"What's there to talk about? I mean, he's with Stacia, and I'm—dealing." They glance at each other, exchanging a look that's loaded but brief.
"But are you dealing?" Miles asks. "Because seriously, Ever, breaking into his house and messing with his food supply is pretty twisted. Not exactly the actions of someone who's moving on with their life—"
"So, what? You guys just believe every rumor you hear? All those months of friendship, all those times you hung at my house, and you think I'm capable of that—" I roll my eyes and shake my head, refusing to go any further. I mean, if all I managed to get out of Damen was the most fleeting moment of recognition before it was replaced with disdain, when we have abond that dates back centuries—what can I hope to accomplish with Miles and Haven whom I've known for less than a year?
"Well, I really don't see why Damen would make all that up," Haven says, her eyes on mine, her gaze so harsh and judgmental I realize she didn't actually come here to help. Because while she may act as though she's got only my best interests at heart, the truth is, she's enjoying my fall. After losing Damen to me, after seeing how Roman continues to chase me even after she's made her interest clear, she's happy to see me knocked down. And the only reason she's deigning to sit by me now is so she can look me in the eye while she gloats.
I gaze down at the table, surprised by how much it hurts. But I try not to judge or hold it against her. I know all too well what it's like to feel jealous, and there's nothing rational about it.
"You need to let it go," Miles says, sipping his drink, though his eyes never leave mine. "You need to let go and move on."
"Everyone knows you're stalking him," Haven says, covering her mouth with nails painted the color of ballet slippers as opposed to her usual black. "Everyone knows you broke into his house—twice—that we know of. Seriously, you're out of control, you're acting insane."
I gaze down at the table, wondering how much longer the assault will continue.
"Anyway, as your friends, we just want to convince you that you need to let go. You need to back off and move on. Because the truth is, your behavior is creepy, not to mention..." Haven drones on, hitting all the bullet points I'm sure they agreed upon before they approached me. But I stopped listening after she said as your friends. Wanting to hang on to that and reject all the rest, even though it's no longer true. I shake my head and look up, seeing Roman sitting at the lunch table with his gaze fixed on mine. Tapping his watch, then pointing at Damen in a way so ominous, so threatening, I spring from my seat. Leaving Haven's voice fading behind me like a distanthum as I race for my car, chastising myself for wasting my time with this stuff when there are far more important things to be done.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I'm through with school. Done with subjecting myself to that unbearable gauntlet of torture each day. I mean, what's the point of going when I'm getting nowhere with Damen, taunted by Roman, and lectured by teachers and pseudo well-meaning ex-friends? Besides, if things work out in the way that I hope, then I'll soon be back at my old school in Oregon, living my life as though this never existed. So there's really no point in putting myself through that again.
I head down Broadway, weaving my way through pedestrian traffic before moving on to the canyon, hoping to go someplace quiet where I can make the portal appear without scaring any unsuspecting shoppers. Not remembering until I've already parked that this is the same place where my first showdown with Drina occurred—a showdown that resulted in my first visit to Summer-land when Damen provided theway. I hunker down in my seat, imagining that golden veil of light hovering before me and landing right in front of the Great Hall of Learning. Barely taking the time to notice its magnificent ever-changing facade before rushing into the grand marble hall with my thoughts focused on two things: Is there an antidote to save Damen? And how do I locate the secret herb, the final ingredient needed to prepare the elixir? Repeating the questions again and again as I wait for the doorway to the akashic records to appear—But getting nothing. No globes. No crystal sheets. No white circular rooms or hybrid TVs. Nothing. Nada. Nien.
Just a soft voice behind me saying, "It's too late."
I turn, expecting to see Romy but finding Rayne there instead. Following behind as I roll my eyes and make for the door, eager to put some distance between us as she echoes those same words again. I don't have time for this. I don't have time to decipher a bunch of cryptic nonsense from the world's creepiest twin. Because even though there's no concept of time in Summerland where everything happens in a constant state of now, I know for a fact that the time I spend here will be duly noted back home. Which means I need to keep going, keep moving forward, heading down the street as fast as I can until her voice turns to a whisper. Knowing I need to save Damen before I turn back time and go home. And if the answers aren't here—then I'll look somewhere else.
I start running. Turning into the alleyway just as I'm overcome by such sudden excruciating pain, I crumple to the ground. My fingers clamped to my temples, my head aching as though it's being stabbed from all sides, as a swirl of images unfold in my mind. A series of sketches, one turning into the next like pages in a book, followed by a detailed description of what it includes. And I've just made it to the third page when I realize these are instructions for making the antidote to save Damen, including herbs planted during the new moon, rare crystals and minerals I've never heard of, silk pouches embroidered by Tibetan monks—all of it needing to be carefully assembled in a series of very precise steps before soaking up the energy of the next full moon.
And just after I'm shown the exact herb needed to complete the immortal elixir, my head clears as though it never happened. So I reach for my bag, fumbling for a scrap of paper and a pen, jotting down the final step when Ava appears.
"I made the portal!" she says, her face lighting up as her eyes meet mine. "I didn't think I could do it, but this morning when I sat down for my usual meditation, I thought: What could it hurt to give it a try? And the next thing I knew—"
"You've been here since morning?" I say, taking in her beautiful dress, designer shoes, heavy gold bracelets, and jewel-adorned fingers.
"There's no time in Summerland," she scolds.
"Maybe so, but back home it's past noon," I tell her, watching as she shakes her head and frowns, refusing to get bogged down in the tedious rules of the earth plane.
"Who cares? What could I possibly be missing? A long line of clients wanting me to tell them they're about to become extremely rich and famous despite all evidence to the contrary?" She closes her eyes and sighs. "I'm tired of it, Ever. Tired of the grind. But here, everything's so wonderful, I think I might stay!"
"You can't," I say, quickly, automatically, though I'm not sure it's true.
"Why not?" She shrugs, lifting her arms to the sky and twirling around and around. "Why can't I stay here? Give me one good reason."
"Because—" I star
t, wishing I could just leave it at that, but since she's not a child I'm forced to come up with something better. "Because it's not right," I finish, hoping she'll hear me. "You have work to do. We all have work to do. And hiding out here is like—cheating."
"Says who?" She squints. "You telling me all of these people are dead?" I gaze around, taking in the crowded sidewalks, the long line for the movie theaters and karaoke bars, realizing I have no idea how to answer. I mean, just how many of them are like Ava—tired, fed-up, disillusioned souls who've found their way here and decided to drop out from the earth plane and never return? And how many of them have died and refused to cross over like Riley once did? I look at Ava again, knowing I've no right to tell her what to do with her life, especially when I remember what I've chosen to do with mine.
Then I reach for her hand and smile when I say, "Well, at the moment, I need you. Tell me everything you know about astrology."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"So?" I lean toward Ava, elbows pressed against the tabletop, trying to keep her focused on me as opposed to the sights and sounds of Saint-Germain.
"I know that I'm an Aries." She shrugs, her eyes preferring the River Seine, the Pont Neuf, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Notre Dame cathedral (which, in this version of Paris, are all lined up in a row), to me.