Shadowland (The Immortals #3)

Even though I told Sabine she could invite Munoz to the party, she’s smart enough to recognize a halfhearted offer when she hears it—so luckily for us, they made other plans.

I ready the house with all things Italian—platters of spaghetti, pizza, cannelloni—balloons that are red, white, and green—and a profusion of paintings—manifested replicas of Primavera and Birth of Venus by Botticelli, Titian’s Venus of Urbino, Michelangelo’s Doni Tondo, as well as a life-sized statue of David out by the pool. All the while remembering the time Riley and I decorated the house for that fateful Halloween party—the night I kissed Damen—the night I met Ava and Drina—the night that changed everything.

Pausing to glance around and take it all in before heading for the couch and assuming the lotus position. Closing my eyes and concentrating on raising my vibration just like Jude taught me, missing Riley so much I’ve committed to my own séance circle, determined to practice a little each day until she appears.

Quieting my mind of all the usual chatter and noise, keeping myself open, alert to all that surrounds me. Hoping for some sort of shift, an unexplained chill, a whisper of sound, some sort of signal to prove that she’s near—but getting only a stream of bossy ghosts who are nothing like the sassy, twelve-year-old sister I seek.

And I’m just about to call it quits when a tremulous form starts to shimmer before me—leaning forward, straining to see it—when two high-pitched voices say, “What’re you doing?”

The second I see them I spring to my feet, knowing he brought them, and hoping I can still catch him before he leaves.

My flight halted when Romy places her hand on my arm, shaking her head when she says, “We took the shuttle and walked the rest of the way. I’m sorry. Damen’s not here.”

I glance between them, breathless, bereft, struggling to compose myself when I say, “Oh. So, what’s up?” Wondering if they’re here for the party, if Haven somehow invited them.

“We need to talk to you.” Romy and Rayne glance at each other before focusing on me. “There’s something you need to know.”

I swallow hard, eager for them to spill it, tell me just how unhappy and miserable Damen’s become—regretting his decision to separate—desperately wanting me back—

“It’s about Roman,” Rayne says, eyes hard on mine, reading my expression if not my thoughts. “We think he’s making others—other immortals like you.”

“Except not really like you.” Romy adds. “Since you’re nice and not at all evil like him.”

Rayne shrugs and looks all around, not quite willing to include me in that.

“Does Damen know?” I glance between them, wanting to fill up the room with his name, shout it over and over again.

“Yeah, but he won’t do anything.” She sighs. “Says they have every right to be here so long as they don’t pose a threat.”

“And do they?” My eyes dart between them. “Pose a threat?”

They look at each other, communicating in their own silent twin speak before turning to me. “We’re not sure. Rayne’s starting to get some of her feeling back—and sometimes it seems like my visions might be returning—but it’s pretty slow going—so we were wondering if we could maybe have a look at the book. You know, the Book of Shadows, the one you keep at the store. We think it might help.”

I look at them, eyes narrowed, suspicious, wondering if they’re truly concerned about Roman’s minions or just trying to play me against Damen to get what they want. And yet, there’s no doubt it’s true. From last count, there were three new immortals in town, all connected to Roman. All possibly up to no good. Though it’s also true they’ve done nothing to prove that so far.

But still, not wanting them to think I’m a total pushover I say, “And Damen’s okay with this?” The three of us looking at each other, the three of us knowing he’s not.

They glance at each other in silent communion before turning to me. Rayne taking the lead when she says, “Listen, we need help. Damen’s way is too slow, and at this rate, we’ll be thirty before our powers return, and I’m not sure who wants that less—us or you?” She shoots me a look and I shrug, making no move to refute it since we both know it’s true. “We need something that’ll work, give quicker results, and we have nowhere to turn but to you and the book.”

I glance between them, then look at my watch, wondering if I can get to the store, get them the book, and make it back in time for the party, which, considering how fast I move, and that the party’s still hours away, it’s clear that I can.

“Run, walk, whatever it takes.” Rayne nods, knowing it’s as good as done. “We’ll wait for you here.”

I head for the garage, at first thinking a run would be nice, if nothing else it makes me feel strong and invincible and not quite so inadequate against the problems I face. But since it’s still light out, I drive instead. Arriving at the store to find Jude locking up early, key stuck in the door as he says, “Aren’t you supposed to be throwing a party?” He squints, gaze moving over me, taking in my tee, shorts, and flip-flops.

“I forgot something.” I nod. “It’ll just take a sec—so—go ahead—no worries—I can lock up.”

He cocks his head, aware that something’s up but still opening the door and waving me in. Trailing behind, right on my heels, watching from the doorway as I open the drawer and lift the secret latch. Just about to retrieve the book when he says, “You’re never gonna believe who came in today.” I glance at him briefly, then open my bag, shoving the book deep inside when he adds, “Ava.”

I freeze, eyes seeking his.

“Tell me.”

He nods.

I swallow hard, stomach like a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing furiously as I find my voice again. “What did she want?”

“Her job, I guess.” He shrugs. “She’s been freelancing—wants something more stable. Seemed pretty surprised when I told her I’d hired you instead.”

“You told her? About me?”

He shifts uncomfortably, from one foot to the next, looking at me when he says, “Well, yeah. I figured since you guys were friends and all—”

“And what did she do? When you told her? What exactly did she say?” Heart beating overtime, eyes never once leaving his.

“Nothing, really. Though she seemed pretty surprised.”

“Surprised that I was here—or surprised that you hired me? Which surprised her more?”

He just stands there and squints, hardly the answer I need.

“Did she mention anything about Damen—or me—or Roman—or say anything else? Anything at all? You have to tell me everything—leave nothing out—”

He backs into the hall, hands raised in mock surrender. “Trust me, that was pretty much it. She split after that, so there’s nothing to tell. Now come on, let’s go. You don’t want to be late to your own party, do you?”