students?” I ask, sure I’m pathetically underqualified to fill those particular shoes.
But she just shakes her head. “It’s not that type of internship. This is more of a filing and phone answering assignment. And there’s really no money in it either, though you will get school credit and a small end of the season bonus. I just thought it might do you some good. Not to mention how it will really beef up those college applications of yours.”
College. Yet another thing I used to obsess about but not anymore. I mean, what possible use could I have for all of those classes and professors when all I have to do is place my hand on a book or peek inside my teacher’s head to know all the answers?
“I’d hate for anyone else to get in there when I know you’re just perfect for the job.”
I stare at her, unsure what to say.
“It’s good experience for a person your age,” she adds, her indignant tone a result of my silence. “It’s recommended in all the books. They say it builds character, commitment, and the discipline to show up on time and get the job done.”
Great. So I have Dr. Phil to thank for ruining my summer. Completely annoyed with Sabine until I remember how she was when I first got here—calm, relaxed, and completely laid back, allowing me all the space and freedom I needed. It’s my fault she changed. My suspension, my refusal to ingest anything other than the red elixir, and all the drama with Damen is what sent her over the edge. And this is where it led—to the dreaded summer internship she’s bent on securing for me.
