And even though I dodge, and try to move past her, she lifts one languid leg and assists me in a face plant.
I lie on the ground, blinking into a pool of my own blood, listening to the derisive laughter she directs right at me. And when I tentatively touch my face, my nose flops to the side, and I know that it's broken.
I struggle to stand, spitting rocks from my mouth, cringing in dismay as a stream of blood and teeth tumble out too. And I watch as she shakes her head and says, "Wow, you look awful, Ever." She grimaces in disgust. "Seriously awful. One wonders what Damen ever saw in you."
My body's racked with pain, my breath's shallow, unsteady, as mouthfuls of blood coat my tongue with a taste that's metallic and bitter.
"Well, I suppose you'll want all the details, even though you won't remember them the next time around. Still, it's always fun to see the shock on your face when I explain it to you." She laughs. "I don't know why, but for some reason, I never bore of this particular episode, no matterhow many times we re-run it. Plus, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, then I have to admit it allows for a deliciously prolonged pleasure. Kind of like foreplay, not that you would know anything about that. All these lifetimes and somehow you always die a virgin. Which would be so sad, if it wasn't so funny." She scoffs. "So, where to begin, where to begin?" She looks at me, lips pursed, redmanicured nails tapping the sides of her hips. "Okay, well, as you know, I'm the one who swapped the picture from the one in your trunk. I mean, you as the woman with the yellow hair? I. Don't. Think. So. And between you and me, Picasso would've been furious. Still, I do love him. Damen, that is. Not that old dead artist." She laughs. "Anywho, let's see, I planted the feather." She rolls her eyes. "Damen can be so-maudlin. Oh, I even planted that dream in your head. How's that for months of mysterious foreshadowing? And no, I'm not going to explain all the hows and whys because that would take too long, and, quite frankly, it's hardly important where you're going. Too bad you didn't just die in that accident, because you could've saved us both a lot of trouble. Do you have any idea how much damage you've caused? I mean, because of you Evangeline is dead and Haven-well, look how close she came. I mean, really Ever, how selfish of you."
She looks at me but I refuse to respond. Wondering if that qualifies as an admission of guilt.
She laughs. "Well, you're about to exit now, so yes, no harm in confessing." She lifts her right hand as though solemnly swearing. "I, Drina Magdalena Auguste" -she raises her brow at me when she says that last part-"effectively eliminated Evangeline a.k.a. June Porter, who, by the way, was contributing nothing and only taking up space so it's not nearly as sad as you think. I needed to get her out of the way so I'd have full access to Haven." She smiles, her eyes grazing over me. "Yes, just like you suspected, I purposely stole your friend Haven. Which is so easy to do with those lost and unloved ones who are so desperately craving attention they'll do just about anything for someone who gives them the time of day. And yes, I convinced her to get a tattoo that nearly killed her, but only because I couldn't decide if I should kill her-kill her, or kill her so that I could bring her back and make her immortal. It's been so long since I last had an acolyte, and I must say, I really did enjoy it. But, then again, in decisiveness has always been a weakness of mine. When you have so many options spread out before you and an eternity to see them played out, well, it's hard not to get greedy and want to choose them all!" She smiles, like a child who's Simply been naughty, but nothing more. "Still, I waited too long, and then Damen stepped in-well meaning, altruistic sap that he is-and, well, you know the rest. Oh, and I got Miles that part in Hairspray. Though, in all fairness, he probably could've nailed it himself, because the kid has loads of talent. Still, I couldn't take any chances, so I climbed inside the director's head and swung the vote in his favor. Oh, and Sabine and Jeff? My bad. But still, it worked out beautifully, don't you think? Imagine, your smart, successful, savvy aunt falling for that loser." She laughs. "Pathetic, and yet, quite funny, don't you think?"
But why? Why would you do this? I think, no longer able to speak since I'm missing most of my teeth and gagging on my own blood, but knowing it's not necessary, knowing she can hear the thoughts in my head. Why involve everyone else, why not just go after me?
"I wanted to show you how lonely your life can be. I wanted to demonstrate how easy it is for people to abandon you in favor of something better, more exciting. You're all alone, Ever. Isolated, unloved, alone. Your life is pathetic and hardly worth living. So, as you can see, I'm doing you a favor." She smiles. "Though I'm sure you won't thank me."
I gaze at her, wondering how someone so amazingly beautiful could be so ugly inside.
Then I stare into her eyes and take a tiny step back, hoping she won't notice.
I'm not even with Damen anymore. We broke up a long time ago. So why don't you go find him, we can go our separate ways, and forget this ever happened! I think, hoping to distract her.
She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Trust me, you're the only one who will forget this ever happened. Besides, it's really not that simple. You have no idea how this works, do you?"
She's got me there.
"You see, Damen is mine. And he's always been mine. But unfortunately, you keep showing up, in your stupid, boring, repetitive soul recycle. And since you insist on doing that, it's become my job to track you down and kill you each time." She takes a step toward me as I take a step back, the bloody sole of my foot landing on a pointy sharp rock as I close my eyes and wince in unbearable pain.
"You think that hurt?,' She laughs. 'Just wait."
I glance around the canyon, eyes darting furiously, scanning ror a way out, some kind of escape. Then I take another step back and stumble again. My hand brushing the ground as my fingers curl around a sharp rock that I hurl at her face, smacking her square in the jaw and tearing a chunk from her cheek.
She laughs, the hole in her face spurting blood and revealing two missing teeth. Then I watch in horror as it rights itself again, returning her back to her pure seamless beauty.
"This again." She sighs. "Come on, try something new, see if you can amuse me for a change."
She stands before me, hands on hips, brows raised, but I refuse to run. I refuse to make the next move. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of yet another fool's race. Besides, everything she said is true. My life really is a lonely horrible mess. And everyone I touch gets dragged down in it too.
I watch as she advances on me, smiling in anticipation, knowing my end is near. So I close my eyes and remember the moment right before the accident. Back when I was healthy and happy and surrounded by family. Imagining it so vividly I can ftel the warm leather seat beneath my bare legs, I can sense Buttercup's tail thumping against my thigh, I can hear Riley singing at the top of her lungs, her voice inharmonious, horribly off-key.
I can see my mom's smile as she turns in her seat, her hand reaching out to chuck Riley's knee. I can see my dad's eyes, both of us gazing into the rearview mirror, his smile knowing, kind, and amused-
I hold on to that moment, cradling it in my mind, experiencing the feel, the scents, the sounds, the emotions, as though I'm right there. Wanting this to be the last moment I see before I go, reliving the last time I was truly happy.
And just when I'm so far in, it's as though I'm right there, I hear Drina gasp. "What the hell?"
And I open my eyes to see the shock on her face, her eyes sweeping over me, her mouth hanging open. Then I gaze down at a gown that's no longer torn, feet that are no longer bloody, knees that are no longer scraped, and when I run my tongue arounda full set of teeth and bring my hand to my nose, I know that my face is healed too. And even though I've no idea what it means, I know I need to act fast, before it's too late.
And as Drina steps back, her eyes wide, full of questions, I move toward her, not sure what the next step will bring, or the one after that. All I know is that I'm running out of time, as I rush forward and say, "Hey Drina, trick or treat'?"
Thirty
-One
At first she just stares, green eyes wide and unbelieving, then she lifts her chin and bares her teeth. But before she can attack, I lunge toward her. Determined to get to her first, to take her down while I can. But just as I spring forward, I see this shimmering veil of soft golden light, a luminous circle just off to the side, glowing and beckoning, like the one in my dream. And even though Drina planted those dreams, even though it's probably a trap, I can't help but veer toward it.
I tumble through a brilliant haze, a shower of light so loving, so warm, so intense, it calms my nerves and soothes all my fears. And when I land in a field of vibrant green grass, the blades hold me, support me, and cushion my fall.
I gaze at the meadow around me, its flowers blooming with petals that seem lit from within, surrounded by trees that reach far into the sky, their branches sagging with ripe juicy fruit. And as I lie there quietly, taking it all in, I can't help but feel like I've been here before.
"Ever."
I spring to my feet, poised and ready to fight. And when I see that it's Damen, I take a step back, having no idea whose side he's really on.
"Ever, relax. It's okay." He nods, smiling as he offers his hand. But I refuse to take it, refuse to fall for his bait. So I take another step back as my eyes search for Drina.
"She's not here." He nods, his eyes fixed on mine. "'You're safe, it's just me."
I hesitate, debating whether or not to believe him, doubting he could ever be thought of as safe. Staring at him, while weighing my options (which are admittedly few), until I finally ask, "Where are we?" In place of my actual question: Am I dead?
"I assure you, you're not dead." He laughs, reading my thoughts. "'You're in Summerland."
I look at him, without even a hint of understanding.
"It's a sort of-place between places. Like a waitingroom. Or a rest stop. A dimension between the dimensions, if you will."
"Dimensions?" I squint, the word sounding foreign, unfamiliar, at least in the way that he uses it. And when he reaches for my hand, I quickly pull away, knowing it's impossible to see anything clearly whenever he touches me.
He gazes at me, then shrugs, motioning for me to follow him through a meadow where every flower, every tree, every single blade of grass bends and sways and twists and curves like partners in an infinite dance.
"'Close your eyes," he whispers. And when I don't he adds, "'Please?"
I close them. Halfway.
"Trust me." He sighs. "Just this once."
So I do. "Now what?" "Now imagine something."
"What do you mean?" I ask, immediately picturing a giant elephant.
"Imagine something else," he says, "quickly."
I open my eyes, startled to see a ginormous elephant charging right at us, then I gasp in amazement when I transform him into a butterfly-a beautiful Monarch butterfly that lands right on the tip of my finger. "How-?" I glance between Damen and the butterfly, its black antennae twitching at me.
Damen laughs. "Want to try again?"
I press my lips and look at him, trying to think of something good, something better than an elephant or a butterfly.
"Go ahead," he urges. "It's so much fun. It never gets old."
I close my eyes and imagine the butterfly turning into a bird, and when I open them again a colorful majestic macaw is perched on my finger. But when a messy trail of bird poop drips down my arm, Damen hands me a towel and says, "How about something with a little less-cleanup?"
I set the bird down and watch it flyaway, then I close my eyes, fervently wishing, and when I open them again, Orlando Bloom has taken his place.
Damen groans and shakes his head.
"Is he real?" I whisper, gaping in amazement as Orlando Bloom smiles and winks at me.
Damen shakes his head. "You can't manifest actual people, only their likeness.
Luckily, it won't be long before he fades."
And when he does, I can't help but feel a little sad.
"What's going on?" I ask, looking at Damen. "Where are we?
And how is this even possible?"
Damen smiles and makes a beautiful white stallion appear.
After getting me mounted and settled, he makes a black one for him. "Let's go for a ride," he says, leading me down a trail.
We ride side by side, down a beautiful, manicured path, cutting right through the valley of flowers and trees and a sparkling stream the color of rainbows. And when I see my parrot perched next to a cat I veer from the trail, ready to shoo him away, but Damen grabs the reins and says, "No worries. There are no enemies. All is at peace here."
We ride in silence as I gape at the surrounding beauty, struggling to take it all in, though it's not long before my mind starts reeling with all sorts of questions and no clue where to begin.
"The veil you saw? The one you were drawn to?" He looks at me. "I put it there."
"In the canyon?"
He nods. "And in your dream."
"But Drina says she created the dream." I look at him, seeing how he rides with such confidence, so sure in the saddle. But then I remember the painting on his wall, the one of him mounted on the white stallion, sword by his side, and I figure he's been at it for a while.
"Drina showed you the location, I showed you the exit."
"Exit?" I say, my heart pounding again.
He shakes his head and smiles. "Not that kind of exit. I already told you, you're not dead. In fact, you're more alive than ever. Able to manipulate matter and manifest anything you want. The ultimate in instant gratification." He laughs. "But don't come here too often. Because I'm warning you, it's addictive."
"So you both created my dreams?" I ask, squinting at him, trying to get a handle on all these bizarre events. "Like-like a collaboration?"
He nods.
"So I don't even control my own dreams?" I say, my voice rising, not liking the sound of any of this.
"Not that particular dream, no."
I scowl at him, shaking my head when I say; "Well, excuse me, but don't you think that's just a little invasive? I mean, jeez! And why didn't you try to stop it, if you knew it was coming?"
He looks at me, his eyes tired and sad. "I didn't know it was Drina. I was just observing your dreams, you were frightened by something, so I showed you the way here. This is always a safe place to come to."
"So why didn't Drina follow me?" I say; looking around for her again.
He reaches for my hand and squeezes my fingers. "Because Drina can't see it, only you could see it."
I squint at him. Everything's so weird, so strange, and none of it makes any sense.
"Don't worry; you'll get it. But for now, why not just try to enjoy it?"
"Why does it seem so familiar?" I say; feeling the tug of recognition, but unable to place it.
"Because this is where I found you." I look at him.
"I found your body outside the car, true. But your soul had already moved on and was lingering here." He stops both our horses, and helps me dismount, then he leads me to a warm patch of grass, so brilliant and sparkling in the warm golden light that doesn't seem to emanate from anyone place, and the next thing I know he's manifested a big cushy couch and a matching ottoman for our feet.
"Care to add anything?" He smiles.
I close my eyes and imagine a coffee table, some lamps, a few knickknacks,,and a nice Persian rug, and when I open them again we're in a fully furnished outdoor living room.
But it's too late, we're already soaked.
"Thoughts create," he says, making a giant umbrella, the rain sloping steadily off the sides and onto the rug. "It's the same on Earth, it just takes a lot longer. But here in Summerland, it's in stant."
"That reminds me of what my mom used to say-'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it!'" I laugh.
He nods. "Now you know where that originates. Care to make this rain stop, so we can dry off?" He shakes his wet hair at me.
"How-"
"Just think of someplac
e warm and dry." He smiles.
And the next thing I know we're lying on a beautiful pinksand beach.
"Let's leave it at this? Shall we?" He laughs as I make us a plushy blue towel and a turquoise ocean to match.
And when I lie back and close my eyes against the warmth, he confirms it. Not that I didn't already start to figure it out for myself, but still not having it stated in a complete sentence. One that begins with:
"I'm an immortal." And ends with: "And you are too."
Is not something you hear every day.
"So, we're both immortals?" I say; opening one eye to peer at him, wondering how I could have such a bizarre conversation in such a normal tone of voice. But then again, I'm in Summerland, and it doesn't get more bizarre than that.
He nods.
"And you made me an immortal when I died in the crash?" He nods again.
"But how? Does it have something to do with that weird red drink?"
He takes a deep breath before answering. "Yes."
"But how come I don't have to drink it all the time, like you?"
He averts his gaze and looks out toward the sea. "Eventually you will."
I sit up picking at a loose string on my towel, still unable to fully wrap my mind around this. Remembering a time in the notso-distant past when I thought just being psychic was a curse, and now look.
"It's not as bad as you think," he says, placing his hand over mine. "Look around, it doesn't get any better than this."
"But why? I mean, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be an immortal? That maybe you should've just let me go?"
I watch as he cringes, averting his gaze, looking all around, focusing on everything but me. Then he turns to me and says, "First of all, you're right. I was selfish. Because the truth is, I saved you more for myself than for you. I couldn't bear to lose you again, not after… " He stops and shakes his head. "But still, I wasn't sure if it worked.'
Obviously I knew I'd brought you back, but I wasn't sure for how long. I wasn't Sure I'd actually turned you until I saw you in the canyon just now-"