“Follow me. Cole’s in the back.”
Cole must have known I’d be here. I took a deep breath and followed the bartender back behind the stage and through a small hallway that led to a beat-up wooden door marked GREEN ROOM.
The bartender knocked three times. I read some of the messages carved into the door.
LB + TK + FR = AWESOME TRIFECTA
Before I could decipher what it meant, the door opened and Gavin’s face appeared. The last time I’d seen the Dead Elvises’ drummer was when I was sneaking around trying to figure out what was so special about the Shop-n-Go. He’d almost caught me there. “What?” he demanded.
Then he recognized me.
“Oh.”
He closed the door, and a few seconds later it opened again and Gavin walked out, followed by Oliver and lastly Max. I watched them, quiet.
Max paused as he passed by. He leaned down to talk to me, and I remembered how much taller he was than Cole. “Nik, be gentle. Cole was doing so much better until that stunt you pulled last night. Don’t screw him up again.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Me screw him up?”
Max just walked away. Cole had destroyed six months of my life, most of my soul, and the boy I love, and Max was worried about me hurting him?
Okay, so maybe some of that had been my own doing, but still.
I went inside and shut the door behind me, feeling more riled up by the second. Before I turned around, I heard an intake of breath.
“Nik,” Cole said. “Those boots. You do care.”
Turn around, Becks. Turn around. Why was it so hard to be in the same room with him? I took a deep breath and faced him. He was sitting on the corner of an old brown leather couch. It was worn in the center seat, where a large chunk of leather was missing. His guitar sat beside him like a constant, faithful companion; and he flipped a guitar pick over the knuckles of his fingers, passing it from finger to finger like he always did.
I must have been staring at the pick, because Cole froze it midflip, then tossed it into the palm of his other hand and held it out to me. “It’s not what you think it is.”
“I think it’s a pick,” I said, even though I knew what he was talking about. I’d never look at a pick again without wondering if it was Cole’s heart.
He cocked an eyebrow. “But the look in your eyes was murderous. Do you have a thing against guitar picks, or were you hoping I’d be stupid enough to still carry my heart around with me?”
Cole watched my reaction carefully, deliberately taking a sip from a water bottle. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my feeble attempt to kill him moments before Jack disappeared.
“Yes,” I said.
He leaned back in the sofa and put his hands behind his head. “There’s the old Nik. No ‘How do you do,’ no talk of the weather. Just a good swift kick to the balls.”
“A kick to your balls is an option?”
He frowned. “Now, that doesn’t sound like you.”
“People change.”
“Not you. Not that much.”
“You don’t know me.”
He scoffed. “It always amazes me when you so easily dismiss the fact that we were together—from cheek to toes, literally together—for a hundred years.”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I said, my voice cracking.
“I know.” He took a breath and flipped his guitar pick again. “I chased you for six months, and now suddenly I can’t get rid of you. Please sit.”
I crossed the room and sat on the farthest corner of the couch.
He shifted to face me. “What can I do for you?”
“You lied to me, Cole.”
He frowned and didn’t answer. But he didn’t seem surprised.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was possible?” I said. “That an Everliving escort can help mask the energy from a human.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t pertinent information.”
“Not pertinent?” I gave a deranged little laugh. “How is it not pertinent?”
“Even if you could hide from the Shades, there are other creatures in the Everneath that would like nothing more than to drain a human. We don’t even know where the Tunnels are hidden. And that still wouldn’t be our biggest problem.” I was about to protest, but he held up a finger. “Let me finish.” He shifted on the couch so he was facing me. “What do you think is keeping Jack alive right now?”
“That’s easy. Me.”
“It’s not just you.” He leaned over and pressed his finger to my forehead. “It’s what’s inside your head. It’s because you are intact that you have the strength to keep him alive. In the Everneath, the longer you’re there, the more you’ll begin to lose your mind. You won’t dream, you’ll forget why you went there in the first place, and no amount of words from me will help you remember.”
“I’d never forget Jack. I was with you for a hundred years, and his face never left me.”
“Yes, but you forgot everything else. I bet you even forgot his name.”
I didn’t disagree.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you about the escort. I would never be able to convince you how quickly you’ll forget.”
I looked down at the woven rug at our feet. He was right. During the Feed, I’d only remembered Jack’s face. It wasn’t until I’d reached the Surface again that I remembered all of him. “But this time you won’t be Feeding on me. It will be easier for me to remember.”
“Nik, it doesn’t work that way. I won’t be Feeding on you, but the entire Everneath will be. It’s a place of imbalance, constantly draining those with hearts”—he gestured toward me—“and constantly Feeding those of us without hearts. If you aren’t an Everliving, my world will drain you. And the first thing to go will be your memories.”
“I don’t care.”
He cocked his head at this.
“I don’t care, Cole. I don’t even want my memories now. And at least then I could say I tried. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here, helpless on the Surface, trying to find comfort in memories, while the boy I love is dying a slow death all for me.”
At the word love, Cole looked away.
“And if I lose my memory, and it’s so far gone that it will never come back … well …”
“Don’t tell me you think that’s okay.” His voice was gruff. “You do realize that if you forget him completely, he will die. Tell me you know this.”
I blinked a few times, trying to block the coming tears. “He’s dying anyway. I have to go to the Everneath. Nothing will stop me.”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out in a couple of places. “Well then, Nik, you aren’t factoring in one very important thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m not going with you.”
NINE
NOW
The Surface. Harry O’s.
Cole’s words hit me like a fist to the chest, but I was stupid to have expected a different reaction.
His face had become blank, without emotion. “I’d never do it.”
I stood up. “Why? It’s nothing to you. It’s just a trip to your own world. You wouldn’t have to do anything. You just have to come with me.”
“You’re partly right.”
“About what?”
“It’s nothing to me.”
I could feel my face crashing. I sat down on the couch again, speechless.
“Jack is nothing to me. Saving him is nothing to me.”
“But—”
“And it’s not just another trip to the Everneath, because you are a liability. Just because you decided you’re not going to become an Everliving doesn’t mean you’re not still a threat to the queen. You survived the Feed. That changed you, even though we don’t know exactly how. The change was permanent. If the queen knew you existed …”
“She’s already seen me.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t know who you are.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his legs. �
�She doesn’t know a Forfeit survived the Feed. If she knew, she wouldn’t waste time with the Tunnels. She’d rip you apart.”
I tensed. Cole saw it.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe here. But I’m not about to parade you around under her nose. Why would I risk angering the Shades and the queen to help you?” He grimaced. “What do I get for a grand prize on the tiny chance we do succeed? You and Jack, together. There’s nothing in it for me, Nik.”
I watched his face closely. And it cracked. Only a little, but I knew he was holding something back. Something strong. But just as I noticed, the crack disappeared again. Maybe I had imagined it, but I pounced anyway.
“You’re a better person than this. You’re a better person than you think you are.” I grabbed his hand. “You told me that I had changed you. But it’s not just me. You have a good heart.”
He frowned, a wary look in his eyes. “I don’t have a heart.”
“You do have a heart. Maybe not one that beats, but you have one that defines your soul. And so what if up until now your soul’s been a bit on the darker side? This is your chance to redefine your soul.”
He took his hand away and rolled his guitar pick over his fingers, averting his gaze. “I told you a long time ago, I’m not a hero.”
“But—”
“You should go, Nik.” He stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it wide. “Go somewhere and wait it out. That’s your only choice.”
I stayed where I was.
“Nik, I said go.”
“No.”
In a quick move, he stomped over to me, grabbed me by the shoulders, hoisted me off the couch, and nearly threw me toward the door. “It’s not a request.”
He didn’t give me a chance to recover my balance. With one hand around my waist, he lifted me off the ground, careful not to hurt me but tight enough that I couldn’t put up a fight.
Before I knew it I was out the door and he was slamming it in my face. I tried to open it again, but he had already locked it.
I pounded on the door. “Cole! Please!” But there was no sound from the other side. I put my ear against the door, hoping to hear any sign that Cole would open the door back up.
But there was nothing. So much for Cole claiming I had too much control over him.
I had no influence over him at all. I raised my fist to pound again, but the bartender suddenly appeared in the hallway. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, watching me.
I dropped my hand and walked away. How had things turned upside down so quickly? I was tracking down Cole, and he was throwing me out of his room. A few months ago I would’ve considered my behavior reckless.
As I crossed the now-empty club floor, I heard the metal click of a lighter from the corner of the room. Max was there, leaning against the wall.
Waiting for me.
I walked over to him. “What?” I said.
He clicked his lighter open, and a flame appeared. “Leave him be.”
My shoulders sank. “I need his help. I’m not trying to hurt him.”
“You hurt him by existing.” He snapped the lighter shut. “He’s not himself anymore. He suddenly has this weird … empathy for humans.” He shuddered.
“If you’re so worried about him being near me, why’d the band come to Park City?”
Max pushed away from the wall and came toward me. “Have you ever tried to tell him what to do?” He shook his head as if he already knew the answer, then he walked right past me and out the exit.
I looked at the ceiling and sighed. First Cole threw me out, then Max—who I would’ve thought wanted me to be the next queen just as much as Cole did—was warning me to stay away.
The world was officially backward.
I walked out of the club, still reeling from Cole’s rejection. I don’t know why I expected a different reaction from him. In his eyes, I had ruined his chance to rule the Everneath.
I was the accidental almost-queen who had denied him everything he had ever wanted. And now I was asking for his help to save the boy I loved.
The night air had a bite to it. In the mountains, even the hottest nights always had a chill. I walked down the dark street to where I’d left my car. A black sedan was parked behind me. I wouldn’t have noticed it except that I could see a tiny red glow coming from the driver’s seat. It looked like the lit end of a cigarette.
Fumbling with the keys, I got into my car as fast as I could and locked the door.
When I pulled out, the sedan pulled out too, keeping its lights off. Was it following me? Detective Jackson had smelled like smoke. Did he drive a town car?
Or was I just being paranoid? I shook my head. It probably wasn’t him. And even if it was, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I thought about calling my dad to complain, but I didn’t want to worry him; and as far as I knew, it wasn’t against the law to follow someone. Besides, complaining or trying to lose him might make me look even guiltier. If Detective Jackson was following me in the hope that I’d lead him to Jack, he was taking the wrong road.
I couldn’t lead him to Jack even if I wanted to.
Before I went to bed, I glanced at the mythology book I’d thrown down yesterday. It had fallen to the floor open-faced. A black-and-white drawing of a Minotaur took up the entire page on the right.
The myth of the Minotaur and the labyrinth. I picked up the book and read from the passage.
It was a story of war.
It told the account of Minos, king of Crete, who kept a Minotaur at the heart of an impenetrable labyrinth. Every nine years, Minos forced their enemies, the Athenians, to send fourteen young men and women, in a black-sailed ship, as food for the beast.
Theseus, a prince in Athens, volunteered to be fed to the Minotaur. But he really planned to slay the monster.
King Minos’s daughter, Ariadne, fell in love with Theseus. She vowed to help him by giving him a ball of twine so he wouldn’t get lost in the maze.
Theseus succeeded in killing the Minotaur and used the twine to find his way out of the labyrinth.
A simple ball of twine had saved his life. I could do what Ariadne did. If I could just hold Jack’s hand again … and give him a ball of twine, he could use it to lead himself out.
If I could just hold his hand in mine again, I would pull him out.
I turned back to the story of the Minotaur. The celebration of slaying the monster was short-lived. Theseus abandoned Ariadne. And his own father—believing his son was dead—committed suicide.
Damn myths.
TEN
NOW
The Surface. My bedroom.
Tonight, in my dream, I wait alone on my side of the bed for a long time. There is an empty space next to me where Jack usually is. I don’t move. I don’t want to rustle the atmosphere and create any disturbance that would prevent him from coming to me.
I don’t know how much time passes or how long I am alone. Finally, Jack appears by my side. His eyes are open only to slits.
“Becks,” he whispers. “Are you there?”
“Shhh,” I say, holding the air that is his hand. “I’m here. Don’t waste your energy.”
He struggles to raise his eyelids, and I am reminded of those dreams I have when I am so exhausted that I can’t keep my eyes open, even in my dream.
The effort tires him, and he shuts his eyes. “I can’t see. Tell me you’re here.”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I think if I could just touch you again, I could come home.”
“Then touch me,” I say, holding out my hand.
Instead of reaching for it, he leans toward me as if he would kiss me. I do the same, mirroring him, still hoping beyond all reason that if I wanted it badly enough, our lips would touch. But just as we should have made contact if we were real to each other, morning is here. I wake up.
It’s not enough time.
LATER THAT MORNING
The Sur
face. The Java Hut.
I ran my fingers over my head so many times, I was surprised there wasn’t a huge pile of hair on the floor next to my booth. Jack was barely there last night. Barely there! I knew the dreams kept him alive, but it only worked when he was actually there, didn’t it? If I was losing him even with entire nights of dreaming about him, how much faster would he slip away with only a few minutes together?
The waitress at the Java Hut noticed my agitation and slipped over to top off my coffee mug. As if more caffeine would help. But I didn’t stop her. The crowd was sparse today, probably because of the record-high temperatures and the fact that the Java Hut didn’t do iced beverages. Or air conditioning.
I checked my watch. If Will was any later, I’d slip into a caffeine coma. That didn’t make any sense, I know, but nothing in my life was right side up. And last night … last night Jack and I had only seconds together, during which he couldn’t even see. I couldn’t keep him alive in such a short time. I couldn’t keep him alive. Tears welled up in my eyes and began to spill over onto my cheeks.
I was losing him. Every second put him further and further out of my reach.
An ache on my scalp brought me back to the present. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be bald soon. I sipped my Kona Roast coffee, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent. Jack and I used to wonder if the Java Hut put some sort of drug in it to make it smell so good. One whiff and you had to have it.
I put my mug down, leaned back on the bench, and waited. The front door squeaked, and Will walked in, a pair of dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The glasses couldn’t hide the red beneath his eyes.
“How’d it go with Cole?” he mumbled, sliding into the spot across from me and keeping his glasses in place even though we were inside.
I reached toward his face and tugged on the sunglasses until I could see his bloodshot eyes. He pulled back and pushed them up. “Will,” I said.
“You can’t exactly blame me, considering everything.”
I pressed my lips together, worried that my impulsive dash to the Everneath had caused the relapse. “But … you were doing so well—”
Everbound: An Everneath Novel Page 7
