“So, you’re tel ing me you didn’t?” I’m unwil ing to let it go, despite the undeniable point he’s just made, despite the steam running out of me.
“I did not.” He nods, face solemn, resolute, determined not to gloat with the victory of winning this one.
I sigh, close my eyes, and shove my hands deep into my pockets. Recal ing my own trip to Shadowland, the blur of images that played out before me—al around me—never once seeing anything that wasn’t expected—no prior lives I wasn’t already aware of.
No other version of me that went by the name Adelina.
Nothing that took place in the year 1308.
My lids lifting only to find Damen standing before me, his gaze soft and gentle, pressing a bundle of tulips into my hand. The words I’m sorry, written in an elaborate bold purple script that hovers between us.
Me too, I write just underneath. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.
“I know,” he whispers, his arms moving around me as I close my eyes and lean into the hug, savoring the feel of his body against mine. “And I know I’m going to live to regret this, but you can have your week back. Real y. Investigate your heart out and I’l do what I can to help you search. But when the week is over, Ever, you’re al mine. I’m making some serious vacation plans.”
seven
“When I agreed to help you search, I thought we’d be in the Great Hal s of Learning. What are we going to do here? Set up camp for the next six days?” He looks at me, face aghast by the very thought of it. Having assumed his days of roughing it, of going without the things he’s grown accustomed to, like magick, and manifesting, not to mention indoor plumbing, were solidly behind him, he’s more than a little dismayed to find himself here. “What if she doesn’t return? What then?” He settles in beside me, his body heaving a little more forceful y than necessary, or at least it seems that way to me. His movements causing the plastic tarp to sink and shake, resulting in a disgusting slurping-type sound as the ground burps and settles beneath us.
A sound that sets me off in a fit of giggles, I can’t help it. But he just shakes his head and rol s his eyes, total y and completely over it.
Having been smart enough to manifest two big plastic tarps—one to sit on, and one to shield us from the constant onslaught of rain—
along with a few other essentials just before reaching this point—the part of Summerland where magick goes unrecognized, and manifesting does not exist—I can’t help but think we should’ve made something more—like a ful y loaded RV perhaps that we could’ve parked off to the side. Stil , I’m determined to make the best of it, to wait it out until the old lady shows up again.
And she better show up or I’l never live this one down.
The ground continues to sink and slosh every time one of us makes even the slightest adjustment, forcing me to swal ow a whole new set of giggles and return my focus to Damen when I say, “Instead of worrying about what you’l do if she doesn’t come, maybe you should start thinking about what you’l do when she does come. I mean, after al , isn’t that why we’re here?”
He looks at me, swipes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead when he says, “Honestly, Ever? The only reason I’m here is because I’ve sworn my eternal al egiance to you. You know that part about ‘for better or worse’? I figure this must be the worse part, which means it can only get better from here.”
I glance at him, tempted to make some crack about us not being married, but decide it’s better not to push my luck, so I let it drop.
“So what are you going to do? If she comes, I mean?” Damen leans back and gazes up at the tarp hanging over us, no magick, no manifesting, nothing better to do.
“I’m going to confront her head-on. I’m going to ask her to stop speaking in riddles and get to the point. I’m going to—”
He looks at me, waiting to hear more. But there is no more. That’s as far as I’ve gotten with the plan. So I fold my hands in my lap and end it with that.
“Okay, and between now and then?” He lifts his brow.
I look at him, my face a blank until I remember the duffle bag I’d manifested earlier. I run off to retrieve it, dropping it before him and watching as he sits up, perks up, and peers inside. Riffling through a supply of magazines, a couple of paperbacks, a deck of playing cards, some board games, and several chil ed bottles of elixir.
“I don’t get it,” he says, seeming a little confused by the stash. “What’s al this?”
“It’s a little something I like to cal , ‘making the best of a not so great situation.’” I nod, holding my breath when he hesitates, stil s, then decides to go with it. Lifting the top off a board game and going about the motions of setting it up, I settle in beside him.
Stretching my legs out before me until they’re nearly even with his, glancing al around, on the lookout for her, but seeing only the usual landscape of gray skies, drenched earth, and a rain that refuses to stop or slow down, I plead a silent wish for her to show, sooner rather than later, then return my focus to Damen, motioning for him to take the first rol .
eight
Three games, one nap (Damen, not me), and two and a half bottles of elixir later, she appears.
And I mean, she just— appears. Like, one minute it’s just us, no sign of anyone else, and the next she’s standing before us, those ancient eyes focused on me as though they’d never left.
“ Damen!” I spare a moment to glance at him, seeing the way he stirs in his sleep and starts to rol over. I grab hold of his leg, giving it one, two good shakes as I repeat, “Damen—wake up! She’s here!”
Saying it as though the mere sight of her holds the promise of something great—like I’d just spotted Santa with a sleigh ful of p