He looks at me, undeterred by my mood swing, his lips lifting at the corners when he says, “Well, not exactly . . .”
I peer at him, wondering what that means.
“I heard your distress call and came to investigate. I was looking for you, not—not this.”
I narrow my gaze, just about to refute it when I remember my first meeting with the twins, a meeting that unfolded in much the same way.
“I wasn’t going to cross,” I say, cheeks heating in embarrassment. “I mean, maybe I considered it, but only for a second and not seriously, well, not really. I was merely curious—that’s all. Besides, I happen to know a few people who live over there and, well, sometimes I miss them—”
“And so you thought you’d pay them a quick visit?” His tone is light, but the words weigh heavy, heavier than he thinks.
I shake my head and gaze down at my mud-covered feet.
“So—what then? What is it that stopped you, Ever? Was it me?”
I take a deep breath, one, followed by another, needing a moment before I lift my gaze to meet his. “I—I wasn’t going to do it. I mean, yeah, I was a little tempted and all, but I would’ve stopped—with or without you showing up.” I shrug, my eyes searching his. “Partly because it’s not right to leave so much undone, so many mistakes for everyone else to clean up, and partly because knowing what I know about an immortal’s soul and where it ends up, well, no matter how much I may think I deserve nothing less, I’m not about to race toward that end. I’ve seen the other side, or at least the one meant for me. And I’m sorry to say it, but it’s hardly the place where my family went. I’m afraid if I want to see them again, I’ll have a lot more luck going through you than I ever will crossing that bridge, not to mention—”
He looks at me, waiting.
I sigh and kick at the ground, determined to confess the most important reason of all, no matter how bad it makes him feel, and looking him in the eye and squaring my shoulders when I say, “Not to mention the fact that I could never do that to Damen.” My eyes meet Jude’s before I quickly look away. “I could never abandon him like that—not after—” I pause, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Not after all that he’s done for me.” I rub my arms for warmth, though I’m not really cold. Just awkward. Awkward and uncomfortable, for sure.
But Jude just nods, assuring me it will all be okay. His hand pressed to the small of my back as he quietly leads me away from the bridge, from the long line of souls happily leaping to the other side, and all the way back to the earth plane.
twenty-seven
“So here’s what you do.” He lets the engine idle as he turns toward me. “First, you go inside and come clean.” He lifts his finger to silence me the second I start to butt in. “You just sit yourself down and tell the whole dirty tale—leave nothing out. Because despite your previous experiences with her, from all that I’ve seen, and all that I’ve learned, you’re in good hands. Really. She’s smarter than you think, and she’s been doing this sort of thing for many lifetimes now. Not to mention, she’s pretty much the only one I can think of who’ll actually be of any real, unbiased help.”
“How do you know about her former lifetimes?” I ask, a sudden chill blanketing my skin. “I mean, other than the stuff I already told you?”
He looks at me, holding the moment for so long, I’m just about to break it when he says, “I’ve been to the Great Halls of Learning. I pretty much know everything now.”
I nod, swallowing hard, trying not to freak. Because even though I just let him in on what basically amounts to the mother lode of confessionals, still, it’s not like I told him everything.
But he just shrugs, not missing a beat. “And then, when you’re done in there, you need to go to Damen’s. I don’t care what you tell him, that’s your deal. But you’ve really put him through the ringer lately, and no matter how I may feel about him . . .” He stops and shakes his head. “Well, just do it, okay? You’re not better yet—you proved that tonight, and you need him on your side to help get you through it. It’s the right thing to do. And take some time off work while you’re at it. Seriously, I can handle it. Besides, Honor’s offered to fill in, so maybe I’ll give her the chance.”
I nod, impressed by how noble he’s being, taking the high road and urging me toward his rival for the last several centuries. Gripping the door handle, sure that we’re finished and about to climb out, when he places his hand on my leg, leans toward me and says, “There’s more.”
I turn, seeing how serious he’s gone as his long, cool fingers squeeze at my knee.
“While I promise not to interfere in your relationship with Damen, I’m not about to back down either. Four hundred years of losing out on the girl of my dreams isn’t sitting very well with me these days.”
“You—you know about that?” I gasp, my hand flying to my throat as my voice fades.
“You mean the Parisian stable boy, the British earl, the New England parishioner, and the artist otherwise known as Bastiaan De Kool?” His eyes meet mine, two aqua pools burning with the desire of hundreds of years. “Yeah.” He nods. “I know all about it. And more.” I shake my head, having no idea what to say, where I can possibly go from here, his fingers moving from my knee to my cheek when he says, “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too—I know that you do. I can see it in your gaze, in the way you respond to my touch. Hell, I even saw the way you reacted when you saw me with Honor earlier—today—?” He peeks at his wrist, but since he’s not wearing a watch, he just shrugs and waves it away. “Anyway, I’m not into Honor, not like you think. It’s strictly a student-teacher thing—a friendship, nothing more.” He tilts his head as his fingers, the silky soft tips of his fingers, gently glide over my cheek, so soothing, so enticing, I couldn’t turn away if I wanted. “I have no interest in anyone else. It’s been you all along. And while you may not feel the same now, I want you to know that we have no restrictions, nothing to keep us apart. Nothing but you, that is. You’re the one who decides in the end.” He pulls away, the memory of his touch still lingering, as his gaze burns into mine. “But whatever you decide, there’s no denying this”—he reaches toward me again—“is there?”
And when he looks at me, his head tilted in a way that allows a generous spray of dreadlocks to fall across his face and over his shoulder, when he lifts that single spliced brow ever so slightly, when his smile encourages those dimples to come out and play, when he looks at me like that—it’s like a challenge I cannot meet.
Yes, I feel something when we touch. Yes, he’s undeniably sexy and cute and someone I can count on. Yes, on more than one occasion I’ve found myself just the slightest bit tempted by him. But even after it’s added all up, it still doesn’t equal what I feel for Damen. Never has. Never will. Damen’s the one for me. And if I accomplish nothing else on this crazy, insane day, I’ve at least got to be straight with Jude, no matter how much it may hurt. . . .
“Jude—” I start, but he presses his finger to my lips, stopping the word from going any further.
“Go inside, Ever.” He nods, pushing my hair off my face and tucking it back behind my ear, fingers lingering a few seconds too long, reluctant to leave. “Make amends, reverse your spell, find an antidote to the antidote, do whatever it is that you need to do. Because no matter how you feel about me, no matter what choice you make, at the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. But I also want you to know that I haven’t given up—and that I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon. I’m already four hundred years into this, so I may as well go the distance. And while the last few centuries may not have resulted in a very fair fight, at least now, with the aid of Summerland, I’m a little more equally equipped. I may not be immortal, probably wouldn’t ever choose that path for myself, but hey, it’s like they say, knowledge is power, right? And now, thanks to you and the Great Halls of Learning, I’ve got that in spades.”
I take a deep breath and push out of the car and into her house without
even pausing to knock. And even though I failed to call or warn her that I was on my way, even though the hands on the clock point to a time that’s well past the usual visiting hours, I’m not the least bit surprised to find Ava in her kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of tea, and smiling when she says, “Hey, Ever, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m so glad you made it.”
twenty-eight
She pushes the plate of cookies toward me, out of habit, without thinking. Shaking her head and laughing softly under her breath as she tries to yank them away, but not getting very far before I reach out and snatch one out from under the bottom. Creamy beige in color, round, bendy, and decorated with thick squares of sugar all along the top, breaking a piece off the side and placing it onto my tongue, remembering how it used to be my most favorite kind, and wishing I could enjoy sweets, any food really, in the same way I used to.
“You don’t have to eat them on my account,” she says, lifting her cup to her lips and blowing on her tea once, twice, before taking a sip. “Trust me, the twins like them plenty enough for both of us, so I won’t be offended if you’re no longer interested.”
I shrug, wanting to tell her how sometimes, when I miss being normal, I go through the motions of eating and drinking and buying things at the store instead of manifesting them, just to prove I still can. But it doesn’t usually last all that long, and lately it only comes around when it’s late and I’m tired, and more than a little lost, as I am now. Other times, I can’t imagine ever wanting to return to that brand of ordinary.
But, instead, I just look at her and say, “So how are the twins?” Breaking off another bite of cookie, remembering how it used to taste, sweet, rich, delicious, not all cardboardy bland like this and knowing it’s me that’s changed, not the recipe.
“You know, it’s funny.” She sets down her cup and leans toward me, fingers playing at her woven green placemat as though ironing it with her hands. “We’ve all settled in so well and so quickly, it’s like no time has passed. Who would’ve thought?” She gives a half smile and shakes her head at the wonder of it. “I know reincarnation is primarily about karma and unfinished business of our past, but I never dreamed it would end up quite so—literal—for me.”
“And their magick—is it coming back?”
She takes a breath, slow and deep, fingers reaching for her cup again, anchoring firmly around the handle but stopping just short of lifting it when she says, “No. Not yet. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” She shrugs.
I look at her, confused by what that could possibly mean.
“Well, it hasn’t seemed to work out so well for you now, has it?”
I drop my hands to my lap, clasping, twisting, pulling at my fingers, the hunched-over, nervous sight of me alone pretty much all the answer she needs.
“And while I used to practice magick too—well, obviously.” She drops her tongue out the side and raises her hand in a way meant to signify a noose, then bursting into laughter and wagging her finger at me when I gape. “Oh lighten up.” She smiles, a quick flash of teeth. “No use crying about a past I can’t change. Each step leads us to the next, and as it stands, the next step is right here.” She gives the table a flat-palmed slap. “Because of my past life experiences, because you helped me to access the Summerland, where I eventually got to the Great Halls of Learning, I’m much more able to understand the things I could only guess at before.”
“Yeah, like what?” I squint, slipping right back into my old, belligerent ways, not even giving her a chance to speak her piece without a rude interruption from me.
But Ava, true to her usual ways, chooses to ignore it, continuing on as though I didn’t even say it. “I’ve learned that magick, like manifesting, is really just the simple manipulation of energy. But where manifesting is usually reserved for manipulating matter, magick, in the wrong hands anyway—” She pauses to look at me, her gaze screaming your hands! or at least that’s how it seems to me. “Well, if not practiced correctly, without proper intent, it tends to manipulate people, and that’s where the trouble begins.”
“Wish the twins would’ve warned me of that,” I mumble, hardly believing I’m blaming them, but still, there it is.
“Maybe they failed to mention it, but I’m sure Damen didn’t?” She looks at me, clearly not buying it from the arch of her brow and tilt of her chin. “Ever, if you came here for help, which, considering the time and the circumstances, I’m assuming you did, then please allow me to do that—help. There’s no need for excuses, I’m not here to judge you in any way, shape, or form. You made a mistake, you’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last. And while I’m sure you feel that your particular mistake is extraordinarily big, insurmountable even, contrary to what you might think, these types of things can always be undone, and oftentimes aren’t nearly as lethal as we think—or, should I say, as we allow them to be.”
“Oh, so now I’m allowing it?” I start, the argument coming so readily, so easy, but my heart isn’t in it, and I quickly flash my palm and wave it away. Sighing as I add, “You know, for someone who needs help as often as I do, you’d think I’d be a little better at accepting it.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, the gesture directed at me, not her.
She shrugs, removing an oatmeal cookie from the stack and plopping a raisin into her mouth. “It’s never easy for the stubborn.” She smiles, her gaze meeting mine. “But I think we’re past all that now, right?” Seeing my nod of consent, and forging ahead when she adds, “The thing is, Ever, with both magick and manifesting, it’s the intent that matters most—the result that you’re focusing on. Your intention is the most important tool you have at your disposal. You’re familiar with the Law of Attraction, right?” She looks at me, running her hand over her silky sleeve. “That we attract that which we focus on? Well, it’s no different here. When you focus on what you fear—you get more of what you fear. When you focus on what you don’t want—you get more of what you don’t want. When you focus on attempting to control others—you attract more of being controlled. Your attention to them brings more of them, and more like them, into your life. Imposing your will upon others in order to persuade them to do something they’re normally unwilling to do—well, not only does it not work but it also has a way of boomeranging right back at you. Resulting in karma, as every action does, only this isn’t the kind that works in your favor, unless you’re up for learning a few very important lessons, that is . . .”
But even though she continues to talk, my mind is still stuck on that part about karma, about it boomeranging back. Remembering how the twins said something similar, something like: It’s wrong to use magick for selfish, nefarious reasons. There’s karma to pay, and it’ll come back times three.
I swallow hard and reach for my tea, her words glancing over me when she says, “Ever, you must understand that all of this time you’ve been resisting in the very worst way. Resisting against me, when I tried to help you, resisting against Damen when he grew concerned for you, resisting against Roman and the horrible things he’s done to you—” She lifts her hand, seeing how I’m about to refute that last one and silencing me with one raised finger when she says, “And the thing about resistance, the irony of it is, you end up spending so much time and energy focusing on the things you’re resisting, the things you don’t want, that you end up attracting exactly those things.”
I look at her, not sure that I follow. Am I not supposed to resist against Roman? I mean, hel-lo, look what just happened, or what almost just happened, when I almost allowed myself to give in.
She squares her shoulders, placing her hands on either side of her cup when she meets my gaze and begins again. “Everything is energy, right?”
So I’ve heard.
“So if your thoughts are energy, and energy attracts, then all of your thoughts about all of the things you fear the most—well, you’re actually making them happen. You’re manifesting them into existence simply by obsessing over them. Or, more simply put, and, as i
t happens, very apropos for you, as the alchemists said: ‘As above, so below, as within, so without.’ ”
“That’s simply put?” I shake my head and swirl my tea around and around. She may as well be speaking in tongues for all I understood.
She smiles, her eyes patient, kind. “What it means is that what’s inside us will also be found outside of us. That our inner states of consciousness, the thoughts that we focus on, will always be reflected in our outer lives. There’s no escaping it, Ever, it just is. But what you failed to realize is that the magick isn’t out there—it’s not in the hands of the goddess or the queen—it’s in here.” She thumps her fist against her chest, gazing at me as her whole face lifts. “The only reason Roman has any power over you is because you gave it to him—you handed it right over! Yes, I know he tricked you, and yes, I know how he’s keeping you from ever truly being with Damen, and yes, that must be unimaginably horrible, but if you’ll just stop resisting what already is, if you just stop focusing on Roman and the rotten things that he’s done, you’ll be able to break this awful bond you’ve built with him. And soon, after a decent amount of meditation and cleansing, he won’t be able to bother you anymore—not even close.”
“But he’ll still have the antidote—he’ll still—” I start, but it’s no use, Ava’s on a roll and she’s not finished yet.
“You’re right. He will still have the antidote, and he’ll probably be reluctant to give it to you. But that is a situation you cannot change. And your obsessing over it, and weaving all manner of spells, won’t change it either. In fact, it’ll only make it worse. By doing that, you’ve made him the focus of your universe, the exact result you didn’t want, and trust me, Roman is well aware of this. He works hard to steal your focus, it’s what every narcissist wants. So, if you truly want to resolve this and get your life back on track, then just stop. Stop focusing your energy on the things you don’t want. Stop putting your energy into Roman. Just refuse to even go there and see where that leads.” She leans toward me, tucking her wavy, auburn hair back behind her ear. “My guess is, once he sees you happily adapting to your situation, living your life and enjoying yourselves despite your limitations, he’ll grow bored of the game and give in. But like this, the way you’re handling it now, you may as well be hand-feeding prime rib to a tiger, you’re only satisfying his most primal need. The beast is inside you, Ever, because you put it there. But trust me, you can rid yourself of it just as easily.”