I take another step back, seeing Rayne furrow her brow as Romy shakes her head, saying, "We didn't hear a thing. Honest. We can't read all of your thoughts, Ever. Only the ones we're permitted to see. Whatever you see in the akashic records is yours and yours to keep. We are merely concerned by your distress. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less." I narrow my eyes, not trusting her for a second. They've probably been snooping in my thoughts all along. I mean, why else give me the tulips? Why else manifest such a thing? "I wasn't even visiting the akashic records," I say.
"This room was " I pause, swallowing hard as I remember the smell of my mom's brownies, the feel of my grandma's blanket, and knowing I can have it all again. All I have to do is wait for the right day and time and I can return to my family and friends. I shake my head and shrug. "This room was different. " "The Akashic Hall has many faces." Romy nods. "It becomes whatever you need it to be." She looks at me, her eyes roaming over my face as she says, "We only showed up to help, not to upset or confuse you." "So, what? You're like my guardian angels or spirit guides? Two private-school-uniform-wearing fairy godmothers?" "Not quite." Romy laughs.
"Then who are you? And what're you doing here? And how come you always manage to find me?" Rayne glares and pulls on her sister's sleeve, urging her to leave. But Romy stays put, looking me in the eye when she says, "We are only here to aid and assist. That is all you need to know."
I look at her for a moment, glance at her sister, then shake my head and walk away. They're deliberately mysterious and way beyond weird, and I've a pretty good hunch their intentions aren't good. Even as Romy calls out from behind me, I keep going. Eager to put some distance between us as I head for an auburn-haired woman waiting just outside the theater, the one who, from behind anyway, looks exactly like Ava.
CHAPTER 31
The huge disappointment I felt when I tapped that auburn-haired woman on the shoulder only to discover she wasn't Ava, made me realize just how badly I need to talk to her. So I exit Summerland and land back in my car, plopping onto the driver's seat right in front of the Trader Joe's in the Crystal Cove Promenade parking lot, and startling an unsuspecting shopper so badly she drops both her bags, scattering numerous cans of coffee and soup under a whole row of cars. And I promise myself that from now on, I'll make sure my exits and entries are a bit more discreet. When I get to Ava's, she's in the middle of a reading, so I wait in her bright sunny kitchen while she finishes up. And even though I know it's none of my business, even though I know I shouldn't be snooping, I go right for my quantum remote and access their session, amazed by the amount of accuracy and detail Ava provides.
"Impressive," I say, after her client is gone and she comes into the kitchen to join me. " Very impressive.
Seriously, I had no idea." I smile, watching as she goes through her usual ritual of filling the teapot to boil, then placing some cookies onto a plate and pushing it my way.
"That's quite a compliment coming from you." She smiles, taking the seat just across from me. "Though if I remember right, I gave you a pretty accurate reading once too."
I reach for a cookie, knowing it's expected. And when I lick the little bits of sugar from the top, I can't help but feel sad that it no longer holds the allure that it used to.
"You remember that reading? On Halloween night?"
She watches me closely.
I nod. I remember it well. That's the night I discovered she could see Riley. Up until then I'd been sure I was the only one who could communicate with my dead little sister, and I wasn't too happy to learn that was no longer the case.
"Did you tell your client she's dating a loser?" I break the cookie in half. "That he's cheating on her with someone she thinks is a friend and that she should dump them both ASAP?" I ask, removing some crumbs that fell onto my lap.
"In so many words," she says, getting up to fetch our tea the moment the pot starts to whistle. "Though I can only hope you'll learn to soften the message if you ever decide to give readings."
I pause, overcome by a sudden pang of sadness when I realize just how long it's been since I last thought about my future, about what I might want to be when I grow up. I went through so many phases wanting to be a park ranger, a teacher, an astronaut, a supermodel, a pop star the list was endless. But now that I'm immortal, now that I'm in a position to try out all of those things over the course of the next thousand-plus years I no longer feel that ambitious.
Lately, all I've been thinking about is how to get Damen back.
And now, after this last trip to Summerland, all I can think about is getting the old me back.
I mean, having the entire world at my feet is not so enticing when there's no one to share it with. "I I'm still not sure what I want to do. I haven't really thought about it," I lie, wondering if it will be easy for me to slip back into my old lifeif I decide to return to it, that is. And if I'll still want to be a pop star like I used to, or if the changes I've experienced here will follow me there.
But when I look at Ava, watching as she lifts her cup to her lips and blows twice before sipping, I remember that I didn't come here to discuss my future. I came to discuss my past. Deciding to bring her into my confidence and share some of my biggest secrets. Convinced not only that I can trust her but that she'll be able to help me as well.
Because the truth is, I need someone I can count on. There's just no way I can go it alone. And it's not about helping me decide whether I should stay or go, because I'm beginning to realize I really don't have much of a choice. I mean, the thought of leaving Damen the thought of never seeing him againis almost more painful than I can bear. But when I think about my family, and how they unwittingly sacrificed their lives for me either because of a stupid blue sweatshirt I insisted my dad return for, which ultimately caused the accident that killed everyoneor because Drina intentionally made the deer run in front of our car so she could be rid of me and have Damen to herselfI feel I have to do something to make it all right.
Because either way you look at it, it leads back to me . It's my fault they're no longer living their lives, it's my fault their bright shiny futures were cut so tragically short. If I hadn't gotten in the way, none of this ever would've happened. And even though Riley insisted it all turned out the way it was meant to, the fact that I'm being given the choice just proves that I need to sacrifice my future with Damen so they can have theirs.
It's the right thing to do. It's the only thing to do.
And with the way things are going, with my social exile from school, Ava's pretty much my only friend left. Which means I'll need her to pick up any stray pieces I might leave behind.
I bring my teacup to my lips, then set it back down without drinking. Tracing my fingers around the curve of the handle as I take a deep breath and say, "I think someone's poisoning Damen." Seeing her eyes bug out as she gapes. "I I think someone's tampering with his" Elixir "favorite drink. And it's making him act" Mortal "normal, but not in a good way." I press my lips together and rise from my seat, barely giving her a chance to catch her breath when I say, "And since I'm banned from the gate, I'm gonna need you to help me break in."
CHAPTER 32
"Okay, we're here. Just act cool," I say, crouching down in the back as Ava approaches the gate. "Just nod and smile and give her the name I told you." I pull my legs in, trying to make myself smaller, less obtrusive, a task that would've been a heck of a lot easier just two weeks ago, before I was faced with this ridiculous growth spurt. Crouching down even farther and pulling the blanket tighter around me as Ava lowers her window and smiles at Sheila, giving her the name of Stacia Miller (my replacement on Damen's list of welcomed guests), who I hope hasn't come around quite enough yet for Sheila to recognize her. And the moment the gate swings open and we're headed for Damen's, I toss the blanket aside and climb onto the seat, seeing Ava gaze around the neighborhood with obvious envy, shaking her head and muttering, "Swanky." I shrug and glance around too, never having given it much notice before. Always viewing this place as a blur of phony Tuscan farmhouses and upscale Spanish haciendas with well-landscaped yards and subterranean garages one has to pass in order to reach Damen's faux French chateau.
"I have no idea how he affords it, but it sure is nice," she says, glancing at me.
"He plays the ponies," I mumble, concentrating on the garage door as she pulls into his drive, taking note of its most minute details before closing my eyes and willing for it to open.
Seeing it rise and lift in my mind, then opening my eyes just in time to watch it sputter and spurt before dropping back down with a very loud thud An unmistakable sign that I'm still a long way from mastering psychokinesis or the art of moving anything heavier than a Prada bag.
"Urn, I think we should just go around back like I usually do," I say, feeling embarrassed for failing so miserably.
But Ava won't hear of it, grabbing my bag and heading for the front door. And even when I scramble behind, telling her it's no use, that it's locked and we can't possibly enter that way, she just keeps going, claiming we'll just have to unlock it then.
"It's not as easy as you think," I tell her. "Believe me, I've tried it before and it didn't work." Glancing at the extra door I accidentally manifested the last time I was here the one that's still leaning against the far wall, which is exactly where I left it since apparently Damen's too busy acting cool and chasing Stacia to take the time to get rid of it.
But the moment I think that, I wish I could erase it.
The thought leaves me sad, empty, and feeling far more desperate than I care to admit.
"Well, this time you have me to help." She smiles.
"And I think we've already proved just how well we work together."
And the way she looks at me, with such anticipation, such optimism, I can't see the point in refusing to try.
So I close my eyes as we both join hands, envisioning the door springing open before us. And just seconds after hearing the dead bolt slide back, the door opens wide, allowing us in.
"After you." Ava nods, glancing at her watch and scrunching her brow as she says, "Tell me again, exactly how much time do we have here?"
I gaze at my wrist, seeing the crystal horseshoe bracelet Damen gave me that day at the track, the one that makes my heart swell with longing every time I see it. Yet I refuse to remove it. I mean, I just can't.
It's my only physical reminder of what we once had.
"Hey? You okay?" she asks, her face creased with concern.
I swallow hard and nod. "We should be okay on time.
Though I should warn you, Damen has a bad habit of cutting class and coming home early."
"Then we best get started" Ava smiles, slipping into the foyer and looking all around, her eyes moving from the huge chandelier in the entry to the elaborate wrought-iron banister that leads up the stairs. Turning to me with a gleam in her eye when she says, "This guy is seventeen?"
I move toward the kitchen, not bothering to answer since she already knows that he is. Besides, I've got much bigger things at stake than square footage and the seeming implausibility of a seventeen-year-old who's neither a pop star nor a member of a hit TV show owning such a place.
"Hey hold up," she says, reaching for my arm and stopping me in my tracks. "What's upstairs?"
"Nothing." And the second it's out I know I totally blew it, answering far too quickly to ever be believed.
Still, the last thing I need is for Ava to go snooping around and barging into his "special" room.
"Come on," she says, smiling like a rebellious teen whose parents are gone for the weekend. "School gets out at what? Two fifty?"
I nod, just barely, but it's still enough to encourage her.
"And then it takes, what? Ten minutes to drive home from there?"
"More like two." I shake my head. "No, scratch that.
More like thirty seconds. You have no idea how fast Damen drives."
She checks her watch again, then looks at me. A smile playing at the corner of her lips when she says, "Well, that still leaves us plenty of time to take a quick look around, switch out the drinks, and be on our way." And when I look at her, all I can hear is the voice in my head shouting: Say no! Say no! Just. Say. No! A voice I should heed.
A voice that's immediately canceled by hers when she says, "Come on, Ever. It's not every day I get to tour a house like this. Besides, we might find something useful, did you ever consider that?" I press my lips together and nod like it pains me. Reluctantly following behind as she races ahead like an excited schoolgirl about to see her crush's cool room, when the fact is she's got over a decade on me. Heading straight for the first open door she sees, which just happens to be his bedroom. And as I follow her inside I'm not sure if I'm more surprised or relieved to find it just like I left it. Only messier. Way messier.
And I refuse to even think about how that might've happened. Still, the sheets, the furniture, even the paint on the walls none of itI'm happy to reporthave been changed. It's all the same stuff I helped him pick out a few weeks ago when I refused to spend another minute hanging out in that creepy mausoleum of his, where, believe it or not, he used to sleep. I mean, making out among all those dusty old memories really started to skeeve me out.
Never mind the fact that, technically speaking, I'm one of those dusty old memories too.
But even after all the new furniture was put into place, I still preferred to hang out at my house. I guess it just felt I don't knowsafer ? Like the threat of Sabine coming home any minute would keep me from doing something I wasn't sure I was ready to do.
Which now, after all that's happened, seems more than a little ridiculous.
"Wow, check out this master bath," Ava says, eyeing the Roman shower with the mosaic design and enough showerheads to bathe twenty. "I could get used to living like this!" She perches on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub and plays with the taps. "I've always wanted one of these! Have you used this?"
I look away, but not before she catches a glimpse of the color that Hushes my cheeks. I mean, just because I spilled a few secrets and allowed her to come up here doesn't mean she gets an all-access pass to my private life too, "I have one at home," I finally say, hoping that'll suffice so we can end this tour and be on our way. I need to get back downstairs so I can switch Damen's elixir with mine. And if she stays up here alone, I'm afraid she'll never leave.
I tap my watch, reminding her of just who's in charge around here.
"All right," she says, practically dragging her feet as I lead her out of the bedroom and into the hall. Only to stop just a few doors down and say, "But real quick, what's in here?"
And before I can stop her, she's entered the room Damen's sacred space. His private sanctuary.
His creepy mausoleum.
Only it's changed.
And I mean, drastically and dramatically changed.
Every last trace of Damen's personal time warp completely vanished with not a Picasso, Van Gogh, or velvet settee in sight.
All of it replaced by a red felt pool table, a well-stocked black marble bar with shiny chrome stools, and a long row of recliners facing a wall covered with a ginormous flat screen TV. And I can't help but wonder what became of his old stuff those priceless artifacts that used to get on my nerves, but now that they've been replaced with such slick modern designs, seem like lost symbols of much better times. I miss the old Damen. I miss my bright, handsome, chivalrous boyfriend who clung so tightly to his Renaissance past.
This sleek, new-millennium Damen is a stranger to me. And as I look around this room once more, I wonder if it's too late to save him. "What's wrong?" Ava squints. "Your face has gone white."
I grab hold of her arm and pull her down the stairs. "We need to hurry," I tell her. "Before it's too late!"
CHAPTER 33
I flee down the stairs and into the kitchen, yelling, "Grab the bag by the door and bring it to me!"
I race for the fridge, eager to empty its contents and exchange them with mine, needing to wrap it all up before Damen can come home and catch us.
But when I open his oversized Sub-Zero fridge, just like the room upstairs, it's not at all what I expected.
For one thing, it's filled with food.
And I mean lots and lots of food like he's planning a really huge party one that will last for three days.
I'm talking sides of beef, slabs of steak, huge wedges of cheese, half a chicken, two large pizzas, ketchup, mayonnaise, assorted takeout containers the works!
Not to mention several six packs of beer all lined up along the bottom shelf.
And even though it appears to be totally normal, here's the thing:
Damen's not normal. He hasn't really eaten in six hundred years.
He also doesn't drink beer.
Immortal juice, water, the occasional glass of champagne yes.
Heineken and Corona not so much.
"What is it?" Ava asks, dropping the bag on the floor and peering over my shoulder, trying to figure out what I'm so worked up about, and opening the freezer only to find it fully stocked with vodka, frozen pizzas, and several tubs of Ben & Jerry's. "Okay ... so he's been to the supermarket recently ... is there some cause for alarm I don't get? Do you two normally just manifest all of your food whenever you're hungry?"
I shake my head, knowing I can't tell her that Damen and I never get hungry. Just because she knows we're psychic with the ability to manifest stuff both here and in Summerland, doesn't mean she needs to know the other part of the story, the Oh, yeah, did I mention we're both immortal part too.
All she knows is what I told her that I've a very strong suspicion that Damen is being poisoned. What I didn't tell her is that he's being poisoned in a way that's breaking down all of his psychic abilities, his enhanced physical strength, his vast intelligence, his carefully honed talents and skills, even his long-term memories of what went before all of it's being slowly erased, as he returns to mortal form. But while he may appear to be just your average high school juniorwell, one with screamin' good looks, fistfuls of money, and his own parent-free, multimillion-dollar padit's just a matter of time before he begins to age. And then deteriorate.
And then ultimatelydie, like I saw on that screen. And that's exactly why I need to switch out these drinks. I need to get him back on the good juice so he can start building up his strength and hopefully repair some of the damage that's already been done. While I try to figure out an antidote that'll hopefully save him and return him to the way he once was. And if his messy house, remodeled room, and well-stocked fridge are any indication, Damen's progressing much more quickly than I assumed. "I don't even see these bottles you're talking about,"
Ava says, peering over my shoulder and squinting into the refrigerator light. "Are you sure this is where he keeps them?"
"Trust me, they're there." I rummage through the world's largest condiment collection, before spotting the elixir. Sliding my fingers around the necks of several bottles, which I then hand to Ava. "Just as I thought." I nod, finally making some headway.
Ava looks at me, her brow raised as she says, "Don't you think it's weird he's still drinking it? Because if it really is poisoned, don't you think the flavor must've changed?"
And just like that, I begin to doubt.
I mean, what if I'm wrong?
What if this isn't it at all?
What if Damen just grew tired of me, if everyone just grew tired of me, and Roman has nothing to do with it?
I grab a bottle and bring it to my lips, stopping only when Ava cries, "You're not going to drink that, are you?"
But I just shrug and take a sip, figuring there's only one way to know for sure if it's poisoned, and hoping one tiny taste won't do any harm. Knowing the second I taste it why Damen didn't notice a difference because there isn't one. At least not until the aftertaste makes itself known. "Water!" I gasp, rushing toward the sink and sticking my head under the faucet, gulping all the tap water I can until that awful taste is diluted. "That bad?"
I nod, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. "Worse. But if you've ever seen Damen drink it, you'd know why he didn't notice. He gulps that stuff like " I start to say like a dying man, but it hits too close to home. So I swallow hard and say, "Like someone who's very thirsty."
Then I hand Ava the remaining bottles so she can set them beside the sink, positioning the poisoned ones along the edge, after pushing all the dirty dishes aside to make room. Both of us working in such smooth seamless tandem I've barely given the last bottle to her, when I'm already bending down to retrieve the "safe" bottles from my bag. Knowing they're safe since Damen last supplied me a few weeks ago, long before Roman appeared. Intending to place them right where the others once were, so Damen will never suspect I was here.
"So what should I do with these old ones?" Ava asks. "Throw them out? Or save them for evidence?" And just as I look up to answer, Damen walks through the side door and says, "What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"
CHAPTER 34
I freeze. Two bottles of untainted brew dangling halfway between the fridge and me. Realizing I'd been so preoccupied with thinking about Damen that I forgot to tune in and sense if he was anywhere near.
Ava gapes, her face displaying the same wide-eyed, openmouthed mask of sheer panic I'm trying to hide.
Then I look at Damen and clear my throat before saying, "It's not what you think!"
Which is pretty much the lamest, most ridiculous thing I could've said since it's exactly what he thinks.
Ava and I broke into his house so we could tamper with his food supply. Pure and simple.
He drops his bag and moves toward me, his eyes focused on mine. "You have no idea what I'm thinking."
Oh, but I do. Wincing at the horrible thoughts scrolling through his head, his mental accusation of:
Stalker! Freak! And things far worse than that.
"And how the hell did you even get in here?" he asks, glancing between us.
"Um, Sheila let me in," I say, not quite sure what to do with the bottle I still hold in my hand.
A vein throbs in his temple as he shakes his head and clenches his fists, and I realize I've never seen him this angry before, didn't even know he was capable of it, and feel pretty cruddy to know I inspired it.
"I'll deal with Sheila," he says, his temper barely in check. "What I meant was, what are you doing in here? In my house ? Messing around in my fridge "
His eyes narrow. "What the hell do you think you're up to?"
I glance at Ava, embarrassed to have her witness my one true love talking to me in this way.
"And what's up with her?" He points at Ava. "You bring your party psychic along to cast some kind of spell?"
"You remember that?" I lower the bottle to my side.
I'd been wondering what he might've retained from our past, and even though it's dumb, the fact that he remembers meeting Ava fills me with hope. "You remember Halloween night?" I whisper, recalling the first time we kissed, out by the pool, both of us dressed in perfectly matching costumes of Marie Antoinette and her lover, Count Fersen, without having planned it.
"Yeah, I remember." He shakes his head. "And I hate to break it to you, but it was a moment of weakness that'll never happen again. One you took far too seriously. And believe me, if I'd known what a freak you'd turn out to be, I wouldn't have bothered. It wasn't worth it."
I swallow hard and blink back the tears. Feeling empty, hollowed out, my insides excavated and tossed aside, as any chance of reclaiming our love the only thing that makes this particular life worth livingslips out of reach. And even though I remind myself that those are Roman's words not histhat the real Damen isn't capable of treating anyone like thisit doesn't make it hurt any less.
"Damen, please, " I finally manage. "I know it looks bad. Really, I do. But I can explain. You see, we're only trying to help you."
He looks at me, his gaze so derisive it fills me with shame. But I force myself to continue, knowing I at least have to try. "Someone is trying to poison you." I swallow, meeting his eyes. "Someone you know." He shakes his head, not buying a word of it. Convinced that I'm stark raving mental and should be locked up immediately.
"And this person responsible for poisoning me, this person I happen to know, would that, by any chance, be you ?" He takes another step toward me. "Because you're the one breaking into my home. You re the one getting all up in my fridge and messing with my drinks. I think the evidence speaks for itself." I shake my head, talking past the searing heat in my throat when I say, "I know how it looks, but you've got to believe me! It's all true, I'm not making it up!" He takes another step closer, advancing on me in a way so intentional, so slow and deliberate, it's like he's stalking his prey. So I decide to just go for it, to let it all out. I mean, I've got nothing to lose anyway. "It's Roman, okay?" I suck in my breath, watching his expression change from accusatory to outraged.
"Your new friend Roman is " I glance at Ava, knowing I can't say what Roman actually isan immortal rogue set on killing Damen for some reason I've yet to determine. But it's not like it matters anyway. Damen has no memory of Drina or being immortal, he's so far gone he'd never understand. "Get out," he says, the look in his eyes so cold it chills me more than the air flowing from his fridge. "Get the hell out before I call the police." I peer at Ava, seeing her pour the tampered contents down the drain the second he makes the threat. Then I gaze at Damen, grasping his phone, his index finger already pressing the nine, followed by the one, and then
I have to stop him. There's no way I can allow him to complete that call. No way I can risk getting the police involved. So I stare into his eyes, even though he refuses to look at me. I just focus all of my energy on him, my thoughts reaching out to him, attempting to meld and influence. Showering him with the most compassionate loving white light along with a bouquet of telepathic red tulips. All the while whispering, "No need for trouble." I slowly back away. "You don't need to call anyone, we're leaving right now." Holding my breath as he stares at the phone, not understanding why he can't seem to press the last one .
He lifts his gaze, and for the briefest moment, just a flicker really, the old Damen's returned. Looking at me in the way that he used to sending a delicious warm tingle all over my skin. And even though it's gone just as soon as it appearedI'll happily settle for whatever I get.
He tosses his phone onto the counter and shakes his head. And knowing we'd better move fast before my influence ends, I grab my bag and head for the door. Turning just as he empties his cupboards and fridge of every last bottle of juice. Removing their caps and pouring their contents right down the drain, convinced they're not safe for consumption, now that I've tampered with them.
CHAPTER 35
"What will happen now that he no longer has the drink? Will he get better or worse?"
That's the question Ava asked as soon as we got in my car. And the truth is, I had no idea how to answer. I still don't. So I didn't say anything. I just shrugged.
"I'm so sorry," she said, clasping her hands in her lap, looking at me in a way that proved her sincerity. "I feel responsible."
But I just shook my head. Because even though it was kind of her fault for wasting so much time when she insisted on touring his house, I'm the one who came up with the brilliant idea of breaking in. I'm the one who got so caught up in the task at hand I forgot to keep my eye on the door. So if anyone's to blame, I am.