“Sometimes—” He looks at me. “I was lucky enough to just happen upon you, ending up in the same place at just the right time. Though more often than not I’d have to wait a few years before it was proper to meet.”
“You mean you were spying on me?” I gape, hoping it wasn’t nearly as creepy as it sounds. “When I was a kid?”
He cringes, averting his gaze when he says, “No, not spying, Ever. Please. What do you take me for?” He laughs and shakes his head. “It was more like—keeping tabs. Patiently waiting until the time was right. But the last few times when I was unable to find
you, no matter how hard I tried—and believe me, I tried, living like a nomad, wandering from place to place, sure I’d lost you forever—I decided to come here. And I ran into some friends who showed me the way.”
“Romy and Rayne.” I nod, neither hearing nor seeing the answer in his head, but somehow sensing it’s true. Overcome by an immediate rush of guilt for failing to even think of them until now. Not even wondering how they might be, where they might be, until a second ago.
“You know them?” He squints, clearly surprised.
I press my lips together, knowing I’ll have to tell him the rest of the story, the parts I’d hoped to omit.
“They led me here too—” I pause, taking a deep breath and looking away, preferring to take in the room than meet his quizzical gaze. “They were at Ava’s—or at least Rayne was. Romy was out—” I shake my head and start again. “She was out trying to help you when you—”
I close my eyes and sigh, deciding to just show him instead. Everything. All of it. Including the parts I was too ashamed to put into words. Projecting the events of that day until there are no more secrets between us. Letting him know how hard they fought to save him, while I was too stubborn, refusing to listen.
But instead of being upset like I feared, he places his hands on my shoulders, gazing at me with forgiveness as he thinks, What’s done is done. We have to move forward, there’s no looking back.
I swallow hard and meet his gaze, knowing he’s right. It’s time to get started, but where to begin?
“It’s better if we split up.” He nods, his words a surprise to my ears, and I’m just about to speak when he adds, “Ever, think about it. You’re trying to find something to reverse the effects of the elixir I drank, while I’m trying to save you from the Shadowland, not exactly the same thing.”
I sigh, disappointed but having to agree. “I guess I’ll see you back at the house then. My house, if that’s okay?” I place my hand over his and give it a squeeze, reluctant to revisit his depressingly barren room and unsure where he stands on the whole karma curse thing now that his memory’s returned.
And no sooner has he nodded and closed his eyes than he’s vanished from sight.
So I take a deep breath and close my eyes too, thinking:
I need help. I’ve made a huge and horrible mistake and I don’t know what to do. I need to either find an antidote to the antidote—something that’ll reverse the effects of what Roman’s done—or find a way to get to him, convince him to cooperate with me—but only in a way that won’t require me to—um—seriously compromise myself in a way I’m not comfortable with . . . if you know what I mean . . .
Focusing my intention, replaying the words again and again. Hoping it’ll grant access to the akashic records, the permanent record of everything that has, is, or ever will be done. Praying I won’t be shut out again like the last time I was here.
But this time, when I hear that familiar buzz, instead of the usual long hallway leading to a mysterious room, I find myself right smack in the middle of a cineplex, its lobby empty, snack bar abandoned, with no clue of what I should do until a set of double doors opens before me.
I step inside a dark theater with sticky floors, worn seats, and the scent of buttery popcorn permeating the air. Squeezing down the aisle and choosing the best seat in the house, the one halfway down and dead center, I prop my feet on the chair just before me as the lights go dim and a big tub of popcorn appears in my lap. Watching the red drapes retract as the large crystal screen begins to flicker and flare in a profusion of images that quickly race past.
But instead of the solution I’d hoped for, all I get is a series of clips from movies I’ve already seen. Resulting in a sort of homemade montage of my family’s funniest moments, lifted straight from my old life in Oregon and unfolding to a soundtrack that only Riley could make.
Watching a clip of Riley and me, both of us hamming it up on a homemade stage in our den, dancing and lip-synching for an audience consisting of our parents and dog. Soon followed by an image of Buttercup, our sweet yellow lab. Tongue straining toward her nose, licking like mad, trying to get to the chunk of peanut butter Riley had dabbed there.
And even though it’s not at all what I’d hoped for, I know it’s important all the same. Riley promised she’d find a way to communicate with me, assuring me that just because I can’t see her anymore doesn’t mean she’s not still around.
So I push my quest aside, and sink down in my seat. Knowing she’s sitting beside me, silent and unseen. Wanting to share this moment together, two sisters sharing the home-movie version of what used to be.
nine
By the time I make it back to my room, Damen is waiting, sitting on the edge of my bed, cradling a small satin pouch in the palm of his gloved hand.
“How long was I gone?” I ask, plopping down beside him as I squint at my bedside clock and figure the math.
“There’s no time in Summerland,” he reminds me. “But on the earth plane, I’d say you were gone for a while. Did you learn anything?”
I think about the home movies I watched, Riley’s version of “The Bloom Family’s Funniest Videos,” then I shake my head and shrug. “Nothing useful. You?”
He smiles, handing over the silk pouch as he says, “Open and see.”
I pull on the drawstring, slip a finger inside, and retrieve a black silk cord bearing a cluster of colorful crystals held together by thin gold bands. Watching it catch and reflect the light as I dangle it before me, thinking it’s beautiful if not a bit odd.