“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To win this one?”
“It’s a win-win, wouldn’t you say? You do something nice—something nice will be done for you—it’s karma. It’s a ripple effect. It’s no fail.”
“Oh, back to that, are we?” He rolls his eyes. “I say, that Damen bloke’s really done a number on you.”
“Maybe.” I smile, refusing to rise to his bait. “Or maybe not. You never know until you try it, right?”
“What? You think I’ve never done anything nice?”
“I think it’s been a while. You’re probably a bit rusty by now.”
He laughs, throws his head back and laughs, but he doesn’t remove his hand, no, it stays right there, smoothing my thigh.
“Okay, Ever, theoretically speaking, let’s say I did do this one small thing for you. Let’s say I did give you the antidote that would allow you and Damen to shag your little hearts out. Then what? How long do I have to wait for this so-called good karma to boomerang back at me? Can you tell me that?”
I shrug. “From what I’ve seen, you can’t force karma, it works on its own terms. All I know is, it works.”
“So, I’m supposed to just hand over something to you, something you desperately want, and risk getting nothing in return? That hardly seems fair darlin’, so maybe you should reconsider, maybe there’s something you can give to me.” He smiles, sliding his hand much higher, way higher, too high. And when he gazes into my eyes, trying to overpower me, lure me into his head like he used to—it doesn’t work. I remain right where I am, rooted in place.
And yet, that simple act alone has spawned an idea, one that might move this along even quicker than I hoped, and get me to the Montage, where I told Damen we’d meet.
“Well,” I say, doing my best to ignore the feel of his fingers splayed across my thigh. “If you won’t trust karma, will you at least trust me?”
He looks at me, head titled, Ouroboros tattoo flashing in and out of view.
“Because, come to think of it, I do have something to give you. Something I know for sure that you want. Something that only I can give you.”
“Well, bugger that!” He smiles. “Now we’re talkin’. I knew you’d come around eventually, I knew you’d see the light.” He scoots even closer, grips my leg tighter.
But I just continue to sit there, breathing steadily, evenly, aware of the light still shining inside me when I say, “It’s not that—it’s—it’s something much better than that.”
He squints. “Aw, now don’t be so hard on yerself, darlin’. First time’s always a wash. I promise we’ll have plenty of goes for you to improve your skills and get better.”
And even though he laughs when he says it, obviously wanting me to laugh too, I don’t. I’m still thinking about what I just said, this new plan now forming in my head. Knowing it won’t be exactly what he expects, and may cause him to hate me even more, but still, it’s the only way I can think of to get him to connect—well, if one can actually connect with a lost soul, that is . . .
“Let go of my leg.” My eyes gaze into his.
“Ah, bugger!” He shakes his head. “See, I knew you were full of it—you’re nothing but a tease, Ever, you know that? Nothing but—”
“Let go of my leg and take hold of my hands instead,” I say, my voice calm, determined. “Trust me, you have nothing to lose, I promise you that.”
He hesitates, but only for a moment before he does as I ask. The two of us sitting cross-legged on the bed, my bare knees pressed against his, his hands gripping mine, the whole scene reminding me vaguely of the binding spell that started this mess.
Only this is nothing like that.
Nothing at all.
I’m about to take a huge leap of faith. I’m about to share something with Roman that’ll definitely result in his handing over the antidote. Looking him straight in the eyes when I say, “Your argument is flawed.”
He squints.
“Your argument. About there being nothing but the here and now. If you truly believed that, then why were you trying to connect with Drina? If you truly believe that there’s nothing beyond this, the earth plane, where we sit now, then exactly what is it you were trying to connect with?”
He looks at me, obviously flummoxed when he says, “Her essence—her—” He shakes his head, tries to let go of my hands, but I just grip his tighter. “What the hell is this?” he asks, clearly unhappy with me.
“It doesn’t end here, Roman. There’s more, lots more. More than you could ever imagine. This, what you see here—this is all just a tiny little blip on a much bigger screen. But I have a feeling that despite what you say, you already sense that. And because you already sense that, you’re open to it. And so, with that in mind, I’m wondering if we can maybe broker some kind of deal.”
“I knew it!” He laughs and shakes his head. “I knew you hadn’t given up. Never say die, Ever, right?”
But I just ignore it, forging ahead when I say, “If I take you to Drina, if I show you where she rests, will you give me the antidote?”
He drops my hands, his face blanched, shocked, clearly struggling to steady himself. “You putting one over on me?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m really not. I swear.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because it only seems fair. You give me what I want most, and I’ll give you what you want most. You may not like what you see, you’ll probably even end up hating me—but I’m willing to take that chance. And I promise you, I’ll give you the whole, unobstructed view. I’ll hold nothing back.”
“And—what if you give me what I want and I still don’t give you the antidote? What then?”
“Then I misjudged you.” I shrug. “Then I walk away with nothing. But I won’t hate you, and I won’t bother you again. But I think you’ll definitely believe in karma once you experience the effects of an action like that. So—you ready?”
He looks at me, looks at me for a long moment, weighing, considering, until he finally nods, his gaze holding steady on mine when he says, “Wanna know where I keep it?”
I swallow hard. My breath quickening.
“It’s right here.” He reaches over to his nightstand, opens a drawer, pulls out a small, jewel-encrusted, velvet-lined box and retrieves a slim glass vial filled with an opalescent liquid that looks an awful lot like elixir—except that it’s green.
And I watch as he waves it before me, seeing it sparkle and shine, hardly able to believe that the answer to all of my troubles is so small and contained.
“I thought you said you didn’t keep it here,” I say, my mouth gone suddenly dry as I take it in—seeing it shimmering before me.
“I didn’t. Not ’til after the other night. Before that, I kept it at the store. But this is it, luv—a single serving with no recipe card on file—the full list of ingredients exists only in here.” He taps the side of his head and eyes me carefully. “So, we have a deal, right? You show me yours—and I’ll give you mine.” He smiles, slipping the antidote into his shirt pocket and gazing at me when he says, “But you first. You hold up your end of the deal. Take me to her—and the happily ever after is yours.”
thirty-four
“Close your eyes,” I whisper, grasping Roman’s cold hands in mine, our knees pressed tightly together, our faces so close I can feel the chill of his breath on my cheek. “And now open your mind. Ridding it as best you can of all extraneous thoughts. Just empty it out—let it go blank—drop everything and just—be. Got it?”
He nods, squeezing my fingers even tighter. So focused on this, wanting so badly to see where Drina now lives, it’s heartbreaking.
“Now, I want you to enter my mind. I’m going to lower my shield and allow you in, and—I’m warning you, Roman—you may not like what you see, you may become extremely angry with me, but I want you to remember I’m holding up my end of the deal, okay? I never said you’d like it, I only said I’d take you to where she is.
” I open one eye to see him nod once again, “Okay, so now—come in—slowly find your way in and—you with me?”
“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes—it’s so—dark—so—I can’t see a thing—and I’m falling—so fast—so—where—?”
“It’ll end soon—just hang in there,” I coax.
His breath quickens as the chill of it, a cloud of cold fog, hits my cheek. “It’s—it’s stopped—the fall—but it’s still so dark—and so—I’m—suspended—and—alone—so alone—but I’m not—someone else is out there—she’s out there—and—oh, God—Drina—where are you—” He grips my hands tighter, so tight they’re about to go numb, his breath shallow, ragged, his body dripping with the sweat of his efforts as it collapses onto mine and he’s swept away by the events unfolding in my head—his head—a breathless tour of the Shadowland, the infinite abyss, the final resting place for all immortal souls—including ours.
Mumbling a string of words so softly I can’t make them out, I only know from the tone that they’re agitated, disturbed, fretful, as he hovers in the darkness, clawing and grasping, desperately seeking her. His forehead pushed against mine, nose pressed to my cheek, lips resting so near, all of his energy and strength focused on her.
And that’s how Jude finds us.
That’s what he sees.
Roman and I together, sweating on his sheets, our bodies pressed tightly together, clutching at each other, both of us so lost in the vision, we don’t see him, don’t hear him, until it’s too late.
Too late to stop him.
Too late to undo what he does.
Too late to rewind and go back—back to how it was before—when I was so close—so close to getting what I want.
And before I know it, I’m wrenched from Roman’s grip, as Jude lunges on top of him, fist headed right toward the center of his torso, immune to my scream.
My agonized: “Noooooo!”
The sound of it filling up the room, and repeating over and over again.
Scrambling to get up—to pull him off—to stop him from going any further—but it’s too late. As fast as I am—I can’t beat him—I got a late start—I was thrown off my game—and Jude’s already there.
Already on top of Roman.
Already slamming his fist into his sacral center.
His weakest chakra.
His Achilles’ heel.
The center of jealousy, envy, and the irrational desire to possess.
The collection of needs that drove Roman for the last six hundred years.
Instantly turning him from glorious golden boy to pile of dust.
I leap onto Jude, grab him by the shoulders, and fling him to the other side of the room, hearing a dull crack as he lands against the dresser, but not bothering to look back. Focusing on only one thing, Roman’s white linen shirt glittering with tiny shards of glass as a dark green stain spreads across its front.
The antidote.
The vial for the antidote now smashed—destroyed in the struggle—and taking my hopes along with it.
And now, with Roman gone, his soul headed for the Shadowland, there’s no way to ever retrieve it.
“How could you?” I turn, eyes blazing on Jude. “How could you do such a thing?” Watching as he struggles to stand, face blanched, hand rubbing at his back. “You’ve destroyed everything. Everything! I was so close—so close to getting the antidote—and you wrecked it! Forever!”
Jude looks at me, hands on his knees, brow merged, struggling to catch his breath when he says, “Ever—I—I didn’t mean to—” He shakes his head. “You have to believe me. I thought you were in trouble—you looked like you were in trouble! You didn’t see what I saw—you were—he was all over you—” He shakes his head. “And it seemed like you were struggling—internally, like you couldn’t handle it, couldn’t fight your attraction to him. And that’s why I came. That’s the only reason I’m here. I knew where you were heading when you left the store and I didn’t think you were ready to try this again. And when I got here just now—and saw you like that—well, I didn’t want it to end up like that last time and so—I just—I—”
“And so you killed him?” My eyes gape as my throat goes dry. “You used everything I shared with you against me, and you killed him?”
He shakes his head and stands before me, his T-shirt torn from when I grabbed him and flung him across the room, his aura flaring in distress as he fiddles with the green malachite ring on the hand he used to kill Roman with. “You’re always going on and on about how bad he is—how evil—how he runs an evil tribe of rogues—and how because of the spell you cast, you can’t seem to resist him. You came to me for help. You confided in me first—not Damen. You chose me, Ever, whether you like it or not! And all I wanted to do was to save you—from Roman—from yourself. That was my only intention—to look after you—to take care of you!”
“Was it?” I narrow my gaze, as a new idea begins to take shape. “Was that really your only intention? Truly?”
“What are you talking about?” He squints, rubbing his lips together, trying to decipher my words.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I say, body trembling with fury, outrage, and defeat, as I clutch Roman’s shirt, his antidote-stained shirt. “You did this on purpose.” I glare at him, having no real proof that it’s true, but still, once the words are out there, spoken aloud, the idea begins to gain strength and build, so much so that I quickly repeat it, venturing even further when I add, “You did this on purpose. This is no mistake. You knew exactly what you were doing when you came here. So, is this it then? Is this how you figure you’ll win the game of four hundred years? Is this your big move? Robbing me, the girl you supposedly love, of the one thing I want most in this world? Ensuring that I’ll never, ever get to be with Damen? Is that how you’re playing it, Jude? You honestly think that this’ll make me give up on my soul mate and choose you?”
I shake my head and gaze down at Roman’s shirt, my heart sinking when I look at the stain that runs across it, when I think of Roman’s sad, pathetic life, and what’s now become of his soul. Knowing I was so close, so close, to reaching him, to making a difference, to getting what I want—and now this.
Everything lost in an instant.
“Ever—” Jude pleads, the sting of my words conveyed in his voice, in his eyes, as he moves toward me, his hands reaching, but I won’t let him get close, won’t let him touch me. “How can you even say that?” he asks, finally stopping, conceding defeat. “I do love you. You know that. I’ve loved you for centuries, it’s true. But I didn’t intentionally set out to do this—to keep you from Damen in this way. You mean too much to me to ever do that, I value your happiness, like I told you before. And when you do finally make your choice, choose between us, I want it to be fair. This time, I’m determined that it be fair.”
“But I’ve already chosen,” I say, my voice now a whisper. I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore. Rising from the bed, still clutching the shirt, when Haven comes in and catches me like that.
Eyes blazing as she surveys the scene, instantly filling in the blanks and putting the pieces together when she sees Roman’s shirt in my hand.
“What’ve you done?” she says, voice so low, so menacing, it sends a chill down my spine. “What the hell have you done?”
She snatches the shirt, grasping it against her lace-covered chest as her eyes rake over me, assuming I’m to blame, and ignoring Jude when he tries to step in and assume full responsibility.
“I should’ve known.” She shakes her head, eyes narrowed to slits. “Should’ve known all along—when you came over to my house and tried to play nice—you weren’t even the least bit sincere—you were using me, playing me, pumping me for information—trying to see when I’d be gone, so you could get him alone and then—and then kill him.”
“It’s not what you think!” I cry. “It’s not like that at all!” But no matter how many times I repeat it, it doesn’t penetrate. She’s made up
her mind, about me, about Jude, about everything that’s happened here tonight.
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think.” She glares, hands clutching her shiny, black leather-clad hips. “Exactly. And trust me, Ever, you won’t get away with it. Not this time. You’re done interfering in my life. You’re done robbing me of the people I hold dear. This is war. Absolute war. I’m gonna make your life so miserable, you’re gonna wish your only problem was that you can’t touch your boyfriend. Cuz make no mistake—you’ve never seen anything like I’ve got coming for you.” She lifts her brow and flashes her teeth. “And Jude?” She spins on her heel, acknowledging him for the first time since she arrived. “You’re gonna wish you were immortal, because after tonight, there’s no way you’ll ever be able to withstand what’s headed your way.”
thirty-five
“So, it worked,” Damen says, his voice sounding soft, faraway. “It really did exist.”
I take a deep breath and gaze down at my knees, my feet curled up on the soft leather seat, remembering how he found me just as I was leaving Roman’s, Jude following behind, as Haven continued to scream a full litany of threats from the door. Arriving at the scene just seconds after the movie let out. Not even bothering to stop by the Montage where I’d planned for us to meet, sensing there was trouble from the moment he read my message.
I nod, gazing up at my house and remembering that triumphant moment when it all came together—when the antidote was as good as mine. Only to have it all fall apart.
Our dreams snatched right out from under us in one horrible instant.
I shake my head and sigh, knowing tomorrow morning I’ll have to face Sabine. Have to come clean about my job, my psychic abilities, my moonlighting as Avalon—and reminiscing about a few hours earlier when I thought that was the worst of my problems.
“It really and truly did work,” I say, meeting Damen’s gaze, not just wanting but needing for him to believe it. “He had the antidote, he showed it to me and everything. It was so—so small—just this tiny glass vial filled with sparkly, green liquid.” I shrug. “And then he stuck it in his pocket and—” I swallow hard, no need to relive the rest. Not verbally anyway. Not when the scene keeps replaying again and again in my head.