by Элисон Ноэль
But Haven’s unmoved, gaze fixed on mine, head nodding slowly as she adds, “Well, I’m sure this isn’t the only place where I can get a reading. And for some reason, for some strange, unknown reason, now I’m more determined than ever.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing Miles’s hand, pulling him alongside her as she heads for the door and says, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’ve been acting really strange. Stranger than usual.” Glancing over her shoulder and shooting me a loaded look I prefer not to interpret. “Seriously, Ever, if you’re into Jude, then just say so. Though you might want to tell Damen first—he deserves the courtesy, don’t you think?”
“I’m not into Jude.” I shrug, trying to appear calm, even, but failing miserably. Besides it’s not like it matters, they’re already convinced. Everyone’s convinced. Everyone but me. “And trust me, there’s nothing going on except finals, planning for Miles’s party, and all—the usual—stuff—” My voice trailing off, knowing not one of us is buying it.
“Then where’s Damen? How come he never comes around anymore?” Haven asks, as Miles stands beside her and nods. Allowing me a few seconds to answer before adding, “You know, friendships are supposed to work both ways. Give and take. Based on trust. But for whatever reason, you think you need to act perfect all the time. Like nothing ever goes wrong in your perfect, pretty life. Like nothing ever bothers you or drags you down. And I’m here to tell you that believe it or not, Miles and I will still love you even if you have an imperfect moment. Heck, even if you have an imperfect day, we’ll still sit with you at lunch and text you in class. Because, trust us, Ever, it’s not like we’re buying your perfect act anyway.”
I take a deep breath and nod. It’s all I can do. My throat is so hot and tight there’s no way I can speak.
Knowing they’re waiting, both of them, standing by the door, willing to stay if I’ll just say the word, find the courage to open up and trust them enough to unburden myself for a change.
But I can’t. Who knows how they’d react, and I have enough to deal with already.
So I just smile and wave and promise to catch up with them later. Trying not to wince as they roll their eyes and leave.
CHAPTER 40
I’m in the back room, hunched over the book when Jude comes in, surprised to find I’m still here.
“I saw your car parked out back and wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed, taking me in, before dropping onto the chair just opposite the desk where he studies me some more.
I gaze up from the book, eyes bleary as I glance at the clock, surprised to see how late it’s gotten, surprised to see I’ve been here so long.
“I guess I got a little caught up.” I shrug. “It’s a lot to slog through.” Closing the cover and pushing it aside as I add, “And most of it useless.”
“You don’t have to pull an all-nighter, you know. You can take it home if you want.”
I think about home, and the message Sabine left for me earlier, informing me of her plans to cook dinner for Munoz, making home pretty much the last place I want to be at this point.
“No thanks.” I shake my head. “I’m done.” Realizing I mean it in every possible way.
For a book that once held such promise, all I’ve read so far are location spells, love spells, and a dubious cure for warts with inconclusive results—nothing about reversing the effects of a tainted elixir—or how to get a certain someone to divulge the only thing I really need to know.
Nothing that holds the slightest bit of promise for me.
“Can I help?” he asks, reading the defeat in my gaze.
I start to shake my head, knowing he can’t. But then I think better. Maybe he can?
“Is she here?” I stare at him, holding my breath. “Riley—is she around?”
He looks to my right, then shakes his head. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Haven’t seen her since—”
But even though his voice fades, we both know how it ends. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday, just before Damen caught us embracing on the beach—a moment I prefer to forget.
“So how exactly do you teach someone to—you know—see spirits?”
He looks at me for a moment, rubbing his chin as his eyes study mine. “I can’t necessarily teach someone to see them.” He leans back in his seat, propping his bare foot on his knee. “Everybody’s different—with different gifts and abilities. Some are naturally clairvoyant—able to see, or clairaudient—able to hear, or clairsentient—”
“Able to sense.” I nod, already knowing where this is going and eager to get to the good stuff—the juice—the part that helps me. “So what are you then?”
“All three. Oh, and clairscent too.” He smiles, a quick easy grin that practically lights up the room and makes my stomach go all weird again. “You probably are too. All of those I mean. The trick is to get your vibration raised high enough, then I’m sure—” He looks at me, knowing he lost me at vibration and adding, “Everything is energy, you know that, right?”
The words bringing me back to that night on the beach just a few weeks before, when Damen said the very same thing, about energy, vibrations, all of it. Remembering how I felt then, so afraid of confiding what I’d done. Naïve enough to think that was the worst of my problems, that it couldn’t get any worse.
I gaze at Jude, his mouth still moving as he goes on and on, explaining energy, vibration, and the ability of the soul to live on. But all I can think about is the three of us, Damen, me, and him—wondering how we truly do fit.
“What do you think of past lives?” I ask, cutting him off. “You know, reincarnation. Do you believe in that stuff? Do you think people really have leftover karma they need to work out, again and again until they get it just right?” Holding my breath, wondering how he’ll respond, if he has any recollection of us, who we once were.
“Why not?” He shrugs. “Karma’s pretty much king. Besides, wasn’t it Eleanor Roosevelt who said she didn’t think it would be any more unusual for her to show up in another life, than the one she was in now? You think I’m gonna quash old Eleanor?” He laughs.
I sit back, studying him, wishing he knew about our tangled past. If for no other reason than to get it all out in the open, put it right there on the table, so I could report back to Damen and prove that it’s over. And figuring maybe it’s my job to get the ball rolling, I take a deep breath and say, “Have you ever heard of someone named Bastiaan de Kool?”
He looks at me, squinting.
“He was—Dutch—an artist—he painted—and—stuff—” I shake my head and look away, feeling foolish for bringing it up. I mean, what exactly am I supposed to follow that with? Well, just so you know, Bastiaan was you, several hundred years ago—and the person you painted was me!
Seeing him sit there before me, lips quirked, shoulders lifted, clearly unaware of what I’m getting at. And short of escorting him to Summerland and re-creating the gallery, neither of which I’m going to do, there’s no way to continue. I’ll just have to sit this one out. Wait until my three lonely months are up.
I shake my head, determined to put it behind me and get down to the business at hand. Looking at him and clearing my throat when I say, “So, how exactly does one raise their vibration?”
By the time we’re done, I’m no closer to talking to dead people than I was before I started. At least not the dead person I’m actually interested in. Though plenty of other disincarnates made themselves known, but I pretty much blocked them all out.
“It takes practice.” He locks the front door and leads me to my car. “I sat in a weekly spirit circle for years before my powers fully returned.”
“I thought you were born with it?” I squint.
“I was.” He nods. “But after blocking it out for so long, I had to really work to develop it again.”
I sigh, unable to see myself joining a séance group and wishing there was an easier way.
“She visits you in your
dreams, you know.”
I roll my eyes, remembering that one crazy dream, and knowing no way was that her.
But he just looks at me, nodding when he says. “Of course she does. They always do. It’s the easiest way to get through.”
I look at him, leaning against my car door, key in hand as my eyes travel his face. Knowing I should go, say good night and be on my way, but for some reason I’m unable to move.
“The subconscious mind takes over at night, freeing us of all the usual restrictions we put on ourselves, all the things we block out, telling ourselves it can’t happen, that mystical things aren’t really possible, when the truth is, the universe is magical, and mysterious, and much grander than it seems, with only the thinnest veil of energy separating us from them. I know it’s confusing with the way they communicate in symbols—and to be honest, I’m not sure how much of that is us—the way we arrange information—or them, and the restrictions on just how much they’re allowed to share.”
I take a deep breath, my whole body shivering though I’m not really cold. Spooked is more like it. Spooked by his words, his presence, the way he’s making me feel. But not cold. In fact, not at all.
Wondering what Riley could’ve meant with the glass prison, the way I could see Damen, but he couldn’t see me. Trying to view it as though it’s an assignment for English, like symbolism in a book. Wondering if it means that Damen’s misguided, can’t see what’s in front of him? And if so, what does that mean?
“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he says, his voice the only sound in this still and quiet night.
I nod, feeling like I should know that better than anyone as Jude stands before me, going on and on about dimensions, the afterlife, and how time’s just a made-up concept that doesn’t really exist, and I can’t help but wonder what he’d do if I gave him a treat. Just grabbed his hand, closed my eyes, and took him to Summerland to show him just how deep it really goes—
He catches me, catches me looking. My gaze roaming his smooth dark skin, golden dreadlocks, the scar splicing his brow, until finally meeting those sea green eyes, so deep, so knowing, I quickly look away.
“Ever—” he groans, voice low, thick, as he reaches for me. “Ever—I—”
But I just shake my head and turn away, climbing into my car and backing out of the space. Glancing into my rearview mirror to find him still standing there, still looking after me, his longing displayed in his gaze.
Shaking my head and focusing back on the road, telling myself that particular past, the things I once felt, have nothing to do with my future.
CHAPTER 41
Originally the party was supposed to be Saturday, but with Miles leaving early next week, and with so much to do between now and then, we moved it to Thursday, the last day of school.
And even though I know better, even though I’m fully aware that Damen is a man of his word, I’m still disappointed when I walk into English and find he’s not there.
I glance at Stacia, her eyes narrowing, lips smirking, extending her foot as I try to move past, as Honor sits beside her, playing along despite the fact that she can barely meet my eyes—not with the secret we share.
And as I take my seat and gaze around the room, one thing is clear—everyone has a partner, a friend, someone to talk to—everyone but me. Having spent the better part of the year befriending someone who refuses to show, his seat beside mine, woefully empty.
Like a big block of ice where the sun used to be.
So as Mr. Robins yammers on and on about stuff no one really cares about, including him, I distract myself by lowering my shield and aiming my quantum remote at all of my classmates, filling the room with a cacophony of color and sound, remembering how my life used to be—my life before Damen when I was constantly overwhelmed.
Tuning in to Mr. Robins who’s looking forward to the moment the final bell rings so he can enjoy a nice long summer free of us, then Craig who’s planning to break up with Honor by the end of the day so he can make the most of the next three months. And over to Stacia who still has no memory of her brief time with Damen, though she’s definitely still into him. Having recently discovered where he surfs, she’s planning to spend the summer in a revolving collection of bikinis, determined to start senior year on his arm. And even though it bugs me to see that, I force myself to shrug it off and move on to Honor, surprised to see her agenda’s full—having nothing to do with Stacia or Craig—and everything to do with her growing interest in the craft.
I narrow my focus, tuning everyone out in order to better see her, curious to know what’s driving this sudden interest in magick, assuming it’s some harmless crush on Jude, and surprised to see it’s nothing like that. She’s tired of being the shadow cast by the spotlight, the B that follows the A. Tired of life on the second rung, and is planning the day when the tables are turned.
She glances over her shoulder and looks right at me, eyes narrowing as though she knows what I see and dares me to stop her. Still holding the look when Stacia nudges her arm, looks at me, and mouths the word freak.
I roll my eyes, starting to turn away when she swings her hair over her shoulder and leans toward me, looking me over when she says, “So, what happened to Damen? Did your spell stop working? Did he find out you’re a witch?”
I shake my head and lean back in my seat, legs crossed, hands folded on my desk, projecting a picture of absolute calm as I shoot her a look so long and deep she can’t help but squirm. Convinced I’m the only witch in the room, having no idea that her minion has her own magick coup planned.
Flicking my gaze back toward Honor, sensing her defiance, a newly summoned strength she never exhibited before, our gaze holding, stretching, until I finally look away. Telling myself it’s none of my business—I’ve no right to interfere in their friendship—no right to intrude.
Shutting out all the color and sound as I glance down at my desk, doodling a field of red tulips onto my notebook, having seen more than enough for one day.
When I get to history Roman is there, loitering just outside the door as he talks with some guy I’ve never seen before. The two of them stopping the moment I approach, turning toward me to get a good look.
I reach for the door just as Roman blocks it, smiling when my hand accidentally skims his hip, and laughing even harder when I cringe and pull away. His deep blue eyes meeting mine when he says, “Have you two met?” He nods toward his friend.
I roll my eyes, wanting only to get to class and get it over with, put this whole miserable junior year behind me and fully prepared to knock him out of my way if I have to.
His tongue clucking inside his cheek when he says, “So un-friendly. Seriously, Ever, your manners are lacking. But far be it from me to force it. Some other day perhaps.”
He nods at his friend, prompting him to leave, and I’m just about to barge into class when I glimpse something on the periphery—the lack of an aura—the physical perfection—and I’m sure if I looked hard enough I’d find an Ouroboros tattoo to confirm it.
“What are you up to?” I say, my gaze switching to Roman. Wondering if his friend is one of the long-lost orphans, or some unfortunate soul he’s more recently turned.
Seeing the smile that widens his cheeks when he says, “It’s all part of the riddle, Ever. The one you’ll be called upon to solve very soon. But for now, why don’t you just head inside and brush up on your history. Trust me.” He laughs, opening the door and waving me in. “There’s no need to hurry. Your time will come soon.”
CHAPTER 42
Even though I told Sabine she could invite Munoz to the party, she’s smart enough to recognize a halfhearted offer when she hears it—so luckily for us, they made other plans.
I ready the house with all things Italian—platters of spaghetti, pizza, cannelloni—balloons that are red, white, and green—and a profusion of paintings—manifested replicas of Primavera and Birth of Venus by Botticelli, Titian’s Venus of Urbino,
Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo, as well as a life-sized statue of David out by the pool. All the while remembering the time Riley and I decorated the house for that fateful Halloween party—the night I kissed Damen—the night I met Ava and Drina—the night that changed everything.
Pausing to glance around and take it all in before heading for the couch and assuming the lotus position. Closing my eyes and concentrating on raising my vibration just like Jude taught me, missing Riley so much I’ve committed to my own séance circle, determined to practice a little each day until she appears.
Quieting my mind of all the usual chatter and noise, keeping myself open, alert to all that surrounds me. Hoping for some sort of shift, an unexplained chill, a whisper of sound, some sort of signal to prove that she’s near—but getting only a stream of bossy ghosts who are nothing like the sassy, twelve-year-old sister I seek.
And I’m just about to call it quits when a tremulous form starts to shimmer before me—leaning forward, straining to see it—when two high-pitched voices say, “What’re you doing?”
The second I see them I spring to my feet, knowing he brought them, and hoping I can still catch him before he leaves.
My flight halted when Romy places her hand on my arm, shaking her head when she says, “We took the shuttle and walked the rest of the way. I’m sorry. Damen’s not here.”
I glance between them, breathless, bereft, struggling to compose myself when I say, “Oh. So, what’s up?” Wondering if they’re here for the party, if Haven somehow invited them.
“We need to talk to you.” Romy and Rayne glance at each other before focusing on me. “There’s something you need to know.”
I swallow hard, eager for them to spill it, tell me just how unhappy and miserable Damen’s become—regretting his decision to separate—desperately wanting me back—
“It’s about Roman,” Rayne says, eyes hard on mine, reading my expression if not my thoughts. “We think he’s making others—other immortals like you.”
