But apparently I’m the only one who’s uncomfortable around here. Munoz is completely relaxed, sitting back on the coach, foot resting on knee, the absolute picture of ease. “So what exactly is your relationship to Sabine?” he asks, arms spread wide across the cushions.
“She’s my aunt.” I study him, checking for signs of disbelief, confusion, surprise, but all I get is an interested gaze. “She became my legal guardian when my parents passed away.” I lift my shoulders and look at him.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry—” He scrunches his face, voice fading as sadness fills up the space.
“My sister died too.” I nod, caught up in it now. “As did Buttercup. She was our dog.”
“Ever—” He shakes his head in the way people do when they can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you. “I—”
“I died too,” I add, before he can finish. Not wanting to hear his awkward condolences, struggling to find just the right words when the truth is, those words don’t exist. “I died right alongside them—but only for a few seconds, and then I was—” brought back, resurrected, given the elixir that grants eternal life—I shake my head. “Well, then I woke up.” I shrug, wondering why I just confessed all of that.
“Is that when you became psychic?” His gaze is unwavering, fixed right on mine.
I glance toward the stairway, making sure Sabine’s nowhere near, then I glance at Munoz and just nod.
“It happens,” he says, neither surprised nor judgmental, more matter of fact. “I’ve read up on it a bit. It’s a lot more common than you’d think. A lot of people come back changed or altered in some way.”
I gaze down at the chair, fingers tracing along the top of the cushion, glad for the information but realizing I have no clue how to respond.
“And from the way you’re fidgeting and glancing at the stairs every five seconds, I’m guessing Sabine doesn’t know?”
I look at him, trying to lighten the mood when I say, “So who’s psychic now? Me or you?”
But he just smiles, searching my face with a new understanding that, thankfully, erases the look of pity that lived there before.
We stay like that, him looking at me, me studying the chair, the silence lingering for so long I finally shake my head and say, “Trust me, Sabine wouldn’t understand. She’d—” I dig the toe of my sneaker into the carpet’s tight weave, unsure just where to take it from here but knowing it’s imperative that I make myself clear. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a great person, really smart, and a super successful lawyer and all, but it’s like—” I shake my head. “Well, let’s just say she’s a big fan of black and white. She’s not so big on gray.” I press my lips together and look away, knowing I’ve said more than enough, but needing to make one final thing clear. “But please don’t tell her about me—okay? I mean, you won’t—will you?”
I peer at him, holding my breath as he considers, taking his time as Sabine heads down the stairs. And just when I’m sure I can’t take another second he says, “We’ll make a deal. You stop cutting class and I won’t say a word. How’s that?”
How’s that? Is he kidding? He’s practically blackmailing me!
I mean, I know I’m not in the best position—especially since I’m the only one with something to lose, but still. I glance over my shoulder, seeing Sabine pause in front of the mirror, double-checking her teeth for stray lipstick tracks, as I turn toward him and whisper, “What does it matter? There’s only a week left! And we both know I’m getting an A.”
He nods, rising from his seat, a smile widening his cheeks as he takes in Sabine, though his words are directed at me. “Which is why you have no good reason not to be there, right?”
“To not be where?” Sabine asks, looking way too beautiful with her smoky eye makeup, fluffy blond hair, and an outfit that Stacia Miller would probably sell a kidney for if she were twenty years older.
I start to speak, not trusting Munoz not to blow my cover, but he jumps right in, voice overpowering mine when he says, “I was just telling Ever to get on with her plans. There’s no need to stick around and entertain me.”
Sabine glances between us until her gaze rests on Paul. And even though it’s nice to see her looking so relaxed and happy and eager to get the night going, the second he places his hand on the small of her back and leads her toward the front door, it’s all I can do not to hurl.
twenty-six
By the time I get to Haven’s, everyone’s gathered, looking on as Haven stands just outside the window where she first found her cat, saying a few words in Charm’s memory, while hugging a small urn to her chest.
“Hey,” I whisper, sidling up beside Damen and glancing at the twins. “What did I miss?”
He smiles, looking at me as he thinks: Some tears were shed—some poems were read— He shrugs. Though I’m sure she’ll forgive your lateness—eventually.
I nod, deciding to show Damen the reason for my lateness—presenting the entire debacle in full Technicolor glory. Watching as Haven sprinkles Charm’s ashes over the ground as the images from just a few moments before stream from my mind to his.
He slides his arm around me, comforting me in just the right way, placing a full bouquet of red tulips briefly into my hands—careful to make it appear and disappear before anyone sees.
Was it really that bad? He glances at me as Haven hands the urn to her little brother Austin, who scrunches his nose and peers inside.
Worse. I shake my head, still wondering why I chose to confide in Munoz—of all people.
I move closer, leaning my head on his shoulder as I add: And the twins? What are they doing here? I thought they were afraid to go outside?
They stand beside Haven, faces identical with their solemn dark eyes and razor-slashed bangs—but the similarities end there, having ditched their usual private school uniforms for ones of their own. With Romy striving for the all-American wholesomeness of a J. Crew catalog model, while Rayne’s look hails straight from the Hot Topic aisles with her edgy black minidress, torn black tights, and towering platform Mary Jane shoes. Though I doubt they actually shopped at those stores. Not when Damen can just manifest for them.
He shakes his head, arm tightening around me as he responds to my thoughts. Nope, that’s where you’re wrong. They’re venturing out. Eager to explore the world outside of TV, magazines, and my Crystal Cove gated community. He smiles. Believe it or not, they chose those outfits themselves. Even paid for them too. Using the money I gave them, of course. He looks at me. Just think, yesterday the mall, today a cat funeral, and tomorrow—who knows? He turns, smiling in a way that lights up his face as Haven says a final farewell to the cat practically no one here knew.
“Shouldn’t we have brought something?” I ask. “You know—flowers or something?”
“We did.” Damen nods, lips grazing my ear when he adds, “Not only did we bring those flowers over there”—he points to a giant bouquet made of colorful spring blooms—“but we also made a very generous, though anonymous, donation to the ASPCA in Charm’s memory. I thought she’d appreciate that.”
“Helping people anonymously?” I gaze at him, taking in the slant of his brow, the curve of his lips and longing for them to press against mine. “I thought you were against all of that?”
He looks at me, obviously misconstruing the words I’d meant as a joke. But just as I’m about to explain, Josh motions for us to come over.
He peers at Haven, making sure she can’t hear, before turning to us, saying, “Listen, I need your help. I messed up.”
“How?” I squint, even though the answer just appeared in my head.
He crams his hands into his pockets, dyed black hair falling into his eyes when he says, “I got her a kitten. This guy in my band—well, his girlfriend’s cat just had a litter and I thought it might help her get over Charm so I took the black one—but now she won’t even talk to me. Says I don’t understand. She’s seriously mad.”
“I’m sure she??
?ll come around, just give her some time, and she’ll—”
But he’s already shaking his head. “Are you kidding? Did you hear her just now?” He glances between us. “The way she went on and on about how Charm was one of a kind, how she can never be replaced.” He shakes his head and looks away. “That was for me, make no mistake.”
“Everyone feels that way after losing a pet. I’m sure if you—” I stop, gazing into eyes so defeated I know I’m not making a dent.
“No way.” He lifts his shoulders, looking at her, the loss clear on his face. “She meant it. She’s sad about Charm, mad at me, and now I’ve got this kitten in the backseat of my car and no idea what to do with it. I can’t bring it home, my mom’ll kill me, and Miles can’t take it because of the whole Italy thing, so I thought maybe you guys would want her.” His gaze darts between us, silent but pleading.
I take a deep breath and glance toward the twins, knowing they would love nothing more than a pet of their own, especially after the way they reacted to Charm. But what becomes of it once their magick’s restored and they head back to Summerland? Is it possible to bring the cat with them? Or will she become our responsibility?
But when they turn, the two of them gazing at me, Romy’s face lifting into a smile while Rayne’s drops to a scowl, I know I need all the help I can get where they’re concerned, and a cute little kitten might be a good start.
I look at Damen, knowing the moment our eyes meet that we’re on the same page.
We head for Josh’s car as he says, “Let’s have a look.”
“Omigod! Are you serious? She’s seriously ours? For reals?” Romy cradles the tiny black kitten and glances between us.
“She’s all yours.” Damen nods. “But you should thank Ever, not me. It was her idea.”
Romy looks at me, a grin spread wide across her face as Rayne twists her mouth to the side, pursing her lips in a way that makes it clear she’s sure she’s being played.
“What should we name her?” Romy glances between us before focusing solely on Rayne. “And don’t say Jinx the second, or Jinx squared, or anything like that, because this kitty deserves her own name.” She hugs the kitten tight to her chest, planting a kiss on the top of her tiny black head. “She also deserves a much better fate than the other Jinx had.”
I look at them, about to ask what happened when Rayne says, “That’s all in the past. But Romy’s right, we need to find the perfect name. Something strong and mystical—something truly worthy of a kitty like this.”
We sit, the four of us sprawled across the various chairs and couches in Damen’s oversized den. Damen and I sharing a cushion, limbs entwined as our minds sift through long lists of suitable names until I clear my voice and say, “How about Luna?” I glance between them, hoping they’ll like it as much as I do. “You know, like the Latin word for moon?”
“Please.” Rayne rolls her eyes. “We know what Luna means. In fact, I’m pretty sure we know way more Latin than you.”
I nod, struggling to keep my voice calm and composed, refusing to rise to her bait, when I add, “Well, I was thinking that since they say cats are connected to the moon and all—” I stop, taking one look at her face and knowing there’s no point in going on, she’s dead set against it.
“You know, it used to be said that cats were the children of the moon,” Damen says, determined not only to rescue me, but also to prove, once and for all, why I’m worthy of their respect. “Because like the moon, they both come to life at night.”
“Then maybe we should name her Moon Child,” Rayne says. Nodding when she adds, “Yes, that’s it! Moon Child. It’s so much better than Luna.”
“No it isn’t.” Romy gazes down at the sleeping cat in her lap, stroking the narrow space between her ears. “Moon Child’s all wrong. Lumpy. Too much. A name should be only one word. And this kitty is clearly a Luna to me. Luna. That’s what we’re calling her then?”
She glances between us, counting three nodding heads, and one that refuses to budge just to spite me.
“Sorry, Rayne.” Damen clasps my hand, a sliver of energy the only thing that separates his palm from mine. “I’m afraid the majority rules in this case.” He nods, closing his eyes as he manifests an exquisite velvet collar of the deepest purple that instantly appears around Luna’s neck. Romy and Rayne gasping, eyes shining with delight when he manifests a matching velvet bed. “Perhaps you should place her there now,” he says.
“But we’re both so comfortable like this!” Romy whines, not wanting to part with her pet.
“Yes, but we also have lessons to get to, don’t we?”
The twins glance at each other, then rise simultaneously, carefully placing Luna in her new bed and hovering at its edge, making sure she’s sleeping comfortably, before turning back to Damen, ready to begin. Taking the seats just across from him, ankles crossed, hands folded in laps, more obedient than I’ve ever seen them. Ready for whatever Damen’s got planned.
What’s this about? I shift as we untangle our limbs.
“Magick.” He nods, glancing between them. “They need to practice daily if their powers are to return.”
“How do you practice?” I squint, wondering if it’s anything like the classes Jude’s planning to teach. “I mean, are there exercises and tests, like in school?”
Damen shrugs. “It’s really more a series of meditations and visualizations—though far more intense and of a much longer duration than the ones I put you through on our first journey to Summerland, but then, you didn’t require as much. Even though the twins hail from a long line of very gifted witches, I’m afraid that as it stands now, they’re back to stage one. Though I’m hoping that with regular practice, they’ll recapture their abilities in reasonable time.”
“How long is reasonable?” I ask. When what I really mean is: How soon do we get our life back?
Damen shrugs. “Few months. Maybe longer.”
“Would the Book of Shadows help?” Realizing just after it’s out, that I shouldn’t have said it. Damen’s expression is not at all happy, though the twins are now poised on the edge of their seats.
“You have the Book of Shadows?” Rayne says, as Romy just sits there and gapes.
I glance at Damen, seeing he’s none too pleased, but since the book could very well help them as much as I hope it can help me, I say, “Well, I don’t exactly have it, but I have access to it.”
“Like for real? Like a real Book of Shadows?” Rayne phrases her words like a question, though her gaze tells me she’s sure it’s a fake.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Is there more than one?”
She looks at Romy, shaking her head and rolling her eyes before Damen can say, “I haven’t seen it, but from Ever’s description, I’m sure that it’s real. And quite powerful too. Too powerful for you at the moment. But maybe later, after we’ve progressed through our meditations we can—”
But Romy and Rayne are no longer listening, their attention focused solely on me as they rise from their seats and say, “Take us there. Please. We need to see it.”
twenty-seven
“How will you get in?” Romy whispers, edging up alongside me and gazing at the door, a wary expression crossing her face.
“Duh!” Rayne shakes her head. “It’s easy for them. All they have to do is unlock the door with their minds.”
“True.” I smile. “But having a key is handy too.” Jangling it so they can see before inserting it into the lock. Careful to avoid Damen’s gaze, though it’s not like I need to see to know he disapproves.
“So this is where you work,” Romy says, stepping inside and gazing around. Moving lightly, gingerly, as though she’s afraid to mess anything up.
I nod, placing my finger against my lips in the international sign for shush as I lead them toward the back room.
“But if the store’s closed, and we’re the only ones here, then why do we have to shush?” Rayne asks, her high-pitched voice practically bouncing off the walls,
wanting me to know that while she’s pleased that I’m about to show her the Book of Shadows it doesn’t extend much further than that.
I open the door to the back office and motion them inside, telling them to sit, while Damen and I consult in the hall.
“I don’t like this,” he says, eyes dark, focused on mine.
I nod, very well aware of that but determined to stand my ground.
“Ever, I’m serious. You have no idea what you’re getting into. This book is powerful—and in the wrong hands—dangerous as well.”
I shake my head, saying, “Listen, the twins are familiar with this brand of magick, much more so than you and me. And if they’re not worried, then how bad could it be?”
He looks at me, refusing to budge. “There are better ways.”
I sigh, wanting to get started and frustrated to be dealing with this. “You act like I’m going to introduce them to evil spells or make them bad witches with warts and black hats, when all I want is the same thing as you—for them to get their power back.” Careful to shield my mind so he can’t hear the unspoken part, the real truth behind this visit—that I spent most of yesterday at work struggling to make sense of the book to no avail—that I need help if I’ve any hope of convincing Roman to hand over the antidote. Knowing it’s better unsaid. Damen would so not approve.
“There are better ways of doing this,” he says, voice patient but firm. “I have their lessons mapped out, and if you’ll just give it the time to—”
“How much time? Weeks, months, a year?” I shake my head. “Maybe we can’t afford to waste that kind of time, did you ever think of that!”
“We?” His brows merge as his gaze studies mine, a hint of understanding forming in his eyes.
“We, them, whatever.” I shrug, knowing I better move on. “Let me just show them the book and see if it’s even the real deal. I mean, we don’t even know if it really works, maybe my reaction was—well, maybe that was just me. Come on, Damen, please? What could it hurt?”