Night Star (Immortals 5)

“And just remember, whatever happens, you asked for it,” I add, as we make our way through the gate.

Aware of Damen’s heavy wondering, questioning gaze—having no idea that what I’m about to do, well, if I’m successful anyway, could change our lives forever.

For better.

And if not, if I don’t get what I’m looking for, well, maybe that alone will provide the answer I seek.

“Now, this is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Miles grins, face practically glowing with excitement. “This is what senior year is supposed to be like. You know, ditching classes, playing hooky, having fun, indulging in a little illegal activity—”

I peer at him, making sure he’s all settled in before I punch the gas hard. There’s no need for pretense, he knows exactly what I am, what I’m capable of. And after a few moments of white-knuckle-gripping silence from him, we’re there.

Or at least, almost there, since I make a point to park halfway down the street, just like I did the last time I was here, figuring it’s safer, if not smarter, to walk the rest of the way. No need to park on the drive and announce my arrival.

“Last chance to back out.” I glance at my friend, white faced and panting beside me, struggling to get his equilibrium back.

“How can I back out?” he gasps, still catching his breath. “When I don’t even know what I’m potentially backing out of?”

“Roman’s house, which is now Haven’s house, is just up the street. And you and I are going in.”

“We’re breaking into Haven’s?” He gasps, finally starting to get the potential seriousness of all this. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I push my sunglasses up on my forehead. “And I’m also serious about you backing out, since there’s really no good reason for you to take part. I’m perfectly fine with you waiting right here. You can be my lookout. Not that I think I’ll need one, but still.”

But before I can finish, he’s already climbing out of the car, already made up his mind. “Oh, no, you are not talking me out of this.” He shakes his head in a way that allows his hair to flop right into his eyes. “If I’m ever up for a role as a cat burglar, or an art thief, or something like that, I can totally use this experience.” He laughs.

“Yeah, except it’s not exactly art that we’re after.” I motion for him to follow as I make for the walkway that leads to the door. Glancing over my shoulder to add, “And trust me, it doesn’t really feel all that much like breaking and entering when you just walk up to the front door and open it with your mind. Though technically, since we weren’t exactly invited, the term still applies.”

He stops in his tracks, face expressing major disappointment. “Wait—seriously? That’s it? We don’t get to do a stealthy tiptoe as we slip around back? No sneaking through a cracked window or arguing over who gets to crawl through the doggie door to let the other one in?”

I pause, remembering the time I snuck into Damen’s house in much the same way, back in the beginning when I was so confused by all of his strange ways I was desperate to determine what he was—only to find out later that I’m exactly like him.

“Sorry, Miles, but it’s not gonna be nearly as exciting as that. It’s pretty straightforward stuff.” I stand before the door, seeing the lock retreat in my mind as I hold my breath and wait for the sound of that telltale click—but it doesn’t come.

“That’s weird.” I frown, trying the handle for myself and surprised when the door springs wide open. Thinking either Haven’s feeling ridiculously overconfident these days, leaving her house unlocked, or we’re not the only ones here…

I glance over my shoulder, motioning for Miles to stay quiet, to stay behind me, as I pause in the threshold, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust, to scope out the space, making sure it’s all clear before I signal for Miles to join me.

But the moment he steps into the hall, the floor creaks so loudly the sound seems to blare. Prompting us to freeze, instinctively holding our poses as we listen to the unmistakable sounds of glass breaking, voices whispering, feet scrambling, and a back door slamming so hard it sends the walls shaking.

I bolt. Racing toward the kitchen, and reaching the window just in time to see Misa and Marco making their getaway. Marco running somewhat clumsily as he cradles an unzipped duffle bag filled with elixir, as Misa follows with her own empty bag slung high over her shoulder. Turning just long enough to meet my gaze—holding the look until she breaks away, hops the fence behind Marco, and they both disappear down the alleyway.

“What the hell?” Miles says, finally catching up and coming into the room. “Did you seriously just move as fast as I think you did?”

I turn, taking in the jagged shards of glass scattered all across the floor, and the deep, dark red liquid that races across the tiles and seeps into the grout.

“So, what’s the deal? What did I miss?” he asks, glancing between the mess and me.

But I just shrug. I have no idea what’s going on here. No idea why Misa and Marco would resort to stealing the elixir. Why they were so panicked they actually broke a bottle. Not to mention why Misa looked so frightened to see me.

Only one thing is clear—they weren’t exactly invited to help themselves to the supply.

Still, none of that has anything to do with us or our reason for being here. So as soon as I’ve cleaned up the mess simply by wishing it to disappear, I look at Miles and say, “So, what we’re looking for is a shirt. A white linen shirt. With a big green stain on its front…”

twenty-three

The weeks go by, but nothing much changes. Jude continues to avoid me until I come to a decision, Damen continues to guard Stacia at school, Miles continues to guard my feelings regarding Damen guarding Stacia at school, and Haven continues to rule the school, while I continue to remain on high alert, waiting for the moment when she decides to go after me.

But that’s just on the surface.