The Immortals 3 - Shadowland (24 page)

Even though Jude offered to follow me home and help set things up, I didn’t want him to know I’d gotten the book for the twins. So I made up some bogus excuse about needing plastic cups and asked him to stop by the store to get some, preferably red, white, and/or green, then I broke the speed limits all the way home where I handed over the goods.

“First—some ground rules,” I say, holding onto the book despite two sets of hands clamoring for it. “I can’t just give this to you, since it doesn’t belong to me. And you can’t take it home since Damen will freak. So the only way to get around all of that is for you to study it here.”

They glance at each other, obviously not liking it but all out of options.

“Have you read it?” Romy peers at me.

I shrug. “I tried to intuit it, but I didn’t get much. It’s more like a diary than anything else.”

Rayne rolls her eyes and reaches for it again, as her sister says, “You need to look deeper, read between the lines.”

I glance between them, not understanding.

“You’re skimming the surface. The book’s not only written in the Theban code, the words themselves are a code.”

“It’s a code within a code,” Rayne says. “Protected by a spell. Didn’t Jude tell you?”

I freeze, glancing between them, thinking he most certainly did not.

“Come, on, we’ll show you,” Romy says, her twin grabbing the book as we head up the stairs. “We’ll give you a lesson.”

I leave the twins in the den, the two of them still hunched over the book, as I head for my walk-in closet and reach for the box stashed up high on the shelf. Retrieving my assortment of crystals and candles, oils and herbs, all the stuff that’s left over from the elixirs I made just before the blue moon, and manifesting whatever’s left on the list, which turns out to be sandalwood incense, and an athame—a double-edged knife with a jewel-encrusted handle much like the dagger Damen made.

Getting it all laid out and organized before slipping out of my clothes and removing my amulet. Placing it on a shelf next to the metallic clutch purse Sabine gave me a couple months back, knowing the deep V in the dress I plan to wear offers no place to hide the assortment of stones. Besides, after the ritual I’m planning to do, I’ll no longer need it.

No longer need anything.

Thanks to Romy and Rayne I’ve been handed the key I’ve sought all along. And all it required was a password of sorts, the three of us forming a circle with the book in the center, hands clasped, eyes closed, each of us repeating a verse that went:

Within the world of magick—resides this very tome
To which we are the chosen—returning to our home
Within the realm of mystics—we shall now reside
Allowed to glimpse upon this book—and see what lies inside

The two of them beside me as I pressed my palm to its front, simultaneously frightened and fascinated when the book opened in a flurry of pages until resting on just the right one.

I knelt down before it, hardly believing my eyes. What was once a series of convoluted, hard-to-read code had become a simple recipe stating just what I need to get the job done.

I drop my dirty clothes in the hamper and reach for the white silk robe I rarely wear but that’ll be perfect for the ritual. Carrying it into the bathroom where I fill up the tub for a nice long soak, which, according to the book, is the first important step in any ritual. Not only for cleansing the body and releasing the mind of all distracting negativity and thought, but also allowing time to reflect on the spell’s intent, the outcome one wishes to see.

I lower myself in the water, sprinkling a dash of sage and mugwort and adding a clear quartz crystal stone to aid in my quest and center my vision, closing my eyes as I chant:

Cleanse and reclaim this body of mine
So that my magick may properly bind
My spirit reborn, now ready for flight
Allowing my magick to take hold tonight

All the while visualizing Roman before me, tall, tanned, and golden-haired, deep blue eyes gazing into mine as he apologizes for the terrible inconvenience he’s caused, begging forgiveness and offering aid, willingly handing over the antidote to the antidote, newly enlightened to the error of his ways.

Replaying the vision again and again until my skin’s gone all pruney and it’s time to move on. Stepping out of the bath and into my robe, cleansed and purified and ready to proceed as I assemble my tools and light the incense, passing the knife through the smoke three times, as I say:

I call upon Air to cast out any dark energies from this athame
Allowing only the light to remain
I call upon Fire to blaze away all negativity from this athame
Allowing only the good to remain

Repeating the verse for the rest of the elements, calling upon Water and Earth, to cast out all dark and leave only light, concluding the consecration by sprinkling salt over the knife and calling upon the highest of magical powers to see that it’s done.

Cleansing and consecrating the room as I walk three times around it, waving my incense as I say:

I walk this circle thrice around
To consecrate and empower this ground
Evoking the power and protection of thee
Drawing their magical powers to me

Forming a magick circle by sprinkling salt onto the floor, not unlike Rayne did with Damen just a few weeks before. Taking my place in the center and envisioning a cone of power rising around me as I arrange my crystals, light my candles, and anoint myself with oil, calling upon the elements of Fire and Air to aid in my spell, then closing my eyes until a white silk cord and a replica of Roman manifests right before me.

Where you go my spell will follow
Where you hide my spell will find
Where you rest my spell will lie
With this cord your actions cease
With my blood your knowledge released
With this spell I bind thee to me

Raising my athame and slicing it across my palm, tracing the curve of my lifeline as a rush of wind sweeps through the circle and an applause of thunder claps overhead. My hair whipping about as I squint against the swirling gale, my blood letting onto the cord until it’s soaked and red. Rushing to secure it around Roman’s neck, my gaze fixed on his, willing him to provide what I seek, before banishing him as though he never appeared.

I rise, body shaking, sweating, elated to know that it’s over and done. Just a matter of time before the antidote to the antidote is in my possession and Damen and I join as one.

The wind begins to slow as the snap crackle of electricity starts to abate, and I’m collecting the stones and snuffing the candles when Romy and Rayne burst through the door, mouths open, eyes wide, as they stand there and gape.

“What have you done?” Rayne cries, gaze darting from my magick salt circle, to my collection of tools, to my blood-covered knife.

I look at them, gaze steady and secure, as I say, “Relax. It’s over. I fixed it. And now it’s just a matter of time before everything is put right again.”

About to step out of the circle when Romy shouts, “Stop!”

Hand held before her, eyes blazing as her sister adds, “Don’t move. Please, just trust us this time and do what we say.”

I pause, glancing between them, wondering what could possibly be the big deal. The spell worked. I can
feel
its energy still thrumming inside me, and now it’s just a matter of time until Roman appears—

“You’ve really done it this time,” Rayne says, shaking her head. “Don’t you know that the moon is
dark
? You’re never supposed to do magick on the dark moon—
never
! It’s a time for contemplation, meditation, but you
never, ever
, practice unless you’re practicing the
dark arts.
”

I glance between them, wondering if she’s serious, and if so, what difference it could possibly make. If the spell worked, it worked. The rest is just details.
Right?

Her twin chiming in to add, “Who did you call upon to aid you?”

I think back on my rhyme, the one I was pretty proud of for making up on the fly, recalling the line:
Evoking the power and protection of thee,
and repeating it to her.

“Great,” Rayne says, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

Romy standing beside her, frowning as she adds, “During the dark moon, the goddess is absent while the queen of the underworld takes over. So in other words, instead of calling upon the light to work your spell, you asked the dark powers to aid you.”

And to bind Roman to me!
I gape, eyes wide, darting between the two of them, wondering if there’s a way to reverse it, quickly, easily, before it’s too late!

“It
is
too late,” they say, reading my face. “All you can do now is wait for the next moon phase and try to reverse it.
If
it can be reversed.”

“But—” The word dying on my lips as the enormity of my situation starts to sink in. Remembering Damen’s warning from before, how sometimes when people get involved in witchcraft they get in over their head and wind up taking a much darker path...

I gaze at the two of them, unable to speak. Watching Rayne shake her head angrily as her sister looks at me and says, “All you can do now is cleanse yourself and your tools, burn your athame, and hope for the best. And then, if you’re lucky, we’ll let you out of the circle so all the bad energy you’ve conjured can’t escape.”

“If I’m
lucky
?” I look at them, stomach sinking.
Is she serious? Is it really that bad?

Gaze darting between them as Romy says, “Don’t push it. You’ve no idea what you’ve started.”

Miles and Holt arrive together, and when they take one look at the decorations, Miles totally flips.

“I don’t even have to go to Florence now that you’ve brought Florence to me!” He hugs me to him, quickly pulling away when he says, “Sorry, I forgot how you hate to be touched.”

But I just shake my head and hug him again, feeling pretty good despite Romy and Rayne standing before me like the Great Wall of Pessimism—all raised brows, folded arms, and twisted lips—while I performed a quick but thorough grounding/protection meditation, picturing strong beams of white light penetrating my skull and flowing through my body, in an attempt to ward off at least some of the damage they’re convinced that I’ve done.

But the truth is, I don’t see the point. After the initial burst of empowerment, just after the binding spell was completed, everything returned to normal again. The only reason I even went through with their guided meditation is because they were acting so freaked, it was the only way to calm them down. But now I’m thinking it was all just a big misunderstanding—a complete overreaction on their part.

I mean, I’m immortal, gifted with strength and power they can’t even begin to imagine. So while performing a magical ritual during the dark moon may pose danger to
them
, I seriously doubt it makes the slightest bit of difference for
me.

And no sooner have I gotten Miles and Holt their drinks when the bell rings again, and again, and before I know it, my house is filled with pretty much every member from the
Hairspray
cast and crew.

“Huh, guess he’s not Haven’s date after all, unless they’re arriving separately?” Miles says, nodding toward Jude as he enters the room laughing that good-natured laugh and helping himself to some virgin sangria, before taking off with Holt and leaving us alone together.

“Nice send-off.” Jude nods, gazing around. “Makes me want to go somewhere too.”

I look at him, smiling vaguely, wondering if he notices anything different about me, a change of energy, a new sense of empowerment—

But he just smiles, raising his cup as he says, “Paris.” He takes a sip and nods. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. London and Amsterdam too.” He shrugs. “Pretty much any of the great Euro pe an cities would do.”

I swallow hard and try not to gape. Wondering if he somehow knows—if it’s buried deep within his subconscious, trying to surface. I mean, why else would he list all the significant places of our past?

He looks at me, green eyes on mine, holding the moment so long I clear my throat and say, “Huh. And here I had you pegged as the eco-adventure type. You know, Costa Rica, Hawaii, Galapagos—seeker of the perfect wave and all that.” Knowing that laugh at the end did nothing to hide my sudden bout of nervousness, just about to follow with something equally dumb when he looks past my shoulder and says, “Incoming.”

I turn to find Haven, practically dwarfed by the tall, lithe, beautiful girl from the store where she works, on one side, and Roman on the other, while the immortal from the hall today at school walks just behind them. Three gorgeous, auraless, and pretty much soulless, immortal rogues Haven inadvertently invited into my home.

I swallow hard, eyes narrowed on Roman, fingers at my throat, seeking the amulet I chose not to wear, and reminding myself that I no longer need it. I’m in charge now. I summoned him here.

“Figured you’d have plenty of room and food.” Haven smiles, hair newly dyed to the darkest of browns with a platinum streak that curves down the front, having ditched her usual emo look for one that’s even edgier yet vintage—like a post apocalyptic vintage if there is such a thing. And all it takes is one look at the dark beauty beside her, her spiky hair, multi-pierced lobes, delicate lace-corseted dress paired with black leather boots, to know who spawned this latest makeover of hers.

“I’m Misa.” The girl smiles, voice betraying the faintest trace of an accent that’s unrecognizable to me. Her hand reaching for mine as I brace for the chill, the familiar jolt of ice water swarming my veins confirming my suspicion, though failing to tell me if she’s one of the orphans, or more recently turned.

“And of course you know Roman.” Haven smiles, lifting her hand so I can see it entwined with his.

But I refuse to react. Refuse to give anything away. I just nod and smile, as though it doesn’t bother me at all.

Because it doesn’t.

It’s just a matter of time now ’til Roman’s handing over the cure and doing my bidding. That’s the only reason he’s here.

“Oh, and this is Rafe.” She nods, jabbing her finger toward the glorious rogue just behind her.

Same group of rogues the twins were talking about, minus Marco, the one with the Jaguar who doesn’t seem to be here. And even though I’ve no idea what they’re up to, what their agenda could possibly be, if they’re hanging with Roman, the twins have every right to be worried.

Haven heads for the den, eager to introduce Misa and Rafe to her friends, as Roman lags behind, grinning at me.

“I’d almost forgotten how good you can look when you put a little effort behind it.” He smiles, gaze gliding over my turquoise blue dress, hovering at the deep V of the neck, the expanse of bare skin where my amulet should be. “Guess this must be the reason,” he nods, motioning toward Jude. “Since we know it wasn’t for me, and Damen doesn’t seem to be around much these days, does he? What happened, Ever? You forfeit your quest?”

I swallow hard and steady my gaze, taking in the tousled hair, designer board shorts, leather flip-flops, and long-sleeved tee, nothing about him appearing the slightest bit different, and yet we both know it is. That gleam in his eye, his lascivious gaze, his attempt to embarrass me—it’s all just a front, a bit of bravado, trying to save face before he hands over the goods.

“So, you pouring?” He nods toward the punch bowl filled with nonalcoholic sangria. “Or is this a help-yourself situation?” Eyeing the bowl in a way that sets me on edge.

“I don’t think you’d like it.” I shrug, gaze fixed on his when I add, “Not your kind of drink.”

“Good thing I brought my own.” He winks, raising his glass bottle and stopping just shy of his lips, tilting it toward Jude when he says, “Wanna try? Takes the edge off. Guarantee you that.”

Jude squints, entranced by the sparking, pearlescent liquid Roman jiggles before him. And I’m just about to intervene when Romy and Rayne barrel down the stairs, halting when their eyes meet Roman’s, knowing I’m responsible for his being here.

“Well, if it isn’t the Catholic school twins.” Roman smiles, cheeks spread wide as he takes them in. “
Love
the new look! Especially you—you little punk goddess.” He nods at Rayne, prompting her to turn away as he takes in her short dress, ripped stockings, and black patent-leather Mary Jane shoes.

“Go back upstairs,” I tell them, wanting to get them as far from Roman as I possibly can. “And I’ll—”

About to say that I’ll be there in a minute, when Jude steps in, nudging my arm when he says, “Why don’t I take them home?”

And even though I’m not thrilled with the idea of him going to Damen’s, sure that Damen will like it even less, there’s really nothing else I can do. As long as Roman’s in my house, I’m pretty much stuck here too.

I follow them to the door, Rayne tugging my sleeve, pulling me down to her level when she says, “I don’t know what you’ve done, but something
very bad
is brewing.”

I look at her, about to refute it, tell her it’s nothing like that, it’s all under control, but she just shakes her head and adds, “Changes are coming. Big changes. And this time, you better choose right.”