The Immortals 3 - Shadowland (16 page)

Even though I’d hoped to be long gone by the time Munoz swung by to pick up Sabine, the second I pull into my drive I glance at my rearview mirror only to find him right there behind me.

Early.

Ten minutes early in fact.

The same ten minutes I’d earmarked for racing home from work and changing into something properly somber, before fleeing the scene and heading for Haven’s front yard where Charm’s memorial service will be held.

“Ever?” He climbs out of his shiny silver Prius, jangling his keys and squinting at me. “What are you doing here?” He tilts his head as he approaches, enveloping me in a cloud of Axe bodyspray.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, slamming my car door much harder than planned. “Funny thing. I—um—I actually
live
here.”

He looks at me, face so still I’m not sure he heard until he shakes his head and repeats, “You
live
here?”

I nod, refusing to say anything more.

“But—” He gazes around, taking in the stone façade, the front steps, the recently clipped lawn, the beds of flowers beginning to bloom. “But this is Sabine’s house—
isn’t it
?”

I pause, tempted to tell him
no
, that this faux Tuscan, Laguna Beach McMansion isn’t Sabine’s house at all. That he’s obviously made some kind of mistake and ended up at my house instead.

But just as I’m about to, Sabine pulls right up beside us. Jumping out of her car with way too much enthusiasm when she says, “Oh! Paul! So sorry I’m late—the office was crazy and every time I tried to leave something else got in the way—” She shakes her head, gazing up at him in a way that’s far too flirtatious for a first date. “But if you could just give me a minute, I’ll run upstairs and change so we can get going. It shouldn’t take long.”

Paul?

I glance between them, noting her happy, lilting, singsongy tone, and not liking the sound of it, not liking it at all. It’s too intimate. Too forward. She should be forced to call him Mr. Munoz like we do at school. At least until the end of tonight, after which, of course, they’ll mutually decide to go their separate ways...

He smiles, raking his hand through his longish, wavy brown hair, like the worst kind of show-off. I mean, just because he has exceptionally cool hair for a teacher, doesn’t mean he should flaunt it like that.

“I’m a few minutes early,” he says, gaze locked on hers. “So please, take as much time as you need. I’m fine talking with Ever here.”

“So you’ve met?” Sabine rests her overstuffed briefcase against her hip, glancing between us.

I shake my head, blurting, “No!” before I can stop. Unsure if I’m saying
no
to her question, or to this whole situation. But still, there it is, an unequivocal
no
, and I’ve no plans to rescind it. “I mean, yeah, we’ve met and all but—just now.” I pause, their eyes narrowed, as confused as I am as to where this is going. “What I mean is, it’s not like we knew each other
before
or anything.” I peer at them, knowing I’ve only confused them more. “Anyway, he’s right. You should just—um—go upstairs and get ready—and—” I jab my thumb toward Munoz since there’s no way I’m calling him
Paul,
no way I’m calling him anything. “And we’ll just hang here until you’re ready.” I smile, hoping to keep him outside, on the driveway, far from my den.

But unfortunately, Sabine’s manners are much better than mine. And I’ve barely finished the sentence before she shakes her head and says, “Don’t be ridiculous. Come inside and relax. And, Ever, why don’t you order yourself a pizza or something since I haven’t had time to get to the store.”

I follow, lagging behind as much as I can without literally dragging my feet. Partly in protest, and partly because I can’t risk bumping into either of them, not trusting my quantum remote to bar me from a sneak peek of their date.

Sabine unlocks the front door, glancing over her shoulder as she says, “Ever? Okay? You’re good with the pizza?”

I shrug, remembering the two slices of vegetarian Jude left me, which I proceeded to tear into little bits and flush down the toilet as soon as he left. “I’m good. I grabbed a little something at work.” I meet her gaze, thinking this just might be the perfect time to tell her, knowing she won’t freak with Munoz (
Paul!
) standing nearby.

“You got a
job
?” She gapes, all wide-eyed and slack jawed right there in the entryway.

“Um, yeah.” I pull my shoulders in and start scratching my arm even though it doesn’t itch. “I thought I told you, no?”

“
No
.” She shoots me a look that’s loaded with meaning—none of it good. “You definitely failed to mention it.”

I shrug, picking at the hem of my shirt, trying to appear unconcerned. “Oh, well, there it is. I’m officially employed.” Chasing it with a laugh that, even to my ears, rings false.

“And just where did you
get
this job of yours?” she asks, voice lowered, gaze following Munoz as he heads into the den, eager to avoid all the bad mojo I’ve so brilliantly introduced.

“Downtown. At a place that sells books and—stuff.”

She squints.

“Listen,” I say. “Why don’t we discuss this later? I’d hate for you guys to be late or anything.” I glance toward the den where Munoz is hunkered down on the couch.

She glances at the den, expression grim, voice low and urgent when she says, “I’m glad you found a job, Ever, don’t get me wrong. I just wish you would’ve told me, that’s all. We’ll need to find a replacement for you at work now, and—” She shakes her head. “Well, we’ll talk about this later. Tonight. When I get back.”

And even though I’m
thrilled
to learn that her plans with Munoz do
not
extend to the morning, I still look at her and say, “Um, here’s the thing. Haven’s cat died, and she’s having this memorial service, and she’s really upset, which means it could run really late, so—” I shrug, not bothering to finish, allowing her to fill in the blanks that I’ve left.

“Tomorrow then.” She turns. “Now go talk to Paul while I change.”

She runs up the stairs, briefcase swinging, heels pounding, as I take a deep breath and make for the den, taking my place behind a big, sturdy armchair, hardly believing it’s come to this.

“Just so you know, I’m not calling you
Paul
,” I say, taking in his designer jeans, untucked shirt, hipster watch, and shoes that are way too cool for any teacher to wear.

“That’s a relief.” He smiles, gaze light and easy, resting on mine. “Might get kind of awkward at school.”

I swallow hard, fiddling with the back of the chair, unsure just where I’m expected to take it from here. Because even though my entire life is undeniably weird, being forced to make entertaining banter with my history teacher who knows one of my biggest secrets takes it to a whole new level.

But apparently I’m the only one who’s uncomfortable around here. Munoz is completely relaxed, sitting back on the coach, foot resting on knee, the absolute picture of ease. “So what exactly
is
your relationship to Sabine?” he asks, arms spread wide across the cushions.

“She’s my aunt.” I study him, checking for signs of disbelief, confusion, surprise, but all I get is an interested gaze. “She became my legal guardian when my parents passed away.” I lift my shoulders and look at him.

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry—” He scrunches his face, voice fading as sadness fills up the space.

“My sister died too.” I nod, caught up in it now. “As did Buttercup. She was our dog.”

“Ever—” He shakes his head in the way people do when they can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you. “I—”

“I died too,” I add, before he can finish. Not wanting to hear his awkward condolences, struggling to find just the right words when the truth is, those words don’t exist. “I died right alongside them—but only for a few seconds, and then I was—”
brought back, resurrected, given the elixir that grants eternal life
—I shake my head. “Well, then I woke up.” I shrug, wondering why I just confessed all of that.

“Is that when you became psychic?” His gaze is unwavering, fixed right on mine.

I glance toward the stairway, making sure Sabine’s nowhere near, then I glance at Munoz and just nod.

“It happens,” he says, neither surprised nor judgmental, more matter of fact. “I’ve read up on it a bit. It’s a lot more common than you’d think. A lot of people come back changed or altered in some way.”

I gaze down at the chair, fingers tracing along the top of the cushion, glad for the information but realizing I have no clue how to respond.

“And from the way you’re fidgeting and glancing at the stairs every five seconds, I’m guessing Sabine doesn’t know?”

I look at him, trying to lighten the mood when I say, “So who’s psychic now? Me or you?”

But he just smiles, searching my face with a new understanding that, thankfully, erases the look of pity that lived there before.

We stay like that, him looking at me, me studying the chair, the silence lingering for so long I finally shake my head and say, “Trust me, Sabine wouldn’t understand. She’d—” I dig the toe of my sneaker into the carpet’s tight weave, unsure just where to take it from here but knowing it’s imperative that I make myself clear. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a great person, really smart, and a super successful lawyer and all, but it’s like—” I shake my head. “Well, let’s just say she’s a big fan of black and white. She’s not so big on gray.” I press my lips together and look away, knowing I’ve said more than enough, but needing to make one final thing clear. “But please don’t tell her about me—okay? I mean, you won’t—will you?”

I peer at him, holding my breath as he considers, taking his time as Sabine heads down the stairs. And just when I’m sure I can’t take another second he says, “We’ll make a deal. You stop cutting class and I won’t say a word. How’s that?”

How’s that? Is he kidding? He’s practically blackmailing me!

I mean, I know I’m not in the best position—especially since I’m the only one with something to lose, but still. I glance over my shoulder, seeing Sabine pause in front of the mirror, double-checking her teeth for stray lipstick tracks, as I turn toward him and whisper, “What does it matter? There’s only a week left! And we both know I’m getting an A.”

He nods, rising from his seat, a smile widening his cheeks as he takes in Sabine, though his words are directed at me. “Which is why you have no good reason
not
to be there, right?”

“To not be where?” Sabine asks, looking way too beautiful with her smoky eye makeup, fluffy blond hair, and an outfit that Stacia Miller would probably sell a kidney for if she were twenty years older.

I start to speak, not trusting Munoz not to blow my cover, but he jumps right in, voice overpowering mine when he says, “I was just telling Ever to get on with her plans. There’s no need to stick around and entertain me.”

Sabine glances between us until her gaze rests on
Paul
. And even though it’s nice to see her looking so relaxed and happy and eager to get the night going, the second he places his hand on the small of her back and leads her toward the front door, it’s all I can do not to hurl.

By the time I get to Haven’s, everyone’s gathered, looking on as Haven stands just outside the window where she first found her cat, saying a few words in Charm’s memory, while hugging a small urn to her chest.

“Hey,” I whisper, sidling up beside Damen and glancing at the twins. “What did I miss?”

He smiles, looking at me as he thinks:
Some tears were shed—some poems were read—
He shrugs.
Though I’m sure she’ll forgive your lateness—eventually.

I nod, deciding to show Damen the reason for my lateness—presenting the entire debacle in full Technicolor glory. Watching as Haven sprinkles Charm’s ashes over the ground as the images from just a few moments before stream from my mind to his.

He slides his arm around me, comforting me in just the right way, placing a full bouquet of red tulips briefly into my hands—careful to make it appear and disappear before anyone sees.

Was it really that bad?
He glances at me as Haven hands the urn to her little brother Austin, who scrunches his nose and peers inside.

Worse
. I shake my head, still wondering why I chose to confide in Munoz—of all people.

I move closer, leaning my head on his shoulder as I add:
And the twins? What are they doing here? I thought they were afraid to go outside?

They stand beside Haven, faces identical with their solemn dark eyes and razor-slashed bangs—but the similarities end there, having ditched their usual private school uniforms for ones of their own. With Romy striving for the all-American wholesomeness of a J. Crew catalog model, while Rayne’s look hails straight from the Hot Topic aisles with her edgy black minidress, torn black tights, and towering platform Mary Jane shoes. Though I doubt they actually shopped at those stores. Not when Damen can just manifest for them.

He shakes his head, arm tightening around me as he responds to my thoughts.
Nope, that’s where you’re wrong. They’re venturing out. Eager to explore the world outside of TV, magazines, and my Crystal Cove gated community
. He smiles.
Believe it or not, they chose those outfits themselves. Even paid for them too. Using the money I gave them, of course
. He looks at me.
Just think, yesterday the mall, today a cat funeral, and tomorrow—who knows?
He turns, smiling in a way that lights up his face as Haven says a final farewell to the cat practically no one here knew.

“Shouldn’t we have brought something?” I ask. “You know—flowers or something?”

“We did.” Damen nods, lips grazing my ear when he adds, “Not only did we bring those flowers over there”—he points to a giant bouquet made of colorful spring blooms—“but we also made a very generous, though
anonymous
, donation to the ASPCA in Charm’s memory. I thought she’d appreciate that.”

“Helping people
anonymously
?” I gaze at him, taking in the slant of his brow, the curve of his lips and longing for them to press against mine. “I thought you were against all of that?”

He looks at me, obviously misconstruing the words I’d meant as a joke. But just as I’m about to explain, Josh motions for us to come over.

He peers at Haven, making sure she can’t hear, before turning to us, saying, “Listen, I need your help. I messed up.”

“How?” I squint, even though the answer just appeared in my head.

He crams his hands into his pockets, dyed black hair falling into his eyes when he says, “I got her a kitten. This guy in my band—well, his girlfriend’s cat just had a litter and I thought it might help her get over Charm so I took the black one—but now she won’t even talk to me. Says I don’t understand. She’s seriously mad.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around, just give her some time, and she’ll—”

But he’s already shaking his head. “Are you kidding? Did you hear her just now?” He glances between us. “The way she went on and on about how Charm was one of a kind, how she can never be replaced.” He shakes his head and looks away. “That was for
me,
make no mistake.”

“Everyone feels that way after losing a pet. I’m sure if you—” I stop, gazing into eyes so defeated I know I’m not making a dent.

“No way.” He lifts his shoulders, looking at her, the loss clear on his face. “She meant it. She’s sad about Charm, mad at me, and now I’ve got this kitten in the backseat of my car and no idea what to do with it. I can’t bring it home, my mom’ll kill me, and Miles can’t take it because of the whole Italy thing, so I thought maybe you guys would want her.” His gaze darts between us, silent but pleading.

I take a deep breath and glance toward the twins, knowing they would love nothing more than a pet of their own, especially after the way they reacted to Charm. But what becomes of it once their magick’s restored and they head back to Summerland? Is it possible to bring the cat with them? Or will she become our responsibility?

But when they turn, the two of them gazing at me, Romy’s face lifting into a smile while Rayne’s drops to a scowl, I know I need all the help I can get where they’re concerned, and a cute little kitten might be a good start.

I look at Damen, knowing the moment our eyes meet that we’re on the same page.

We head for Josh’s car as he says, “Let’s have a look.”

“Omigod! Are you serious? She’s seriously ours? For reals?” Romy cradles the tiny black kitten and glances between us.

“She’s all yours.” Damen nods. “But you should thank Ever, not me. It was her idea.”

Romy looks at me, a grin spread wide across her face as Rayne twists her mouth to the side, pursing her lips in a way that makes it clear she’s sure she’s being played.

“What should we name her?” Romy glances between us before focusing solely on Rayne. “And don’t say Jinx the second, or Jinx squared, or anything like that, because this kitty deserves her own name.” She hugs the kitten tight to her chest, planting a kiss on the top of her tiny black head. “She also deserves a much better fate than the other Jinx had.”

I look at them, about to ask what happened when Rayne says, “That’s all in the past. But Romy’s right, we need to find the perfect name. Something strong and mystical—something truly worthy of a kitty like this.”

We sit, the four of us sprawled across the various chairs and couches in Damen’s oversized den. Damen and I sharing a cushion, limbs entwined as our minds sift through long lists of suitable names until I clear my voice and say, “How about Luna?” I glance between them, hoping they’ll like it as much as I do. “You know, like the Latin word for
moon
?”

“Please.” Rayne rolls her eyes. “We know what
Luna
means. In fact, I’m pretty sure we know way more Latin than
you
.”

I nod, struggling to keep my voice calm and composed, refusing to rise to her bait, when I add, “Well, I was thinking that since they say cats are connected to the moon and all—” I stop, taking one look at her face and knowing there’s no point in going on, she’s dead set against it.

“You know, it used to be said that cats were the children of the moon,” Damen says, determined not only to rescue me, but also to prove, once and for all, why I’m worthy of their respect. “Because like the moon, they both come to life at night.”

“Then maybe we should name her Moon Child,” Rayne says. Nodding when she adds, “Yes, that’s it! Moon Child. It’s
so
much better than
Luna
.”

“No it isn’t.” Romy gazes down at the sleeping cat in her lap, stroking the narrow space between her ears. “Moon Child’s all wrong. Lumpy. Too much. A name should be only
one
word. And this kitty is clearly a
Luna
to me. Luna. That’s what we’re calling her then?”

She glances between us, counting three nodding heads, and one that refuses to budge just to spite me.

“Sorry, Rayne.” Damen clasps my hand, a sliver of energy the only thing that separates his palm from mine. “I’m afraid the majority rules in this case.” He nods, closing his eyes as he manifests an exquisite velvet collar of the deepest purple that instantly appears around Luna’s neck. Romy and Rayne gasping, eyes shining with delight when he manifests a matching velvet bed. “Perhaps you should place her there now,” he says.

“But we’re both so comfortable like this!” Romy whines, not wanting to part with her pet.

“Yes, but we also have lessons to get to, don’t we?”

The twins glance at each other, then rise simultaneously, carefully placing Luna in her new bed and hovering at its edge, making sure she’s sleeping comfortably, before turning back to Damen, ready to begin. Taking the seats just across from him, ankles crossed, hands folded in laps, more obedient than I’ve ever seen them. Ready for whatever Damen’s got planned.

What’s this about?
I shift as we untangle our limbs.

“Magick.” He nods, glancing between them. “They need to practice daily if their powers are to return.”

“How do you practice?” I squint, wondering if it’s anything like the classes Jude’s planning to teach. “I mean, are there exercises and tests, like in school?”

Damen shrugs. “It’s really more a series of meditations and visualizations—though far more intense and of a much longer duration than the ones I put you through on our first journey to Summerland, but then, you didn’t require as much. Even though the twins hail from a long line of very gifted witches, I’m afraid that as it stands now, they’re back to stage one. Though I’m hoping that with regular practice, they’ll recapture their abilities in reasonable time.”

“How long is
reasonable
?” I ask. When what I really mean is:
How soon do we get our life back?

Damen shrugs. “Few months. Maybe longer.”

“Would the
Book of Shadows
help?” Realizing just after it’s out, that I shouldn’t have said it. Damen’s expression is not at all happy, though the twins are now poised on the edge of their seats.

“
You
have the
Book of Shadows
?” Rayne says, as Romy just sits there and gapes.

I glance at Damen, seeing he’s none too pleased, but since the book could very well help them as much as I hope it can help me, I say, “Well, I don’t exactly
have
it, but I have access to it.”

“Like for real? Like a
real Book of Shadows
?” Rayne phrases her words like a question, though her gaze tells me she’s sure it’s a fake.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Is there more than one?”

She looks at Romy, shaking her head and rolling her eyes before Damen can say, “I haven’t seen it, but from Ever’s description, I’m sure that it’s real. And quite powerful too. Too powerful for you at the moment. But maybe later, after we’ve progressed through our meditations we can—”

But Romy and Rayne are no longer listening, their attention focused solely on me as they rise from their seats and say, “Take us there. Please. We need to see it.”