"I'm Romy," she says. Except that her lips didn't move. And the voice that I heard came from behind me.
And when I spin around, I find the same exact girl laughing as she says, "And she's Rayne."
I turn again, seeing Rayne still behind me as Romy comes around to join her. Two identical girls standing before me, everything about them their hair, their clothes, their faces, their eyes exactly the same.
Except for the kneesocks. Romy's have fallen, while Rayne's are pulled tight.
"Welcome to Summerland." Romy smiles, as Rayne looks me over with suspicious narrowed eyes. "We're sorry about your friend." She nudges her twin, and when she doesn't respond, she says, "Yes, even Rayne is sorry. She just won't admit it."
"Do you know where I can find her?" I ask, gazing between them and wondering where they could've come from.
Romy shrugs. "She doesn't want to be found. So we found you instead."
"What're you talking about? And where did you even come from?" I ask, never having seen another person on my previous visits here.
"That's only because you didn't want to see another person," Romy says, answering the thought in my head. "You didn't desire it until now."
I look at her, my face blank, my mind spinning with the realization she can read my thoughts?
"Thoughts are energy." She shrugs. "And Summerland consists of rapid, intense, magnified energy. So intense you can read it."
And the moment she says it, I remember my visit with Damen, and how we were able to communicate telepathically. But at the time, I thought it was just us.
"But if that's true, then why wasn't I able to read Ava's mind? And how was she able to just disappear like that?"
Rayne rolls her eyes, while Romy leans forward, her voice soft and low as though speaking to a small child even though they appear younger than I. "Because you have to desire it in order for it to be." Then, seeing the blank look on my face, she explains, "Within Summerland exists the possibility for everything. For all things. But you must first desire it to bring it into existence. Otherwise it remains only a possibility one of many possibilitiesunmanifested and incomplete."
I gaze at her, trying to make sense of her words. "The reason you didn't see people before is because you didn't want to. But now, look around and tell me what you see."
And when I look around, I see that she's right. The shops and restaurants are now filled with people, a new art installation is being hung in the gallery, and a crowd gathers on the museum steps. And as I focus on their energy and thoughts, I realize just how diverse this place really is, every nationality and religion is present and accounted for, with everyone coexisting in peace.
Wow, I think, my eyes darting everywhere, trying to take it all in.
Romy nods. "And so the moment you desired to find your way to the temples, we showed up to help you. While Ava faded away."
"So I made her disappear?" I ask, beginning to grasp the truth of all this.
Romy laughs, while Rayne shakes her head and rolls her eyes, looking at me like I'm the densest person she's ever met. "Hardly."
"So all of these people " I motion toward the crowd. "Are all of themdead?" I direct my question at Romy, having given up on Rayne. Watching as she leans in and whispers into her sister's ear, causing Romy to pull away and say, "My sister says you ask too many questions." Rayne scowls, popping her hard on the arm with her fist, but Romy just laughs.
And as I gaze at the two of them, taking in Rayne's steady glare and Romy's insistence on speaking in riddles, I realize that as entertaining as it's been, they're starting to get on my nerves. I've got things to do, temples to find, and engaging in this kind of confusing banter is turning into a big waste of time. Remembering too late that they both can read my thoughts when Romy nods and says, "As you wish. We'll show you the way."
CHAPTER 25
They lead me down a series of streets, the two of them marching side by side, their stride so measured and quick I struggle to follow. We pass vendors peddling all types of wares everything from hand-dipped candles to small wooden toystheir patrons lining up for those carefully wrapped goods and offering only a kind word or smile in exchange. We walk alongside fruit stands, candy stores, and a few trendy boutiques, before pausing on a corner as a horse-drawn carriage crosses our path followed by a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce.
And just as I'm about to ask how all of these things can exist in one place, how seemingly ancient buildings can sit beside the sleekest, most modern designs, Romy looks at me and says, "I already told you. Summerland contains the possibility of all things. And since different people desire different things, most everything you can think of has been brought into existence."
"So all of this was manifested ?" I say, gazing around in awe, as Romy nods and Rayne storms straight ahead. "But who's manifesting these things? Are they day-trippers like me? Are they living or dead?" I glance between Romy and Rayne, knowing my question applies to them too, because even though they appear to be normal on the outside, there's something very strange about them, something almost eerieand timeless as well.
And just as my gaze settles on Romy, Rayne decides to address me for the first time today, saying, "You desired to find the temples and so we are helping you.
But make no mistake, we are under no obligation to answer your questions. Some things in Summerland are just none of your business."
I swallow hard, looking at Romy and wondering if she'll step in and apologize for her sister, but she just leads us down another well-populated street, into an empty alleyway, and onto a quiet boulevard where she stops before a magnificent building.
"Tell me what you see," she says, as both she and her sister peer closely at me.
I gawk at the glorious building before me, my eyes wide as my mouth drops in awe, taking in its beautiful elaborate carvings, its grand sloping roof, its imposing columns, its impressive front doors all of its vast and varied parts rapidly changing and shifting, conjuring images of the Parthenon, the Taj Mahal, the great pyramids of Giza, the Lotus Temple, my mind reeling with imagery as the building reshapes and reforms, until all of the world's greatest temples and wonders are clearly represented in its ever-changing facade.
I see I see everything! I think, unable to utter the words. The awesome beauty before me has rendered me speechless.
I turn to Romy, wondering if she sees what I see, and watching as she pops Rayne hard on the arm when she says, "I told you!"
"The temple is constructed from the energy, love, and knowledge of all good things." She smiles. "Those who can see that are permitted to enter."
The second I hear that, I sprint up the grand marble steps, eager to get past this glorious facade and see what's inside. But just as I reach the huge double doors, I turn back to say, "Are you coming?"
Rayne just stares, her eyes narrowed, suspicious, wishing they'd never bothered with me. While Romy shakes her head and says, "Your answers lie inside.
You're no longer in need of us now."
"But where do I start?"
Romy peers at her sister, a private exchange passing between them. Then she turns to me and says, "You must seek the akashic records. They are a permanent record of everything that has ever been said, thought, or done or ever will be said, thought, or done. But you will only find them if you are meant to. If not ''
She shrugs, wishing to leave it right there, but the look of sheer panic in my eyes drives her to continue. "If you are not meant to know, then you will not know.
It's as simple as that."
I stand there, thinking how that wasn't the least bit reassuring, and feeling almost relieved when they both turn to leave.
"And now we must go, Miss Ever Bloom," she says, using my full name even though I'm sure I never revealed it. "Though I'm sure we'll meet again."
I watch as they move away, remembering one last question when I call, "But how do I get back? You know, once I'm done here?"
Watching as Rayne's back stiffens and Romy turns, a patient smile spread across her face as she says, "The same way you arrived. Through the portal, of course."
CHAPTER 26
The moment I turn toward the door it opens before me. And since it's not one of those automatic doors like the kind they have in supermarkets, I'm guessing it means I'm worthy of entering. I step into a large spacious entry filled with the most brilliant warm light a luminous showering radiance that, like the rest of Summerland, permeates every nook and cranny, every corner, every space, allowing no shadows or dark spots, and doesn't seem to emanate from any one place. Then I move along a hall flanked on either side by a row of white marble columns carved in the style of ancient Greece, where robe-wearing monks sit at long carved wooden tables, alongside priests, rabbis, shamans, and all manner of seekers. All of them peering at large crystal globes and levitating tabletseach of them studying the images that unfold. I pause, wondering if it would be rude to interrupt and ask if they can point me in the direction of the akashic records. But the room is so quiet and they're all so engrossed, I'm reluctant to disturb them, so I keep going instead. Passing a series of magnificent statues carved from the purest white marble, until entering a large ornate room that reminds me of the great cathedrals of Italy (or at least the pictures I've seen). Bearing the same sort of domed ceilings, stained-glass windows, and elaborate frescoes containing the kind of glorious images that would make Michelangelo weep.
I stand in the center, my head thrown back in awe as I struggle to take it all in. Twirling around and around until I grow tired and dizzy, realizing it's impossible to glimpse it all in one sitting. And knowing I've wasted enough time already, I shut my eyes tightly and follow Romy's advice that I must first desire something in order for it to be. And just after asking to be led to the answers I seek, I open my eyes and a long hallway appears.
Its light is dimmer than what I've grown used to seeing it's sort of glowy, incandescent. And even though I've no idea where it leads, I start walking. Following the beautiful Persian runner that seems to go on forever, running my hands along a wall covered in hieroglyphs, my fingertips grazing the images as their likeness appears in my head the entire story unfolding merely by touch, like some sort of telepathic Braille.
Then suddenly, with no sign or warning, I'm standing at the entrance to yet another elaborate room. Only this one is elaborate in a different way not by carvings or muralsbut by its pure unadulterated simplicity.
Its circular walls are shiny and slick, and even though they first appear to be merely white, on closer inspection I realize there's nothing mere about it. It's a true white, a white in the purest sense. One that can only result from the blending of all colors an entire spectrum of pigments all merging together to create the ultimate color of lightjust like I learned in art class. And other than the massive cluster of prisms hanging from the ceiling, containing what must amount to thousands of fine-cut crystals, all of them shimmering and reflecting and resulting in a kaleidoscope of color that now swirls around the room, the only other object in this space is a lone marble bench that's strangely warm and comfortable, especially for a substance known to be anything but. And after taking a seat and folding my hands in my lap, I watch as the walls seamlessly seal up behind me as though the hallway that led me here never existed. But I'm not afraid. Even though there's no visible exit and it appears that I'm trapped in this strange circular room, I feel safe, peaceful, cared for. As though the room is cocooning me, comforting me, its round walls like big strong arms in a welcoming hug. I take a deep breath, wishing for answers to all of my questions, and watching as a large crystal sheet appears right before me, hovering in what was once empty space, waiting for me to make the next move. But now that I'm so close to the answer, my question has suddenly changed.
So instead of concentrating on: What's happened to Damen and how do I fix it? I think: Show me everything I need to know about Damen .
Thinking this may be my only chance to learn everything I can about the elusive past he refuses to discuss. Convincing myself that I'm not at all prying, that I'm looking for solutions and that any information I can get will only help my cause. Besides, if I'm truly not worthy of knowing, then nothing will be revealed. So what harm is there in asking? And no sooner is the thought complete, than the crystal starts buzzing. Vibrating with energy as a flood of images fills up its face, the picture so clear it's like HDTV. There's a small cluttered workshop, its windows covered by a swath of heavy dark cotton, its walls lit up by a profusion of candles. And Damen is there, no older than three, wearing a plain brown tunic that hangs well past his knees, and sitting at a table littered with small bubbling flasks, a pile of rocks, tins filled with colorful powders, mortars and pestles, mounds of herbs, and vials of dye. Watching as his father dips his quill into a small pot of ink and records the day's work in a series of complicated symbols, pausing every so often to read from a book titled: Ficino's Corpus Hermeticism, as Damen copies him, scribbling onto his own scrap of paper.
And he looks so adorable, so round-cheeked and cherubic, with the way his brown hair flops over those unmistakable dark eyes and curls down the nape of his soft baby neck, I can't help but reach toward him. It all looks so real, so accessible, and so close, I'm fully convinced that if I can only make contact, I can experience his world right beside him. But just as my finger draws near, the crystal heats up to an unbearable degree and I yank my hand back, watching my skin briefly bubble and burn before healing again. Knowing the boundaries are now set, that I'm allowed to observe but not interfere. The image fast-forwards to Damen's tenth birthday, a day deemed so special it's marked by treats and sweets and a late-afternoon visit to his father's workshop. The two of them sharing more than wavy dark hair, smooth olive skin, and a nicely squared jaw, but also a passion for perfecting the alchemical brew that promises not only to turn lead into gold but also to prolong life for an indefinite time the perfect philosopher's stone.
They settle into their work, their established routine, with Damen grinding individual herbs with the mortar and pestle, before carefully measuring the salts, oils, colored liquids, and ores, which his father then adds to the bubbling flasks. Pausing before each step to announce what he's doing, and lecturing his son on their task:
"Transmutation is what we are after. Changing from sickness to health, from old age to youth, from lead to gold, and quite possibly, immortality too. Everything is born of one fundamental element, and if we can reduce it to its core, then we can create anything from there!"
Damen listens, rapt, hanging on to his father's every word even though he's heard the exact same speech many times before. And though they speak in Italian, a language I've never studied, somehow I understand every word.
He names each ingredient before adding it in, then deciding, just for today, to withhold the last one. Convinced that this final component, this odd-looking herb, will create even more magic if added to an elixir that's sat for three days.
After pouring the opalescent red brew into a smaller glass flask, Damen covers it carefully, then places it into a well-hidden cupboard. And they've just finished cleaning the last of their mess, when his mother a creamy-skinned beauty in a plain watered-silk dress, her golden hair crimped at the sides and confined by a small cap at the backstops by to call them to lunch. And her love is so apparent, so tremendously clear, illustrated in the smile she reserves for her husband, and the look she gives Damen, their dark soulful eyes a perfect mirror of each other.
And just as they're preparing to head home for lunch, three swarthy men storm through the door. Overpowering Damen's father and demanding the elixir, as his mother thrusts her son into the cupboard where it's stored warning him to stay put, to not make a sound, until it's safe to come out. He cowers in that dark, dank space, peering through a small knot in the wood. Watching as his father's workshophis life's workis destroyed by the men in their search. But even though his father turns over his notes, it's not enough to save them. And Damen trembles, watching helplessly, as both of his parents are murdered.
I sit on the white marble bench, my mind reeling, my stomach churning, feeling everything Damen feels, his swirling emotions, his deepest despair my vision blurred by his tears, my breath hot, jagged, indistinguishable from his. We are one now. The two of us joined in unimaginable grief.
Both of us knowing the same kind of loss.
Both of us believing we were somehow at fault.
He washes their wounds and cares for their bodies, convinced that when three days have passed, he can add the final ingredient, that odd-looking herb, and bring them both back. Only to be awakened on that third and final day by a group of neighbors alerted by the smell, finding him curled up beside the bodies, the bottle of elixir clutched in his hand.
He struggles against them, retrieving the herb and desperately shoving it in. Determined to get it to his parents, to make them both drink, but overpowered by his neighbors long before he can.
Because they're convinced that he's practicing some sort of sorcery, he's declared a ward of the church, where devastated by loss and pulled from everything he knows and loves, he's abused by priests determined to rid him of the devil inside.
He suffers in silence, suffers for years until Drina arrives. And Damen, now a strong and handsome man of fourteen, is transfixed by the sight of her flaming red hair, her emerald green eyes, her alabaster skinher beauty so startling it's hard not to stare. I watch them together, barely able to breathe as they form a bond so caring, so protective, I regret ever asking to see this. I was brash, impulsive, and recklessI didn't take the time to think it all through. Because even though she's now dead and is no threat to me, watching him fall under her spell is more than I can bear.
He tends to the wounds she suffered at the hands of the priests, handling her with great reverence and care, denying his undeniable attraction, determined only to protect her, save her, to aid her escape the day arriving much sooner than expected when the plague sweeps through Florence the dreaded Black Death that killed millions of people, rendering them all into a bloated, pus-ridden, suffering mess. He watches helplessly as many of his fellow orphans grow ill and die, but it's not until Drina is stricken that he returns to his father's life's work. Re-creating the elixir he'd sworn off all these yearsassociating it with the loss of everything he held dear. But now, left with no other choice, and unwilling to lose her, he makes Drina drink. Sparing enough for himself and the remaining orphans, hoping only to shield them from disease, having no idea it would grant immortality too.
Infused with a power they can't understand and immune to the agonized cries of the sick and dying priests, the orphans disband. Heading back to the streets of Florence where they loot from the dead, while Damen, with Drina by his side, is intent on only one thing: seeking revenge on the trio of men who murdered his parents, ultimately tracking them down only to find that without the aid of the final ingredient, they've succumbed to the plague.
He waits for their death, taunting them with the promise of a cure he never intends to fulfill. Surprised by the hollowness of the victory when their bodies finally do yield, he turns to Drina, looking for comfort in her loving embrace...
I shut my eyes, determined to block it all out but knowing it's burned there forever, no matter how hard I try. Because while knowing they were lovers off and on for nearly six hundred years is one flung, Having to watch it unfold is another.
And even though I hate to admit it, I can't help but notice how the old Damen with his cruelty, greed, and abundance of vanity has an awful lot in common with the new Damen the one who ditched me for Stacia.
And after watching over a century of the two of them bonded by a never-ending supply of lust and greed, I'm no longer interested in getting to the part where we meet. No longer interested in seeing the previous versions of me. If it means having to view another hundred years of this, then it just isn't worth it.
And just as I close my eyes and plead Just get me to the end! Please! Ican't stand to see another moment of this! the crystal flickers and flares as a blur of images race past, fast-forwarding with such speed and intensity I can barely distinguish one image from the next. Getting only the briefest Hash of Damen, Drina, and me in my many incarnationsa brunette, a redhead, a blondeall of it whirling right past methe face and body unrecognizable, though the eyes are always familiar.
Even when I change my mind and ask for it to slow down, the images continue to whir. Culminating in a picture of Roman his lips curled back, his eyes filled with gleeas he gazes upon a very aged, very dead Damen. And then And thennothing. The crystal goes blank.
"No!" I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls of the tall empty room and echoing right back at me. "Please!" I beg. "Come back! I'll do better. Really! I promise not to get jealous or upset. I'll watch the whole entire thing if you'll only just rewind!"
But no matter how much I beg, no matter how much I plead to view it again, the crystal is gone, vanished from sight.
I gaze all around, searching for someone to help, some sort of akashic record reference librarian, even though I'm the only one here. Dropping my head in my hands, wondering how I could've been so stupid as to allow my petty jealousies and insecurities to take over again.
I mean, it's not like I didn't know about Drina and Damen. It's not like I didn't know what I was going to see. And now, since I was too big of a wuss to just suck it up and deal with the info before me, I've no idea how to save him. No idea of how we possibly could've gone from such a wonderful A to such a horrible Z. All I know is that Roman's responsible. A pathetic confirmation of what I already guessed. Somehow he's weakening Damen, reversing his immortality. And if I've any hope of saving him, I need to learn how if not why.
Because one thing I know for sure is that Damen does not age. He's been around for over six hundred years and still looks like a teen.
I drop my head in my hands, hating myself for being so petty, so small, so foolish so heinously pathetic, that I robbed myself of the answers I came here to know. Wishing I could rewind this whole session and start over wishing I could go back
"You can't go back."
I turn, hearing Romy's voice sneak up from behind me, and wondering how she found her way into this room. But when I look around, I realize I'm no longer in that beautiful circular space, I'm back in the hall. A few tables away from where the monks, priests, shamans, and rabbis once were.
"And you should never fast-forward into the future.
Because every time you do, you rob yourself of the journey, the present moment, which, in the end, is all there really is."
I turn, wondering if she's referring to my crystal tablet debacle or life in general.
But she just smiles. "You okay?"
I shrug and look away. I mean, why bother explaining? She probably already knows anyway.
"Nope." She leans against the table and shakes her head. "I don't know a thing. Whatever happens in here is yours and yours to keep. I just heard your cry of distress so I thought I'd check in. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less."
"And where's your evil twin?" I ask, gazing around, wondering if she's hiding somewhere.
But Romy just smiles and motions for me to follow.
"She's outside, keeping an eye on your friend."
"Ava's here?" I ask, surprised by how relieved that makes me feel. Especially considering how I'm still annoyed with her for ditching me like that.
But Romy just waves again, leading me through the front door and out to the steps where Ava is waiting.
"Where've you been?" I ask, my question sounding more like an accusation.
"I got a little sidetracked." She shrugs. "This place is so amazing, I " She looks at me, hoping I'll lighten up and cut her a break, and averting her gaze when it's clear that I won't.
"How'd you end up here? Did Romy and Rayne "
But when I turn, I realize they're gone.
Ava squints, her fingers playing with the newly manifested gold hoops at her ear. "I desired to find you, so I ended up here. But I can't seem to get inside." She frowns at the door. "So is this it? Is this the hall you were looking for?"
I nod, taking in her expensive shoes and designer handbag, and growing more annoyed by the second.
Here I take her to Summerland so she can help me save someone's life, and all she wants to do is go shopping.
"I know, " she says, responding to the thoughts in my head. "I got carried away, and I'm sorry. But I'm ready to help if you still need it. Or did you get all the answers you sought?"
I press my lips together and gaze down at the ground, shaking my head when I say, "I um I ran into some trouble." A flood of shame washes right over me, especially when I remember how the trouble was pretty much of my making. "And I'm afraid I'm right back where I started," I add, feeling like the world's biggest loser.
"Maybe I can help?" She smiles, squeezing my arm so I'll know she's sincere.
But I just shrug, doubting she can do much of anything at this point.
"Don't give up so easily," she says. "After all, this is Summerland, anything is possible here!"
I glance at her, knowing it's true but also knowing I've got some serious work to do back home on the earth plane. Work that's going to require all of my attention and focus, no distractions allowed.
So as I lead her down the stairs, I look at her and say, "Well, there's one thing you can do."
CHAPTER 27
Even though Ava wanted to stay, I pretty much grabbed hold of her hand and forced her to leave, knowing we'd both wasted plenty of time in Summerland already and I had other places to be. "Damn!" She squints at her fingers just after we land on the floor cushions in her small purple room. "I was hoping they'd keep."
I nod, noticing how the jewel-encrusted gold rings she'd manifested have returned to her usual silver, while the designer shoes and handbag didn't survive the trip either.
"I was wondering about that," I say, rising to my feet. "But you know you can do that here, right? You can manifest anything you want, you just have to be patient." I smile, wishing to leave things on a positive note by repeating the exact same pep talk Damen gave me back when my lessons first began. Lessons I wished I'd paid a lot more attention to now, having assumed that being immortal meant we had nothing but time. Besides, I'm starting to feel guilty for being so hard on her. I mean, who wouldn't get a little carried away on their first visit to that place? "So what now?" she calls, following me to the front door. "When do we go back? I mean, you won't return without me will you?"
I turn, my eyes meeting hers, seeing how consumed she is with her visit and wondering if I'd made a mistake by taking her there. Avoiding her eyes as I head for my car, calling over my shoulder to say, "I'll give you a call."
The next morning I pull into the parking lot and head for class. Merging into the usual swarm of students just like any other day, except this time I don't strive to keep my distance and maintain my personal space. Instead, I just go with the flow. Not reacting in the slightest when random people brush up against me, despite the fact that I left my iPod, hoodie, and sunglasses at home. But that's because I'm no longer reliant on those old accessories that never worked all that well anyway. Now I carry my quantum remote wherever I go. Yesterday, just as Ava and I were about to leave Summerland, I asked her to help me build a better shield. Knowing I could just go back into the hall while she waited outside and receive the answer on my own, but since she wanted to help, and figuring she might learn something too, we lingered at the bottom of the steps, both of us focusing our energy on desiring a shield that would allow us (well, me mostly, since Ava doesn't hear thoughts and get life stories by touch) to tune in and out at will. And the next thing you know, we both looked at each other and at the exact same second said, "A quantum remote!" So now, whenever I want to hear someone's thoughts I just surf over to their energy field and hit select. And if I don't want to be bothered, I hit mute . Just like the remote I have at home. Only this one is invisible so I can pretty much take it everywhere I go. I head into English, arriving early so I can observe all the action from start to finish. Not wanting to miss a single second of my planned surveillance. Because even though I have visual proof that Roman's responsible for what's happening to Damen it gets me only so far. And now that the who part of the equation is solved, it's time to move on to the how and why.