“We didn’t expect to see you.” His voice is cautious, unsure what to make of my presence, worried about my motives, what brings me here.
I gaze around the den, relieved to find it exactly the same after so many other things have changed. Then I gaze down at my filthy clothes and quickly manifest some clean ones in their place.
“Ever—” Munoz keeps his voice lowered so Sabine can’t overhear. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”
I gaze down at my newly manifested blue dress and beige leather sandals and shrug. Drumming my fingers against the upholstered arms of my chair when I say, “Listen, I may need your help on this one, so please, just try to trust me. I’m not here to continue the argument, or make anything worse. I just want to clear up a few things before it’s too late and I no longer can.”
He looks at me, face ful of alarm, about to ask for an explanation when Sabine comes back into the room, hands me a glass of water, and takes her place next to him.
I cross and uncross my legs, brush my hands over the skirt of my dress until the hem fal s just shy of my knees. A series of gestures greatly lacking in subtlety, a series of gestures that practical y beg her to take notice, to inquire how I managed to change clothes so quickly, to say something, anything, but a denial as deeply rooted as hers is hard to defeat.
Hard, but not impossible.
I can’t al ow myself to believe it’s impossible. Otherwise there’s no point in my being here.
Knowing it’s best to just take the lead and jump in, I look at her and say, “I missed you.”
She squirms, nods, leans closer to Munoz, who welcomes her into the crook of his arm and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
But al she can manage in reply is, “So, are you going to tel me where you’ve been?”
I press my lips together, a little stunned by her response, but I guess she figures the emotional cost is too high for her to admit that she missed me too. But that’s okay. Even if she won’t admit it, I know she did miss me. I can see it in the way her aura flashes with just the slimmest hint of pink in the midst of al that stil raging red.
Auras never lie. Only people do.
“I was in Summerland,” I say, my gaze traveling between her and Munoz.
“In Santa Barbara?” She shoots me a skeptical look but I’m quick to deflect it.
“No. Not the beach town in Santa Barbara, the real Summerland. The first Summerland. The mystical dimension that exists between this one and the one just beyond.”
Munoz tenses, his body on ful -scale alert, prepared for the worst. While Sabine’s mouth grows grim, her gaze narrowing as she says,
“I don’t understand.”
I lean forward, scooting to the very edge of my seat, saying, “I know. Believe me, I total y get it. It’s a lot to take in. Especial y the first time you hear it. It was the same way for me. I chose to deny it for a real y long time. Pretty much until I no longer could. I also know this wil be even more difficult for you because of your reluctance to believe in anything that fal s outside of your comfort zone, and how you prefer to dismiss anything you can’t see happening directly in front of you. But the reason I’ve decided to confide in you anyway, despite the uphil battle I face, is because I’ve grown tired of the game. I’ve grown tired of lying to you al the time. I’ve grown tired of hiding things from you. But mostly, I’ve grown tired of having to work so ridiculously hard at being this total y manufactured, false version of me just so you can continue to believe what’s most comfortable for you to believe.” I pause for a moment, giving her a chance to respond, but she just looks as cold and stone-faced as ever, so I quickly press on. “The first two weeks I was gone, I was at Damen’s. And I know you know that because I know he told you. But what you probably don’t know is that I was ful y committed to never coming back. I’d vowed to move far away after graduation and to never see you again. And it’s not because I was being vindictive or trying to punish you—despite what you may think, I truly bore you no il wil . The reason I’d planned to leave you forever is because I truly believed it would make both our lives easier. But now things have changed, or at least they’re about to change in a real y big way…” I swal ow hard, chance a glance at Munoz and see him nod, encouraging me to go on, and I do. “But before that real y big change can take place, I wanted to come clean with you. I wanted to take one last stab to try to make you believe.”
“And just what is it that I’m supposed to believe?” she asks, but I can tel by the defiant arch of her brow and the chal enge in her tone that she already knows.
“I need you to believe that I’m not just some crazy, sad, attention-starved teen who’s so scarred and damaged by the loss of her family that she pretends to have psychic powers. I need you to believe that I’m not some con-artist charlatan who rips people off for a living.
And the reason I need you to believe that is because it’s the truth. I am psychic. I can and do hear other people’s thoughts. I can also see a person’s entire life story with merely a touch, just as I can see auras and communicate with al the ghostly spirits who choose to hang around the earth plane long after they should’ve moved on. And, in addition to that, I’m also immortal.” I stop, al owing enough time for my words to sink in, for my confession to take ful effect. Knowing it has when her aura begins to flare and rage so bright, I’m surprised by the absence of smoke I thought for sure would be shooting out of her nose and ears.
“That red juice I always drink?” I tilt my head and look at her. “As it just so happens, it’s the elixir of eternal life. The one man has sought through the ages—only Damen is one of the few who actual y succeeded in discovering the secret formula just over six hundred years ago.”
“Ever, if you think that I’m…” She shakes her head, far too furious to even complete her own sentence, though she does manage to think it, and this time I tune in. If for no other reason, it might help prove my point.
My eyes meet hers, watching her closely as I slowly repeat her unspoken words. “No, I real y don’t think you’re willing to consider something so ludicrous, so ridiculous, so far-fetched, so … sad—for even one second. ” Seeing her eyes widen in shock, but she’s just as quick to dismiss it, assuring herself it was obvious what she was thinking. And though it was, I’m not about to stop there.
“And if that didn’t convince you, then maybe this wil . Though I have to warn you, I’m going to pul out al the stops to prove to you I’m not lying, I’m not crazy, and I’m not some attention-starved phony. I’m going to show you exactly what I’m capable of, which is something I probably should’ve done long before. And the only reason I didn’t is because neither of us was quite ready. But now we are. Or at least I am, and I’m pretty sure you are too. And as for Munoz”—I switch my gaze to him—“he already knows. In fact, he’s known for some time.”
Sabine turns to Munoz, her eyes imploring. But he just takes a deep breath and nods, directing her attention back to me when he says, “It’s true. Sabine, honey, Ever’s not lying. She possesses powers that are nothing short of astonishing. Al I ask is that you give her a chance. Just try to watch and listen with an open mind, and I think you’l be amazed at what you see. And if not, if you stil choose not to believe…” He looks at her, clearly hoping that won’t be the case. “Wel , then, that’s your choice. But for now, why not just try to broaden your world to a whole new set of ideas you may have never considered.”
She crosses her arms and legs, which, as far as body language goes, is a pretty discouraging display. Her eyes warily focused on me, when I say, “For starters, what was I wearing when you opened the door?” She squints, her eyes moving over me, engaged in a ful inspection, and when she refuses to answer, when she just wraps herself up even tighter, I say, “Is it the same thing I’m wearing now?”
She shifts, squirms, but refuses to reply, which as far as I’m concerned is answer enough.
“Or was it this?” I manifest the filthy clothes I was wearing wh
en I first got here, the sight of which garners no response from her. “Or maybe it was this?” I manifest a dark green silk gown just like the one I wear in the pavilion when Damen and I revisit scenes from my London life, back when I was the spoiled little rich girl named Chloe. Choosing to remain like that, sitting before her in a bright and shiny display of centuries-old finery. Wil ing her to say something, anything, but she won’t. She’s completely unwil ing to budge from the ideas she’s clung to for so long.
“My powers aren’t just relegated to rapid wardrobe changes,” I say. “I can manifest an elephant just as easily.” Then I close my eyes and do just that. Choking back a laugh when I see just how much effort she puts into maintaining her cool. So completely dedicated to her rigid set of views, she refuses to react in any way whatsoever when an elephant appears right beside her and swings his trunk in her face. “I can manifest flowers as wel ,” I add, covering the coffee table with a huge pile of bright yel ow daffodils. “I can also manifest jewels.” I close my eyes and when I open them again Sabine is dripping in diamonds and rubies and emeralds and yet, al it does is make her even more stone-faced. “I can even manifest cars and boats and houses and, wel , basical y whatever you can imagine.
Virtual y nothing is off-limits—wel , except for people. You can’t manifest a person because you can’t manifest a soul—though you can manifest their image as I once did with Orlando Bloom.” I smile briefly at the memory and Damen’s reaction that fol owed when he saw what I’d done. “But what I can’t manifest, no matter how hard I try, is your wil ingness to stop denying what you see right in front of you.
That’s cal ed free wil , and it belongs only to you.”
She tilts her chin and narrows her eyes, looking angry, defiant, though her voice easily betrays the fear that’s behind it. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Ever, but you need to stop! You need to stop with the…” She looks around, searches for the right word. “You need to stop with the magic tricks, now!”
Her demeanor so shaken, so stricken, I’m quick to comply. Nodding and blinking until every last trace of it’s gone—until it’s al returned to normal again, including my clothes, which are back to the far more comfortable, though far less impressive blue dress and beige sandals.
My eyes meet hers, and I can’t help but think this is going even worse than I’d thought. Stil , I refuse to give up. I can’t al ow myself to stop now when I stil have a few more tricks up my sleeve.
“There’s more.” I nod, instantly manifesting a jewel-handled knife I position right over my flattened, raised palm. “I know you’re squeamish, I know how you hate the sight of blood, but I promise it’l be over soon.”
I jab the tip into the center of my palm, and drag the sharp blade al the way across. Hearing the gasp Sabine is unable to stifle, and seeing her horrified face as she watches the blood pouring out of me—the way it splashes over my dress and pools onto the carpet—
until—until—it no longer is.
The knife is gone.
My palm is healed.
And there’s absolutely no sign of the blood I just shed.
And even though it was a pretty impressive display, I have to admit I’m starting to feel a little ashamed, starting to feel like the world’s creepiest circus act.
“Listen.” I glance back and forth between her and Munoz, who’s not even trying to hide his shock over what he just saw. “I could go on for hours. I could show you every trick that I’m capable of. And I wil , if that’s what it takes. But real y, al you need to know is that everything you just saw is real. And though it may make you uncomfortable, while it may make you long to turn your back and pretend you didn’t see it, that won’t stop it from being real. I’m sorry, Sabine. I’m sorry to have to do this to you. And while I get that it’s your choice whether or not you choose to believe, and while I get that there’s a good chance that no matter what I do I won’t be able to change your mind, here’s the thing: Whether or not you choose to believe is entirely up to you—but if you ever want to see me again, if you want to have any kind of a relationship with me, then you’re going to have to move past your own deeply rooted prejudices and learn to accept me. Al of me. Even the parts you don’t like. Even the parts that scare you. Because that’s exactly what I’ve chosen to do with you. Your tendency toward self-righteousness and bul headedness, your penchant for shunning me instead of trying to understand me, wel , it scares me just as much as my display of immortal party tricks just scared you. Yet I stil prefer to accept you as you are, rather than face a future of never seeing you again. I guess I was just hoping that by doing al this, we could find a place to meet in the middle.
But again, it’s your choice. Either way, I’l accept your decision.”
I sit back, watching as the steam seeps right out of her, watching as her aura deflates and settles like a week-old helium bal oon.
“How long have you been like this?” she final y asks.
And when my eyes meet hers, I realize she thinks I’ve always been like this—that I was born a freak. Figuring it must be the reason I survived the accident when the rest of my family didn’t. Though I’m quick to deflect that.
“I did die in the accident,” I say. “I had what’s cal ed a near-death experience, though I think the term’s a little wonky since there was nothing near about it. Anyway, Munoz probably knows more about al that than I do. He’s read up on it quite a bit.” I look at them, seeing her shoot him an inquiring glance, which he answers with a nod and a shrug. “Anyway, instead of crossing the bridge to the other side along with Mom and Dad and Buttercup, I chose to linger in Summerland, in this amazingly beautiful field. And that’s what my soul was doing when Damen found my body by the car and made me drink the elixir that brought me to life.”
“And Riley?” Sabine leans forward, her eyes wide, assuming the worst.
“Riley got stuck for a while.” I squirm.
“Stuck?”
I sigh. “Stuck between here and Summerland. She started visiting me back when I was in the hospital. Then, when we moved here, she used to drop by the house nearly every day until I convinced her to cross the bridge and move on. And though I think she might visit me in my dreams every now and then, I haven’t been able to see her since. I can’t see the ones who’ve crossed over. Their energy vibrates too fast. Though a friend of mine used to see her…” I pause, remembering how Jude tried to teach me to see her too, but to no avail. “And he says she says she’s just fine. Actual y, he says she’s better than fine. She’s happy. Mom and Dad and Buttercup are happy too. Apparently they feel more alive than ever.” I look at her. “You know, just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they no longer exist. The soul is eternal. It’s the only true immortality there is.”
I don’t know which part of my speech final y got to her, but the next thing I know Sabine is sobbing into Munoz’s T-shirt. Her shoulders violently shaking as he rubs his hand over her chin-length blond hair and down the back of her blouse, whispering softly, providing comfort, assurance, until she starts to col ect herself and is ready to face me again.
I sit quietly, knowing exactly how she feels. Remembering al too wel how I first reacted when I saw my ghostly little sister standing before me—how I denied it was real. And how I treated Damen that day in the parking lot at school when he first told me the truth of my existence—how I chose to banish him from my life, to send him away with cruel, fear-driven words rather than face a truth I felt so completely unprepared to handle.
We’re not so different, Sabine and me.
I know what it’s like to have everything you believe turned upside down.
So after a while I say, “I’m real y sorry to just spring this on you. I know it’s a lot to digest. But I just wanted you to know before—”
She lifts her head, her eyes bleary, teary, as she turns to face me.
“—I just wanted you to know before I return to normal again.”
She blinks, shakes her head, and mumble
s, “What?” Swiping a sleeve across her face when she adds, “I don’t understand.”
I take a deep breath and gaze down at my feet, stal ing for a moment, gathering my words, before I return my gaze to hers. “To be honest, I’m not sure that I understand either. It’s such a long story, and there’s so much to explain … but it’s not like the details are al that important anyway. I just thought, wel , I just hoped that if I came clean about who I am now, then maybe, when I’m no longer like this, we can stil hang out together. You know, without al the yel ing and fighting and name-cal ing. I mean, if you want. It’s pretty much up to you. I promise to respect whatever you decide.”
Sabine rises from the couch, her arms outstretched as she starts to move toward me, but I’m faster than she is—so much faster that I’m huddled against her wel before she can even clear the corner of the coffee table.
And it feels so good to be back that I can’t help but cry too. The two of us turning into a wet, soggy, over-apologetic mess until I remember Munoz and swipe my hand across my eyes as I say, “Hey, is there anything you guys want?” I glance between them, adding,
“I mean, you saw what I can do, al the things I’m capable of. So, with that in mind, what’l it be? A new car? A vacation house in some exotic location? Backstage passes to Bruce Springsteen?” I wiggle my brows at Munoz, knowing what a big fan he is.
But they both shake their heads.
“Are you sure?” I frown, desperately wanting to give them something. “I mean, I’m not sure if I’l stil be capable of al this once I … after I go back to how I was before. I may lose al of my powers, or at least some of my powers. Which means this could be your last chance.”
Sabine returns to Munoz and I watch as she places her hand on his shoulder and says, “What more could I possibly want when I have everything I could ever dream of right here?”