Shadowland i-3

by Элисон Ноэль

His voice calling after me as I spring from the desk and bolt for the door—having no idea where I’m headed, but hoping it’s vast, open, far from him.

  CHAPTER 37

  I run out the door and head for the beach, heart racing, mind spinning, forgetting to slow down to a more normal speed until I’m already there. Toes tipped toward the water, a cloud of sand and bewildered people left in my wake. Each of them squinting and shaking their heads, telling themselves they imagined it, couldn’t possibly be. No one can run that fast.

  No one who appears as normal as me.

  I abandon my flip-flops and wade farther in, at first stopping to roll the hem of my jeans, then deciding not to care when a wave comes and wets them to my knees. Just wanting to feel something—something tangible, physical—a problem with an obvious fix. Unlike the kind I’ve been wrestling with.

  And though I’m no stranger to loneliness, I’ve never felt quite as lonely as this. I’ve always had someone to go to. Sabine—Riley—Damen—my friends—but now with my entire family gone, Sabine busy with Munoz, my boyfriend on a break, and friends I can’t confide in—what’s the point?

  What’s the point of having these powers, the ability to manipulate energy and manifest things, if I can’t manifest the one thing I really want?

  What’s the point of seeing ghosts when I can’t see the ones who actually mean something to me?

  What’s the point of living forever if I’m forced to live it like this?

  I go deeper, ’til I’m up to mid-thigh, never having felt so alone on such an overcrowded beach, so helpless on such a bright and sunny day. Refusing to budge when he comes up from behind, grasping my shoulder and trying to pull me away from the waves. Enjoying the slam of water as it wets my skin, the ceaseless push and pull, luring me in.

  “Hey.” His eyes narrowed against the sun as he studies me closely, refusing to loosen his grip ’til he’s sure I’m okay. “What do you say we head back inside?” Voice calm, careful, as though I’m fragile, delicate, capable of doing just about anything.

  I swallow hard and hold my ground, gaze fixed on the horizon when I say, “If you were joking—if you were in any way playing me—” I shake my head, unable to finish, but the threat is implied.

  “Never.” He squeezes tighter, holding me steady, pulling me up and over a small oncoming wave. “You read me, Ever. That very first day. You know what I can do—what I can see.” I take a deep breath, about to speak when he adds, “And just so you know, she’s been with you several times since. Not every time, but most of them. Though this is the first time she spoke.”

  “And why is that?” I turn, gaze meeting his. Having no real reason not to believe, but needing to be as sure as I can.

  “I guess she wanted to build a little trust.” He shrugs. “Not unlike you.”

  I look at him, gaze into those sea green eyes, the truth laid open, bared for me to see. He’s not lying, not at all playing, certainly not making it up. He really does see Riley, and his only agenda is to help.

  “I think this is why we found each other.” He nods, voice lowered to almost a whisper. “I wonder if Riley arranged this?”

  Riley or—something else—something greater than us? I stare at the ocean, wondering if he recognizes me like I recognize him. If he feels the ping in the gut, the prickle of skin, the strange yet familiar pull—the same things I feel? And if so, what does it mean? Do we really have unfinished business—karma that must be addressed?

  Is there really no such thing as coincidence?

  “I can teach you,” he says, gaze like a promise he wants to fulfill. “There’s no guarantee—but I can try.”

  I remove myself from his grip and wade farther in, not caring that my bottom half’s soaking while the rest of me’s dry.

  “Everyone has the ability. Just like everyone’s psychic—or at the very least intuitive. It’s just a matter of how open one is, how willing to let go and learn. But with your gifts—there’s no reason why you can’t learn to see her too.”

  I glance at him, but only briefly, something’s caught my attention—something that—

  “The trick is to raise your vibration—getting it to a level where—”

  We don’t see the wave until it’s already cresting, leaving us no time to duck dive or at the very least run. The only thing keeping me from a complete and total wipeout are Jude’s incredibly fast reflexes and the strength of his arms.

  “You okay?” he asks, gaze boring into mine.

  But my attention’s elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person—only belongs to him—

  Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea.

  My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I’m about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me—hair tangled and wet—clothes twisted and clinging—frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude’s tanned strong arms still wrapped around me.

  I release myself from Jude’s grip, but it’s too late. Damen’s already seen me.

  Already moved on.

  Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat.

  No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place.

  CHAPTER 38

  Jude follows me out of the water and halfway down the beach, calling after me, trying to keep up, finally surrendering when I cross the street and head toward the store where Haven works.

  I need to talk to someone, confide in a friend. Put it all out there and unburden myself, no matter the cost.

  Immune to the weight of my soaking wet jeans, the slap of fabric, my clinging, damp tee—not even thinking about manifesting something dry to wear until I get to the door and find Roman there.

  “Sorry, no shoes, no shirt, no service.” He smiles. “Though I must say, I am enjoying the view.”

  I follow his gaze all the way down to my chest, covering it with my arms when I see how my top has gone pretty much see-thru.

  “I need to talk to Haven.” I start to push past him only to be blocked once again.

  “Ever, please. This is a classy establishment. Maybe you should come back when you’re a little more—pulled together.”

  I peer over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a fairly large space so opulent, so packed with stuff, it’s like the inside of Genie’s bottle. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the rafters, iron sconces and framed oil paintings marking the walls, while the floors are covered with colorful, woven, overlapping rugs as antique furnishings butt up against rack after rack of vintage clothing and tall glass display cases filled with trinkets and jewelry.

  “Just tell me if she’s here.” I glare, patience running thin as he looks me over and smirks. Trying to tune into her energy and assuming he’s blocking me when I don’t get very far.

  “Maybe yes—maybe no. Who’s to say?” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a pack of cigarettes, offering one to me. But I just roll my eyes and make a face, seeing him squint as he brings his lighter to the tip, inhaling deeply then exhaling as he says, “Fer chrissakes, Ever, live a little! Immortality is wasted on you!”

  I frown, making a show of waving the smoke out of my face when I say, “Who owns this place?” Realizing I’ve never noticed it before and wondering what his connection could be.

  He takes a long drag, eyes narrowed, catlike, as he looks me over from my head to my feet. “You think I’m joking but I’m not. No self-respecting immortal would ever be seen looking like that.” He wags a finger at me. “And yet—and yet—feel free to keep the top—just be sure to change all the rest.” He leers, grinning at me in the most predatory way.

  “Who owns this place?” I repeat, peering inside again, an idea beginning to form. This isn’t just any old vintage store. These are Roman�
�s own personal goods. The stuff he’s hoarded through the last six hundred years, doling them out diligently, selling at just the right time—a dealer of antiquities.

  He squints, exhaling in a series of smoke rings as he says, “A friend owns it. It’s of no concern of yours.”

  I narrow my gaze, knowing better. This is his store. He’s Haven’s boss, the one who signs her checks. But not wanting to let on I just say, “So you’ve made a friend. How sad for them.”

  “Oh, I’ve made plenty.” He grins, taking another deep pull before tossing the butt and stomping it out with his shoe. “Unlike you, I don’t alienate people. I don’t hoard my gifts so to speak. I’m a populist, Ever. I give the people what they want.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask, part of me wondering why I’m still here, dripping water onto the sidewalk, shivering in my wet jeans and see-thru tee only to engage in this useless, go-nowhere banter, while the other part’s stuck, unable to move.

  He smiles, deep blue eyes boring into mine as he says, “Well, they want what they want now, don’t they?” His deep guttural laugh, almost like a growl, sending chills over my skin. “It’s not too hard to decipher. Perhaps you’d like to venture a guess?”

  I peer over his shoulder, sure I saw something move. Hoping it’s Haven but finding the same girl I saw at his house that night—the night I was foolish enough to stop by. Her eyes meeting mine as she makes her way around the counter and approaches the door where we stand—all raven black hair, coal black eyes, and smooth dark skin—a beauty so exotic it robs me of breath.

  “While it’s been nice chatting with you, Ever, I’m afraid it’s time for you to move along. No offense, darlin’, but you’re looking a bit—unkempt. Bad for business to have you loitering here. Might drive away all the customers, you understand? Though if it’s bus change you need—” He fishes around in his pocket, coming up with a handful of quarters arranged on his palm. “I’ve no idea how much these things cost—haven’t had to ride one since—”

  “Since six hundred years ago,” I say, narrowing my gaze. Watching the girl stop and turn the second Roman wiggles his fingers, a signal for her to back away. A gesture someone else might’ve missed, but not me. Seeing her stop and head into a back room I can’t see.

  I turn, knowing I’ve no business here. Roman’s voice calling out from behind me as I make my way down the street, shouting, “There were no buses six hundred years ago! You’d know that if you’d quit ditching history!”

  But I just continue, refusing to play, almost to the corner when he reaches out and grips me with his mind: Hey, Ever—what do the people want? You might want to ponder that one, could be the clue that leads you to the antidote.

  I stumble, hands seeking the wall, fighting to steady myself as the sound of Roman’s voice crowds my head. His lilting accent singing:

  We’re not so different you and I. We’re very much the same. And it won’t be long now, darlin’, ’til you’ll get the chance to prove it. Won’t be long now ’til you finally pay the price.

  Laughing heartily as he releases me and sends me on my way.

  CHAPTER 39

  The next day I head to work as though nothing happened, determined to get past that awkward embrace on the beach, not to mention a shared past that Jude not only has no recollection of, but that never came to fruition for a reason.

  A reason named Damen.

  But even though I rushed, Miles and Haven still managed to beat me, as they both lean on the counter, flirting with Jude.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask, struggling to keep the panic to a minimum while glancing between the three of them—a triumphant Haven, a gleaming-eyed Miles, and a more than a little amused Jude.

  “Spilling your secrets, exaggerating your flaws, oh, and inviting Jude here to my going away party—you know, in case you forget to.” Miles laughs.

  I glance at Jude, cheeks flaming, unsure what to say. Still gazing at him when Haven adds, “And as luck would have it, he’s free that day!”

  I make my way around the counter as though that’s perfectly fine, as though I couldn’t care less that the guy I’ve apparently spent the past several centuries hooking up with—the same guy my soul mate is convinced I have unfinished business with—will be partying in my living room in just a few days.

  Haven picks up the flyer advertising Jude’s Psychic Development class and waves it in front of my face. “And how come you never mentioned this?” She frowns. “This kind of thing is right up my alley. You know how I’m totally into this stuff.” She turns to smile at Jude.

  “Sorry, but I really didn’t.” I shrug, dropping my bag under the counter and grabbing the stool next to Jude. Refusing to go along with something that’s not even remotely true, and wondering just how soon I can convince them to leave.

  “Well, I am. Have been for a while now.” She lifts her brow, looking at me in a way that dares me to refute it, but I refuse to bite. “Luckily, Jude said he’d try to squeeze me in,” she adds with a smirk.

  I shoot him a look, a quick, hard, fleeting look, watching as his shoulders pull in ever so slightly as he shrugs and heads for the back room. Returning a moment later with his board hitched under his arm, waving at the three of us as he heads out the door.

  “I can’t believe you kept him a secret!” Miles says, the second Jude’s gone. “That’s the worst kind of selfish! Especially when you already have a hottie of your own!”

  “I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Haven says, still gripping the flyer. “You’re lucky he’s letting me in!”

  “I’m lucky?” I shake my head. The last thing I need is Haven developing any hidden psychic abilities when she intuits too much already—or at least where Damen and I are concerned. “Besides, class already started, which is why he said he’d try to fit you in.” Knowing I’ll do whatever it takes to turn that try into a can’t. “And what about work? Won’t it interfere?”

  She shakes her head, eyes narrowed, my opposition making her more determined than ever. “Nah, they’re good with my schedule—won’t be a problem.”

  “They?” I glance at her briefly, before reaching for the appointment book, thumbing through it in an attempt to appear blasé, uncommitted, when the truth is, I’ve gone high alert.

  “The powers that be.” She laughs, looking at me. “My bosses, whatever.”

  “Is Roman one of your bosses?” I glance at her briefly before turning the page.

  “Um, hello? He’s in high school, remember?” She shakes her head and glances at Miles, the two of them exchanging a look I prefer not to read.

  “I stopped by yesterday.” I study her closely, peering at her aura, her energy, stopping just shy of peeking into her head. “Roman said you weren’t there.”

  “I know, he told me. Guess we just missed each other.” She shrugs. “But even though you think we’ve changed the subject, we haven’t. So tell me, what’s up with you and this class?” She stabs the flyer with her purple-painted nail, gaze narrowed on mine. “Why don’t you want me to take it? Is it because you like Jude?”

  “No!” I glance between them, knowing it was too quick, too forceful, and only raised their suspicions. “I’m still with Damen,” I add, even though it’s not really true. But how can I admit it to them when I can’t even admit it to myself? “Just because he’s never at school doesn’t mean—” I stop and shake my head, knowing it’s better to end it right here. “But just so you know, Honor’s enrolled, and I pretty much figured you wouldn’t want to be in the same class as her.” My gaze fixes on hers, hoping that’ll stick.

  “Seriously?” She and Miles both gape, four brown eyes taking me in.

  “What about Stacia? And Craig?” Haven asks, ready to forget all about it if the entire Mean Team is in.

  And even though I’m tempted to lie, I shake my head and say, “No, just her. Weird, huh?”

  Haven’s aura flickers and flares, weighing the pros and cons of developing her psychic skills alongside a
bully like Honor. Looking around the store as she says, “So what exactly do you do here? Do you give readings and stuff?”

  “Me? No!” I press my lips together and reach for the box of receipts, flipping through them for no other reason than to avoid her piercing gaze.

  “So who’s this Avalon chick? She any good?”

  I freeze, eyes darting between them, unable to speak.

  “Um, hello? Earth to Ever! The sign, right behind you, the one that says: BOOK YOUR READING WITH AVALON TODAY!” She shakes her head. Only half joking when she says, “Jeez, you really do just slide by on your good looks, don’t you?”

  “Sign me up!” Miles says. “I’d love a reading with Avalon. Maybe she can tell me where all the hotties hang out in Florence.” He laughs.

  “Sign me up too.” Haven nods. “I’ve always wanted a reading, and I could really use one about now. Is she here?” She glances around.

  I swallow hard. I should’ve known it would come to this. Damen warned me of this very thing.

  “Um, hello?” Haven waves, exchanging a look with Miles. “We’d like to book a reading, please. I mean, you do work here, right?”

  I reach under the counter, grasping the book, flipping through it so quickly the dates and names are a blur of black letters on white. Slamming it shut and stashing it away again when I say, “She’s booked.”

  “O—kay.” Haven narrows her gaze, totally onto me now. “Then how about tomorrow?”

  I shake my head.

  “The next day.”

  “Still booked.”

  “Next week.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Next year.”

  I shrug.

  “What’s your deal?” She squints.

  I pause, seeing how they’re both staring at me, convinced I’m either holding something back, have completely lost it, or both. Knowing I need to do what I can to dispel that when I say, “I just don’t think you should waste your money. She’s not all that great. We’ve had some complaints.”

  Miles shakes his head, looking at me when he says, “Way to close a deal, Ever.”