Shadowland (The Immortals #3)

The moment I pull into the drive Sabine calls my cell, telling me to just go ahead and order a pizza for dinner since she has to work late. And even though I’m tempted to tell her about my new job, I don’t. I mean, obviously I need to inform her, if for no other reason than to spare me the one she’s lined up, but still, there’s no way I can admit to getting this particular job. She’ll think it’s weird. Even if I omit all the stuff about getting paid to give readings (and believe me, I’d never dream of mentioning that) she’ll still think a job at a metaphysical bookstore is strange. Maybe even silly. Who knows?

Sabine’s far too reasonable and rational to ever get behind such a thing. Preferring to live in a world that’s sturdy and solid, that makes perfect sense, versus the real one that is anything but. And while I hate always having to lie to her, I really don’t see how I have much of a choice. There’s just no way she can ever learn the truth about me, let alone that I’ll be giving readings under the code name of Avalon.

I’ll just tell her I got a job somewhere local, someplace normal, like a regular bookstore, or a Starbucks perhaps. And then of course I’ll have to find a way to back the story up in case she decides to follow up on all that.

I park in the garage and head up the stairs, tossing my bag onto my bed without even looking, then heading for my closet as I yank off my tee. Just about to unzip my jeans when Damen says, “Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here enjoying the view.” I cover my chest with my arms, heart beating triple time as Damen lets out a low, sweet whistle and smiles at me.

“I didn’t even see you. I didn’t even sense you for that matter,” I say, reaching for my tee again.

“Guess you were too distracted.” He smiles, patting the space right beside him, face creasing with laughter when I pull on my shirt before joining him.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, not really interested in the answer, just glad to be near him again.

“I figured since Sabine’s working late—”

“How’d you—” But then I shake my head and laugh. Of course he knows. He can read everyone’s mind, including mine, but only when I want him to. And even though I usually leave my shield down, making my thoughts accessible for him to view, right now I just can’t. I feel like I need to explain, tell my side of the story, before he can peek in my head and draw his own conclusions.

“And since you didn’t come by after school—” He leans toward me, eyes seeking mine.

“I wanted to give you some time with the twins.” I pull a pillow onto my belly and finger the seam. “You know, so you could get used to being together and—stuff—” I shrug, meeting his gaze, knowing he’s not buying it, not for a second.

“Oh, we’re quite used to each other.” He laughs. “I assure you of that.” He shakes his head. “It’s been quite a day—very busy and very—interesting, for lack of a better word. But we missed you.” He smiles, eyes grazing over my hair, my face, my lips, like the sweetest lingering kiss. “It would’ve been so much better if you’d been there.”

I avert my gaze, doubting any of that’s the slightest bit true. Muttering under my breath when I say, “I bet.”

He touches my chin, making me face him, face masked with concern when he asks, “Hey, what’s this about?”

I press my lips together and look away, scrunching my pillow so tight it threatens to burst, wishing I hadn’t said anything because now I have to explain. “I’m just—” I shake my head. “I’m just not so sure the twins would agree.” I shrug. “They pretty much blame me for everything. And it’s not like they don’t have a point. I mean—”

But before I can finish, I realize something—Damen is touching me.

Like touching me touching me.

For reals.

No glove, no telepathic embrace, just good old-fashioned skin-on-skin contact—or at least, almost contact.

“How’d you—” I look at him, his eyes shining with laughter when he catches me gaping at his bare, gloveless hand.

“You like?” He smiles, grasping my arm and lifting it high, both of us watching as the thin veil of energy, the only thing separating my skin from his, pulsates between us. “I’ve been working on it all day. Nothing’s going to keep me from you, Ever. Nothing.” He nods, his gaze meeting mine.

I look at him, mind racing with possibilities, of all this could mean. Enjoying the almost feel of his skin, separated only by the thinnest shroud of pure, vibrating energy, invisible to everyone but us. And while it does somewhat temper the usual rush of tingle and heat, and while it could never compare to the real thing, I miss him so much—just being with him—I’ll take what I can get.

I lean into him, watching the veil expand until it stretches from our heads to our toes. Allowing us to lie together in the way that we used to—or at least almost in the way that we used to.

“Much better.” I smile, hands roaming his face, his arms, his chest. “Not to mention how it’s far less embarrassing than the black leather glove.”

“Embarrassing?” He pulls away and looks at me, mock outrage displayed on his face.

“Come on.” I laugh. “Even you have to admit it was a total fashion faux pas. I thought Miles was going to have a seizure every time he saw it,” I murmur, inhaling his wonderful, warm, musky scent as I bury my face in his neck. “So how’d you do it?” My lips grazing his skin, longing to taste every last inch. “How’d you harness the magick of Summerland and bring it back here?”

“It’s got nothing to do with Summerland,” he whispers, lips at the curve of my ear. “It’s just the magick of energy. Besides, you should know by now that most everything you can do there, can be done here as well.”

I gaze at him, remembering Ava and all the elaborate gold jewelry and designer clothes she used to manifest there, and how upset she always was when they didn’t survive the return trip home.

But before I can even mention it, he says, “While it’s true that the things manifested there can’t be transferred here, if you understand how the magick works, if you truly get how everything is really just made up of energy, then there’s no reason you can’t manifest the same things here. Like your Lamborghini, for instance.”

“I’d hardly call it my Lamborghini,” I say, cheeks flushing despite the fact that it wasn’t so long ago when he had a thing for exotic cars too. “The second I was done with it I sent it right back. I mean, it’s not like I kept it.”

He smiles, burying his hand in my hair and smoothing the ends between the tips of his fingers. “In between manifesting things for the twins, I perfected it.”

“What kinds of things?” I ask, moving so I can better see him, immediately distracted by the sight of his lips, remembering how warm and silky they once felt on mine, wondering if this new energy shield will allow us to experience that again.

“It all started with the flat-screen TV.” He sighs. “Or, should I say flat screens since they ended up requiring one for each of their rooms, plus another two for the den that they’ll share. And not long after I got them all hooked up and working, they sat down to watch and not five minutes in they were inundated with images of things they couldn’t live without.”

I squint, surprised to hear that, since the twins never seemed to care all that much about material things back in Summerland, but maybe that’s because material things tend to lose most of their value once you can manifest whatever you want. I guess losing their magick has made them just like anyone else—longing for everything just out of their reach.

“Trust me, they’re an advertiser’s dream.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Falling right into that coveted youth market of thirteen to thirty.”

“Except for the fact that you didn’t actually buy any of those things, did you? You just closed your eyes and made them appear. Hardly the same as going to the store and charging it on your credit card. In fact, do you even have a credit card?” Never having seen him even carry a wallet, much less a pile of plastic.

“No need.” He laughs, finger skimming the bridge of my nose before his lips meet the tip. “But even though I didn’t actually go out and buy all of those things as you so generously pointed out…” He smiles. “That doesn’t make those commercials any less effective, which was really my point.”

I pull away, knowing he’s expecting me to laugh, or at least say something lighthearted in reply, but I can’t. And even though I hate to disappoint him, I still shake my head and say, “Either way, you need to be careful.” I shift my body so my gaze can better meet his. “You shouldn’t spoil them so much, or make them so comfortable they’re reluctant to leave.” He squints at me, clearly not following my meaning, so I rush ahead to explain. “What I mean is, you need to remember that living with you is a temporary solution. Our main goal is to look after them until we can restore their magick and get them back to Summerland, which is where they belong.”

He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. Turning his face toward mine as he says, “About that.”

I hold my breath and look at him, my stomach dipping ever so slightly.

“I’ve been thinking—” He squints. “Who’s to say Summerland is where they belong?”

I balk, an argument pressing forth from my lips until he raises his finger and stops it right there.

“Ever, the question as to whether or not they return, well, don’t you think that’s something they should decide? I’m not sure we’re the ones who should be making those choices.”

“But we’re not choosing,” I say, voice shrill, unsteady. “That’s what they want! Or at least that’s what they said the night I found them. They were furious with me, blaming me for the loss of their magick, for stranding them here—or at least Rayne was; Romy—well, Romy was just Romy.” I shrug. “But still. Are you saying that’s changed?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, before leveling his gaze back on mine. “I’m not sure they even know what they want at this point,” he says. “They’re a little overwhelmed, excited by the possibilities of being here, and yet too terrified to even step outside. I just think we should give them some time and space and keep our minds open to the possibility of them staying a little bit longer than planned. Or at least until they’re fully adjusted, and better able to decide for themselves. Besides, I owe them, it’s the least I can do. Don’t forget they helped me find you.”

I swallow hard and avert my gaze, torn between wanting what’s best for the twins while worried about the impact it’ll have on Damen and me. I mean, they’ve been here less than a day and I’m already mourning my access to him, which is a totally selfish way to view two people in need. Still, I don’t think you have to be psychic to know that with the two of them around, requiring all kinds of assistance, times like this—when it’s just Damen and me—will be severely limited.

“Is that the first time you met? In Summerland?” I ask, seeming to remember Rayne saying something about Damen helping them, not the other way around.

Damen shakes his head, eyes on mine when he says, “No, that was just the first time I’d seen them in a long time. We actually go way back—all the way back to Salem.”

I look at him, jaw dropped, wondering if he was there during the trials, though he’s quick to dispel that.

“It was just before the trouble started, and I was only passing through. They’d gotten into some mischief and couldn’t find their way home—so I gave them a ride in my carriage and their aunt was never the wiser.” He laughs.

And I’m just about to make some crappy little comment, something about him spoiling and enabling them from the very start, when he says, “They’ve suffered an extraordinarily hard life—losing everything they’ve ever known and loved at a very young age—surely you can relate to that? I know I can.”

I sigh, feeling small and selfish and embarrassed that I even needed to be reminded of that. Determined to stick to the practical when I say, “But who’s going to raise them?” Hoping it will seem like my concerns are far less about me and more about them. I mean, with all of their unmitigated weirdness, not to mention their totally bizarre history, where would they go? Who could possibly look after them?

“We’re going to look after them.” Damen rolls onto his side and makes me face him again. “You and I. Together. We’re the only ones who can.”

I sigh, wanting to turn away, but drawn to the warmth of his all-encompassing gaze. “I’m just not sure we’re fit to be parents.” I shrug, hand moving over his shoulder, getting lost in his tangle of hair. “Or role models, or guardians, or whatever. We’re too young!” I add, thinking it’s a good and valid point, and expecting just about any reaction but the laughter I get.

“Too young?” He shakes his head. “Speak for yourself! I have been around for a while, you know. Plenty long enough to qualify as a suitable guardian for the twins. Besides.” He smiles. “How hard can it be?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, remembering my feeble attempts to guide Riley both in human and ghost form, and how I failed miserably. And to be honest, I’m just not sure I’m up for it again. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” I tell him. “You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to guide two headstrong, thirteen-year-old girls. It’s like herding cats—completely impossible.”

“Ever,” he says, voice low, coaxing, determined to ease my concerns and chase all the dark clouds away. “I know what’s really bothering you, believe me, I do. But it’s just five more years until they turn eighteen and head off on their own, and then we’ll have the freedom to do whatever we want. What’s five years when we have all of eternity?”

But I shake my head again, refusing to be swayed. “If they head off on their own,” I say. “If. Believe me, there are plenty of kids who stick around the house long after that.”

“Yes, but the difference is, you and I won’t let them.” He smiles, eyes practically begging me to lighten up and smile too. “We’ll teach them all the magick they’ll need to gain their inde pen dence and get by on their own. Then we’ll send ’em off and wish ’em well and go somewhere on our own.”

And the way he smiles, the way he gazes into my eyes and smooths my hair off my face makes it impossible to stay mad, impossible to waste any more time on a topic like this when my body’s so close to his.

“Five years is nothing, when you’ve already lived for six hundred,” he says, lips at my cheek, my neck, my ear.

I snuggle closer, knowing he’s right, despite the fact that my perspective’s a little different from his. Having never spent more than two decades in any one incarnation makes five years spent babysitting the twins seem like an eternity.

He pulls me to him, arms locked tightly around me, comforting me in a way I wish could last forever. “Are we good?” he whispers. “Are we finished with this?”

I nod, pressing my body hard against his, having no need for words. The only thing I want now, the only thing that’ll make me feel better is the reassuring feel of his lips.

I shift my body so it’s covering his, conforming to the bend of his chest, the valley of his torso, the bulk near his hips. Hearts beating in perfect cadence, vaguely aware of the slim veil of energy pulsating between us as I lower my mouth to his—pressing and pushing and kneading together—weeks of longing rising to the surface—until all I want to do is infuse my body with his.

He moans, a low primal sound coming from deep within, hands clutched at my waist, bringing me closer ’til there’s nothing between us but two sets of clothes that need to be shed.

I fumble at his fly as he pulls at my tee, breath meeting in short, ragged gasps as our fingers hurry as fast as they can, unable to complete their tasks quickly enough to satisfy our need.

And just as I’ve unbuttoned his jeans and start to slide them down, I realize we’ve gotten so close, the energy veil was pushed out.

“Damen!” I gasp, watching as he leaps from the bed, breath coming so heavy and fast, his words are clipped at the end.

“Ever—I’m—” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry—I thought it was safe—I didn’t realize—”

I reach for my tee and cover myself, cheeks flushed, insides aflame, knowing he’s right, we can’t take the risk—can’t afford to get caught up like that.

“I’m sorry too—I think—I think maybe I pushed it away and—” I bow my head, allowing my hair to fall into my face, feeling small and examined, sure I’m to blame.

The mattress dips as he returns to my side, the veil fully restored as he lifts my chin and makes me face him again. “It’s not your fault—I—I lost focus—I was so caught up in you I couldn’t maintain it.”

“It’s okay. Really,” I say.

“No it’s not. I’m older than you—I should have more control—” He shakes his head and stares at the wall, jaw clenched, gaze far away, eyes suddenly narrowing as he turns back to me and says, “Ever—how do we know if this is even real?”

I squint, having no idea what he means.

“What kind of proof do we have? How do we know Roman’s not just playing us, having a bit of fun at our expense?”

I take a deep breath and shrug, realizing I have no proof at all. My eyes meeting his as I replay the scene from that day, all the way to the end where I add my blood to the mix and make Damen drink, realizing the only proof I have is Roman’s extremely unreliable word.

“Who’s to say this is even legit?” His eyes widen as an idea begins to form. “Roman’s a liar—we’ve no reason to trust him.”

“Yeah, but—it’s not like we can test it. I mean, what if it’s not a big game, what if it is legit? We can’t take the risk—can we?”

Damen smiles, rising from the bed and heading for my desk where he closes his eyes and manifests a tall white candle in an elaborate gold holder, a sharp silver dagger, its blade pointy and smooth, its handle encrusted with crystals and gems, and a gold-framed mirror he sets down beside them, motioning for me to join him as he says, “Normally I would say ladies first—but in this case—”

He holds his hand over the glass and raises the knife, placing the edge to his palm and tracing the curve of his lifeline, watching his blood flow onto the mirror, pooling, coagulating, before closing his eyes and setting the candle aflame. The wound already healed by the time he passes the blade through the blaze, cleansing, purifying, before handing it to me and urging me to do the same.

I lean toward him, inhaling deeply as I quickly slice through my flesh. At first wincing at the sharp stab of pain, then watching fascinated, as the blood pours from my palm and onto the mirror where it slowly creeps toward his.

We stand together, bodies still, breath halted, watching as two ruby red splotches meet, mingle, coalesce—the perfect embodiment of our genetic makeup joining as one—the very thing Roman warned us against.

Waiting for something to happen, some sort of catastrophic punishment for what we’ve both done—but getting nothing—no reaction at all.

“Well, I’ll be damned—” Damen says, eyes meeting mine. “It’s fine! Perfectly—”

His words cut short by the sudden spark and sizzle as our blood begins to boil, conducting so much heat a huge plume of smoke bursts from the mirror and fills up the air—crackling and spitting until the blood evaporates completely. Leaving behind only the sheerest layer of dust on a burnt-out mirror.

Exactly what’ll happen to Damen if our DNA should meet.

We gape, speechless, unsure what to say. But words are no longer necessary, the meaning is clear.

Roman’s not playing. His warning was real.

Damen and I can never be together.

Unless I pay his price.

“Well.” Damen nods, struggling to appear calm though his face is clearly stricken. “Guess Roman’s not nearly the liar I accused him of being—at least not in this case.”

“Which also means he has the antidote—and all I have to do now is—”

But I can’t even finish before Damen’s cutting me off. “Ever, please, don’t even go there. Just do me a favor and stay away from Roman. He’s dangerous, and unstable, and I don’t want you anywhere near him, okay? Just—” He shakes his head, and runs his hand through his hair, not wanting me to see how distraught he really is and heading for the door as he says, “Just give me some time to figure things out. I’ll think of a way.”

He looks at me, so shaken by the events he’s determined to keep his distance. Manifesting a single red tulip into my newly healed palm in place of a kiss, before heading down the stairs and out my front door.