by Alyson Noel
Seeing her stand before me, hands shaking in outrage. “You’re such a liar! You think I’m stupid? How else did you survive? I know all about the chakras—Roman told me and Damen told him! It was back when Roman was controlling him, back when he convinced him to spill all kinds of secrets. I hit you in your weak spot and you know it. I hit you before you went down and after you went down, and I even hit you one last time for good measure just before I left you for dead. It should’ve killed you! I thought it did kill you. I was sure the only reason you didn’t disintegrate into a big pile of dust is because you weren’t as old as the rest of them. But now I know the real reason for why you’re still here—”
I look at her, knowing full well what that reason is—the fact that I watched my lives unfold right before me. The fact that I witnessed the truth. And because of it, I made the right choice, the only choice, which allowed me to rise above my weak chakra. No more, no less. Still, I’m interested in hearing her take on it.
“You drank Roman’s elixir.” She shakes her head, allowing the blue gemstones on her earrings to chime softly together. “It’s way more powerful than yours, as you well know, which is exactly why you drank it. It’s the only thing that saved you!”
I shrug, catching our reflections in the mirror on the far wall behind her—noting the difference between us—her darkness versus my light. The contrast so stark, it takes my breath away. Then averting my gaze just as quickly, determined not to overfocus on her sad, sorry state. I can’t afford the sympathy, not when I may be forced to kill her at some point. Switching my gaze back to hers when I say, “If that’s so true, then how come it can’t seem to save you? And how come it couldn’t save Roman either?”
But Haven’s done chatting. She’s determined to get what she came for.
“Give me the elixir.” She takes a slow, unsteady step toward me. “Give me the elixir and no one gets hurt.”
“I thought we just covered that.” I keep the bottle behind me, holding it well out of her reach. “You can’t hurt me anymore, remember? No matter what you do or how hard you try, you can’t get to me, Haven. So just maybe, instead of threatening me, you should try a whole new approach and try to get on my good side.”
But she just smiles. Causing her face to widen and lift in a way so ghastly it only serves to emphasize her hollow, red eyes. “Maybe I can’t hurt you, but trust me, Ever, I can still do some serious damage to the people who are near and dear to you. And, as good and fast as you may be, well, it’s not like you can be in all places at all times. It’s not like you can save everybody.”
And that’s when she does it—that’s when she takes advantage of my momentary shock at hearing her words and lunges straight for the elixir grasped in my hand.
And that’s also when I react just a little bit quicker than she planned.
Tossing the bottle aside, watching as it lands clear on the other side of the room, well out of reach, I pounce on her. Descending so sure and so fast she doesn’t see it coming until it’s way too late to react.
Throwing her down to the carpet as my fingers eagerly circle her neck. Wriggling through the tangle of necklaces, immediately noticing how her amulet is still gone.
But despite the fact that her face is turning blue, despite the fact that I’m slowly cutting off her air supply, she just laughs. The motion of it pushing her throat hard against the palm of my hand, as she emits a sound so gruesome, so awful, I’m tempted to kill her just to put an end to it.
But I can’t act rashly. Can’t afford to do anything of the sort. Not until I get what I want, and if the price is a few bottles of elixir, then so be it.
“Give me the fugging elixir!” she screams, the second I loosen my hold. Her body thrashing under mine, moving frantically, violently, thrusting from side to side, as she scratches and claws with sharp, pointy, blue nails.
Lashing out like a rabid animal.
Like a junkie gone too long without a fix.
Scrambling across the floor the moment I lift myself off, grasping the bottle, popping the top, and shoving it against her lips so hard and fast her front teeth break off from the force.
But she doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t pay it any notice at all. She just continues to gulp and glug, draining it so quickly it’s just a matter of seconds before it’s completely emptied, and she’s tossed it aside. A hint of color returning to her cheeks, though her teeth still haven’t re-formed—not that she seems to notice or care. She just looks straight at me, licking her lips, as she says, “More. And make it the good stuff this time. The stuff you stole. Your juice tastes like crap.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you.” I shrug, having no intention of handing over anything more until I get what I want. “You can have my entire supply for all I care. I’m not addicted, like you.” I slowly look her over, leaving no doubt just how troubled I am by the view. “But just so you know, I didn’t steal your elixir. Misa and Marco did.” I study her face, noting the way it changes, transforms, as she stops and considers my words, calculates the possibility of them actually holding even a smidgen of truth.
“And you know this because…?” She quirks her brow and places a hand on each hip, as she cocks her head to the side.
I meet her gaze, knowing I have to say something quickly, though not quite sure what that is. If I tell her I was there, that I saw it, then she’ll know I was looking for something else, something she might not yet recognize the significance of. So, instead, I just shrug, forcing my voice, my entire demeanor to stay cool, calm, and collected when I say, “Because I didn’t steal it. And because Damen didn’t steal it either. And because that is hardly the reason why I survived your attack. And because it only makes sense, if you’ll stop long enough to think about it.”
She looks at me and frowns. And that’s all I need to see to know she’s not buying it. That she’s still convinced it was me.
“Or—or maybe it was Rafe?” I say, having temporarily forgotten about him. “I mean, when was the last time you even saw him anyway?”
But when I look at her again, it’s clear it’s not working. Even though everything I just said makes sense, it’s not quite getting me where I want to go, need to go, and thanks to the elixir she drank, she’s now just alert enough to realize it.
She smooths her heavily jeweled fingers over the front of her dress, plucks some stray carpet lint from her sleeve. “Not a problem,” she says. “I’ll deal with them. But in the meantime, since I’m here and all, what do you say you just give me the rest of your supply?”
thirty-five
Just as she’s leaving, clutching a single bottle of elixir tightly to her chest, Sabine marches through the side door.
Juggling her briefcase in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, she stops, does a quick double take, and says, “Haven? I haven’t seen you in…ages. You’re looking…” Sabine pauses, brow slanted as she slowly looks her over. And even though Haven’s in much better shape than she was when she arrived, she’s still a long way from being anywhere even close to presentable. And for those not used to seeing her new look—well, she’s downright scary.
But Haven just laughs, shooting Sabine a friendly, broken-toothed smile when she says, “No worries. Trust me, my mom’s not crazy about it either. Which, by the way, is just one of the many reasons I’m divorcing her.”
Sabine glances between us, clearly confused by the statement.
But Haven’s quick to fill in the blanks. “I’m divorcing all of them actually, both my parents and my little brother. I’d divorce the housekeeper too if I could.” She laughs, the sound so unnatural, so disturbing, it instantly sets Sabine on edge. “Anyway, long story short, I moved out. I’m in the middle of getting emancipated so I don’t have to deal with their crap anymore.”
Sabine frowns, eyes narrowed in a look I’ve come to know all too well, a look that clearly signals her outraged disapproval.
But Haven’s immune to all that. If anything, it only seems to egg her on even
further. Causing her to smile that much brighter when she says, “They just refused to accept me as I am, so, I just packed up my stuff and said—adios!”
Sabine glances between us, probably wondering if I’m somehow playing a role in this, if I fed Haven the lines, told her just what to say and when. But even though the words clearly apply to the way Sabine’s been treating me, I had nothing to do with it. Haven’s a one-woman show.
“Well, I’m sure they miss you very much.” Sabine nods, reverting to her courtroom litigator’s tone.
But Haven’s not playing that game, the one where everyone acts all polite and politically correct and pretends that what was just said really wasn’t, and that everything will work out in the end despite a load of evidence piling up against it.
She’s also way past playing the parent and/or guardian game where you work overtime trying to put your best manners on display, so your friends’ parents will like you, trust you, and invite you to come back again.
Because Haven and I aren’t friends.
And she couldn’t care less what Sabine thinks of her or if she’s ever invited back.
So she shrugs and rolls her eyes and sings, “Doubtful!”
Causing Sabine’s gaze to immediately harden and switch over to me as though I’m somehow responsible, that my silence, my not saying a word, my not doing anything to stop it, signals consent of some kind. When really, I’m just waiting for this whole thing to end. Waiting for Haven to finally shut up, for Sabine to finally give up, head into the kitchen, and put the groceries away, so I can finally make some progress toward closing the deal Haven and I made.
Though, unfortunately, Haven’s far from done. Clearly relishing every last bit of tension she’s introduced and eager to add to it, she says, “But then, I don’t miss them either, so I guess that makes us even.”
Sabine looks at me, ready to speak, but Haven just waves her hand in the air, temporarily losing control of the juice and watching as it hurtles toward the floor—sparking and flaring as it splashes up the sides, until she casually reaches out, flattens her palm, and catches it in midair. Her eyes glinting when she sees the way Sabine blinks, shakes her head, and instantly talks herself out of what she just saw, convincing herself that no one can actually move that fast, that it didn’t happen at all like she thought.
“Whoops!” Haven laughs. “Well, anywho, don’t mean to keep you. Just came over to grab some of Ever’s elixir here.” She holds the bottle before her, tilting it from side to side, causing it to spark and flare, before pointing at the box I grasp in my arms, the one that houses the rest of the supply.
“You came to get her…what?” Sabine squints, struggling to make sense of it, glaring suspiciously between the bottle and me, before rising up onto her toes and peering inside the box, wondering why she failed to pay it any real notice until now. She places her bag on the entry table and reaches for the bottle Haven happily offers. If it means trouble for me, Haven will gladly hand it right over.
But this has gone far enough, and there’s no way I can let it continue.
I can’t allow Sabine to get her hands on the juice.
Can’t allow Haven to play me like this.
“It’s nothing,” I say, shoving the box into Haven’s side, pushing hard against her. “It’s just that energy sports drink I like.”
But Sabine’s not buying it. One look at her face is all it takes to know that she’s launched into a full-scale alert. Suddenly making the connection between my strange behavior, my refusal to eat, and all of my other strange, unexplainable, and just plain weird habits, assuming, somewhat correctly, that it all stems from this one single thing.
Haven laughs, thrusting the elixir toward her, taunting her, tempting her, urging Sabine to try a little sip so she can see for herself just how good—just how refreshing—just how energizing and life changing one sip can be.
And Sabine’s just about to do it, lured by the pull of Haven’s gaze, the spark of the elixir, and just about to take the bait, when Haven laughs even harder and snatches it away.
Causing Sabine to shake her head, straighten her shoulders, and quickly pull herself together when she says, “I think you should leave.” The words ground between tightly clenched teeth. “I think you should go right now. And while I’m sorry to have to say it, Haven, you’re obviously very troubled and in need of some serious help, and until you find a way to get your behavior under control, I really don’t want to see you hanging around here anymore.” She reaches for the shopping bag, lifting it off the table and balancing it back on her hip as she continues to eyeball her carefully.
“Oh, no worries.” Haven smiles, turning to leave. “You will not be seeing me again anytime soon. I have absolutely no need to ever return, now that I got what I need.”
She reaches for the door and I’m right there behind her, determined to get this over with as quickly and seamlessly as I can, before the calming effects of the juice wear off and Haven starts raging again.
But just as I’m about to step onto the stoop, Sabine stops me by grabbing hold of my arm. She has no intention of letting me leave, not now, and certainly not with a friend she just banned from her house.
She narrows her gaze, fingers slipping down to my wrist, circling tightly, as she says, “And just where do you think you’re going?”
My gaze meets hers, and I know I have no choice but to say it as calmly and succinctly as I can. Leave no doubt whatsoever that whether she likes it or not, she will not keep me from going through with my plan.
“Sabine—I have to go somewhere with Haven. It won’t take long, and when I get back, we can talk all you want, but for now, I have to go.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” she cries, her voice high-pitched, shrill, as she grips me that much tighter, my wrist turning an angry shade of red that won’t even have time to bruise before it’s healed again. “Didn’t you hear me? You are not to hang around with that girl anymore. I thought I made myself clear?”
I’m just about to yank free, just about to agree that yes, she has made herself clear, but that it’s not really her choice to make, when Haven smiles, lifts the box right out of my arms and says, “No worries, Ever. You stay with your auntie. She’s obviously very upset. I can get it from here.”
And I watch as she heads for her car—Roman’s car—dumping the box on the passenger seat before settling in, revving the engine, and laughing hysterically as she waves good-bye and backs down the drive.
Sabine’s fingers still on me, still clutching me, still keeping me from doing the one thing I need to do most—the one thing that could end this horrible curse and put my life on a whole new course of complete and total happiness—shouting, “Go to your room!” Her cheeks red, eyes blazing, face so full of outrage it makes me feel terrible for causing it.
But that’s nothing compared to how I feel when I yank myself free. Pulling so hard and fast that the bag of groceries slips from her grip and sends a barrage of cans and fruits and vegetables and egg cartons and cottage cheese containers scrambling all across the floor, leaving a trail of curds, pulpy bits, and runny yellow yolk all over the polished travertine stone.
Nothing compared to how I feel when I catch her expression—a horrible mix of hurt, outrage, surprise, and even worse—fear.
Nothing compared to the regret I feel when I glance between the mess and her, wishing I could just make it disappear with my mind, erase it entirely, make it seem as though it never did happen—but knowing that’ll only serve to make things worse, I turn my back on it all, and head out the door.
Desperate to catch up with Haven who’s just used the opportunity to renege on our deal. Having no idea where to start but knowing I need to start somewhere, and I need to start now.
Calling over my shoulder to say, “Sabine, I’m sorry. Really I am. But there are things you just don’t understand—don’t want to understand—and, as it just so happens, this is one of them.”
thirty-six
&nbs
p; As soon as my foot hits the stoop, I start running. Not wanting to waste the time it’ll take to go into the garage and get my car and start it up and back out of the drive and all the other steps in the whole “normal” routine I work so hard to keep up if for no other reason than to appease Sabine (even though pretty much all of my actions so far have done just about anything but appease her), but also not wanting to manifest anything while she’s still watching from the window. Knowing that’ll only result in a whole new slew of questions—questions I have no intention of answering.
Her gaze follows me. I can feel the weight of it wrapping all around me in a horrible mix of anger, worry, and fear.
Thoughts are things. Made of a very tangible form of energy. And hers are shooting straight to the heart of me.
But despite feeling terrible about everything that just happened, it’s not like I can take the time to stop and worry about it now, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I’ll no doubt have my work cut out for me trying to find a way to make it up to her, but for now, my only concern is finding Haven.
I turn off my driveway and onto my street, thinking I’m finally home free, only to be confronted with the sight of Munoz slowing his Prius as he heads right toward me.
Great, I mumble, watching as he lowers his window and calls out my name, his face clouded with a look of genuine concern when he asks, “Everything okay?”
I stop, stealing a second to look at him and say, “Actually, no. Pretty much nothing’s okay. In fact, not even close.”
He scrunches his brow and glances between the house and me. “Can I help?”
I shake my head, starting to take off again, but then I think better, so I turn to him and say, “Yeah, please tell Sabine that I’m sorry. That I’m really and truly sorry for everything…for all the trouble I’ve caused, for hurting her in the way that I have. She probably won’t believe it, probably won’t accept it, and I can’t say I blame her, but, well, anyway…” I shrug, feeling more than a little foolish for having shared all of that, but it’s not like that stops me. “Oh, and failing that, you can always greet her with these…” I close my eyes and manifest a large bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, knowing I shouldn’t have done it, knowing it’ll only spawn a whole new slew of questions I have no time to answer, but still thrusting them upon him when I add, “They’re her favorite—just don’t tell her how you got ’em, okay?”
