All You Desire

by Kirsten Miller

  “You’ve got it backward, Haven,” Iain insisted. “I don’t give a damn about Adam or the Horae. My lives would be ruined if you weren’t with me.”

  “No, listen! There’s something I have to tell you,” Haven said. “I found out why your childhood was so miserable. I know why your mother despised you. She’s one of the Horae and—”

  “My mother is one of the Horae? Virginia Morrow? That’s not—”

  “Please. Just let me finish. She was there today when I went to see them at Sylvan Terrace. Phoebe told me that your mother spent decades trying to escape from her sisters. She wanted her own life, and she was desperate for a child—someone who would belong to her. Then she found out that you were one of the souls her sisters wanted to locate. Her heart must have broken the moment you told her you were looking for me.”

  The revelation had only stunned him for an instant. “You are not responsible for my mother’s actions,” Iain persisted. “Horae or not, I would have loved her too, if she had given me a chance.”

  “There’s more. Phoebe seduced your father. Calum Daniels is your half brother.”

  “Whoa.” Iain looked as though he’d been whacked in the gut with a baseball bat. “I could use a drink now too.”

  “Don’t you see?” Haven cried. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. I’m like your personal bad-luck charm. Every horrible force in the universe is drawn to me.”

  “I’m drawn to you too. So is Beau. So is Leah.”

  “And today I saw what can happen to the people who love me,” Haven said. The horror show in Florence hadn’t stopped playing in her head. “I saw Piero’s body. He’d been murdered, his throat slit, all because I trusted the wrong person.”

  “I know what you saw was terrible, but you can’t take responsibility for someone else’s deeds.”

  “You don’t understand. It was my fault that Piero died. The Horae were the ones who brought Adam to Florence and introduced him to me. I was supposed to help lock him away, but I betrayed them. I was so dazzled by the freedom Adam promised me that I acted too late. Piero died, and Adam’s ships brought the Black Death to Europe. And to think—I almost let the same thing happen twice. I almost let a plague wipe out New York City.”

  “But you’re going to stop the plague this time, Haven. That’s all that counts. You’re the reason Leah is here. You’re the one who knew Flora. Without you, none of us would have figured out what Adam had planned for the kids at Halcyon Hall. And without you, we would never be able to imprison him tomorrow.”

  Haven felt a terror unlike anything she’d ever known spreading through her body. But she had to tell Iain everything. Even if it meant losing him.

  “You don’t understand, Iain. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not even sure you can trust me. There’s still something I need to confess. I made a dress for one of the OS members, and she opened an account in my name. She paid me twenty points, and I was going to use them to have Beau’s kidnapper punished. I wanted him to be beaten like Beau was.”

  “Did you actually spend the points?” Iain asked.

  “No,” Haven told him. “I could have, but I chickened out.”

  “So you think you should be punished for having evil thoughts?”

  “It wasn’t just an evil thought, Iain. I almost became one of them. I swear, I was this close.”

  “But you didn’t. You’re human, Haven. Terrible ideas are going to enter your brain from time to time. All that counts is whether you act on them. And in this case, you haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

  “I kissed Adam.”

  “Okay, maybe you did one thing wrong,” he joked. “But Haven?”

  She looked up at him. He was so good, she thought. She couldn’t believe she’d risked what they had—and would have to risk it all over again.

  “I have faith in you,” he told her. “If you’ve made mistakes, you still have a chance to fix them.”

  “I’m scared,” Haven said.

  “So am I.” Iain lay down beside her, and she felt his warm hands sneak beneath the covers and find her warm skin.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “Haven, Iain, get out of bed!” Frances shouted through the bedroom door.

  “What time is it? Am I late?” Haven mumbled.

  It was still dark. Haven blindly groped for Iain’s cell phone on the bedside table. When the light came on, the clock read 5:35 a.m.

  “Haven, Iain, get out here!” Frances shrieked again. “Something’s happened.”

  Iain pulled on a pair of jeans and was the first to the door. “Is Leah okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Leah’s asleep. Come to the living room. There’s something you need to see.” Once they were there, Frances pointed at the television. “It’s on most of the channels now.”

  The New York Post is reporting that the former president of an elite Manhattan social club has come forward with some stunning allegations. Padma Singh claims that the Ouroboros Society, located in Gramercy Park, has been functioning as an organized crime ring for decades. During her tenure as president, Singh kept detailed notes on the illegal activities of the OS club’s members. In her files, she accuses some of the best-known names in Manhattan of crimes ranging from prostitution and drug dealing to arson and murder. Ms. Singh has even . . .

  “Those lying bastards,” Iain growled. “The Post ran the story a day early.” He rushed back to the bedroom and returned moments later in his coat and shoes.

  “What does this mean?” Frances asked.

  “It means I have to find Padma before the OS does,” Iain said. “She wasn’t supposed to leave the city until tomorrow.”

  “No!” Haven shouted. “They’ll be looking for you too!”

  “Which is why I have to go right now.” He planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back before you leave to see Adam.”

  “Iain!” Haven yelled again as he ran out the door. “Be careful!” she added, but he could no longer hear her.

  Iain didn’t return in time to see Haven off. She tried calling, only to hear his phone ring down the hall in Frances’s apartment. In his rush to save Padma, he’d left it lying on the bedside table. Haven showered, dressed, and waited for word from him. At nine thirty, Leah found her still sitting on the unmade bed, the ring Iain had given her now back on her finger. She was gazing at the glass jewel set in gold and praying it would bring her the luck she needed.

  “The car is here for you,” Leah said. “Frances says if you’re going, you need to go soon.”

  “Am I doing the right thing?” Haven asked Leah.

  The scrawny girl shook her head. “You’re the only one who knows that. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

  Haven held out Iain’s phone. “Will you keep this with you? Iain might try to get in touch while I’m gone.”

  “You’re not going to take it?”

  “If Iain needs help, I won’t be in any position to give it. I need you to watch out for him. If something happens to him, I won’t survive.”

  “What about you?” Leah asked. “What if you need help?”

  “If I need help, I’m not sure there’s much you can do.”

  HAVEN’S CAR CAME to a halt outside the tall gothic gatehouse of Green-Wood Cemetery. Beyond the brown spires lay another realm—a silent, still, and perfectly white world. The snow that had long since turned to slush on the city’s streets had yet to be sullied within the cemetery’s walls. Only a few narrow paths were cleared, and they wound like black ribbons around the graves. The scene took Haven back to the day they buried Beau’s mother. There had been snow on the ground then too. Haven had held Beau’s hand as they stood at the edge of a hole carved out of the frozen earth. She took a silent oath by that grave—to give Beau everything he’d lost when his mother died. Haven promised him her protection, encouragement, and unconditional love. But it had only taken a few short years before she’d failed Beau once again.

 
Haven checked her watch. It was exactly ten o’clock, and aside from a solitary guard sipping coffee inside the gatehouse, she was completely alone. As the minutes ticked past, she began to worry. Adam was never late. Had the events of the morning kept him away?

  “You waiting for someone? You want to come sit inside?” the guard addressed her from the door of his booth.

  “A friend was supposed to meet me here,” Haven said. “He must be running late.”

  “You talking about a tall guy in a dark overcoat?”

  “Yes,” Haven said. “That’s him.”

  “He got here a while back. Aside from a couple of ladies, he’s the only visitor we’ve had today.”

  “Did you see which way he went?”

  “Up the hill to the left,” the guard said. “Where he went after that, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Thanks,” Haven said.

  The city vanished, and silence enveloped her. A cold wind blew at her back, pushing Haven gently along the path. Everywhere she looked, angels refused to meet her gaze, their heads either lifted toward heaven or bowed down to the earth below. When she reached the top of the hill, Haven took one last glance at the gates and the guardhouse and then plunged into the woods. She had never felt so alone.

  From the summit, the path wound down the other side toward a little lake set in a valley. At the base of the hill was a single door—the entrance to a tomb cut into the rock. The style was ancient, but the marble was freshly chiseled. The white of the stone blended in with the snow that concealed the land. On either side of the door sat two statues, a man and a woman. Haven recognized the hand of Matteo Salvadore in the sculptures’ graceful curves. The figures wore long robes with hoods that cast dark shadows over their faces. Most visitors might have mistaken them for mourners, but the look in the eyes that peered out was not grief-stricken but proud. They were the only ones in this cemetery who’d come willingly. They were there to rule over it.

  Seated on a bench near the pond, a figure in black watched the frozen water.

  “It’s lovely here,” Haven said. She wished she could hold his head under the surface of the pond and let him experience the pain and panic that Piero must have felt.

  Adam was so still he could have been part of the scenery. “Yes. And calm. I’ve never understood why some of you choose to return to this world. If I had a choice, I would stay in the land of the dead.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me outside the gates?” Haven asked him.

  “I was almost hoping you wouldn’t come.”

  “Why wouldn’t I come?”

  “Surely you saw the news,” Adam said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must realize that the Ouroboros Society will never survive. I have nothing to offer you now. But I want you to know that I did try. I tried to give you the one thing no one else could possibly give you. There were simply too many forces working against me. I wanted to evolve, but the world wouldn’t let me.”

  “Adam . . .”

  He stood up and took a golden key from his pocket. “Since you’ve made the trip, would you like to see the tomb’s interior? It’s a work of unimaginable beauty.” Adam waded through the snow to the entrance of the mausoleum. The door was a slab of marble over twelve inches thick, yet he pushed it open as if it were Styrofoam.

  The anteroom was small, with an arched ceiling. A stone fountain stood in the center, water bubbling from the mouth of a brilliant blue bird molded out of clay. A fine mist seemed to hang in the air, and the walls were decorated with scenes from a lovely garden filled with flowering fruit trees and fluttering creatures.

  “It’s beautiful,” Haven remarked coldly.

  “There’s more.” Adam removed a gas lantern that was hanging from a hook on the wall and made sure the flame burned brightly before he opened another door.

  The inner space was much larger than Haven could have imagined, an empty room with seven stone doors. On the floor, tiny shards of glass and precious stones formed a stunning mosaic. A god on a golden chariot pulled by two black horses held a struggling maiden. A hole had opened up in a flowering field, and the horses raced toward the chasm, eager to return to the dark world that lay beneath. Haven knew the scene well.

  “You brought it all the way here? The mosaic from our home in Crete?” Haven asked, her voice echoing around the chamber.

  “No, this is merely a replica. Your feet never touched these tiles. It’s the image itself that holds great meaning for me. From the moment I first saw you in your father’s garden, I knew I could never deserve you. I was convinced that the only way to have you was to steal you as Hades did in the myth and trick you into staying with me. I bought this mosaic in Rome to remind me of the errors I’ve made. Each of the women inside this crypt was only mine for a season. Then, like flowers, they all wilted and died. I was hoping to end that cycle. This time, I wanted you to choose me of your own free will. If you did, I would never need to fear losing you. Now it seems my efforts have been in vain. When did you choose to side with the Horae, Haven?”

  The walls of the tomb seemed to close in on her as she tried to figure out what it all meant. “You know about the Horae?”

  “I had my suspicions. I thought they might be confirmed when you invited me here today. And yet I still hoped . . .”

  He couldn’t continue.

  “You hoped?” Haven prompted.

  “I hoped you would appreciate the changes I’ve made—to myself and the Society. I hoped you would decide to leave Iain to be with me—not just for a season, but forever. But somehow the Horae have turned you against me once more. What did they tell you this time?”

  “They say you brought the black death to Italy in the fourteenth century, and that you will bring a new plague to New York.”

  “I did bring the black death to Italy; that is true,” Adam admitted, much to Haven’s surprise. “I had spent too much time in other lands, and the Horae had come to dominate Europe. There’s a reason those centuries were known as the Dark Ages. The people were locked into an order they could not escape. Those who were born peasants died peasants. The very idea of learning was stifled. All power lay in the hands of a tiny minority. I found a way to break the system apart. After the plague there was chaos, but that chaos was preferable to the order that preceded it.”

  “Your solution killed millions and millions of people.”

  “Yes, but their descendants led better lives. Which option would you have chosen for the people of Europe? Death or hopelessness?”

  “Is that why you’ve planned another plague? To shake up the system again?”

  “I haven’t planned another plague,” Adam said. “Ask the snake goddess, Haven. She’s the only one you can trust. She’s the only one without a motive to lie.”

  “She’s had visions of the future, Adam. There will be a plague.”

  “And I’m the only possible explanation?”

  Haven didn’t have an answer.

  “I can sense your uncertainty. You know in your heart that I’m innocent, but there’s still something else,” Adam continued. “What more have the Horae told you?”

  “It’s not what they’ve told me, Adam. It’s what I’ve seen for myself. I had a vision of Piero and Naddo’s bodies being delivered to your house. Their throats had been cut.”

  “Yes, I had their bodies fished out of the river. I heard they had been murdered, and I wanted you to be able to give them a proper burial.”

  Haven shook her head furiously, as though trying to keep his lies from taking root in her mind. “You killed my brother, and you let me think I was responsible!”

  “No, Haven. Once again I’m innocent of your charges. You’ve chosen not to see the truth. Parts of a life can not tell a whole story.”

  Those were the very words Leah had once used. And Leah Frizzell never lied. Haven felt her rage dissolving. She couldn’t condemn him for crimes she had no proof he’d committed.

  “Would you like to know how the tale
ended?” Adam asked.

  “You already told me. I helped the Horae lock you away.”

  “That wasn’t the end, Haven. You locked me away. But thirty years later, you had a change of heart. You were the one who set me free.”

  “I did?” Haven asked.

  Just then, they heard stone sliding across stone and iron hinges groaning under great strain. Haven rushed for the anteroom to see the pale winter sunlight shut out of the crypt. The entrance was closed. There was the faintest sound of a key rattling inside the lock. Then the silence was absolute.

  “Stop!” Haven screamed, banging on the door with her fists. “I’m still inside! Stop!”

  “No one can hear you,” Adam said behind her. “The walls are more than a foot thick.”

  Haven spun around. The lamplight hollowed out Adam’s eyes, and his pale skin shone like alabaster. The shadow he threw against the wall was that of a giant. Adam’s human disguise was flickering, failing. She was trapped underground with something more—or less—than a man. An immortal being who now knew that she had betrayed him.

  “It seems you’ve been double-crossed,” Adam observed. “The Horae didn’t think they could trust you.”

  For a moment, Haven couldn’t find her voice. It remained lodged somewhere deep in her throat, choking her. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, finally forcing the words out into the air.

  “That depends,” Adam said reasonably. His calmness frightened Haven even more than a rage possibly could. “Would you mind telling me what you know of the Horae’s plan?”

  Haven hesitated.

  “You needn’t tell me now. It looks as though we may have all eternity to discuss such matters.”

  “They came to see the mausoleum. They made a key to the seventh room—the one without a coffin. They wanted me to lock you inside and leave you there.”

  “A worthy scheme,” Adam said. “If that door had a lock. May I see the key you were given?”