The Immortals 3 - Shadowland (23 page)

I’m in the back room, hunched over the book when Jude comes in, surprised to find I’m still here.

“I saw your car parked out back and wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed, taking me in, before dropping onto the chair just opposite the desk where he studies me some more.

I gaze up from the book, eyes bleary as I glance at the clock, surprised to see how late it’s gotten, surprised to see I’ve been here so long.

“I guess I got a little caught up.” I shrug. “It’s a lot to slog through.” Closing the cover and pushing it aside as I add, “And most of it useless.”

“You don’t have to pull an all-nighter, you know. You can take it home if you want.”

I think about home, and the message Sabine left for me earlier, informing me of her plans to cook dinner for Munoz, making home pretty much the last place I want to be at this point.

“No thanks.” I shake my head. “I’m done.” Realizing I mean it in every possible way.

For a book that once held such promise, all I’ve read so far are location spells, love spells, and a dubious cure for warts with inconclusive results—nothing about reversing the effects of a tainted elixir—or how to get a certain someone to divulge the only thing I really need to know.

Nothing that holds the slightest bit of promise for me.

“Can I help?” he asks, reading the defeat in my gaze.

I start to shake my head, knowing he can’t. But then I think better.
Maybe he can?

“Is she here?” I stare at him, holding my breath. “Riley—is she around?”

He looks to my right, then shakes his head. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Haven’t seen her since—”

But even though his voice fades, we both know how it ends. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday, just before Damen caught us embracing on the beach—a moment I prefer to forget.

“So how exactly do you teach someone to—you know—see spirits?”

He looks at me for a moment, rubbing his chin as his eyes study mine. “I can’t necessarily teach someone to
see
them.” He leans back in his seat, propping his bare foot on his knee. “Everybody’s different—with different gifts and abilities. Some are naturally clairvoyant—able to
see
, or clairaudient—able to
hear
, or clairsentient—”

“Able to
sense
.” I nod, already knowing where this is going and eager to get to the good stuff—the juice—the part that helps
me
. “So what are you then?”

“All three. Oh, and clairscent too.” He smiles, a quick easy grin that practically lights up the room and makes my stomach go all weird again. “You probably are too. All of those I mean. The trick is to get your vibration raised high enough, then I’m sure—” He looks at me, knowing he lost me at
vibration
and adding, “Everything is energy, you know that, right?”

The words bringing me back to that night on the beach just a few weeks before, when Damen said the very same thing, about energy, vibrations, all of it. Remembering how I felt then, so afraid of confiding what I’d done. Naïve enough to think that was the worst of my problems, that it couldn’t get any worse.

I gaze at Jude, his mouth still moving as he goes on and on, explaining energy, vibration, and the ability of the soul to live on. But all I can think about is the three of us, Damen, me, and him—wondering how we truly do fit.

“What do you think of past lives?” I ask, cutting him off. “You know, reincarnation. Do you believe in that stuff? Do you think people really have leftover karma they need to work out, again and again until they get it just right?” Holding my breath, wondering how he’ll respond, if he has any recollection of us, who we once were.

“Why not?” He shrugs. “Karma’s pretty much king. Besides, wasn’t it Eleanor Roosevelt who said she didn’t think it would be any more unusual for her to show up in another life, than the one she was in now? You think I’m gonna quash old Eleanor?” He laughs.

I sit back, studying him, wishing he knew about our tangled past. If for no other reason than to get it all out in the open, put it right there on the table, so I could report back to Damen and prove that it’s over. And figuring maybe it’s my job to get the ball rolling, I take a deep breath and say, “Have you ever heard of someone named Bastiaan de Kool?”

He looks at me, squinting.

“He was—Dutch—an artist—he painted—and—
stuff
—” I shake my head and look away, feeling foolish for bringing it up. I mean, what exactly am I supposed to follow that with?
Well, just so you know, Bastiaan was you, several hundred years ago—and the person you painted was me!

Seeing him sit there before me, lips quirked, shoulders lifted, clearly unaware of what I’m getting at. And short of escorting him to Summerland and re-creating the gallery, neither of which I’m going to do, there’s no way to continue. I’ll just have to sit this one out. Wait until my three lonely months are up.

I shake my head, determined to put it behind me and get down to the business at hand. Looking at him and clearing my throat when I say, “So, how exactly does one raise their vibration?”

By the time we’re done, I’m no closer to talking to dead people than I was before I started. At least not the dead person I’m actually interested in. Though plenty of other disincarnates made themselves known, but I pretty much blocked them all out.

“It takes practice.” He locks the front door and leads me to my car. “I sat in a weekly spirit circle for years before my powers fully returned.”

“I thought you were born with it?” I squint.

“I was.” He nods. “But after blocking it out for so long, I had to really work to develop it again.”

I sigh, unable to see myself joining a séance group and wishing there was an easier way.

“She visits you in your dreams, you know.”

I roll my eyes, remembering that one crazy dream, and knowing no way was that her.

But he just looks at me, nodding when he says. “Of course she does. They always do. It’s the easiest way to get through.”

I look at him, leaning against my car door, key in hand as my eyes travel his face. Knowing I should go, say good night and be on my way, but for some reason I’m unable to move.

“The subconscious mind takes over at night, freeing us of all the usual restrictions we put on ourselves, all the things we block out, telling ourselves it can’t happen, that mystical things aren’t really possible, when the truth is, the universe is magical, and mysterious, and much grander than it seems, with only the thinnest veil of energy separating us from them. I know it’s confusing with the way they communicate in symbols—and to be honest, I’m not sure how much of that is us—the way we arrange information—or them, and the restrictions on just how much they’re allowed to share.”

I take a deep breath, my whole body shivering though I’m not really cold. Spooked is more like it. Spooked by his words, his presence, the way he’s making me feel. But not cold. In fact, not at all.

Wondering what Riley could’ve meant with the glass prison, the way I could see Damen, but he couldn’t see me. Trying to view it as though it’s an assignment for English, like symbolism in a book. Wondering if it means that Damen’s misguided, can’t see what’s in front of him? And if so, what does
that
mean?

“Just because you can’t
see
something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” he says, his voice the only sound in this still and quiet night.

I nod, feeling like I should know that better than anyone as Jude stands before me, going on and on about dimensions, the afterlife, and how time’s just a made-up concept that doesn’t really exist, and I can’t help but wonder what he’d do if I gave him a treat. Just grabbed his hand, closed my eyes, and took him to Summerland to show him just how deep it really goes—

He catches me, catches me looking. My gaze roaming his smooth dark skin, golden dreadlocks, the scar splicing his brow, until finally meeting those sea green eyes, so deep, so knowing, I quickly look away.

“Ever—” he groans, voice low, thick, as he reaches for me. “Ever—I—”

But I just shake my head and turn away, climbing into my car and backing out of the space. Glancing into my rearview mirror to find him still standing there, still looking after me, his longing displayed in his gaze.

Shaking my head and focusing back on the road, telling myself that particular past, the things I once felt, have nothing to do with my future.

Originally the party was supposed to be Saturday, but with Miles leaving early next week, and with so much to do between now and then, we moved it to Thursday, the last day of school.

And even though I know better, even though I’m fully aware that Damen is a man of his word, I’m still disappointed when I walk into English and find he’s not there.

I glance at Stacia, her eyes narrowing, lips smirking, extending her foot as I try to move past, as Honor sits beside her, playing along despite the fact that she can barely meet my eyes—not with the secret we share.

And as I take my seat and gaze around the room, one thing is clear—everyone has a partner, a friend, someone to talk to—everyone but me. Having spent the better part of the year befriending someone who refuses to show, his seat beside mine, woefully empty.

Like a big block of ice where the sun used to be.

So as Mr. Robins yammers on and on about stuff no one really cares about, including him, I distract myself by lowering my shield and aiming my quantum remote at all of my classmates, filling the room with a cacophony of color and sound, remembering how my life used to be—my life before Damen when I was constantly overwhelmed.

Tuning in to Mr. Robins who’s looking forward to the moment the final bell rings so he can enjoy a nice long summer free of us, then Craig who’s planning to break up with Honor by the end of the day so he can make the most of the next three months. And over to Stacia who still has no memory of her brief time with Damen, though she’s definitely still into him. Having recently discovered where he surfs, she’s planning to spend the summer in a revolving collection of bikinis, determined to start senior year on his arm. And even though it bugs me to see that, I force myself to shrug it off and move on to Honor, surprised to see her agenda’s full—having nothing to do with Stacia or Craig—and everything to do with her growing interest in
the craft
.

I narrow my focus, tuning everyone out in order to better
see
her, curious to know what’s driving this sudden interest in magick, assuming it’s some harmless crush on Jude, and surprised to
see
it’s nothing like that. She’s tired of being the shadow cast by the spotlight, the
B
that follows the
A.
Tired of life on the second rung, and is planning the day when the tables are turned.

She glances over her shoulder and looks right at me, eyes narrowing as though she knows what I
see
and dares me to stop her. Still holding the look when Stacia nudges her arm, looks at me, and mouths the word
freak
.

I roll my eyes, starting to turn away when she swings her hair over her shoulder and leans toward me, looking me over when she says, “So, what happened to Damen? Did your spell stop working? Did he find out you’re a witch?”

I shake my head and lean back in my seat, legs crossed, hands folded on my desk, projecting a picture of absolute calm as I shoot her a look so long and deep she can’t help but squirm. Convinced I’m the only witch in the room, having no idea that her minion has her own magick coup planned.

Flicking my gaze back toward Honor, sensing her defiance, a newly summoned strength she never exhibited before, our gaze holding, stretching, until I finally look away. Telling myself it’s none of my business—I’ve no right to interfere in their friendship—no right to intrude.

Shutting out all the color and sound as I glance down at my desk, doodling a field of red tulips onto my notebook, having
seen
more than enough for one day.

When I get to history Roman is there, loitering just outside the door as he talks with some guy I’ve never seen before. The two of them stopping the moment I approach, turning toward me to get a good look.

I reach for the door just as Roman blocks it, smiling when my hand accidentally skims his hip, and laughing even harder when I cringe and pull away. His deep blue eyes meeting mine when he says, “Have you two met?” He nods toward his friend.

I roll my eyes, wanting only to get to class and get it over with, put this whole miserable junior year behind me and fully prepared to knock him out of my way if I have to.

His tongue clucking inside his cheek when he says, “
So
un-friendly. Seriously, Ever, your manners are
lacking
. But far be it from me to force it. Some other day perhaps.”

He nods at his friend, prompting him to leave, and I’m just about to barge into class when I glimpse something on the periphery—the lack of an aura—the physical perfection—and I’m sure if I looked hard enough I’d find an Ouroboros tattoo to confirm it.

“What are you up to?” I say, my gaze switching to Roman. Wondering if his
friend
is one of the long-lost orphans, or some unfortunate soul he’s more recently turned.

Seeing the smile that widens his cheeks when he says, “It’s all part of the riddle, Ever. The one you’ll be called upon to solve very soon. But for now, why don’t you just head inside and brush up on your history. Trust me.” He laughs, opening the door and waving me in. “There’s no need to hurry. Your time will come soon.”

Even though I told Sabine she could invite Munoz to the party, she’s smart enough to recognize a halfhearted offer when she hears it—so luckily for us, they made other plans.

I ready the house with all things Italian—platters of spaghetti, pizza, cannelloni—balloons that are red, white, and green—and a profusion of paintings—manifested replicas of
Primavera
and
Birth of Venus
by Botticelli, Titian’s
Venus of Urbino,
Michelangelo’s
Doni Tondo
, as well as a life-sized statue of
David
out by the pool. All the while remembering the time Riley and I decorated the house for that fateful Halloween party—the night I kissed Damen—the night I met Ava and Drina—the night that changed everything.

Pausing to glance around and take it all in before heading for the couch and assuming the lotus position. Closing my eyes and concentrating on raising my vibration just like Jude taught me, missing Riley so much I’ve committed to my own séance circle, determined to practice a little each day until she appears.

Quieting my mind of all the usual chatter and noise, keeping myself open, alert to all that surrounds me. Hoping for some sort of shift, an unexplained chill, a whisper of sound, some sort of signal to prove that she’s near—but getting only a stream of bossy ghosts who are nothing like the sassy, twelve-year-old sister I seek.

And I’m just about to call it quits when a tremulous form starts to shimmer before me—leaning forward, straining to
see
it—when two high-pitched voices say, “What’re you doing?”

The second I see them I spring to my feet, knowing
he
brought them, and hoping I can still catch him before he leaves.

My flight halted when Romy places her hand on my arm, shaking her head when she says, “We took the shuttle and walked the rest of the way. I’m sorry. Damen’s not here.”

I glance between them, breathless, bereft, struggling to compose myself when I say, “Oh. So, what’s up?” Wondering if they’re here for the party, if Haven somehow invited them.

“We need to talk to you.” Romy and Rayne glance at each other before focusing on me. “There’s something you need to know.”

I swallow hard, eager for them to spill it, tell me just how unhappy and miserable Damen’s become—regretting his decision to separate—desperately wanting me back—

“It’s about Roman,” Rayne says, eyes hard on mine, reading my expression if not my thoughts. “We think he’s making others—other immortals like
you
.”

“Except not really like
you
.” Romy adds. “Since you’re nice and not at all evil like him.”

Rayne shrugs and looks all around, not quite willing to include me in that.

“Does Damen know?” I glance between them, wanting to fill up the room with his name, shout it over and over again.

“Yeah, but he won’t do anything.” She sighs. “Says they have every right to be here so long as they don’t pose a threat.”

“And do they?” My eyes dart between them. “Pose a threat?”

They look at each other, communicating in their own silent twin speak before turning to me. “We’re not sure. Rayne’s starting to get some of her
feeling
back—and sometimes it seems like my visions might be returning—but it’s pretty slow going—so we were wondering if we could maybe have a look at the book. You know, the
Book of Shadows
, the one you keep at the store. We think it might help.”

I look at them, eyes narrowed, suspicious, wondering if they’re truly concerned about Roman’s minions or just trying to play me against Damen to get what they want. And yet, there’s no doubt it’s true. From last count, there were three new immortals in town, all connected to Roman. All possibly up to no good. Though it’s also true they’ve done nothing to prove that so far.

But still, not wanting them to think I’m a total pushover I say, “And Damen’s okay with this?” The three of us looking at each other, the three of us knowing he’s not.

They glance at each other in silent communion before turning to me. Rayne taking the lead when she says, “Listen, we need help. Damen’s way is too slow, and at this rate, we’ll be
thirty
before our powers return, and I’m not sure who wants that less—us or
you
?” She shoots me a look and I shrug, making no move to refute it since we both know it’s true. “We need something that’ll work, give quicker results, and we have nowhere to turn but to you and the book.”

I glance between them, then look at my watch, wondering if I can get to the store, get them the book, and make it back in time for the party, which, considering how fast I move, and that the party’s still hours away, it’s clear that I can.

“Run, walk, whatever it takes.” Rayne nods, knowing it’s as good as done. “We’ll wait for you here.”

I head for the garage, at first thinking a run would be nice, if nothing else it makes me feel strong and invincible and not quite so inadequate against the problems I face. But since it’s still light out, I drive instead. Arriving at the store to find Jude locking up early, key stuck in the door as he says, “Aren’t you supposed to be throwing a party?” He squints, gaze moving over me, taking in my tee, shorts, and flip-flops.

“I forgot something.” I nod. “It’ll just take a sec—so—go ahead—no worries—I can lock up.”

He cocks his head, aware that something’s up but still opening the door and waving me in. Trailing behind, right on my heels, watching from the doorway as I open the drawer and lift the secret latch. Just about to retrieve the book when he says, “You’re never gonna believe who came in today.” I glance at him briefly, then open my bag, shoving the book deep inside when he adds, “Ava.”

I freeze, eyes seeking his.

“Tell me.”

He nods.

I swallow hard, stomach like a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing furiously as I find my voice again. “What did she want?”

“Her job, I guess.” He shrugs. “She’s been freelancing—wants something more stable. Seemed pretty surprised when I told her I’d hired you instead.”

“You told her? About
me
?”

He shifts uncomfortably, from one foot to the next, looking at me when he says, “Well, yeah. I figured since you guys were friends and all—”

“And what did she do? When you told her? What
exactly
did she say?” Heart beating overtime, eyes never once leaving his.

“Nothing, really. Though she seemed pretty surprised.”

“Surprised that I was
here
—or surprised that you hired me? Which surprised her
more
?”

He just stands there and squints, hardly the answer I need.

“Did she mention anything about
Damen
—or
me
—or
Roman
—or say anything else? Anything at all? You have to tell me
everything
—leave
nothing
out—”

He backs into the hall, hands raised in mock surrender. “Trust me, that was pretty much it. She split after that, so there’s nothing to tell. Now come on, let’s go. You don’t want to be late to your own party, do you?”