Never (The Ever Series Book 2) (9 page)

I wait for a better explanation, but she doesn’t say anything else, and her stony expression makes me rethink bombarding her with more questions. The topic doesn’t seem pleasant to her, and like I’ve learned with Ever—if I push, she’ll shut down. As it is, I’ve been pushing my luck lately demanding answers from every immortal I cross paths with.

Looking behind us, I realize that no one else, possessed or not, is crazy enough to brave the freezing rain today, and we spend the rest of the run in silence. When we get back to my house, I feel Audra watching me as I climb the stairs and unlock the front door.

“Don’t hurt him,” she says to my back.

Facing her, I nod curtly and then step inside and close the door behind me. I force myself to put aside her comment—or threat—and refocus on my purpose for tonight, which is the truth, or however much of it I can get from Alex. After I’ve showered and gotten dressed, I wind my hair up into a tight bun and study myself in the mirror. I look determined, which is good. At least I think it’s good. Maybe I should have put on some makeup. I try to think of the expression. Something like:
You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar
.

I debate the chances of outsmarting Alex with smiles and lip gloss and quickly decide to stick with grim determination instead of coy deception. My face gives me away every time, anyway. I can’t pretend to like someone if the person makes my skin crawl. I’ve never been sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. Hearing my cell phone, I hurry down the hall to grab it.

“Hey, Mom. You got my message?”

She laughs.

“See, honey. And you thought you and Ever were breaking up. … Now look at you two. Are you guys going out for dinner?”

I cringe. Of course she thinks I’m going out with Ever. Why wouldn’t she?

“I don’t know yet, but I won’t be home late,” I say, aware that I’m wording my answer to her question in a way that’s not a lie, technically speaking.

When I hang up, I wish silently for someone to confide in. But there isn’t anyone. Because I refuse to put someone else at risk if I can help it. So right now, it’s just me. I love Ever, but there’s too much he hasn’t told me—whether it’s to protect me or for some other reason, I don’t know yet.

What I do know without a doubt is that there’s something out there. It isn’t human. And it wants me. A week ago, Alex held my life in his hands. And he may think I’m some pawn in a long-running feud with Ever, but he also may be the key to putting an end to this.

At the dresser, I gather up my purse, leaving the pepper spray behind. Poetry anthology and binder in hand, I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. Dropping my stuff on the table, I start boiling some pasta and make a small salad. I’m too nervous to eat much, and finally I go sit on the couch and debate whether to outline my paper. But the process usually just makes me feel pompous, so instead I mark some meaningful passages and try not to feel too unnerved by how close they feel to my life.

After several minutes, I pull out my phone and check the time. I still have a half hour before my “date” shows up. Getting up, I cross to the window and peek through the curtains, which we haven’t bothered opening much since moving because it’s been so gray. I have to admit, though, that despite the rain, it’s been lighter outside in the evenings, which means daylight saving time can’t be too far off. Logically, longer days should make me happier. Instead this has always been the hardest part of the year for me—the last slow steps toward summer.

Going back to the couch, I gather my school stuff to bring upstairs before the sound of the doorbell sends everything flying out of my hands. Picking up my books and throwing them hastily onto the couch, I go over to the door with my heart still hammering unevenly in my chest. Cautiously, I rise up on my toes until I can peer through the glass, and when I pull open the door, I’m not wearing the friendliest of expressions.

“You’re early,” I accuse.

“You seemed bored,” Alex says easily.

If he’s disappointed by my casual outfit and stiff demeanor, he doesn’t show it.

“Does that mean you had nothing better to do than sit around and watch me?”

“Hmm. Sometimes I forget how difficult it is for you humans to multitask.”

I roll my eyes and turn to get my purse from the table. When I get to the door, Alex is blocking my way. I look up at him and wait for him to move. It takes several seconds before he steps out of the way. Locking the door, I turn to face him again, acutely aware of how easy it is for these immortals to look flawless. He’s just wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt, but it still looks like he just stepped out of a department store ad with his deep blue eyes and tousled copper hair.

“I have a question and then a favor to ask of you,” he says as we walk toward the sidewalk.

I stiffen.

“Question first.”

“Do you enjoy French food?”

I shrug.

“I already ate.”

“I think you will want to try this,” Alex says.

The one and only time I can remember going to a French restaurant was on my thirteenth birthday, one of the last times I can remember my parents getting along. I had the chocolate mousse for dessert, and I can still remember the rich, creamy taste.

“And the favor?” I ask warily.

He reaches out and takes my hand.

“Do you mind if we don’t travel by car?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Is that a yes?”

“There’s a burger place not far from here,” I remark with a smirk.

“This will be better. I promise you.”

Everything goes black, and the next thing I know I’m coughing and gasping for air. As soon as I can open my eyes, I glare at Alex. We’re sitting on a low stone wall—and his arm is still around my shoulders.

“Do you mind?”

He releases me.

“You know, that little trip through the universe didn’t do anything for my appetite.”

He stands and offers his hand, but I ignore him and wobble to my feet. I hesitate when he starts walking. Then I shrug and start following him across an expansive stone courtyard. The buildings around us look archaic but familiar. Looking up into the purple night sky, I see a bell tower, glowing orange at its highest point. I frown. I’ve seen this place before.

“Are you kidding?” I hiss. “You brought me back to France?!”

Alex shrugs as we approach the only establishment that appears open for business. With a sudden shock, I know where I saw the bell tower. It was the view from Madame Rousseau’s hilltop home.

When Alex opens the door, I look up at the sign.
La Rapière
. He gestures for me to go ahead of him, and I hesitate briefly, but as soon as I’m inside, the smell of delicious food makes my mouth water. If I weren’t here with him—and I hadn’t already eaten dinner—I’d be thrilled.

“
Monsieur Rousseau
!”

I turn and see a middle-aged woman with graying hair rushing from the back of the tiny restaurant.

“
C’est bon de vous revoir
!” she cries.

Alex begins speaking to her in French, and I try, but I can’t keep up with their exchange. The woman stops and looks over at me. I smile, but I don’t say anything, not wanting to expose how terrible my French is. When she leads us to a table at the back of the restaurant, Alex holds my chair out for me. I give him a scathing look before taking a seat.

“
Du vin
?” the woman asks.

I blink. She’s asking if we want
wine
? How old do I look? I wonder. Alex shakes his head at her offer, and I watch as she disappears into the kitchen. Picking up one of the glasses of water on the table, I drain it immediately. What I actually want is a sugary sports drink to take the edge off of being dragged through the space-time continuum.

“We had to come to France for French food?” I whisper hoarsely.

“You won’t regret it, I promise you.”

“What time is it here?”

“Almost three.”

“In the morning?” I snap. “And let me guess. … This restaurant just happens to be in the habit of staying open all night?”

Hearing the door at the front of the restaurant swing open, I turn, curious to see who else might be having dinner at three o’clock in the morning. The sight of Audra and Chasen taking a seat at the table closest to the door causes me to do a double take.

“Ah, our chaperones have arrived,” Alex says blandly.

“Do you blame them? You kidnapped me less than a week ago, remember?”

“You came willingly—”

“You had my friend!”

“I am sorry for that, but there was no other way to extricate you from his influence.”

“In other words, you saw a toy you wanted and decided to steal it.”

“A toy? I do not think so lowly of you.”

“Sure. Whatever. I only came here tonight because I want answers.”

The woman appears again and sets a steaming bowl in front of me. She smiles and then departs.

“You may want to try the food first.”

“Why? Am I going to lose my appetite again?”

“Have you always been so suspicious?”

“I’ve got reason to be, don’t you think?”

The food in front of me smells delicious, though, and I look down at the little pillows of ravioli in a brown sauce. Picking up the fork, I lift one to my mouth and take a bite. I try to disguise how pleasantly surprised I am, but I can’t.

“You see. I wasn’t lying,” Alex says in a pleased tone.

I take another bite, swallow, and set down my fork.

“No, you weren’t lying. About that. Now, first question. What do you want from me? Ever made it sound like you’re a bounty hunter who sells souls.”

He sighs.

“Ever and I took different paths. It’s very simple, really. He chose to become a killer; I became a negotiator. He has spent lifetimes seeking out and destroying those like yourself, whereas I gave them a choice.”

“A choice? What does that mean?”

“They could choose to share their existence and live out eternity or—”

“You mean people actually
choose
to become puppets? No freewill?” I ask in horror.

“They choose to co-exist.”

“Co-exist with
what
?”

“Those trapped on the other side of the dimensional divide.”

I’m already shaking my head. I think what he’s talking about is truly worse than death to me—having someone or something invade my body and mind and have to live with it in control of my life.

“And the ones who choose not to
co-exist
?”

“They are beyond helping.”

I swallow. Submit or die.

“So, what did you get out of this?” I ask, barely able to contain my disgust.

“Favor, allies. Power.”

“Why? For what? Kicks?”

“War.”

My skin prickles and turns cold.

“What war?”

“The one for this world.”

I swallow again, taking him at his word.

“What makes you think you’re on the right side?”

“I don’t aim to be on the right side; I aim to be on the winning side.”

“And I’m another pawn, right?” I ask bitterly, thinking of Ashley. “Another puppet for sale.”

“Far from it. I would like you to be my partner, my equal.”

I stare at him in revulsion.

“Absolutely not!”

“Are you so certain of that?”

“Yes!” I fume.

“Eventually you’ll see that time and circumstance change many things.”

I have pressing questions that I need answered, but I’m so angry and disturbed right now that the thought of sitting here and continuing to have a civil conversation has me almost in tears. With my fingernails digging into my left palm, I force myself to slow my breathing.

“I just want to know what I’m up against.”

“There are many beings still seeking to gain purchase in this world, some of them very powerful.”

“And you’ve run out of human lives to trade?”

“In short, yes.”

“Which means something is going to pop out of the shadows, and that will be the end of me …”

“No. I would never allow that to happen,” he says plainly.

“I don’t get it.
Why
? What do you care?”

“I’ve told you. I do not wish to spend eternity alone. Instead, I have searched for companions to share it with.”

“
Human
companions?” I ask woodenly.

“Yes.”

My ears begin to pulse with the sound of my heartbeat. Edith Rousseau. The elderly French woman living alone in the castle on the hill.

“Madame Rousseau—what is she to you?”

“I met Edith when she was a girl about your age. She was working her parents’ farm. She was lovely, angelic, full of life.”