“From the mud it shall rise, lifting upward toward vast dreamy skies, just as you—you—you shall rise too, ” I sing, my voice echoing the same tune Lotus used.
“So obviously she thinks you’re like the lotus flower,” Romy adds, while her twin, stil miffed about the tattoo, and never having been a fan of mine despite the recent bear hug she gave me in Summerland after seeing I’d survived Haven’s attack, slumps down in her sea
t and levels her steely gaze right on me. Clearly doubting the truth of such a thing, and choosing then and there to side with Damen, thinking for sure the old lady has got to be crazy to see that kind of promise in me.
“And the rest, how did it go?” Miles prompts.
“From the deep and dark depths it struggles toward the light…”
“Again, lotus flower.” Romy nods, tapping the page of the book with her pink painted nail, seemingly pleased with herself.
“Desiring only one thing—the truth! The truth of its being. ”
“Your destiny.” Ava nods. Dashing any hope that she just might know what that is when she adds, “Whatever that may turn out to be.”
“Okay, and…” Miles’s head bobs as his pen races across the page, writing it al down.
“ Um, okay…” I stal , trying to remember where I left off, where it goes from there. “Oh yeah, then it goes: But will you let it? Will you let it rise and blossom and grow? Or will you damn it to the depths? Will you banish its worn and weary soul? ”
“So basical y you’re the lotus blossom, or, at least the keeper of the lotus blossoms, and you’re either gonna let them fulfil their destiny and bloom, or, more likely, you’re gonna screw it al up and damn them to the depths.”
“Rayne!” Ava scolds.
But Rayne just shrugs, claiming, “What? It’s not like I said ‘damn’, the song did. I was merely repeating.”
“That is not what I meant and you know it. Your intent far outweighs your words.” Ava’s face darkens.
“Sorry,” Rayne mumbles, and though she looks at me when she says it, it was clearly for Ava’s benefit.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Damen says, prompting us al to turn, surprised to hear him speak up again. “It reminds me of 1968 when the Beatles released the White Album after their stay in India. Everyone was trying to interpret the lyrics, searching for some kind of deeper meaning, and, as it turned out, most of them were wrong—some of which ended in tragic results.”
“Charles Manson.” Jude nods, leaning back in his seat again, his fingers picking at the ancient Mayan symbol on the front of his T-shirt. “He thought the entire album contained an apocalyptic message, cal ing for a race war, and he used it to justify kil ing the wealthy, which he and his family of fol owers did.”
I shudder. I can’t help it. The whole idea is too creepy. Stil , that’s hardly what we’re doing here, and I’ve a pretty good idea Damen knows it.
“While that may be al wel and true,” I say, careful y avoiding his gaze, “there’s definitely a message here. And, according to Lotus anyway, there’s also a journey that only I can make.” Then, surprising just about everyone, including myself, I look right at Jude when I say, “Al that time you’ve spent in Summerland, al that time you’ve studied your past lives— our past lives—have you ever seen one I don’t know about? One that surprised you? One where I was named Adelina?”
I hold my breath, al owing myself to exhale only when he shakes his head and says, “Sorry, no.”
“Okay then.” Damen nods, divorcing himself of the wal , signaling that this meeting is now official y adjourned. “I think we’ve covered about al that we can here, no?”
And even though I want to protest that the answer is, indeed, no, I just nod and go with it.
Partly because I know he’s only doing what he thinks is right. Trying to protect me from Lotus, the dark part of Summerland, and heck, maybe even myself.
And partly because, wel , he’s probably right. There probably is no more to do here. Even though I’m reluctant to admit it, it appears we’ve uncovered al that we can.
Or at least for now anyway.
As for the rest—wel , I’m hoping it’l reveal itself somewhere along the journey.
ten
“Are you going in?”
Damen stands beside me, right beside me. His body so close to mine I can feel his swarm of tingle and heat, his warm breath brushing softly along the curve of my cheek.
“No,” I whisper. “I—I can’t do it.” I swal ow hard, wrapping my arms around myself as I continue to peer inside. Feeling like the worst kind of creepy stalker for standing out here in the dark, spying on Sabine and Munoz instead of just going around to the front, opening the door, and going in to join them like a normal person would.