by Alyson Noel
Out of control but contained.
And no one gets hurt.
I twist the cap off of my elixir and take a deep swig. My eyes darting around the area, seeing Honor work overtime to maintain her place beside Haven—working harder than she ever had to work with Stacia, while Craig and some of his friends seem clearly relieved to have gotten off easy—reduced to sitting at a lesser table, but still, it could be worse. If it wasn’t for his connection to Honor, and the fact that she still has feelings for him, I’ve no doubt he’d be as bad off as Stacia.
“It’s like we’ve landed in upside-down bizarro world,” Miles says, between slurps of vanilla yogurt, eyes tracking the area as anxiously as mine. “I mean, everything’s backward, everything I thought I knew about this school, the good, the bad, and the completely hideous, is now totally different, and it’s all because of her.” He nods toward our former friend, watching her for a moment before turning to me. “Is this what it was like for you when Roman took over?”
I turn, wide-eyed, caught completely off guard. We never really talk about that time, back when Roman hypnotized everyone and turned them all against me. Those were some of the darkest days of my life—or at least this life anyway.
Still, I just nod and say, “Yeah, it was pretty similar.” My gaze drifting toward Damen, remembering how he sat with Stacia then too. “Very similar, in fact.”
I play with the cap on my elixir, twisting it on and off, off and on, as my mind revisits the past. Choosing the more hurtful scenes to play over and over again, before reminding myself that I got through that time just as I’ll get through this time. As Ava always says: And this too shall pass.
Though she’s also quick to remind me that the phrase works both ways. That it’s true for the good times as well as the bad.
Everything passes. Everything experiences the birth and death cycle. Unless, of course, you’re like Damen and me, in which case you get stuck in the same eternal dance.
I shake the thought away, and finish my elixir. Tossing the empty bottle back into the bag I hike onto my shoulder as Miles gazes up from stirring his yogurt and says, “Going somewhere?”
I nod, and one look at his face tells me he does not approve.
“Ever—” he starts, but I stop him right there. I know what he’s thinking—that I’m leaving because it hurts too much to see Damen with Stacia, having no idea of the deal Damen and I made.
“I just thought of something, something I need to take care of while I still have the chance,” I mumble, knowing I haven’t convinced him as I watch Haven parade around table A, laughing and flirting, clearly enjoying her new role as queen bee.
“Cryptic much?” Miles narrows his gaze.
But I just shrug, eager to get moving, not wanting Haven to see me leave and, gawd forbid, decide to follow me.
“Well, can I at least come?” He looks at me, spoon dangling in midair.
I shake my head, gaze still on Haven when I say, “No.” Not even pausing long enough to consider it, which doesn’t go over so well.
“And why not?” His voice rises as his face drops into a frown.
“Because you have class.” The sound of my own voice making me wince, I sounded way more like a teacher than a friend.
“And you don’t?”
I sigh, shaking my head as I look at him. That’s different. I’m different. And now that he’s aware of it, I shouldn’t have to explain it.
Still, he’s not about to give up, he just continues to gaze at me with those big brown eyes, holding the look for so long I finally give in and say, “Listen, I know you think you want to come, but trust me, you so don’t. You really, really don’t. And it’s not that I don’t want you with me, or that I’m trying to ditch you or anything like that, it’s just that, well, what I’m planning to do, it’s not exactly considered legal. So really, I’m only trying to protect you.”
He looks at me, spooning a glob of yogurt into his mouth, not the least bit swayed by the case I just pled. Covering his face with his hand as he looks at me and says, “Protect me from who—you?”
I sigh, fighting to keep a straight face, though it’s kind of hard when he looks at me like that. His brow rising in suspicion, the flat-edged tip of his spoon bobbing up and down in his mouth. “Protect you from the law,” I finally say, cringing at how dramatic that sounds, even though it’s true.
“O—kay…” He drags out the word, eyes squinted as though seriously considering it. “And just what brand of illegal are we talking here?” He looks me over, clearly having no intention of letting it go ’til he’s uncovered every last detail. “Larceny, bribery, usury, or some other illegal act that ends with a y?”
I sigh again, longer and louder this time, but still, in the end I just shrug and say, “Fine, if you must know, I’ve got a little harmless B and E I need to take care of, okay?”
“Breaking and entering?” He tries not to gape but doesn’t really succeed. “But of the harmless variety?”
I nod. And shrug. And make a big point of rolling my eyes. Clock’s ticking, lunch is shrinking, bell’s gonna ring, and if it wasn’t for this, I’d be long gone by now.
Seeing him lick his spoon clean, toss it into the trash, and rise from his seat as he says, “Well then, count me in.” I start to protest, but he’ll have none of it. He just flashes his palm and adds, “And don’t even try to stop me. I’m coming, whether you like it or not.”
I hesitate, hating the idea of involving him in this but also thinking it might be nice to have a little company for a change. I’m tired of playing the solo act.
I squint, looking him over as though I’m still weighing my options, even though I’ve already decided in favor of it. Shooting a quick glance at Haven, making sure she’s still occupied, still engrossed in her own little world on Planet Haven, before I say, “Fine. But just act normal, okay? Act like you’re just casually getting your stuff together because you know the bell’s gonna ring in exactly two and a half seconds and you want to get to class on time and then—”
The bell rings, interrupting my speech as Miles gapes at me and says, “How did you—?”
But I just shake my head and motion for him to follow, warning him not to look anywhere near Haven’s table, as I steal a quick glance at Damen’s.
“And just remember, whatever happens, you asked for it,” I add, as we make our way through the gate.
Aware of Damen’s heavy wondering, questioning gaze—having no idea that what I’m about to do, well, if I’m successful anyway, could change our lives forever.
For better.
And if not, if I don’t get what I’m looking for, well, maybe that alone will provide the answer I seek.
“Now, this is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Miles grins, face practically glowing with excitement. “This is what senior year is supposed to be like. You know, ditching classes, playing hooky, having fun, indulging in a little illegal activity—”
I peer at him, making sure he’s all settled in before I punch the gas hard. There’s no need for pretense, he knows exactly what I am, what I’m capable of. And after a few moments of white-knuckle-gripping silence from him, we’re there.
Or at least, almost there, since I make a point to park halfway down the street, just like I did the last time I was here, figuring it’s safer, if not smarter, to walk the rest of the way. No need to park on the drive and announce my arrival.
“Last chance to back out.” I glance at my friend, white faced and panting beside me, struggling to get his equilibrium back.
“How can I back out?” he gasps, still catching his breath. “When I don’t even know what I’m potentially backing out of?”
“Roman’s house, which is now Haven’s house, is just up the street. And you and I are going in.”
“We’re breaking into Haven’s?” He gasps, finally starting to get the potential seriousness of all this. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I push my sunglasses up on my forehead. “And
I’m also serious about you backing out, since there’s really no good reason for you to take part. I’m perfectly fine with you waiting right here. You can be my lookout. Not that I think I’ll need one, but still.”
But before I can finish, he’s already climbing out of the car, already made up his mind. “Oh, no, you are not talking me out of this.” He shakes his head in a way that allows his hair to flop right into his eyes. “If I’m ever up for a role as a cat burglar, or an art thief, or something like that, I can totally use this experience.” He laughs.
“Yeah, except it’s not exactly art that we’re after.” I motion for him to follow as I make for the walkway that leads to the door. Glancing over my shoulder to add, “And trust me, it doesn’t really feel all that much like breaking and entering when you just walk up to the front door and open it with your mind. Though technically, since we weren’t exactly invited, the term still applies.”
He stops in his tracks, face expressing major disappointment. “Wait—seriously? That’s it? We don’t get to do a stealthy tiptoe as we slip around back? No sneaking through a cracked window or arguing over who gets to crawl through the doggie door to let the other one in?”
I pause, remembering the time I snuck into Damen’s house in much the same way, back in the beginning when I was so confused by all of his strange ways I was desperate to determine what he was—only to find out later that I’m exactly like him.
“Sorry, Miles, but it’s not gonna be nearly as exciting as that. It’s pretty straightforward stuff.” I stand before the door, seeing the lock retreat in my mind as I hold my breath and wait for the sound of that telltale click—but it doesn’t come.
“That’s weird.” I frown, trying the handle for myself and surprised when the door springs wide open. Thinking either Haven’s feeling ridiculously overconfident these days, leaving her house unlocked, or we’re not the only ones here…
I glance over my shoulder, motioning for Miles to stay quiet, to stay behind me, as I pause in the threshold, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust, to scope out the space, making sure it’s all clear before I signal for Miles to join me.
But the moment he steps into the hall, the floor creaks so loudly the sound seems to blare. Prompting us to freeze, instinctively holding our poses as we listen to the unmistakable sounds of glass breaking, voices whispering, feet scrambling, and a back door slamming so hard it sends the walls shaking.
I bolt. Racing toward the kitchen, and reaching the window just in time to see Misa and Marco making their getaway. Marco running somewhat clumsily as he cradles an unzipped duffle bag filled with elixir, as Misa follows with her own empty bag slung high over her shoulder. Turning just long enough to meet my gaze—holding the look until she breaks away, hops the fence behind Marco, and they both disappear down the alleyway.
“What the hell?” Miles says, finally catching up and coming into the room. “Did you seriously just move as fast as I think you did?”
I turn, taking in the jagged shards of glass scattered all across the floor, and the deep, dark red liquid that races across the tiles and seeps into the grout.
“So, what’s the deal? What did I miss?” he asks, glancing between the mess and me.
But I just shrug. I have no idea what’s going on here. No idea why Misa and Marco would resort to stealing the elixir. Why they were so panicked they actually broke a bottle. Not to mention why Misa looked so frightened to see me.
Only one thing is clear—they weren’t exactly invited to help themselves to the supply.
Still, none of that has anything to do with us or our reason for being here. So as soon as I’ve cleaned up the mess simply by wishing it to disappear, I look at Miles and say, “So, what we’re looking for is a shirt. A white linen shirt. With a big green stain on its front…”
twenty-three
The weeks go by, but nothing much changes. Jude continues to avoid me until I come to a decision, Damen continues to guard Stacia at school, Miles continues to guard my feelings regarding Damen guarding Stacia at school, and Haven continues to rule the school, while I continue to remain on high alert, waiting for the moment when she decides to go after me.
But that’s just on the surface.
Because a closer look reveals more than a few cracks that are starting to show.
For one thing, there’s just no hiding the fact that Honor’s just as miserable being Haven’s number two as she was being Stacia’s number two—maybe even more so.
For another, while I can’t be too sure, since it’s not like we actually talk or anything, but by the way Stacia keeps glancing at table A with such determination and longing, well, it’s pretty clear she’s getting sick of being protected by a guy who’s immune to her charms and truly only wants to protect her.
And as for Haven, after having hooked up with and discarded just about every guy who’s ever snubbed her in the past, she’s clearly getting bored with the game. She’s also growing increasingly annoyed with the way everyone copies the various looks she works so hard to create, forcing her to invent new, more outrageous ones that ultimately get copied too.
I guess being the alpha chick isn’t quite what she thought it would be. The reality is starting to wear thin, like a job she doesn’t particularly enjoy and wasn’t really all that qualified for in the first place.
I can tell by the way she snaps at her supposed new friends, by the way she rolls her eyes dramatically, heaves these big loud sighs, and sometimes even resorts to foot-stomping tantrums when she’s really, really frustrated and wants them all to know it.
Life at the top is dragging her down, and from what I can tell, Honor is really starting to resent her being there, just like I predicted she would.
Yet it’s also clear that neither one of them has any plan to forfeit their positions. Haven has too much to prove, and Honor, well, while I have no idea what level she might’ve reached in her magick skills now that Jude’s taken a break from tutoring her, regardless of what she’s managed to learn, she’s still no match for Haven and there’s no doubt she knows it.
And even though Miles and I don’t really discuss it, even though I pretty much just stick to the same ol’, day in, day out, boring routine—of training in the morning, remaining vigilant at school, and then training again before bed, only to get up and do it all over again—I know I’m not the only one who notices.
Damen sees it too.
I can tell by the way his gaze is always on me—following me wherever I go. He feels anxious, worried about me.
Worried that she’s starting to lose it—that she’ll blow without warning and decide to come after me.
Worried that I’ll fail to alert him when it happens, even though I promised I would.
And he probably has good reason to worry. She’s strung out. Unruly. She’s a complete and total wreck.
Like a bomb only seconds from detonating.
A thread that’s this close to snapping.
And when it happens, I’ll be the first one she seeks.
Or at least I hope it’s me.
Better me than Jude.
On my way home from school I stop by the store. Despite the fact that Jude asked me to stay away, claiming he can’t bear to have me around until I make a firm decision either way.
Still, I convince myself it’s my duty—that I have a serious obligation to look after him and make sure that he’s safe and okay and all that.
But when I catch myself manifesting a cute new dress and shoes to go with it, just before checking my hair and makeup in the rearview mirror, I know that’s only part of it. The other part is I need to see him. Need to see if being around him will spark something in me.
Something I can build on.
Something strong and tangible and defined enough to steer me in the right direction.
I stop just outside the door, fussing with my clothes and my hair once again, before taking a deep breath and going in. Half expecting to find Ava behind the counter, since it’s such a wa
rm and beautiful day, I figure the siren song of all that good surf will be pretty hard for Jude to ignore, but thrilled to find him right there behind the register instead. Laughing and joking as though he hasn’t a care in the world, his face relaxed, his aura green and easy, as he goes about the business of ringing up a customer.
A cute customer.
One whose blazing pink aura tells me she’s only partly there for the books that she’s buying and mostly there to see Jude.
I pause, wondering if I should just leave and come back later, when the door closes behind me, the bell clanks hard against it, and Jude looks past his customer to find me standing only a few feet away. Prompting his eyes to darken, his smile to falter, as his aura grows wavy and dim—pretty much the opposite of how he looked when he was talking to her.
As though the mere sight of me is enough to suck the joy right out of the room.
He shoves her stuff in a bag and sends her on her way so hastily, so abruptly, she can’t help but notice the change. Giving me a quick up and down, chased by an accusatory frown, she mumbles something under her breath and makes her way past, while Jude busies himself behind the counter as though I’m not there.
“She likes you,” I say, watching as he takes an extra long time to handle his copy of the receipt.
“She likes you and she’s cute,” I add, getting no more than a grunt in reply.
“She likes you and she’s cute and she’s got good energy,” I insist, urging him to look at me as I make my way toward him. “Which makes me wonder, what’s wrong with you?”
He stops. Stops with the fumbling, and the busy making, and the pretending I’m not standing right there in front of him when we both know I am.
Stops with all of that and finally looks at me and says, “You.” Stating it so openly, so simply, I’m not sure what to do. “You are what’s wrong with me.” I gaze down at my feet, unable to look at him, feeling foolish for coming here like this, and barely daring a breath when he adds, “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”
