Read All You Desire Page 32


  “I understand why Iain did it,” Haven said. “He just thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “Yeah, at first I thought he’d expect me to pay him back. But he didn’t. He never asked for a single favor until now. And as far as I know, he never told another soul about my escape from the Society—not even you. I mean, let’s face it: How many guys would give up a chance to make themselves look like Prince Charming?”

  “Not many,” Haven admitted.

  And that was it, she realized at last. That was the difference between Adam and Iain—the one she’d felt but hadn’t been able to pinpoint. Iain was always Iain—even when no one was watching. But Adam’s benevolence was strictly for show. Every improvement he’d made at the OS had been made to please Haven. Every little kindness had been a step toward winning her heart. It flattered Haven to think she was responsible for Adam’s transformation. But Adam was hoping to be rewarded for his efforts. There was nothing selfish about what Iain had done for Mia. He had kept Mia’s secrets though they could have proven his own innocence. Iain had done the right thing without expecting anything in return. And that was why Haven’s heart would always be drawn to him.

  “Heads up.” Mia pointed across the street. The last of the cop cars was pulling away from the curb. “Your friends are leaving. Have a look around, and let me know if there’s anything more I can do.”

  “Thanks,” Haven said. “You have no idea how much you’ve already helped me.”

  “There’s no need to thank me,” Mia told her. “I’ve been hoping I’d get a chance to repay the favor.”

  THE POLICE HAD left the apartment door unlocked. Haven ducked under a strip of crime scene tape and into another era. The shades had been pulled, and the living room was dark. As Haven fumbled her way toward a lamp in the corner, she tripped over something large lying in the middle of the floor. With the lights on, she could see it was a tiger-skin rug with amber glass eyes and polished fangs. The other furnishings—heavy chairs upholstered in velvet, leather-bound books stacked neatly on shelves, a pair of old boxing gloves hanging by the fireplace, crystal decanters half filled with scotch—looked as though they’d been stolen from a bachelor’s apartment circa 1910.

  A portrait hung above the mantel. It showed a debonair man in his early thirties, his hair slicked back and a rakish grin on his face. Nearby, a framed cover of Motion Picture magazine featured an illustration of the same fellow in a tweed jacket, a pipe in one hand and wisps of pale blue smoke issuing from his lips. Wallace Reid. The silent-film actor Calum claimed he’d once been. Haven suddenly realized that the apartment was decorated with a dead man’s things. Calum had created a shrine to his former self.

  Inside one of the two small bedrooms, Haven found Beau’s suitcase open on the bed. It looked full, and he’d left his wallet behind. There was no sign of struggle, and the bedroom door lacked a lock.

  “I’m sorry, Haven.”

  Haven wheeled around to find Adam behind her. In his timeless dark overcoat and charcoal scarf, he fit in well with the antique furnishings. He looked tired, and Haven wondered if he sensed what she felt—that the bond between them was weakening. Mia had opened Haven’s eyes to the truth, just as Iain had once done for her. Haven could see that Adam’s transformation was nothing but a performance for her benefit. And now that Haven had been given a glimpse behind the scenes, she knew the show would never be the same.

  “Gordon Williams called me before they raided the apartment,” he said. “I’m afraid the news took me by surprise. I never expected Calum to betray me this way.”

  Haven crossed her arms and watched him through narrowed eyes. “Did you have something to do with all of this, Adam? Padma told me that Calum Daniels is your little lapdog.”

  “When did you speak with Padma Singh?”

  “She followed me to a diner this afternoon. She wants money to keep her mouth shut.”

  A murderous look passed over Adam’s face. “I’ll take care of Padma. I should have seen to it first thing this morning, but you were my most pressing concern. Padma knows enough to create plenty of trouble, but she doesn’t know everything, Haven. And she knows absolutely nothing about Calum Daniels.”

  “Maybe you should tell me what there is to know.”

  Adam’s eyes made a rapid tour of the apartment before he began to speak. “Calum’s mother brought him to the Society ten years ago. Until then, I’d never considered inviting children to join the OS. But the woman wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had concocted a dozen stories about past lives her son remembered. The boy had heard the lies so many times that he believed them himself. His mother desperately wanted Calum to be special. And he was—just not in the way that his mother had hoped. I could tell in an instant that he hadn’t lived before.”

  “Calum wasn’t Wallace Reid?” Calum’s shrine suddenly seemed pathetic.

  Adam regarded the illustration of the silent-film actor smoking a pipe. “No, although his mother made a prophetic choice. I knew Wallace Reid. He shared many of Calum’s weaknesses.”

  “So Calum isn’t an Eternal One. You took him in out of pity?”

  “We both know I didn’t possess many noble motives in those days. Calum was a charming child—and hungry for affection. He’d never known his father, and he lapped up whatever attention I gave him. I allowed Calum to become a member because I believed his blind devotion would prove useful one day. When he was old enough, I even let him act as my welcoming party. He greeted new Society members and helped them learn how to manipulate the points system. When you arrived, Calum was furious that I asked Alex Harbridge to show you the ropes instead.”

  “Alex was only friends with me because you asked her to be?” Haven asked, stung by the thought.

  “I didn’t ask Alex to befriend you. I simply requested she introduce you to Owen Bell. I knew you would trust him, and I thought he could convince you that my plans for the Society were sincere. When Calum asked if he could tag along with the three of you, I gave him permission. I thought it might placate him. That is why I must apologize to you now. I should never have allowed it. I’ve known for some time that Calum was disgruntled.”

  “Disgruntled? Why?”

  Adam sat down in one of the room’s velvet armchairs, as if the tale were too weighty to tell standing up. “The changes at the Society haven’t been easy for Calum. He’s seen other young people grow more prominent as his own role has diminished. Calum’s never hidden his hatred for Milo. But over the past year, he’s come to see Owen as his true rival. He knows Owen represents the future of the Society while he represents its past. I thought his loyalty to me would prevent Calum from doing anything rash. Now I see I was wrong.”

  “I still don’t understand, Adam. Where does Beau fit into all of this?”

  “Calum must have discovered that Owen and Beau were soul mates. Perhaps he thought seducing Beau was the best way to get his revenge.”

  “Hold on.” Haven’s head was spinning. “So Calum went online and pretended to be Owen in order to lure Beau to New York. I guess I can buy that. But if this is Calum’s first life, how did he know all that stuff about fourteenth-century Florence?”

  “I suspect Owen shared a few of his memories with Calum. I wish I’d warned him to be more discreet. I wondered if Calum might be looking for information to use against Owen when I heard he’d dragged the poor boy to visit the Pythia. It was a desperate move. Calum hadn’t spoken with Phoebe in years.”

  There was a big piece missing from the puzzle, thought Haven. Even if Owen had told Calum about his vision—even if he’d described the boy he’d once loved in Florence—how had Calum known that Owen’s soul mate had returned to earth as Beau? Neither Calum nor Owen had ever met Beau Decker. Which meant someone else had to be involved. Someone who could have made the connection between a college student in twenty-first-century Tennessee and a merchant’s son in fourteenth-century Florence.

  Haven could feel her stomach beginning to churn. Who cou
ld have known that Beau had once been Piero Vettori? Who could have met him in both lives? Iain. Adam. And the Horae. They’d been in Florence along with Piero. And Chandra had met Beau the day she hid Haven from the gray men.

  “You said Calum hadn’t spoken with Phoebe in years,” Haven said. “Why?”

  “Everyone assumed Calum had joined the OS on his own. The fact is, his mother joined with him. But she insisted their connection remain secret, and she abandoned him as soon as they both became members. His mother had a reputation to uphold—one that demanded she appear otherworldly. There’s nothing more worldly than a child.”

  “Phoebe is Calum’s mother?” Haven whispered in horror.

  “Yes,” Adam said.

  “Do me one favor while Calum’s still in jail,” Haven begged.

  “Certainly. I would be happy to arrange for a suitable punishment. How many points would you like to spend?”

  “No—don’t have him hurt. That’s not what I want,” Haven insisted. The fantasy had comforted her, but the reality disgusted her.

  “Then how can I help you?” Adam asked.

  “Don’t let Calum post bail.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Haven!” Frances Whitman screamed just as the girl stepped off the elevator. “Hurry up! Get in here!”

  “What’s wrong?” Haven rushed down the hall toward Frances’s apartment.

  “Your friend is sick again! Didn’t you get any of our messages?”

  “No,” Haven said. She’d left her phone on the table at the diner. Calum had swiped it before racing uptown. “What happened?”

  “I woke up late this morning and found Leah lying outside on the terrace in her T-shirt and underwear. I don’t know how long she’d been out there, but her skin felt like ice. Iain carried her inside. She’s been praying and speaking in tongues ever since. The only thing she seems to understand is the word doctor, and when she hears it, she goes nuts. She keeps mumbling something about talking to you.”

  “Where is Leah now?” Haven demanded.

  “In the living room.”

  Haven dropped her bag and ran. She discovered Leah lying on Frances’s silk sofa, swaddled in a half dozen blankets. Iain was crouched beside the girl, holding her limp hand. Haven dropped down beside him. Up close, Leah looked like a corpse. Her eyes were closed and her skin waxy white. The only sign of life was the twitching of her lips, as though she were speaking to someone she could see on the back of her eyelids.

  “She doesn’t need the blankets,” Haven said, peeling a few away so the girl might be able to move. “The cold never bothers Leah. That’s not what’s making her sick.”

  Leah’s eyes flew open at the sound of Haven’s voice. “Haven! Something’s gone wrong! We have to stop it!”

  “What? What’s gone wrong?”

  “The visions. They’re worse. The first one came when I was watching the news last night. They started talking about a terrorist attack. I know the date too. Five years from now on the Fourth of July. There was footage from a security camera at Union Square—you could see that subway entrance and the statue of Gandhi. And there were bodies everywhere. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They said that was where it had been released.”

  “What had been released?”

  “Some sort of disease that killed everyone. I was so shook up I had to go lie down. Then, this morning I woke up feeling terrible. Like my lungs were on fire. I went outside for a breath of fresh air, and when I looked down at the park, I had another vision. There were cars abandoned all over the roads and fires burning in half the buildings. The only things moving were helicopters filled with men in hazmat suits. And the birds eating the bodies on the ground. The whole city was dead.”

  “Oh my God,” Frances gasped.

  “What happened last night, Haven?” Leah asked. “Something pushed us closer to that future. That’s why the visions are getting clearer!”

  “I don’t know!” Haven racked her brain. “I thought I’d stopped it. I made Adam promise to send Milo Elliot away.”

  “I guess I could have been wrong about Milo. I saw a girl this time.” Leah struggled to sit up. “Maybe sixteen? Seventeen? She was on the news. There was a snippet of a press conference with her. She said she’d engineered the disease.”

  “A girl? Then it’s got to be one of the Horae,” Haven said.

  “The Horae?” Iain repeated in disbelief. “I know Phoebe’s a bitch, but—”

  “They’ve got Beau. I just found out this morning. Phoebe had her son trick Beau into flying to New York so that I’d follow. She knew she’d never get rid of Adam without using me.”

  “Phoebe has a kid?” Somehow that was the part that seemed to surprise Iain most.

  “Yeah. Calum Daniels. He’s in police custody right now. Adam will make sure he stays there for a while. Long enough for me to visit the Horae and trade Calum’s life for Beau’s.”

  “I’ll go with you. You can’t see them alone, Haven.”

  “But I can’t take you, Iain,” Haven tried to explain. “Phoebe has to believe that I’d really have her son killed. I don’t think I can convince her that I’ve gone totally rogue if you’re there holding my hand.”

  “Take me,” Leah insisted. “If the Horae are responsible for the things I’m seeing, I need to talk to them right away.”

  “You can barely stand up!” Iain argued. “Are you expecting Haven to carry you?”

  “I’ll go with them,” Frances said. “Haven and I can help Leah into a cab.”

  “No. I don’t want you involved,” Haven told Frances. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Too dangerous! According to Leah, everyone in New York is about to die. Don’t I deserve a chance to save my own life?”

  “Okay!” Iain broke in. “Time out! Haven, may I speak to you for a moment in private?” He took her by the hand and led her into the adjoining room. “Have you really thought this through?” he asked once they were alone. “You’re willing to face these creatures with no one to protect you but a half-frozen psychic and a daffy heiress?”

  “I’d do it alone if I had to,” Haven said.

  “The Horae are nothing like Adam, you know. You have no power over them. If they think you’re going to stand in their way, they’ll destroy you.”

  “I’m not going to let them.”

  “Sometimes I really wish you weren’t so brave,” Iain said.

  “I’m brave? How many times have you risked your life to help me? And I know I’m not the only one you’ve rescued. I heard about Mia Michalski.”

  “How do you know about Mia?” Iain asked.

  “She was the one who traced Beau to Calum Daniels’s apartment. After Calum was arrested, I ran into Mia on the street. She told me what you did for her. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It wasn’t my story to tell,” Iain answered.

  In all their lifetimes together, Haven had never loved him more than she did then. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I have a hunch there are a lot of stories I’ve never heard. And that’s why I’m not going to let you go.”

  Iain grinned, but his eyes remained sad. “Feel like listening to one of my stories now?”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” Haven said.

  “Okay, here goes. When I was a little kid—three or four years old—I used to search for you whenever I left my house. I would run up to any girl I saw on the street and ask her if she knew someone named Constance. Every time a girl said no, it almost broke my heart. I could have gone crazy if I’d known how long it would take to find you. Nineteen years feels like forever when you’re living without the person who makes life worth living. And sometimes I’ve had to wait much longer than that. I don’t like to think about the lifetimes I spent wandering the world on my own, but there have been far more than you know. So please, Haven—do what you need to do to help Beau. But promise you’ll come back to me in this life.”

  “I swear,” she said. “Nothing on earth cou
ld keep me away.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “We’ve been expecting you,” Phoebe said. “Come inside.”

  She led Haven, Leah, and Frances into the council room. A blazing fire made the chamber unbearably hot. The twelve regal chairs that Haven had last seen arranged in a circle now formed two straight lines like the rows in a jury box. Only one of the chairs was empty. The rest were filled with women and girls in identical white robes sewn from the finest linen. Phoebe took her place in the center of the group. There were new faces among the Horae—ones Haven hadn’t seen before at the house on Sylvan Terrace. She spotted the elegant woman from the restaurant in Florence. Her finger no longer bore an ouroboros ring. There was the hotel manager who’d declined Haven’s credit cards. And seated to Phoebe’s right was Virginia Morrow.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Haven demanded. “Either she leaves or I do!”

  “She is one of us,” Phoebe said. “It has been many years since we’ve all been together, but Virginia has reunited with her sisters at last.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your family reunion. I want her out of here now!”

  “I would have thought you’d be more charitable toward one of Adam’s victims.”

  “Excuse me?” Haven snarled. “What exactly did Adam ever do to her?”

  “You’ll know everything soon enough,” Phoebe said. “Miss Frizzell appears to be ill. She may rest on the floor by the fire. Your other friend will stay with her.”

  “Perhaps I should bring a chair for the snake goddess?” Vera offered.

  “You’ll stay here,” Phoebe commanded. “And Haven will come forward to face us.”

  “I think I’ll be issuing the orders today,” Haven snapped as Frances helped Leah lie down and placed her rolled-up coat beneath the girl’s head.