The Immortals 3 - Shadowland (11 page)

“Yes, but the difference is, you and I won’t let them.” He smiles, eyes practically begging me to lighten up and smile too. “We’ll teach them all the magick they’ll need to gain their inde pen dence and get by on their own. Then we’ll send ’em off and wish ’em well and go somewhere on our own.”

And the way he smiles, the way he gazes into my eyes and smooths my hair off my face makes it impossible to stay mad, impossible to waste any more time on a topic like this when my body’s so close to his.

“Five years is nothing, when you’ve already lived for six hundred,” he says, lips at my cheek, my neck, my ear.

I snuggle closer, knowing he’s right, despite the fact that my perspective’s a little different from his. Having never spent more than two decades in any one incarnation makes five years spent babysitting the twins seem like an eternity.

He pulls me to him, arms locked tightly around me, comforting me in a way I wish could last forever. “Are we good?” he whispers. “Are we finished with this?”

I nod, pressing my body hard against his, having no need for words. The only thing I want now, the only thing that’ll make me feel better is the reassuring feel of his lips.

I shift my body so it’s covering his, conforming to the bend of his chest, the valley of his torso, the bulk near his hips. Hearts beating in perfect cadence, vaguely aware of the slim veil of energy pulsating between us as I lower my mouth to his—pressing and pushing and kneading together—weeks of longing rising to the surface—until all I want to do is infuse my body with his.

He moans, a low primal sound coming from deep within, hands clutched at my waist, bringing me closer ’til there’s nothing between us but two sets of clothes that need to be shed.

I fumble at his fly as he pulls at my tee, breath meeting in short, ragged gasps as our fingers hurry as fast as they can, unable to complete their tasks quickly enough to satisfy our need.

And just as I’ve unbuttoned his jeans and start to slide them down, I realize we’ve gotten so close, the energy veil was pushed out.

“Damen!” I gasp, watching as he leaps from the bed, breath coming so heavy and fast, his words are clipped at the end.

“Ever—I’m—” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry—I thought it was safe—I didn’t realize—”

I reach for my tee and cover myself, cheeks flushed, insides aflame, knowing he’s right, we
can’t
take the risk—can’t afford to get caught up like that.

“I’m sorry too—I think—I think maybe I pushed it away and—” I bow my head, allowing my hair to fall into my face, feeling small and examined, sure I’m to blame.

The mattress dips as he returns to my side, the veil fully restored as he lifts my chin and makes me face him again. “It’s not your fault—I—I lost focus—I was so caught up in you I couldn’t maintain it.”

“It’s okay. Really,” I say.

“No it’s not. I’m older than you—I should have more control—” He shakes his head and stares at the wall, jaw clenched, gaze far away, eyes suddenly narrowing as he turns back to me and says, “Ever—how do we know if this is even real?”

I squint, having no idea what he means.

“What kind of proof do we have? How do we know Roman’s not just playing us, having a bit of fun at our expense?”

I take a deep breath and shrug, realizing I have no proof at all. My eyes meeting his as I replay the scene from that day, all the way to the end where I add my blood to the mix and make Damen drink, realizing the only proof I have is Roman’s extremely unreliable word.

“Who’s to say this is even legit?” His eyes widen as an idea begins to form. “Roman’s a liar—we’ve no reason to trust him.”

“Yeah, but—it’s not like we can test it. I mean, what if it’s not a big game, what if it
is
legit? We can’t take the risk—
can we
?”

Damen smiles, rising from the bed and heading for my desk where he closes his eyes and manifests a tall white candle in an elaborate gold holder, a sharp silver dagger, its blade pointy and smooth, its handle encrusted with crystals and gems, and a gold-framed mirror he sets down beside them, motioning for me to join him as he says, “Normally I would say ladies first—but in this case—”

He holds his hand over the glass and raises the knife, placing the edge to his palm and tracing the curve of his lifeline, watching his blood flow onto the mirror, pooling, coagulating, before closing his eyes and setting the candle aflame. The wound already healed by the time he passes the blade through the blaze, cleansing, purifying, before handing it to me and urging me to do the same.

I lean toward him, inhaling deeply as I quickly slice through my flesh. At first wincing at the sharp stab of pain, then watching fascinated, as the blood pours from my palm and onto the mirror where it slowly creeps toward his.

We stand together, bodies still, breath halted, watching as two ruby red splotches meet, mingle, coalesce—the perfect embodiment of our genetic makeup joining as one—the very thing Roman warned us against.

Waiting for something to happen, some sort of catastrophic punishment for what we’ve both done—but getting nothing—no reaction at all.

“Well, I’ll be damned—” Damen says, eyes meeting mine. “It’s fine! Perfectly—”

His words cut short by the sudden spark and sizzle as our blood begins to boil, conducting so much heat a huge plume of smoke bursts from the mirror and fills up the air—crackling and spitting until the blood evaporates completely. Leaving behind only the sheerest layer of dust on a burnt-out mirror.

Exactly what’ll happen to Damen if our DNA should meet.

We gape, speechless, unsure what to say. But words are no longer necessary, the meaning is clear.

Roman’s not playing. His warning was real.

Damen and I can never be together.

Unless I pay his price.

“Well.” Damen nods, struggling to appear calm though his face is clearly stricken. “Guess Roman’s not nearly the liar I accused him of being—at least not in this case.”

“Which also means he has the antidote—and all I have to do now is—”

But I can’t even finish before Damen’s cutting me off. “Ever, please, don’t even go there. Just do me a favor and stay away from Roman. He’s dangerous, and unstable, and I don’t want you anywhere near him, okay? Just—” He shakes his head, and runs his hand through his hair, not wanting me to see how distraught he really is and heading for the door as he says, “Just give me some time to figure things out. I’ll think of a way.”

He looks at me, so shaken by the events he’s determined to keep his distance. Manifesting a single red tulip into my newly healed palm in place of a kiss, before heading down the stairs and out my front door.

The next day, when I get home from school, Haven’s on my front steps, eyes smeared with mascara, royal blue bangs hanging limp in her face, with a blanketed bundle clutched tight in her arms.

“I know I should’ve called.” She scrambles to her feet, face red and swollen as she sniffs back the tears. “I guess I didn’t really know what to do, so I came here.” She rearranges the blanket, showing me a solid black cat with amazing green eyes that appears very weak.

“Is he yours?” I glance between them, noticing how both of their auras are ragged and frayed.

“
She.
” Haven nods, fussing with the blanket and raising it back to her chest.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” I squint, wanting to help but unsure what to do. My dad was allergic, so we always had dogs. “Is this why you weren’t at school today?”

She nods, following me into the kitchen where I grab a bottle of water and pour it into a bowl.

“How long have you had her?” I ask, watching as she places the cat in her lap and brings the bowl to her face. But the cat’s not the least bit interested and quickly turns away.

“Few months.” She shrugs, giving up on the water and smoothing the top of her head. “Nobody knows. Well, outside of Josh, Austin, and the maid who’s sworn to secrecy, but nobody else. My mom would
flip
. God forbid a
real living thing
mess up her designer decorating scheme.” She shakes her head. “She lives in my room, mostly under the bed. But I leave the window cracked so she can get out and wander around now and then. I mean, I know they’re supposed to live longer if you keep ’em inside, but what kind of life is that?” She looks at me, her normally bright sunshiny aura turned gray with worry.

“What’s her name?” I peer at the cat, keeping my voice to a whisper, trying to hide my concern. From what I can
see
, she’s not long for this world.

“Charm.” The corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly as she glances between us. “I named her that because she’s
lucky
—or at least it seemed that way at the time. I found her just outside my window the first time Josh and I kissed. It seemed so romantic.” She shrugs. “Like a good sign. But now—” She shakes her head, and looks away.

“Maybe I can help,” I say, an idea beginning to form. One I’m not sure will work, but still, from what I can
see
I’ve got nothing to lose.

“She’s not exactly a kitten. She’s an old lady now. The vet told me to keep her comfortable for as long as I can. And I totally would’ve kept her home since she really likes it under my bed, but my mom’s decided to redo all the bedrooms even though my dad’s threatening to sell, and now the decorator is there, along with a Realtor, and everyone’s fighting and the house is a mess. And since Josh is auditioning for this new band, and since Miles is getting ready for his performance tonight, I thought I’d come here.” She looks at me. “Not that you were last choice or anything.” She cringes, realizing what she just said. “It’s just that you’re always so busy with Damen and I didn’t want to bother you. But if you’re busy, I don’t have to stay. I mean, if he’s coming over or something, I can just—”

“Trust me.” I lean against the counter and shake my head. “Damen’s—” I stare at the wall, wondering just how to phrase it. “Damen’s pretty busy these days. So I doubt he’ll be dropping by anytime soon.”

I glance between her and Charm, reading her aura and knowing she’s even more distraught than she seems. And even though I know it’s not right, ethical, or whatever, even though I know it’s the circle of life and you’re not supposed to interfere, I can’t stand to see my friend suffer like this, not when I have a half bottle of elixir sitting inside my bag.

“I’m just—
sad
.” She sighs, scratching just under Charm’s chin. “I mean, obviously she’s lived a good long life and all, but still. Why does it have to be so sad when it ends?”

I shrug, barely listening, mind buzzing with the promise of a new idea.

“It’s so weird how like one minute everything’s fine—or maybe even not so fine—but still, you’re at least
here.
And then the next—
gone
. Like Evangeline. Never to be seen or heard from again.”

I drum my fingers against the granite counter, knowing that’s not exactly true, but unwilling to refute it.

“I guess I just don’t get the point. It’s like, why should you bother getting attached to anything if,
A
: It’s never gonna last, and
B
: It hurts like hell when it’s over?” She shakes her head. “Because if everything’s finite, if everything has a definite beginning, middle, and end, then why even get started in the first place? What’s the point when everything just leads to
The End
?”

She blows her bangs out of her eyes and looks at me. “And I don’t mean
death
like—” She nods toward her cat. “Although that’s where we all end up—no matter how hard we fight.”

I glance between her and Charm, nodding as though I’m right there. Like I’m just like everyone else. Waiting my turn in a long morbid line.

“I mean death in a more
metaphorical
way. In a
nothing lasts forever
way, you know? Because it’s true, nothing’s built to last. Nothing.
No. Thing
.”

“But Haven—” I start, stopping the second she shoots me a look meant to silence.

“Listen, before you try to sell me all that bright side nonsense you’re just dying to spout, name
one
thing that doesn’t end.” She narrows her gaze in a way that sets me on edge, making me wonder if she knows about me, if she’s trying to bait me somehow. But when I take a deep breath and look at her again, it’s clear she’s battling her own set of demons, not me.

“Can’t do it, right?” She shakes her head. “Unless you were going to say
God
, or
universal love
, or whatever, but that’s not what I’m talking about, anyway. I mean, Charm is dying, my parents are on the verge of divorcing, and, let’s face it, Josh and I are going to end eventually too. And if it’s purely an inevitable fact, then—” She shakes her head and wipes her nose. “Well—I may as well take control of the situation and be the one who decides when. Hurt him, before he can hurt me. Because two things are for sure,
A
: It’s going to end, and
B
: Someone’s bound to get hurt. And why should that someone be me?” She looks away, nose runny, lips twisted. “Mark my words, from this point on, I’m Teflon Girl. Everything runs right off me, nothing can stick.”

I look at her, sensing this isn’t quite the whole story, but willing to take her at her word. “You know what? You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” I say, seeing her look up in surprise. “Everything
is
finite.”
Everything but Roman, Damen, and me!
“And you’re also right that you and Josh will probably end at some point, and not just because everything
ends
like you said, but because that’s just the way it goes. Most high school relationships don’t make it past graduation.”

“Is that how you see you and Damen?” She picks at Charm’s blanket while looking at me. “That you guys won’t make it past grad night?”

I press my lips together and avert my gaze, knowing I’m pretty much the world’s worst liar when I say, “I—I try not to think about it too much. But what I meant was, just because something ends doesn’t mean it’s a
bad
thing or that someone’s bound to get hurt, or that it should’ve never happened in the first place, or whatever. Because if each step brings us to the next, then how will we ever get anywhere, how can we ever grow if we avoid everything that might hurt us?”

She looks at me, nodding only slightly, as though she sees my point but won’t fully concede.

“So we pretty much have no choice but to continue, to just get out there and hope for the best. And who knows, we might even learn a thing or two along the way.” I look at her, knowing I haven’t completely sold it, so I add, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, you can’t run away just because something won’t last. You have to hang in there, let it play out. It’s the only way you’ll ever advance.” I shrug, wishing I could be a little more eloquent, but there it is. “Think about it, if you didn’t rescue your cat, if you didn’t say
yes
when Josh asked you out—well, there’s a lot of wonderful moments you would’ve missed.”

She looks at me, still wanting to argue, but not saying a word.

“Josh is a really sweet guy, and he’s crazy about you. I don’t think you should throw him overboard so soon. Besides,” I say, knowing she hears me but is not truly listening, “you shouldn’t make those kinds of decisions when you’re feeling so stressed.”

“How about moving, then? Is that a good enough reason?”

“Josh is moving?” I squint. I hadn’t seen that coming.

She shakes her head, scratching Charm on the spot between her ears when she says, “Not Josh. Me. My dad keeps talking about selling the house, but damn if he’ll discuss it with Austin or me.”

I look at her, tempted to peer inside her head and see for myself, but sticking to my earlier vow to allow my friends their privacy.

“All I know for sure is that the phrase
resale value
comes up all the time.” She shakes her head, looking at me when she says, “But you know what this really means, if any of this is actually true? It means I won’t be going to Bay View next year. I won’t get to graduate with my class. I won’t be going to
any
Orange County high school for that matter.”

“I won’t let this happen,” I say, gaze locked on hers. “There’s no way you’re leaving. You have to graduate with us—”

“Well, that’s very nice and all.” She shrugs. “But I’m not sure you can stop it. It’s a little out of your league, don’t you think?”

I glance between her and her cat, knowing it’s not at all
out of my league.
Finding an antidote for Damen? Maybe. Helping my best friend stay in her zip code and save her cat? Not so much. There’s plenty I can do.
Plenty
. But still I just look at her and say, “We’ll work something out. Just trust me, okay? Maybe you can move in here with me and Sabine?” Nodding as though I mean it, even though Sabine would never have it. But still needing to put something out there, provide some kind of comfort since it’s not like I can voice what I’m hoping to do.

“You’d do that?” she squints. “Really?”

“Of course.” I shrug. “Whatever it takes.”

She swallows hard and gazes around, shaking her head when she says, “You know I’d never take you up on it, but still, it’s nice to know that even with all our rough spots you’re still my best friend.”

I squint, having always assumed it was Miles not me.

“Well, you
and
Miles.” She laughs. “I mean, I can have two best friends—an heir and a spare, as they say?” She wipes her nose again, shaking her head when she adds, “I bet I look like crap, right? Go ahead, tell me, I can take it.”

“You don’t look like crap,” I say, wondering why she’s suddenly focused on her looks. “You look sad. There’s a difference. Besides, does it matter?”

“It does if you’re considering whether or not you should hire me.” She shrugs. “I’ve got a job interview, but there’s no way I can go looking like this. And it’s not like I can bring Charm.”

I gaze at her cat, watching the life-force energy slowly slipping away, knowing I have to move fast, before it’s too late. “I’ll keep her. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anyway.”

She looks at me, wavering on whether or not she should leave her poor dying cat in my care. But I just nod, coming around to her side of the counter and lifting Charm out of her arms as I add, “Seriously. Just go do what you need to do, and I’ll babysit.” I smile, urging her to agree.

She hesitates, glancing between me and Charm, then rummages through her oversized bag for a small, handheld mirror, before wetting her finger and clearing the mascara tracks from her cheeks.

“I shouldn’t be long.” She grabs a black pencil and draws a thick, smudgy line around each eye. “Maybe an hour? Two at the most?” She looks at me, trading the pencil for blush. “All you have to do is hold her and give her some water if she wants. But she probably won’t. She doesn’t want much of anything now.” She coats her lips with a swipe of gloss and rearranges her bangs, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door. Climbing into her car as she turns to me and says, “Thanks. I need this job more than you think. Need to start saving some money so I can emancipate myself like Damen. I’m tired of this crap.”

I look at her, unsure what to say. Damen’s situation’s unique. Not at all what it seems.

“And yeah, I know, I probably won’t be able to support myself in
quite
the same style as Damen, but still, I’d rather live in some crappy studio somewhere than be subject to my parents’ impulsive decisions and whims. Anyway, you sure you’re okay with this?”

I nod, hugging Charm tighter, mentally urging her to hold on, just a little bit longer, until I can help.

Haven slides her key into the ignition, the engine turning as she says, “I promised Roman I wouldn’t be late. And if I hurry, I might be on time.” Checking her appearance in the rearview mirror as she shifts in reverse.

“Roman?” I freeze, my expression one of pure panic but unable to change it.

She shrugs, backing out of my drive as she calls, “He’s the one who scored me the interview.” Waving as she disappears down the street, leaving me with a dying cat in my arms, and no words to warn her.