He moves around his desk and drops onto his chair, swiveling back and forth as he slowly takes me in, his face still, placid, impossible to read. But something about the movement, that gentle, constant pivoting, instantly calms me. Allowing me to settle back in my seat, slow my breath, and focus on the way his dreadlocks spill over the colorful picture of Ganesh that’s splashed across his tee.
“Look,” I finally say, starting to feel better, almost human again. “I’m—I’m sorry for coming here like this. I was actually on my way over to give you this.” I reach for my bag, rooting around for the small white package I then hand to him. Watching him peek at the contents as I say, “It’s your prescription. I picked it up earlier and meant to leave it on your desk, but then I forgot all about it ’til now.” He nods, silent for a moment, studying me carefully as he says, “Ever, what’s this really about? Clearly, you’re not here to talk about my meds.” He pushes the pills aside with his cast, catching my look when he adds, “Trust me, I have no plans to take ’em. Pain pills and me—not a good mix. As I’m sure you’ve already witnessed.”
And when he looks at me, I know he remembers. Everything. All of it. The full-on confession he made.
I press my lips together and lower my gaze, fiddling with the hem of my dress, knowing I’m just going through the motions when I say, “Well, you might want to take the antibiotics at least—you know, to ward off infection and all.”
He leans back in his seat and places his feet on his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle as his amazing green eyes narrow on me. “What do you say we move past all this and get to the point—what’s really going on with you?”
I take a deep breath, smoothing my dress over my knees before tentatively meeting his gaze. “I did come here to bring you the pills, really. But on the way over—something happened—and—” I look at him, knowing I need to just get to the point, spit it out already before he loses his patience with me. “I think I accidentally bound Roman to me.”
He looks at me, trying hard not to balk, though he still kinda does.
“Or, actually, I bound myself to Roman. But not on purpose—it was an accident. I meant to do just the opposite, but then, when I tried to undo it, it just made things worse. And even though you have absolutely no reason to help me—believe it or not, I have nowhere to turn.”
“Nowhere?” You sure about that?” He lifts his spliced brow.
Gathering my words, hoping they’ll work to convince him, I heave an audible sigh when I say, “I know what you’re thinking, but you may as well forget it. I can’t tell Damen—he can never know what I’ve done. He doesn’t work magick—doesn’t really trust it for that matter—so it’s not like he can do anything to help. I’ll just be hurting and disappointing him for no good reason. But you—you’re different. You know your way around a spell. And since I need help from someone who’s familiar with this kind of thing—well, I thought you could show me how to set things right.”
“Sounds like you’re putting a lot of faith in me.” He tosses his dreadlocks over his shoulder and rests his arms on his lap.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But then I truly believe that it’s warranted. I mean, now that I’ve proved you’re not evil—” I nod toward his arms, the sight of them sparking an idea, something I just might broach at some point, something that just might be the perfect way to make it all up to him—but in the future, not now. First I need to get through this. Swallowing hard as I lower my gaze, horrified to have to admit this, to say the words out loud, but knowing it’s the only way. “It’s like I’m obsessed with Roman.” I glance at him briefly, seeing him blanch slightly but grateful for his efforts to contain it. “I’m totally and completely fixated on him. He’s all I think about. All I dream about. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop it.”
He nods, head bobbing slightly, as though in deep contemplation. Like he’s flipping through his mental spell-reversing book, searching for just the right cure. “This is a tough one, Ever.” He takes a deep breath and levels his gaze right on mine. “It’s—complicated.”
I nod, hands clasped in my lap, already painfully aware of that.
“Binding spells—” He rubs his cast against his chin. “Well, they can’t always be undone.”
I lean forward, striving for calm, striving to speak past my agitated breath. “But—I thought everything can be undone—you just have to work the right spell at the right time—right?”
His shoulders rise and fall in a move so final it makes my stomach dip, his gaze on mine as he says, “Sorry, I’m just telling you what I’ve learned through my years of studying and practicing these things. But you’ve got The Book, you’ve got this supposed code that gets past the code—so, you tell me.”
I sigh, leaning back in my seat, fingers picking at the hem of my dress. “The Book’s not much help. I mean, I pretty much did exactly what Romy and Rayne said—used most all the same elements—and—”
He looks at me. “The exact same elements?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “For the most part. I mean, in order to reverse a spell—you need to repeat the same steps as before—it says so right in the book and Romy and Rayne confirmed it.”
He nods. Doesn’t say a word, just nods. But his attempt at restraint rings loud and clear.
“So I can’t imagine what made it go wrong. I mean, at first I thought I’d nailed it, but then it—it completely got away from me and started reversing itself all over again, repeating the same sequence of events as before.”
“Ever, I know you repeated the steps, but did you also repeat the same tools? The same herbs, crystals, and whatever else you might’ve used?”
“Some new, some old.” I shrug, not quite getting his point.
“What’s the main tool you used—the one that really got the spell rolling?”
“Well, after the bath, I—” I narrow my eyes and think, the answer coming instantly: “The athame.” I look at him, both of us knowing that’s it—the big wrong thing that I did. “I—I used it for a blood exchange, and—”
His eyes widen, his cheeks pale, and his aura begins to quiver in a way that’s more than a little frightening. “And was this the same athame you used on me?” he asks, his concern ringing loud and clear.
I shake my head, seeing his face flood with relief. “No, that was just a quickly manifested replica. The real one’s at home.”
He nods, obviously glad to hear it but determined to move on. “Well, I hate to say it, but that’s the one thing you wanted to make new. You need to offer the goddess something new, pure, and unused. You can’t serve her with the same tainted tools you used for the queen of the under-world.”
Oh.
He looks at me, gaze saddened, eyes tugging down at the corners when he says, “I’d love to help you, really I would, but this kind of thing is a little over my head. Maybe you should consult with Romy and Rayne, they seem to know what they’re doing.”
“But do they?” I squint, unsure where I’m going with this, and really just thinking out loud when I say, “Because the thing is, I did listen to them. I did what they said. I mean, granted, they didn’t like the athame, claimed I’d made it all wrong and wanted me to melt it down to a stub, but still, even when I refused, they just let it go. They never once said I couldn’t use it again or that I had to use a whole new set of tools in order to reverse the spell. Somehow they failed to share that with me.”
Our eyes meet, both of us wondering the same thing. Why would they do that? Was it on purpose? Do they really dislike me that much? With Jude dismissing the thought a lot quicker than I. But then, he doesn’t know our history. A history so complicated and volatile, I can’t rule it out.
“Listen, they’re extremely close to Damen—they love him about as much as they hate me. Seriously.” I nod, knowing it’s not an exaggeration—it’s completely and totally true. “And despite the fact they they’re supposedly good witches, I wouldn’t put it past them to do this, thinking they were te
aching me a lesson, or heck, maybe even trying to keep Damen and me apart. I mean, who knows what they’ve got planned? But even if it wasn’t intentional, even if they just simply didn’t know any better, there’s no way I can approach them. Because if they did do it on purpose, they’ll tell Damen, and under no circumstances whatsoever can he find out about this—I can’t hurt him that way. And if they didn’t, well, then it’s just one more piece of ammunition in their arsenal of things with which to ridicule me.”
Jude leans toward me, his face determined when he says, “Ever, I get your dilemma, really I do. But don’t you think you’re coming off as just a little bit paranoid these days?”
I narrow my eyes and lean back in my chair, wondering if he’s listened to a single word I’ve just said.
“I mean, first you accuse me of being a rogue, which, by the way, I still don’t know what the heck that is other than it has something to do with Roman, who not only, well according to you anyway, runs his own tribe of evildoers but who you also just happen to both loathe and lust after due to some binding spell gone wrong. And while you can’t be too sure, it’s quite possible, or at least in your mind it is, that Romy and Rayne are out to get you, which is why they purposely left crucial pieces of information out of their instructions so that you could mess up in such a way that would keep you and Damen apart. And speaking of Damen, you’re also convinced he’d never forgive you for this mess that you’ve made—and—” He shakes his head. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
I frown, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to slits, refusing to acknowledge any of it—besides, it’s not that simple, it goes much deeper than that.
“Ever, please, I want to help you, you should know that by now, but I’m also determined to do the right thing. You need to take this to Damen. I’m sure he’ll understand and—”
“I’ve already explained,” I say. “He doesn’t trust magick and he already warned me against using it. I can’t bear for him to know I didn’t listen, and just how low I’ve sunk.”
Jude leans back and studies me closely, his voice a sigh when he says, “Ah, but you’ve no problem with me knowing, is that it?” He gives a half smile that never quite reaches his eyes.
I take a deep breath and look at him, determined to shoot as straight and openly as I can. “Trust me, this isn’t comfortable for me either, but I’ve pretty much got nowhere else to go. But, hey, if you don’t want to get involved, just say so and I’ll . . .”
I grip my armrests, lifting myself out of my chair, preparing to leave. Stopped by the lure of those deep aqua green eyes coaxing me back into my seat, as he slides open a drawer, riffles through the contents, and says, “Looks like I’m already involved. Let’s see what I can do.”
twelve
“And here I thought I was destined to head off to Florence without a final good-bye from you!” Miles grasps me to him in what could only be described as a bear hug. Peering over my shoulder at Damen and eyeballing him carefully when he whispers, “Glad to see you’re back together again.”
I pull away and shoot him a dubious look. Remembering the last time I saw him, at the going-away party I threw for him last week, and how he urged me to move on from Damen and find happiness with Jude.
He reads my gaze as though reading my mind, his lips curving into a grin as he says, “So I want to see you happy—is that so bad?” He turns, giving Damen a little half wave, when he adds, “Heck, I want to see everyone happy—which is why you might want to steer clear of just about every room in this house except the one you’re in now. And that includes the backyard.”
Damen’s arm tightens around me, pulling me into a protective embrace, his voice tinged with concern when he says, “So there’s someone on the guest list who might make us unhappy?”
I glance between them, already knowing the answer. I knew it the instant we got out of the car and walked up the drive to his door. The moment that strange, foreign pulse awakened inside me, alerting me to the one thing, the only thing I need to know:
Roman is here.
The rest is just details.
Miles screws his lips to the side and runs his fingers through his short dark hair. “Oh no, there was no guest list—just a random group of people who started stopping by around noon and haven’t stopped yet. And just so you know, I know all about you and Haven, so—”
“Excuse me?” I study him closely, peering at his aura, its usual well-meaning yellow now tinged with a conflicted gray.
He looks at me, pursing his lips and shaking his head when he says, “Listen, I know all about it, she told me. And while I wish I could stick around and help you two work it out—”
“What did she say? What were her exact words?” I ask, my gaze fixed on Miles as Damen grips my waist tighter, both of us on high alert, watching as he shakes his head, and mimes a zipper being pulled across his mouth.
“Oh no, don’t even go there. Seriously, Ever, don’t even try. All I know is that you’re no longer talking. As for the rest—I’m Switzerland. Totally neutral. I refuse to get involved. Because the truth is, I really don’t wish I could stick around to fix it. I was just being nice. I can’t wait to get to Florence and leave you guys here to work it out on your own. And you better work it out too, because I will not be forced to choose sides when I get back. I mean, you may have the advantage since you give me rides to school and all, but still, I’ve known Haven longer, and that’s gotta count for something, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as though the whole mess is just too much to process.
“Miles, that’s all well and good, but I’m afraid it’s imperative we know exactly what it is Haven told you.” Damen’s voice is low, urgent, filled with intent, making it clear, or at least to me anyway, that if Miles doesn’t fess up, he’s just seconds away from breaking our vow to never spy on our friends’ private thoughts and peer right inside his head to see for himself. “It won’t get back to her if that’s what you’re worried about, but I’m afraid we must know.”
Miles looks at him, heaving a dramatic sigh and rolling his eyes “Et tu, Damen?” he says, glancing between us, clearly unhappy with the peer pressure we’re inflicting on him. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but only because this time tomorrow I’m out of here—sailing through the clouds at thirty thousand feet, watching movies I’ve already seen and filling up on high-sodium food that’s sure to bloat me. But just remember, no matter how ugly it gets, you asked for it.” He looks at us, pausing dramatically, face gone all serious when he says, “She told me you guys are determined to keep her from Roman, because, and remember, these are her words not mine so don’t shoot the messenger, but basically she thinks you’re jealous. Well, not really you, Damen, but Ever for sure. She thinks Ever’s jealous because, again, her words.” He clears his throat, striving for just the right raspy-voiced, Haven inflection. “I’m finally coming into my own and Ever can’t stand the fact that she’s no longer the special one.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. And even though I feel bad that we made him repeat it, I’m also secretly thrilled that it isn’t at all what I thought. She may hate me, but she’s still managed to keep her immortality to herself—at least for now anyway.
Damen nods, coolly, calmly, but I can tell he’s relieved too. And I just look at Miles, shrugging casually when I say, “Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that.”
But the truth is, I’ve already moved on. That strange magick is stirring inside me, causing my heart to race, my palms to sweat, as that restless, twitchy feeling takes over again. And all I want to do is ditch these two as fast as I can so I can find him. Roman. I’ve got an uncontrollable hunger that needs to be fed, no matter the cost to me or my friends.
I swallow hard, taking slow measured breaths and struggling to steady myself. Clinging to the small glimmer of sanity that’s managed to remain despite the battle that rages around it.
“So, there you have it. A good old-fashioned girl fight.” Miles shrugs. “Too bad I’m not the type to appreciate that
kind of thing—though you might.”
He motions toward Damen, but Damen’s quick to dispel it. “I assure you, I got over that type of thing a long time ago.” He nods, a brief flash of sorrow crossing over his face, a memory of Drina and me that’s here and gone before I can blink.
Miles nods, glancing between us when he adds, “Though she is right about one thing—”
Damen shifts ever so slightly, on high alert for whatever that might be, while I stand beside him, nervous, fidgety, only wishing he’d come to me.
“She really is looking pretty smokin’ these days. I mean, I don’t know if it’s her new, post-apocalyptic, rock ’n’ roll gypsy look she’s got going, or what. But it’s like she’s finally finding herself, coming into her own like she said, you know? And after being so lost for so long, it’s got to be a pretty heady feeling to finally gain a little self-empowerment, so try to cut her some slack, okay? She’ll come around. Eventually. But for now, I think we should just sit back and try not to take it personally. Or at least you guys should, because me—I’m headed for Florence—did I mention that?”
I nod, automatically, robotically, rearranging my face into what I hope comes off as a pleasant expression. Hoping everything about me appears pleasant, friendly, and completely agreeable, because inside, I’m stirring, burning, and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let her enjoy that ride if it involves bringing Roman along.
No.
Way.
But I don’t say that. I don’t say a word. I just shrug as though it hardly concerns me, as I continue to survey the room. Just biding my time until my favorite blue-eyed, blond-haired golden boy appears.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say is that no matter what happens between you guys, I’m not choosing sides, which also means you’re all equally welcome here. But that doesn’t mean I invited her entourage to stop by—Haven came up with that all on her own. Because honestly, don’t tell her I said so, but Roman’s kind of—” He frowns and stares off into space, searching for just the right word, before shaking his head and starting again. “Well—whatever—let’s just say there’s something kind of—off about him—something kind of—strange. I don’t really know how to explain it, but it’s kind of the same feeling I had with Drina.”