Then after I left, while I was hanging at Damen’s, Haven’s words kept replaying in my head, asking me which of us loved more. And to be honest, they’ve pretty much stayed with me today as well. All through my breakfast with Sabine, I wondered, all through shelf restocking and register ringing at the store, I asked myself was it me or him? Even through all three back-to-back readings that “Avalon” was scheduled for, including the one I’m finishing now, the question kept repeating in my head.
“Wow, that was—” She looks at me, eyes wide with wonder. “That was truly, truly, truly remarkable.” She shakes her head and reaches for her purse, face wearing a blend of excitement, doubt, and a longing to believe—the usual post-reading look.
I nod, smiling politely while gathering up the deck of Tarot cards I spread out for show but don’t really use. It’s just easier to have some kind of prop or tool—keeps it more remote and detached that way. Most people get pretty freaked by the idea of someone being able to peer straight into their heads and listen in on all their deepest thoughts and feelings, never mind how one brief touch can reveal a long and complex history of events.
“It’s just—you’re so much younger than I expected. How long have you been at this?” she asks, slinging her purse over her shoulder as her eyes continue to study me.
“Being psychic is a gift,” I say, even though Jude specifically asked me not to say that, figuring it would discourage potential students from signing up for his psychic development class. But since the course has pretty much fizzled down to just him and Honor, I really don’t see what harm it could do. “It knows no age limit,” I add, mentally urging her to quit gaping at me and move it along. I’ve got plans, somewhere to be. My evening carefully designed down to the minute, and if she lingers much longer, she’ll seriously mess with my agenda. But seeing a look of skepticism start to creep in, I tell her, “That’s why children are such naturals at it, they’re open to all the possibilities. It’s only later, when they discover how society frowns on these things that the desire to be accepted takes over and they shut it all out. What about you? Didn’t you have an imaginary friend as a kid?” My gaze moves over her, knowing she did because I saw it the moment I touched her.
“Tommy!” She gasps, hand clamped over her mouth, surprised that I knew, surprised that she just blurted that out.
I smile, having already seen it myself. “He was real to you, right? Helped you through some hard times?”
She looks at me, eyes going wide as she shakes her head and says, “Yes—he—well—I used to have nightmares.” She lifts her shoulders and gazes around as though embarrassed to be confessing all this. “Back when my parents were divorcing, well, everything was so unstable, financially, emotionally, and that’s when Tommy appeared—and he promised to help me get through it, to keep all the monsters away—and he did. I think I stopped seeing him around the time I turned—”
“Ten.” I rise from my seat, a visual indication that this session is over and she should do the same. “Which, to be honest, is a little older than most, but still, you didn’t need him anymore and so he—went away.” I nod, opening the door and gesturing her into the hall where she’ll hopefully head on over toward the register and pay.
Only she doesn’t head for the register. Instead, she turns to me and says, “You have got to meet my friend. Seriously. She’ll flip. She doesn’t really believe in this stuff, in fact, she made fun of me for coming, but we’re having dinner later, a double date, and, well—” She pauses to glance at her watch, grinning at me when she says, “Well, actually, she should be here now, if not soon.”
“I’d love to.” I smile like I really do mean it. “But I have to be somewhere and—”
“Oh, that’s her over there! Perfect!”
I sigh and gaze down at my feet, wishing I could use my manifesting skills to make people pay up and disappear—or at least just this once anyway.
Sensing my plans are about to be pushed back even further, but having no idea how much further until she cups her hands around her mouth and calls out, “Sabine! Hey, over here, I’ve got someone you’ve just got to meet!”
My whole body goes cold. Frozen, solid, and cold. Like: Hello, iceberg, meet the Titanic kind of cold.
And before I can stop it, before I can do anything about it, Sabine is heading right toward me. At first not recognizing me as me, and not because I’m wearing that black wig, because I’m not, I gave that up a long time ago when I decided it made Avalon look like a freak, but because I’m pretty much the absolute last person she ever expected to see. In fact, she’s still squinting and blinking even after she’s standing right before me with Munoz at her side, who, by the way, looks just about as panicked as I feel.
“Ever?” Sabine gazes at me as though she’s just awoken from a very deep sleep. “Wha—” She shakes her head as though to clear it of cobwebs and starting all over again. “What on earth is going on here? I don’t understand.”
“Ever?” Her friend glances between us, her eyes squinched, darting, suspicious. “But—but I thought you said your name was Avalon?”
I take a deep breath and nod, knowing it’s all over now. My carefully crafted life of lying, hiding, and secret hoarding has resulted in this. “It is Avalon.” I nod, avoiding Sabine’s gaze. “But, it’s also Ever—depending.”
“Depending on what?” my client squawks, as though she’s been personally and deeply offended and wronged. Her aura suddenly flaming, wavering, as though she doubts not only me but everything I just spent the last hour telling her, no matter how spot-on my predictions were. “Just who the heck are you?” she says, looking at me as though she’s about to report me to—well, she hasn’t decided yet—but someone, someone will get a report, that’s for sure.
But Sabine’s back on her game, her voice calm, collected, and just a tad attorney-like, when she says, “Ever’s my niece. And apparently she has a lot to explain.”
And just as I’m about to do just that—well, not explain exactly or at least not in the way that she wants—but still, just as I’m about to say something that’ll hopefully calm everyone down and put an end to all this, Jude makes his way over and says, “Everything go all right with your reading?”
I glance at my client, Sabine’s friend, knowing that with my energy now so improved, so super-charged with the cleansing and healing meditations Ava’s been putting me through, it was one of my best readings ever—and yet I failed to predict this. But also seeing how reluctant she is to pay for it now, now that she knows me as her friend’s juvenile delinquent niece who moonlights as Avalon, the Shady Psychic Reader, I don’t even give her the chance to respond, I just jump in and say, “Uh, no worries, this one’s on me.” Jude squints, his eyes darting between us, but I just nod firmly and add, “Seriously. No worries. I’ve got it covered.”
But while that seems to settle the client, if not Jude, it doesn’t do much for Sabine whose aura is in an uproar and whose eyes are severely narrowed on mine. “Ever? Don’t you have something to say for yourself?”
I take a deep breath and meet her gaze. Yeah, I’ve got plenty to say but not here and not now. There’s someplace I need to be!
And I’m just about to say something to that effect, only nicer, gentler, in a way that won’t piss her off any more than she already is, when Munoz jumps to my aid and says, “I’m sure you two can discuss this in the morning, but for now, we really should go. We don’t want to risk losing our reservation after it was so hard to get.”
Sabine sighs, conceding to the wisdom in Munoz’s argument but still unwilling to let me off the hook quite so easily. The words coming from behind clenched teeth when she says, “Tomorrow morning, Ever. I expect to see you first thing in the morning.” Then, seeing the expression on my face, she adds, “No buts.”
I nod, even though I’ve no plans to make that appointment. If things go the way I plan, then tomorrow morning I’ll be about as far from that kitchen table as it gets. Instead, I’ll be spraw
led out in a suite at the Montage with Damen beside me, the two of us finally fulfilling those long-ago plans . . .
But it’s not like I’m about to tell her that, so instead I just nod and say, “Um, okay.” Well aware that as a trial attorney, she always insists on a verbal response, that way the meaning can’t be twisted or misconstrued. And just when I think that the worst is over—or at least for now anyway, she insists I apologize to her friend—as though I committed some crime against her. But even though I know I’ll pay for it later, that I won’t do.
Instead, I just look at her and say, “None of this changes what I told you in there.” I gesture toward the back room. “Your past, Tommy, your future—you know what I said is true. Oh, and about that choice you have coming up?” I glance between her and her date. “Well, as much as you may doubt me right now, you’d still be wise to heed my advice.”
I glance at Sabine, watching as her aura flares up in a bout of anger that’s just barely subdued by the presence of Munoz’s arm slipping tightly around her waist. Winking at me conspiratorially, he turns her away from me and out the door as their friends follow behind.
The second they’re gone Jude looks at me and says, “Dude, that was some seriously bad mojo that just went down in here. I feel like I should smudge the place with some sage to help clear it out.” He shakes his head. “What gives? I thought you’d told her by now?”
I look at him. “Are you kidding? You saw what just happened. That’s exactly the kind of scene I was hoping to avoid.”
He shrugs, counting up the cash in the drawer as he says, “Well, maybe it would’ve gone better if you’d warned her, if she hadn’t felt so sucker punched when she walked in and saw you were working here—giving readings no less.”
I frown, scrounging around in my wallet for the money I owe him for the pro bono reading I just unwittingly gave.
“You sure you wanna cover it?” he says, refusing to take it when I offer it to him.
“Please.” I thrust it at him, seeing his brows lift and knowing he’s about to insist otherwise when I add, “And keep the change too. Think of it as payment for all the—bad mojo—I caused. Seriously.” I wave it away. “If that hadn’t happened, who knows, she might’ve become a regular, so, you know, just look at it like payment for all that future lost revenue.”
“I’m not so sure you lost her,” he says, shoving the money in the bank bag and slamming the register shut. “If you gave her as good a reading as I think, she’ll find her way back, or at least tell some friends, who’ll come out of curiosity if nothing else. That sort of thing’s pretty tough for most people to resist. You know, straitlaced lawyer takes in scam artist niece who, unbeknownst to her, spends her spare time moonlighting as an insanely accurate psychic reader—could be a book or, at the very least, a movie of the week.”
I shrug, taking a moment to touch up what little makeup I wear, peering into my small, handheld mirror when I say, “About that—”
He looks at me.
“I think my days as Avalon are over.”
He sighs, clearly disappointed.
“I mean, don’t get my wrong, I really have enjoyed it, and today, well, up until the fiasco anyway, I felt like I was starting to get really good at it—like I was able to reach people—help people—but now—well, maybe it’s time to bring Ava back on board. Besides, school’s about to start up and—”
“Are you quitting?” He frowns, obviously not thrilled with the idea.
“No.” I shake my head. “No, I just, well, obviously I’ll need to cut back, and I don’t want to cause you any more problems than I already have.”
“No worries.” He shrugs. “I’ve already put Ava back on the schedule, figured you’d have to cut back your hours anyway, but, Ever, you can start up again anytime, the clients love you, and I—well—” His face flushes. “I’ve been very impressed with your performance as well. As an employee.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and sighing when he adds, “Man, I’m about as far from smooth as it gets.”
But I just shrug, wondering who’s more uncomfortable here, him or me.
“So, any idea what you’re gonna tell her tomorrow?” he asks, desperate to move on to something else.
“Nope.” I drop my lip gloss into my bag and snap the bag shut. “Not a clue.”
“Well, don’t you think you should think about it? Come up with some kind of plan? You don’t want to get caught before you’ve even had a chance to drink your first cup of joe, do you?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” I shrug.
“Fine, elixir, whatever.” He laughs. “You know what I mean.”
I heave my purse onto my shoulder and glance at him. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I love Sabine. She took me in when I lost everything, and in return, I’ve done nothing but make her life a living hell on an ongoing basis. And while I’m perfectly willing to come clean, if for no other reason than the fact that after all this, she deserves to hear the truth, or at least some semblance of the truth—it won’t be tomorrow morning. Not even close.” And even though I try not to smile when I say it, I can’t help myself. When I think of my plan, my fail-safe, foolproof plan, my whole face lights up.
For now, all of my energy, all of my light, all of my good mojo—as Jude puts it—needs to be saved up and channeled exclusively toward Roman. I’ve got to extend my love, peace, and goodwill toward him because approaching him this way is the only way I can win. The only way I’ll ever get what I want.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s that resistance never works. Fighting the war against what I don’t want only serves to manifest that very thing. And that’s why Roman’s power over me weakened when I appealed to Hecate—because I stopped obsessing about it for five minutes and it started to deteriorate as a result. So, with all this in mind, I think it’s safe to assume that by pouring my energies into what I do want—peace between us and the rogues along with the antidote to the antidote—well, it can only result in a win.
So, when I go to him tonight, it won’t be as an enemy, as someone who plans to connive and fight to get what they want. Instead, I’ll approach him as my higher self—the purest, clearest form of me.
And then I’ll offer him the chance to rise up from the depths and meet me on that very same level.
And I’m so lost in my thoughts, so lost in the excitement of my plan, at first I don’t even hear Jude when he says, “Where you headed?” Squinting at me, his psychic radar on its highest alert.
But I just look at him, unable to keep the smile from my face when I say, “I’m going to go do something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Pausing when I see the way his head tilts, the way his brow creases, the way his aura wavers and flares, and wishing I had time to stick around and reassure him, tell him it’ll all be okay. But I don’t, I’ve wasted enough time already. So, instead, I just look at him and say, “Don’t worry. This time, I know what I’m doing. This time, everything’s gonna be different. You’ll see.”
“Ever—” He reaches toward me, hand clawing at the air before falling empty at his side.
“No worries.” I shrug. “I know exactly what to do. I know how to handle Roman now.” I nod, taking in his thick tangle of dreadlocks, seeing how the last few weeks of summer surf have lightened them to a sun-bleached blond. “I know exactly how to fix it, exactly how to proceed,” I add, seeing the way he tilts his head, leans back on the stool, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. His malachite ring glinting before me, nearly the same shade of green as his tropical gaze, which is narrowed, assessing, tinged with more than a slight bit of worry. But I just ignore all of that. Just brush it right off. For the first time in a long time I finally feel powerful, sure of myself, and I won’t allow room for anyone to plant even the smallest seed of doubt. “I went to the Great Halls of Learning—” I pause, knowing he needs more convincing than just my nodding head and confident word. “And—well, let’s just say I got a good lead. A very good lead.?
?? I press my lips together and hike my purse higher onto my shoulder, knowing I should probably leave the conversation right there.
He looks at me, rubbing his hand over the front of his T-shirt, fingers tracing the black and white yin yang symbol as he tilts his head and says, “Ever—I’m not so sure you should go that route again. I mean, if you’ll remember, last time you went face-to-face with Roman it really didn’t work out all that well, and I really don’t think enough time has passed for you to try it again. At least not so soon.”
I lift my shoulders, his words glancing over me like oil meeting water, having no effect whatsoever, which, from the expression on his face, only seems to worry him more. “Noted,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “But here’s the thing—I’m doing it anyway. I’m going in. One last time. So to speak.”
“When? Now? Are you serious?” He looks at me, brows merged, gaze locked on mine in a way that gives me pause for concern.
I square my shoulders and fold my arms across my chest, meeting his gaze when I say, “Why? You planning to follow me so you can try to stop me?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, not even pausing when he adds, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes to—what exactly?” I cock my head, challenging him with my gaze.
“Keep you safe. Keep you from him.”
I take a deep breath and look at him, and I mean really look at him. Starting from the top of those dreadlocks and moving all the way down to his waist where, because of the counter, my view of him ends. “And why would you do that?” I finally say, gaze returning to meet his. “Why would you even think of trying to interfere with my plan? I thought you wanted me to be happy—even if that means my being with Damen? Or at least that’s what you told me.”