Yanked from my mire of confusion when Romy and Rayne pipe up and say, “We need to start at the beginning.”
I look at them, so perplexed by it al that I don’t even know where that is. But before I can respond, they spring forth from their chairs, rush down the hal , and into the store. Returning just a few moments later, they reclaim their seats and peer at the book they’ve propped open on Romy’s lap.
Rayne’s voice piercing the silence when she leans over her twin sister, her huge brown eyes widening under her dark fringe of razor-slashed bangs as she says, “Okay, you said her name was Lotus, right?”
I nod.
“So, according to this, the lotus flower grows out of the mud, struggling through the muck to make its way toward the light. And, once it reaches that light, it blossoms and grows into something extraordinary, something very, very beautiful.”
I suck in my breath, realizing we may have just made a little progress at last. Mud, muck, crazy old lady named Lotus—it all fits, but what does it mean?
“It’s a symbol for awakening,” Ava says, interrupting Rayne, who was about to speak again. “Awakening to the spiritual side of life.”
“But it also represents life in general,” Jude says, bringing his chair forward, settling his elbows onto his desk, and pushing his dreadlocks off his face as he gazes at us. “You know, overcoming the hardships and struggles life brings in order to blossom into your true self—the beautiful being you were destined to be.”
He looks at me when he says it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the flush from rising to my cheeks. I know al too wel about Jude’s hardships and struggles, having seen them firsthand the day I pretended to read his palm so I could prove my psychic prowess and secure a job in his store. I saw it unfold as clearly as though I was standing right there alongside him. Gifted with psychic abilities his parents worked hard to deny, he lost his mother at a young age, only to have his grieving father shove a gun in his mouth and soon fol ow. Abandoning Jude to a series of intolerable foster families until the cycle of abuse became so unbearable the street seemed like a much better option. His life saved the day Lina found him, saw the promise in him, and managed to convince him that he wasn’t a freak, but rather a unique and gifted soul. That the limited views of others should have no bearing on the person he already was, the man he’d become.
And now Lina’s gone too.
I press my lips together and look at him, wondering how he’s handling that, if it’s why he’s spending so much time in Summerland, or if that’s more due to me—his attempt to get over the choice that I made.
His gaze meets mine, holding for only a moment, but stil long enough for me to wish I could love him. He deserves to be loved. But my heart belongs to Damen. Despite our current conflict, I’ve no doubt he and I are meant for each other. This is just a minor rough patch we’l get through in no time.
“They also make for a pretty popular tattoo,” Jude continues. “People who’ve overcome hard times, struggled their way out of the muck so to speak, like to use them as a sort of marker of having survived the journey and come out the other side.”
“Do you have a tattoo?” Rayne asks, eyes widening as she leans toward him, practical y fal ing out of her seat with excitement.
“One or two.” He nods, face bearing the slightest hint of a smile.
She gapes, hardly able to believe he plans to leave it at that, causing her to ask, “So, what are they?”
“One’s an Ouroboros. It’s on the smal of my back.”
And even though I can feel his gaze flit my way, I deflect the look entirely. I’ve seen the Ouroboros. Oh, yeah, that one did not go unnoticed.
“An Ouroboros?” She squints, glancing at her identical sister, who mirrors her in every way except for the clothing. Romy favors pink, Rayne prefers black, and sometimes, when they’re not around, I refer to them as Good & Plenty because it makes Damen laugh. “I thought that was evil,” she adds.
“It’s not evil,” Damen says, deciding to contribute since he has virtual y no choice but to be here ’til it’s over. “It’s an ancient alchemical symbol of life, death, rebirth—immortality.” He lifts his shoulders, gazing around the room but settling on no one in particular. “A whole slew of theologies have adopted it again and again throughout history, al of them attributing their own meanings to it, but it’s not evil.
Although Roman and his rogues adopted it and made it seem that way, on its own, it bears no il wil .” He nods, meets the wal again, his speech halted, or at least for now anyway.
“O- kay…” Rayne smirks. “If I ever have to write a term paper on it, I’l go straight to you, but for now, back to the tattoos.” She shakes her head, fal ing just shy of rol ing her eyes. Her complete and total adoration of Damen is the only thing that spares him from that.
“What’s the other one?” she asks, turning back to Jude.
“The other is the Japanese symbol for the lotus blossom. I thought an actual flower seemed … wel … a little girly.”
She peers at him, brow arched high.
“I was younger, less evolved, what can I say?” He lifts his shoulders and swipes a hand over his hair.
“And—so—where’s that one?” she ventures, but Jude just flashes his palm and shakes his head, terminating that particular topic right then and there.
Rayne turns to Ava, shooting her a dark, angry glare, her eyes narrowing even further when Ava just laughs in reply. And from what I can hear of the thoughts swirling between them, Rayne’s been begging for a tattoo for the past several weeks, and can’t understand why she’s forced to wait another five years until she’s eighteen. Having been around for three centuries already, the majority of which was spent in Summerland living as a refugee from the Salem Witch Trials, she doesn’t see why her time served there can’t be recognized here.
But it’s hardly my argument, so I tune out just as quickly as I tuned in, more than a little eager to get back on track.
“So anyway, what about the song?” Miles asks. “How did it go again? Something about rising from the mud toward the sky, or the dreamy sky, or … or something?”