Blue Moon (19 page)

I drop my head in my hands, hating myself for being so petty, so small, so foolish—so heinously pathetic, that I robbed myself of the answers I came here to know. Wishing I could rewind this whole session and start over—wishing I could go back—

“You can't go back.”

I turn, hearing Romy's voice sneak up from behind me, and wondering how she found her way into this room. But when I look around, I realize I'm no longer in that beautiful circular space, I'm back in the hall. A few tables away from where the monks, priests, shamans, and rabbis once were.

“And you should never fast-forward into the future. Because every time you do, you rob yourself of the journey, the present moment, which, in the end, is all there really is.”

I turn, wondering if she's referring to my crystal tablet debacle or life in general.

But she just smiles. “You okay?”

I shrug and look away. I mean, why bother explaining? She probably already knows anyway.

“Nope.” She leans against the table and shakes her head. “I don't know a thing. Whatever happens in here is yours and yours to keep. I just heard your cry of distress so I thought I'd check in. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And where's your evil twin?” I ask, gazing around, wondering if she's hiding somewhere.

But Romy just smiles and motions for me to follow. “She's outside, keeping an eye on your friend.”

“Ava's here?” I ask, surprised by how relieved that makes me feel. Especially considering how I'm still annoyed with her for ditching me like that.

But Romy just waves again, leading me through the front door and out to the steps where Ava is waiting.

“Where've you been?” I ask, my question sounding more like an accusation.

“I got a little sidetracked.” She shrugs. “This place is so amazing, I—” She looks at me, hoping I'll lighten up and cut her a break, and averting her gaze when it's clear that I won't.

“How'd you end up here? Did Romy and Rayne—” But when I turn, I realize they're gone.

Ava squints, her fingers playing with the newly manifested gold hoops at her ear. “I desired to find you, so I ended up here. But I can't seem to get inside.” She frowns at the door. “So is this it? Is this the hall you were looking for?”

I nod, taking in her expensive shoes and designer handbag, and growing more annoyed by the second. Here I take her to Summerland so she can help me save someone's life, and all she wants to do is go shopping.

“I
know,
” she says, responding to the thoughts in my head. “I got carried away, and I'm sorry. But I'm ready to help if you still need it. Or did you get all the answers you sought?”

I press my lips together and gaze down at the ground, shaking my head when I say, “I um—I ran into some trouble.” A flood of shame washes right over me, especially when I remember how the
trouble
was pretty much of my making. “And I'm afraid I'm right back where I started,” I add, feeling like the world's biggest loser.

“Maybe I can help?” She smiles, squeezing my arm so I'll know she's sincere.

But I just shrug, doubting she can do much of anything at this point.

“Don't give up so easily,” she says. “After all, this is Summerland, anything is possible here!”

I glance at her, knowing it's true but also knowing I've got some
serious work to do back home on the earth plane. Work that's going to require all of my attention and focus, no distractions allowed.

So as I lead her down the stairs, I look at her and say, “Well, there's one thing you can do.”

 

Even though Ava wanted to stay, I pretty
much grabbed hold of her hand and forced her to leave, knowing we'd both wasted plenty of time in Summerland already and I had other places to be.

“Damn!” She squints at her fingers just after we land on the floor cushions in her small purple room. “I was hoping they'd keep.”

I nod, noticing how the jewel-encrusted gold rings she'd manifested have returned to her usual silver, while the designer shoes and handbag didn't survive the trip either.

“I was wondering about that,” I say, rising to my feet. “But you know you can do that here, right? You can manifest anything you want, you just have to be patient.” I smile, wishing to leave things on a positive note by repeating the exact same pep talk Damen gave me back when my lessons first began. Lessons I wished I'd paid a lot more attention to now, having assumed that being immortal meant we had nothing but time. Besides, I'm starting to feel guilty for being so hard on her. I mean, who wouldn't get a little carried away on their first visit to that place?

“So what now?” she calls, following me to the front door. “When do we go back? I mean, you won't return without me—will you?”

I turn, my eyes meeting hers, seeing how consumed she is with her visit and wondering if I'd made a mistake by taking her there.
Avoiding her eyes as I head for my car, calling over my shoulder to say, “I'll give you a call.”

 

The next morning I pull into the parking lot and head for class. Merging into the usual swarm of students just like any other day, except this time I don't strive to keep my distance and maintain my personal space. Instead, I just go with the flow. Not reacting in the slightest when random people brush up against me, despite the fact that I left my iPod, hoodie, and sunglasses at home.

But that's because I'm no longer reliant on those old accessories that never worked all that well anyway. Now I carry my quantum remote wherever I go.

Yesterday, just as Ava and I were about to leave Summerland, I asked her to help me build a better shield. Knowing I could just go back into the hall while she waited outside and receive the answer on my own, but since she wanted to help, and figuring she might learn something too, we lingered at the bottom of the steps, both of us focusing our energy on
desiring
a shield that would allow us (well, me mostly, since Ava doesn't hear thoughts and get life stories by touch) to tune in and out at will. And the next thing you know, we both looked at each other and at the exact same second said,
“A quantum remote!”

So now, whenever I want to hear someone's thoughts I just surf over to their energy field and hit
select
. And if I don't want to be bothered, I hit
mute
. Just like the remote I have at home. Only this one is invisible so I can pretty much take it everywhere I go.

I head into English, arriving early so I can observe all the action from start to finish. Not wanting to miss a single second of my planned surveillance. Because even though I have visual proof that Roman's responsible for what's happening to Damen—it gets me only so far. And now that the
who
part of the equation is solved, it's time to move on to the
how
and
why
.

I just hope it doesn't take too long. I mean, for one thing, I miss Damen. And for another, I'm so low on immortal juice I'm already forced to ration it. And since Damen never got around to giving me the recipe, I've no idea how to replace it, much less what will happen without it. Though I'm sure it's not good.

Originally, Damen thought he could just drink the elixir once and be cured of all ills. And while that worked for the first one hundred and fifty years, when he started to see subtle signs of aging he decided to drink it again. And then again. Until he ultimately became totally dependent.

He also didn't realize that an immortal could be killed until after I took down his ex-wife, Drina. And while both of us were sure that targeting the weakest chakra was the only method (the heart chakra in Drina's case), and while I'm still sure that we're the only ones who know that—according to what I saw yesterday in the akashic records, Roman's discovered another way. Which means if I have any hope of saving Damen, I need to learn what Roman knows, before it's too late.

When the door finally opens, I lift my gaze as a horde of students burst in. And even though it's not the first time I've seen it, it's still hard to watch them all laughing and joking and getting along, when just last week they barely acknowledged each other. And even though it's pretty much the kind of scene anyone would dream of seeing in their school, under the circumstances, it's not giving me the thrill that it should.

And not just because I'm stuck on the outside looking in, but because it's creepy, unnatural, and weird. I mean, high schools don't operate like this. Heck,
people
don't operate like this. Like will always seek like and that's just the way it is. It's just one of those unspoken rules. Besides, this isn't something they've
chosen
to do. Because little do they realize that all of that hugging, laughing, and
ridiculous high-fiving is not because of their newfound love for each other—it's because of Roman.

Like a master puppeteer controlling his subjects for his own amusement—Roman is responsible. And while I don't know
how
or
why
he's doing it, and while I can't prove that he actually
is
doing it, I just know in my heart that it's true. It's as clear as the ping in my gut or the chill that blankets my skin whenever he's near.

I watch as Damen slides onto his seat as Stacia leans on his desk, her heavily padded pushed-up chest looming close to his face as she swings her hair over her shoulder and laughs at her own stupid wit. And even though I can't
hear
the joke since I purposely tuned her out in order to better hear Damen, the fact that he thinks it's stupid, is good enough for me.

It also gives me a small burst of hope.

A burst of hope that soon ends the second his attention returns to her cleavage.

I mean, he's so banal, so juvenile, and to be honest—completely embarrassing. And if I thought my feelings were hurt yesterday, when I was forced to watch him make out with Drina, well, in retrospect, that was nothing compared to
this
.

Because Drina was
then,
nothing more than a beautiful, empty, shallow image on a rock.

But Stacia is
now
.

And even though she's beautiful, empty, and shallow too—she happens to be standing right before me in all of her three-dimensional glory.

I listen to Damen's diluted brain wax all rhapsodic over the virtues and abundance of Stacia's heavily padded chest, and I can't help but wonder if this is his
real
taste in women.

If these bratty, greedy, vain girls are the kind of females he
truly
prefers.

And if I'm just some weird anomaly, some quirky odd fluke, that kept getting in the way the last four hundred years.

I keep my eye on him all through class, watching from my lone seat in the back. Automatically answering Mr. Robins's questions without even thinking, just repeating the answer I
see
in his head. My mind never straying from Damen, reminding myself, again and again, of who he
really
is: That despite all appearances, he's good, kind, caring, and loyal—the undisputed love of my numerous lives. And that this version sitting before me is
not
the real deal—no matter how much it may mirror some of the behaviors revealed yesterday—it's not who he is.

And when the bell finally rings, I follow him. Keeping tabs on him all through second period P.E. (mostly because I don't go), choosing to linger outside his classroom when I'm supposed to be running track. Slipping out of sight the moment I sense the hall monitors about to stroll by, then returning as soon as they've passed. Peering at him through the window and eavesdropping on all of his thoughts, just like the stalker he's accused me of being. Not knowing whether to feel disturbed or relieved when I discover that his attentions aren't strictly relegated to Stacia—that they're pretty much available for whoever's semi–good-looking and sitting nearby—unless, of course, that someone is
me
.

And while third period is also spent spying on Damen, by fourth, I switch my focus to Roman. Looking him right in the eye as I head for my desk, swiveling around and acknowledging him whenever I sense that he's focused on me. And even though his thoughts about me are as banal and embarrassing as Damen's thoughts about Stacia, I refuse to blush or react. I just keep smiling and nodding, determined to grin and bear it, because if I'm going to find out who this guy
really is,
then avoiding him like the Black Plague will no longer do.

So when the bell rings, I decide to break free from this outcast pariah
spaz
role I'm unwillingly cast in, and head straight for the
long line of tables. Ignoring the ping in my gut that gets worse with each step, determined to land myself a spot and sit with the rest of my class.

And when Roman nods as I make my approach, I can't help but feel disappointed that he's not nearly as surprised as I'd assumed he would be.

“Ever!” He smiles, patting the narrow space right next to him. “So it wasn't just my imagination. We really did share a moment in class.”

I smile tightly and squeeze in beside him, my gaze instinctively switching to Damen, but only for a moment before I force myself to look away. Reminding myself that I need to stay focused on Roman, that it's imperative not to get sidetracked.

“I knew you'd come around eventually. I just wish it 'adn't taken so long. We've so much lost time to make up for.” He leans in, his face looming so close I can see the individual flecks of color in his eyes, brilliant points of violet that would be so easy to get lost in—

“This is
nice.
Isn't this
nice
? Everyone together like this—all joined as one. And all this time you were the missing link. But now that you're 'ere, my mission's complete. And you thought it couldn't be done.” He tilts his head back and laughs—eyes closed, teeth exposed, as his tousled golden hair catches the glint of the sun. And even though I hate to admit it, the truth is, he's mesmerizing.