Romy and Rayne look at each other, eyes blazing with excitement. But Damen shakes his head saying, No.
Jude looks at him, face easy, relaxed, not the least bit daunted. Aw come on, I wont even charge. Im new at this anyway, so its a good chance for me to try it all out and see what works and what doesnt. Besides, its just a simple introductory course, nothing heavy, if thats what youre worried about.
Their eyes meet, and even though I know the heavy part is pretty much Damens number-one concern, its clearly not his only concern.
No, this sudden edginess, this uncharacteristic guardedness, has something to do with Jude.
And me.
Jude and me together.
And if I didnt know better, Id think he was jealous. But I do know better, and, unfortunately, that sort of behavior is relegated only to me.
The twins plead with him, large brown eyes gazing into his. Please! they say, voices high-pitched, intertwining. We really, really, really want to take this class!
Itll help us with our magick! Romy nods, smiling as she tugs on his hand.
And get us out of the house so Ever cant complain about your lack of privacy anymore! Rayne adds, managing to insult me even as she aims to convince.
Jude looks at me, brows raised in amusement, but I quickly look away, holding my breath until I hear Damen say, Well get there on our own, you need to be patient. His words final, leaving no room to negotiate.
Jude nods, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he gazes between us. No worries. If you change your mind, or just want to stop by and monitor, feel free. Who knows, maybe youll learn something?
Damens eyes narrow ever so slightly, but still its enough to persuade me to stand up and say, So, Im still on the schedule tomorrow?
Bright and early. Studying me closely as I maneuver around the desk and into the welcoming crook of Damens arm. I wont be in until later, he adds, moving for the seat I just vacated and settling in. So if that girl He squints, looking at me.
Honor. I nod.
Seeing Damen gape in surprise as Jude laughs and says, Wow, you really are psychic. Anyway, if she comes in, tell her well start sometime next week.
CHAPTER 29
Your boyfriend seems cool. Jude looks at me, leaning on the edge of the counter, coffee mug in hand.
Thats because he is cool. I nod, thumbing through the appointment book, seeing Im booked for a two oclock, followed by a three, a four, and a fiveand relieved to see that the names arent even slightly familiar.
So he isyour boyfriend, then? He takes a quick sip of his drink, eyeing me from over the top of the cup. I couldnt be sure. Seems kind of old, you know?
I slam the book shut and reach for my water, even though Id really prefer a gulp of immortal juice instead. But ever since Roman showed up I vowed to cut back on my public consumption. Were in the same class. I shrug, returning his gaze. Which would make us the same age, no? Hoping to avoid further scrutiny by phrasing it like that.
But Jude continues to stare, gaze deepening when he says, I dont know, does it?
I swallow hard and look away, heart beating overtime as I think, Does he sense something too? Is he onto us?
Could mean he was held backfor He smiles, those sea green eyes sparkling, full of light. Several decadesat least?
I lift my shoulders, determined to ignore the insult if thats what it was. Reminding myself that Judes not just my bossproviding a job that gets Sabine off my backbut also the keeper of the Book of Shadows, a tome I desperately need to get to again.
So, howd you meet Honor? I ask, leaning down to tinker with the jewelry display. Rearranging the silver chains with their gemstone pendants, tucking the price tags away. Hoping to appear nonchalant, blasé, as though Im just filling up the silence and not because I care.
He leaves his cup on the counter and disappears into the back, fiddling with the stereo system until the room fills with the sound of crickets and rain, the same CD he plays every day. I was hanging a flyer over at this place. He returns to the counter and points to the name on his cup.
Was she alone or with someone? I squint, imagining Stacia egging her on, making her approach him, as some kind of dare.
He looks at me, eyes searching my face for so long I avert my gaze and busy myself with the rings, organizing them by color and type, as he continues to study me.
Didnt notice. He shrugs. She just asked about the class so I gave her a flyer to take with her.
Did you talk? Did she tell you why shes interested? Blowing my cover as a person whos only mildly curious the moment the words escape.
He squints, gaze deepening as he says, Said shes having boyfriend problems and wanted to know if I knew any good spells she could cast.
I gape, unsure if hes joking, until he laughs.
Whats with all the interest? She try to steal your boyfriend or something?
I shake my head, shutting the jewelry case and meeting his gaze when I say, No, her best friend did.
Jude eyes me, voice careful when he says, And was she successful?
No! Of course not! Cheeks flushing, heart racing, knowing I answered too quickly to ever be believed. But that doesnt stop her from trying, I add, knowing that was no better.
Doesnt stop her, or didnt stop her? She still at it? He lifts his cup and takes a long pull, his gaze never once leaving my face.
I shrug, still trying to recover from my previous outburst. Knowing Im the one who started all this.
So, you in the market for a spell of your own? Something thatll keep the girls away from Damen? Brow raised, voice giving no hint if it was a joke.
I shift on my stool, unnerved by the weight of his gaze, not liking the sound of Damens name on his lips.
Guess that explains your sudden interest in the Book of Shadows, Jude says, refusing to let it go.
I roll my eyes and move away from the counter, not caring if its an insubordinate act. This conversation is over. Im making that clear.
Is this going to be a problem? he asks, his voice carrying a tone I cant read.
I stop just shy of the bookshelf, unsure what hes referring to. Turning to read his sunshiny aura, and still not having a clue.
I know you dont want people to know about you, and now theres some girl from your school dropping in . . . He shrugs, allowing me to fill in the rest.
I shrug too, realizing the list of people who know my psychic secret is really starting to grow. First Munoz, then Jude, and soon Honor, which means Stacia will follow (though she already suspects anyway)and then of course theres Haven who proclaims to be onto us as well. And the awful part isall of this can be traced back to me.
I clear my throat, knowing I have to say something though Ive no idea what. Honors not nice, pleasant, kind, decent, at all what she seemsbut the truth is, that more describes Stacia. Honors much more of an enigma to me.
Jude looks at me, waiting for the finish.
But I just turn away, face obscured by a chunk of blond hair when I say, Honors not someone I know all that well.
Guess that makes two of us. He grins, tossing back the last of his coffee before crumbling his cup and projecting it toward the trash where it lands with a thud. His gaze seeking mine when he says, Though she does seem a little lost and unsure, and thats exactly the kind of person we try to help around here.
By six, my fifth client, a last-minute walk-in, is gone for the day, and Im in the back room smoothing my hair from the black wig I decided to wear.
Better. Jude nods, glancing up from his computer briefly, before returning to his work. The blond suits you. That black was a little harsh, he mumbles, tapping the keyboard and shaking his head.
I know. I looked like a severely anemic Snow White, I say, looking at Jude as we laugh.
So, whatd you think? he asks, back to his computer screen.
I liked it. I nod, moving away from the mirror and closer to the desk where I perch on the edge. It was good. I mean, some of it was kind of depressing and all, but its nice to be able to help someone for a change, you know? Watching his fingers move across the keyboard so fast my eyes can hardly keep up. Because honestly, I wasnt so sure. But I think it went okay. I mean, you didnt get any complaints or anythingdid you?
He shakes his head, squinting as he shuffles through a stack of papers at his side. Did you remember to shield yourself? He takes a moment to gaze up at me.
I lift my shoulders, having no idea what he means. The only shielding Ive ever done is the kind that shuts off everyones energy, which would make it pretty much impossible to give a reading.
You need to protect yourself, he says, pushing away his laptop to better focus on me. Both before and after a reading. Has no one ever shown you how to leave yourself open while still shielding yourself from unwanted attachments?
I shake my head, wondering if thats even necessary for an immortal like me. Unable to imagine anyones energy being strong enough to drag me down, but its not like I can share that with him.
Would you like to learn how?
I shrug, scratching my arm as I glance at the clock, wondering how long itll take.
It wont take long, he says, reading my expression, already moving away from the desk. And it really is important. Think of it like washing your handsit releases all the negative stuff your clients carry with them, making sure it cant contaminate your life.
He motions for me to take one of the seats as he perches on the adjacent one, regarding me seriously as he says, I would guide you through a meditation thatll help strengthen your aurabut since I cant actually see your aura, I have no idea if it needs strengthening.
I press my lips together and cross my right leg over my left, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, unsure how to respond.
Sometime youll have to tell me how you hide it like that. Id love to learn your technique.
I swallow hard and nod slightly, as though I might just do that someday, but not now.
Keeping his voice low and smooth, almost to a whisper, he says, Close your eyes and relax, breathing slowly and deeply as you picture a swirl of pure golden energy with each intake of breath, followed by a swirl of dark mist with each outtake. Breathing in the goodridding yourself of the bad. Continuing this cycle again and again, allowing only good energy to work its way through your cells, until you feel cleansed and whole and ready to begin.
I do as he says, reminded of the grounding meditation Ava once put me through, concentrating on my breath, keeping it slow, steady, and even. At first feeling self-conscious under the weight of his gaze, knowing hes studying me closer than he would if my eyes were open, but soon, Im pulled into the rhythmpulse calming, mind clearing, concentrating on nothing but breathing.
Then, when youre ready, imagine a cone of the most brilliant, golden white light reaching down from the heavens and descending upon yougrowing and expanding in size until it bathes you completelysurrounding your entire being and allowing no lower energies or negative force fields to creep inkeeping all your positivity fully intact, safe from those who might leech it.
I open an eye, peeking at him, never having thought of someone trying to steal my chi.
Trust me, he says, waving his hand, motioning for me to close my eyes and return to the meditation again. Now imagine that same light as a powerful fortress, repelling all darkness while keeping you safe.
So I do. Seeing myself in my mind, sitting on that chair, with a cone of light extending from above and moving down past my hair, over my tee, and well past my jeans to my flip-flops below. Enveloping me completely, keeping the good stuff in, and the bad stuff outjust like he said.
How does it feel? he asks, voice much closer than I expected.
Good. I nod, holding the cone of light in my mind, keeping it steady and bright. It feels warm andwelcomingandgood. I shrug, more interested in enjoying the experience than rooting around for just the right word.
You need to repeat that every daybut this is the longest it should ever take. Once youve imprinted yourself with the cone of light, all you need to do to maintain it is a few of those deep cleansing breaths, followed by a quick image of you sealed by the light, and youre good to go. Though its not a bad idea to renew it now and thenespecially since youre about to become very popular around here.
He places his hand on my shoulder, palm flat and open, fingers splayed across the cotton of my tee, the sensation so shocking, so jolting, the images so revealing, I jump to my feet.
Damen! I cry, voice hoarse, scratchy, as I turn to find him at the door, watching mewatching us.
He nods, gaze meeting mine in what, at first seems his usual loving wayfilled with a complete and total reverence for me. But the longer it holds, the more I sense something behind it. Something dark. Troubling. Something hes determined to keep.
I move toward him, clasping his hand as it reaches toward mine, aware of the protective shield of energy that hovers between usan energy I was certain no one could see, until I notice Jude squinting.
I peer at Damen, unable to determine the big hidden thing in his gaze, wondering what hes doing here, if he somehow sensed this.
His arm tightens around me, pulling me near when he says, Sorry to interrupt, but Ever and I have somewhere to be.
I gaze up, drinking him inthe smooth planes of his face, the swell of his lipsthe tingle and heat strumming from his body to mine.
Jude rises and follows us into the hall, saying, Sorry. Didnt mean to keep her so long. His hand reaching toward me, glancing my shoulder then falling away as he adds, Oh, I forgotthe book! Why dont you take it, its not like I need it around here.
He turns back toward the desk, about to retrieve it from the drawer, and even though Im tempted to grab it and run, with the way Damen stiffens as Judes aura grows brighterwell, its beginning to feel like a test. And its all I can do to force the words past my lips when I say, Thanks, but not tonight. Damen and I have plans.
Damens energy relaxes, returning to normal as Judes gaze dances between us. No worries, he says. Another time. Holding the gaze for so long, Im the first to turn away.
Leading Damen out the door and onto the street, determined to shake off Judes energy, along with the thoughts and images he unwittingly shared.
CHAPTER 30
So you kept it. I smile, settling into his BMW, happy to see hes kept it in place of Big Ugly.
He looks at me, eyes still serious but voice light when he says, You were right. I went a little overboard with the whole safety thing. Not to mention, this is a much better ride.
I gaze out the window, wondering what sort of adventure hes planned, but figuring he wants to surprise me as usual. Watching as he pulls onto the street and weaves through the traffic until were clear of all cars and he picks up the speed. Pushing the gas and accelerating so quickly, I have no idea where were going, until were already there.
Whats this? I gaze around, amazed by his ability to always do the least expected thing.
I figured youd never been here. He opens my door and takes my hand. Was I right?
I nod, taking in a barren desert landscape, dotted only by the occasional shrub, a mountainous backdrop, and thousands of windmills. Seriously thousands. All of them tall. All of them white. All of them turning.
Its a windmill farm. He nods, hoisting himself onto the trunk of his car and dusting off a space for me to sit too. It produces electricity by harnessing the wind. In just one hour it can make enough electricity to run a typical household for a month.
I glance all around, taking in the turning blades and wondering what the significance could be. So, whyd we come here? Im a little confused.
He takes a deep breath, gaze far away, expression wistful when he says, I find myself drawn to this place. I guess because Ive borne witness to so much change during the last six hundred years, and harnessing the wind is a very old idea.
I squint, still not getting its importance, but definitely sensing there is one.
Despite all the technological changes and advances Ive seensome thingsthings like thisremain pretty much the same.
I nod, silently urging him on, sensing something much deeper in his words, but knowing hes choosing to dole them out slowly.
Technology advances so quickly, making the familiar obsolete at an increasingly rapid pace. And while things like fashion may seem to advance and change, if you live long enough, you realize its really just cyclicalthe readapting of old ideas made to seem new. But while everything around us seems to be in a constant state of fluxpeople at their very core remain exactly the same. All of us still seeking the things weve sought all alongshelter, food, love, greater meaning He shakes his head. A quest thats immune to evolution.
He looks at me with eyes so deep and dark, I cant imagine what its like to be him. To have witnessed so much, to know so much, to have done so muchand yet, despite what he thinks, hes not the slightest bit jaded. Hes still full of dreams.
And once the basics are covered, once weve secured food and shelter, we spend the rest of our time just looking to be loved.
He leans toward me, lips cool and soft as they brush my skinfleeting, ephemeral, like a sweet desert breeze. Pulling away to gaze at the windmills again when he says, The Netherlands is known for their windmills. And since you did spend a lifetime there, I thought you might want to visit.
I squint, thinking he surely misspoke. Weve no time for that tripdo we?
Watching as he smiles, gaze growing lighter as he says, Close your eyes and come with me.
CHAPTER 31
We tumble forward, hands clasped together as we land with a thud. Taking a moment to look around when I say, Omigodthis is
Amsterdam. He nods, eyes narrowing as he adjusts to the mist. Only not the real Amsterdam, the Summerland version. I wouldve taken you to the real one, but I figured this trip was shorter.
I gaze all around, taking in the canals, the bridges, the windmills, the fields of red tulipswondering if he created that last part for me, then remembering how Holland is famous for its flowersespecially its tulips.
You dont recognize it, do you? he asks, studying me carefully as I shake my head. Give it some time, you will. Ive recreated it from memory, how I remember it back in the nineteenth century when you and I were last there. Its a pretty good copy if I say so myself.
He leads me across the street, pausing long enough to allow an empty carriage to pass, before continuing to a small storefront, its door wide open, as a lively crowd of faceless people gather inside. Watching me carefully, eager to see if a memorys sparked, but I move away, wanting to get a feel on my own, trying to picture the former me in this placethe red-haired, green-eyed mewalking among these white walls, wood floors at my feet, gazing at the line of paintings dotting the perimeter as I weave through the patrons who begin to fade at the edges before strengthening again. Knowing that Damens responsible for keeping them here, having manifested their very existence.
I move along the walls, assuming this is a re-creation of the gallery where we first met, though disappointed to find it not the least bit familiar. Noting how all the paintings blur and fade until theyre completely imperceptible, except for the one just before me, the only one thats intact.
I lean forward, squinting at a girl with abundant titian haira luxurious blend of reds, golds, and browns contrasting so beautifully with her expanse of pale skin. Painted in a way so tangible, so smooth, so invitingits as though one could step in.
My gaze roams the length of her, seeing shes nude though strategically covered. The ends of her hair damp and conforming, tumbling over her shoulders and hanging well past her waist, while her hands are folded, resting atop a pink flushed thigh turned slightly in. Though its the eyes that grab me, made of the deepest green and holding a gaze so direct, so open, as though staring at a lover, not the least bit ashamed at having been caught in this state.
My stomach twitches, while my heart begins to flutter, and even though Im aware of Damen standing right there beside me, I cant look at him. Cant include him in this. Something is creeping upon me, the birth of an idea tugging, nudging, demanding to be known. And before Ive even blinked, I see it. As sure as I see the gilt frame surrounding the canvas, I know that the woman is me!
The prior me.
The Dutch me.
The artists muse me who fell for Damen the night we met in this gallery.
But the thing that disturbs me, the thing that keeps me quiet and still, is the sudden realization that the unseen lover she gazes upon isnt Damen.
Its somebody else.
Someone unseen.
So you recognize her. Damens voice smooth, matter-of-fact, not the least bit surprised that I do. Its the eyes, right? He peers at me, face very close when he adds, The color may change, but their essence stays the same.
I glance at him, taking in the lush fringe of lashes that nearly obscure the wistfulness of his gazeprompting me to quickly turn away.
How old was I? Not trusting my voice with the words. The face appearing unlined and youthful, though the confidence is that of a woman, not a girl.
Eighteen. He nods, continuing to study me. Gaze pushing, probing, wanting me to be the first one to say it, pleading for me to just speak upto spare him this task. Following my gaze to the painting as he adds, You were beautiful. Truly. Just like this. He captured you soperfectly.
He.
So there it is.
The edge in his voice speaking volumesrevealing everything his words only hint at. He knows the identity of the artist. Knows it wasnt him I unclothed myself for.
I swallow hard, eyes narrowing as I try to make sense of the black, angular scrawl at the bottom right corner. Deciphering a series of consonants and vowels, a combination of letters that mean nothing to me.
Bastiaan de Kool, Damen says, gazing at me.
I turn, my eyes meeting his, unable to speak.
Bastiaan de Kool is the artist who painted this. Painted you. He turns toward the portrait, eyes roaming over it again, before returning to me.
I shake my head, feeling light, woozyeverything I once thought I knewabout meabout usthe entire foundation of our lives suddenly gone tenuous and weak.
Damen nods, theres no need to press it. Both of us recognizing the truth displayed right before us.
In case youre wondering, it was over before the paint even dried. Or at least thats what I convinced myself of He shakes his head. But nowwell, Im no longer sure.
I gape, eyes wide, uncomprehending. What could this paintingthis century-old version of mehave anything to do with usthe way we are now?
Would you like to meet him? he asks, gaze shadowed, distant, difficult to read.
Bastiaan? The name oddly comfortable on my lips.
Damen nods, willing to manifest him if Ill only agree. But just as Im about to refuse, he places his hand on my arm and says, I think you should. It only seems fair.
I take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand as he closes his eyes in deep concentration, summoning a tall, rangy, slightly disheveled guy from what was once empty space. Letting go of my arm as he moves away, allowing me plenty of room in which to study, observe, before we run out of time and he fades.
I move toward him, walking slow, wide circles around this blank, hollow strangerthis bright, empty, creationsoulless, unreal.
Noting his traits in an offhand waythe height making him appear even slighter, the hint of lean, sinewy muscle lightly padding his bonesthe clothes that are clean and of decent quality and cut, hanging slightly off kilter, the skin so pale and flawless it nearly matches my own, while his hair is dark, wavy, brushed to the side, a good chunk of bang falling heavily into a startling pair of eyes.
I gasp, forcing the air into my lungs as he soon fades away, hearing Damen say, Would you like me to refresh him again? Obviously hating to do so, but willing to oblige if I ask.
But I just continue to stand there, staring into a swirl of vibrating pixels that soon vanish completely. Knowing I dont need him revived to know who he is.
Jude.
The guy who was standing before me, the Dutch artist who went by the name of Bastiaan de Kool in the nineteenth centuryhas now reincarnated into this century as Jude.
I reach for something to steady me, feeling shaky, empty, off balance. Realizing too late that theres nothing to catch me, until Damen quickly moves to my side.
Ever! he cries, voice so urgent it resonates to my core, his arms tightening around me, shielding me in a way that feels just like home. Manifesting a soft, plushy couch where he guides me to sit, his gaze hovering over me, anxious, unnerved, having no intention of upsetting me like this.
I turn, holding my breath as my eyes meet his, afraid of finding something different, something changed, now that its all laid out in the open. Now that we both know it wasnt always just him.
That there was once someone else.
And I know him today.
I dont I shake my head, feeling embarrassed, guilty, as though Ive somehow betrayed him by unknowingly seeking him out. Im not sure what to sayI
Damen shakes his head, his hand at my cheek, drawing me near. Dont think that, he says. None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. Its just karma. He pauses, gaze holding mine. Its just unfinished businessso to speak.
But what could be unfinished? I ask, having an inkling of an idea of where this is going and refusing to take part in that journey. That was over a hundred years ago! And like you said, it was over before the paint even
But before I can get there, hes shaking his head, hand on my cheek, my shoulder, my knee, as he says, Im no longer so sure about that.
I look at him, fighting the urge to pull away. Wishing hed stop. Wanting to leave. No longer liking it here.
It seems Ive interfered, he says, face hard, judgmental, though its a judgment reserved only for him. It seems I have a habit of intruding on your life, meddling in decisions that shouldve been yours. Pushing a fate thathe pauses, jaw clenched, gaze steady, though his lip quivers in a way that reveals the price of all thisthat was never meant to be yours
What are you talking about? I cry, voice high, urgent, sensing the energy surrounding his words, and knowing its about to get worse.
Isnt it obvious? He looks at me, the light in his eyes fractured into millions of bitsa kaleidoscope of darkness that may never be fixed.
He rises from the couch in one quick, sinuous move until hes filling the space just before me. But before he can speak, before he can make things even worse, I rush ahead when I say, This is ridiculous! All of it! Everything! Its destiny thats brought us together again and again. Were soul mates! You said it yourself! And from what Ive learned, thats exactly how it workssoul mates find each other, time and again, against all odds, no matter what! I reach for his hand but hes slipped just out of reach, pacing before me, avoiding my touch.
Destiny? He shakes his head, voice harsh, gaze cruel, but all of it directed inwardly. Was it destiny when I purposely roamed the earth in search of youover and over againunable to rest until Id found you? He stops, eyes meeting mine. Tell me Ever, does that sound like destiny to you? Or something that was forced?
I start to speak, lips parting wide though no words will come, watching as he turns toward the wall and stares at the girl. That proud and beautiful girl whose gaze moves right past himtoward somebody else.
Somehow I was able to ignore all of this, push it aside for the last four hundred years, convincing myself it was our fate, that you and I were meant to be. But the other day, when you dropped by after work, I sensed something differenta shift in your energy. And then last night, at the storeI knew.
I stare at his back, the solid square of his shouldershis lean, muscled form. Remembering how he acted so strangely, so formal, and thinking how it all makes perfect sense.