Night Star ti-5 Page 3

  If I’ll ever be able to stop looking back.

  My thoughts returning to the subject when Damen squeezes my knee and says, “Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”

  But even though his voice is confident, his expression tells otherwise. His words were based way more on hope than conviction—his desire to ease my mind easily trumps his desire for truth. Because the fact is, if Sabine hasn’t come around by now, then it’s highly doubtful she ever will, or at least not anytime soon.

  “You know what bugs me the most?” I say, knowing he does, he’s heard it before, but continuing anyway. “It’s, like, no matter what I tell her, no matter how many times I try to prove it to her by reading her mind, and revealing all kinds of odd little nuggets about her past, present, and future that I couldn’t possibly know if I wasn’t psychic—it doesn’t make a dent. In fact, it seems like it does just the opposite. Just convinces her to dig her heels in even deeper, absolutely refusing to consider any of my arguments, or anything else I have to say on the matter. She completely refuses to crack open her mind just the tiniest bit. Instead, she just shoots me that grim, judgmental look of hers, totally convinced that I’m faking, making the whole thing up in some big, pathetic bid for attention. Like I’ve totally and completely lost my mind.” I shake my head and tuck my long blond hair back behind my ears, as my cheeks warm and flush. This is the part that really gets me going, leaves me all red faced and agitated every single time. “Even after I asked her why on earth I’d waste so much time and effort working that hard to keep my abilities a secret if I was only interested in the attention they’d get me—even after I begged her to listen to her own stupid argument so she could see how it doesn’t make even the slightest bit of sense—she still refused to budge. I mean, she actually accused me of fraud!” I close my eyes and frown, remembering the moment so clearly it’s as though it’s happening right here before me.

  Sabine barging into my room the morning after Roman died, the morning after I’d lost all hope of ever truly being with Damen, of ever getting the antidote. Not even giving me a chance to fully wake up, wash my face, brush my teeth, and prepare myself in some way.

  Confronting me in a blaze of self-righteous fury, her blue eyes narrowed on mine, as she said, “Ever, don’t you think you owe me an explanation for last night?”

  I shake my head and clear the image from my mind. My gaze meeting Damen’s when I say, “Because according to her, there is no such thing as psychic powers, extrasensory perception, or anything else of the sort. According to her, no one can see into the future. It’s just a bogus claim made by a bunch of money-grubbing, unscrupulous, charlatan frauds like me! And I’ve been willfully engaging in fraud from the moment I took money for my first psychic reading. And, in case you didn’t know, there are legal ramifications for that sort of thing, which, of course, she then took the pleasure of listing for me.” I look at Damen, as wide-eyed and agitated as the first time I told the story. “So last night, when she had the nerve to bring it up yet again, I asked her if she could recommend a good attorney, seeing that I was headed for such big trouble and all.” I roll my eyes, remembering how badly that went over.

  My fingers nervously picking at the short hem of my white cotton dress as I balance my open bottle of elixir on my knee. Telling myself to calm down, to just let it go, we’ve been over this a gazillion times already and it only serves to make me more wound up than before.

  Gazing out the window as Damen slows to a stop, allowing an older woman carrying a surfboard in one hand and a dog leash with a yellow Lab attached in the other, to make their way past. The dog reminding me so much of my old dog, Buttercup, with his wagging tail, shiny yellow coat, happy brown eyes, and cute pink nose, I actually do a double take, as that old, familiar pang curls its way through my gut—a constant reminder of all that I’ve lost.

  “Did you remind her that she’s the one who introduced you to Ava, which inadvertently led you to the job at Mystics and Moonbeams?” Damen says, bringing me back to the present as his foot switches from the brake to the gas.

  I nod, peering into my side-view mirror, watching the dog’s reflection shrink smaller and smaller. “I mentioned it last night, and you know what she said?”

  I look at him, allowing the scene to stream from my mind to his. Sabine at the kitchen counter, a pile of vegetables waiting to be washed and diced before her—me in my running gear determined to get out of the house without a hassle for a change—both of our tasks coming to a screeching, slamming halt when she decided to go for round fifteen in the never-ending battle of her versus me.

  “She said it was a joke. A party thing. Meant for entertainment purposes only. That it was never meant to be taken seriously.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  About to say something more, not even close to the finish, when he looks at me and says, “Ever, if I’ve learned nothing else in my six hundred years of living, it’s that people hate change almost as much as they hate for their beliefs to be challenged. Seriously. Just look at what happened to my poor friend, Galileo. He was completely ostracized for having the audacity to support Copernicus’s theory that the earth wasn’t the center of the universe. To the point where he was tried, found suspect of heresy, forced to recant, and then spent the rest of his life under house arrest, when, of course, as we all know, he was right all along. So, when you think about it, compared to that, I’d say you’re getting off pretty easy.” He laughs, giving me a look that practically begs me to lighten up and laugh too, but I’m just not there yet. Someday I may find this funny, but that day exists in a far-away future I cannot yet see.

  “Believe me,” I say, placing my hand over his, aware of the energy veil dancing between us. “She tried the whole house arrest angle, but no way was I going for it. I mean, it’s really unfair how I’m supposed to just automatically accept her and the black-and-white world she chooses to live in, and yet, she won’t even give me a chance to explain myself. Won’t even consider my side of things. She just automatically pegs me as some crazy, needy, overly emotional teen because I just so happen to have abilities that don’t fit into her close-minded views. And sometimes it makes me so mad I just—” I pause, pressing my lips tightly together, unsure if I should actually allow myself to really voice it out loud.

  Damen looks at me, waiting.

  “Sometimes-I-just-can’t-wait-for-this-year-to-be-over-so-that-we-can-graduate-and-go-somewhere-far-away-where-we-can-live-our-own-lives-and-be-done-with-all-this.” I exhale the words so quickly they all run together so that one is practically indistinguishable from the next. “I mean, I feel bad for saying it, especially after all that she’s done, but still, the fact is she doesn’t even know the half of what I can do. All she knows is that I have psychic abilities—that’s it! Can you even imagine how she’d react if I told her the real truth? That I’m an immortal with physical powers she can’t even begin to fathom? Like the power of instant manifestation, and, oh yeah, let’s not forget about that brief bout of time travel I engaged in recently, not to mention how I like to spend my free time in this charming little out-of-the-way alternate dimension called Summerland where my immortal boyfriend and I make out in our various past-life guises! Can you imagine how that would go over?”

  Damen looks at me, eyes glinting in a way that instantly fills me with a swarm of tingle and heat, smiling as he says, “What do you say we don’t find out, okay?”

  He stops at the light and pulls me near. His lips grazing my forehead, my cheek, down the length of my neck, until finally, finally, melding with mine.

  Moving away just seconds before the light turns green, and glancing at me when he says, “You sure you want to go through with this?”

  The warmth of his deep, dark gaze holding the look for just a tad longer than necessary. Allowing me plenty of time to say no, that I’m not at all ready, not even close, so he can turn the car around and head somewhere else. Somewhere nicer, friendlier, warmer—like a far-away beach or maybe even a Summer
land retreat—a small part of him hoping I’ll consent to just that.

  He’s over the whole high school scene. Has been for centuries. I’m the only reason he’s here. The only reason he stays. And now that we’re together, blissfully reunited after several painful centuries of being ripped apart over and over again, he just doesn’t see the point to all this. Views it as some sort of useless charade.

  And even though I don’t always see the point either, since it’s pretty hard to actually learn anything when the knowledge comes as easily as reading our teacher’s minds or placing our hands on the cover of a book and intuiting the contents inside, I’m still determined to hang in there and see it all the way through.

  Mostly because it’s pretty much the only part of my totally bizarre life that’s even the slightest bit normal. And no matter how bored Damen may get, no matter how often he begs me to just blow it all off so we can go start our lives instead, I won’t do it. Can’t do it. For some strange reason, I just really want us to graduate.

  I want to hold that diploma in my hand and toss my cap in the air.

  And today we’re taking the first step toward that end.

  I smile and nod and urge him to continue, seeing a flash of unease cloud his face, and returning the look with a newfound confidence and strength. Straightening my shoulders and scraping my hair into a ponytail that sits low on my neck, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress and preparing for the battle ahead.

  Even though I’m not sure what’s coming or exactly what to expect, even though I can’t see into my own future as easily as I can everyone else’s, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Haven still blames me for Roman’s death.

  Still blames me for everything that’s gone wrong in her life.

  And has every intention of making good on her promise to ruin me.

  “Trust me, I’m more than ready.” I gaze out the side window, scanning the crowd for my former best friend, knowing it’s just a matter of time before she’ll make the first move, and hoping I’ll have a chance to turn it around before we both do something we’ll no doubt regret.

  four

  It isn’t until lunch that we see her.

  Everyone sees her.

  She’s impossible to miss.

  Like an unexpected swirl of icy blue frost—like an intricate icicle edged in sharp curves—she’s as enticing, exotic, and startling as a surprise wintry chill on a hot summer day.

  A large group of students swarm all around her—the very same people who looked past her before.

  But there’s no missing her now.

  No missing her unearthly beauty, her irresistible lure.

  She’s not the same Haven she used to be. She’s entirely different. Transformed.

  Where she used to fade, she now glistens.

  Where once she repelled, she attracts.

  And what I used to think of as her standard black leather and lace, rock ’n’ roll gypsy look, has been swapped for a sort of languorous, mesmerizing, slightly morbid glamour. Like an arctic version of a dark, mournful bride, she’s dressed in a long body-skimming gown with a deep V in front, long floaty sleeves, and layer upon layer of soft, silky blue fabric that drags behind her, sweeping the ground, while her neck practically sags with the weight of jewels she’s layered upon it—a combination of glossy Tahitian pearls, glittery cabochon sapphires, large roughly cut chunks of turquoise, and highly polished clusters of aquamarine, with long, jet black hair that hangs in glossy, loose waves trailing all the way down to her waist. The platinum streak that once marked her bangs now dyed the same deep shade of cobalt that graces her nails, lines her eyes, and glistens in the jewel that marks the space just above and between her finely arched brows.

  A look the old Haven could’ve never pulled off; she would’ve been laughed out of school before the first bell could ring—but not anymore.

  I mumble under my breath, as Damen reaches for me. His fingers grasping mine in what’s meant to be a reassuring squeeze, but we’re just as entranced as everyone else in this school. Unable to tear our eyes away from the sheen of her ultra pale skin, the way it gleams in a sea of black and blue. Resulting in an oddly fragile, ethereal look—like a freshly made bruise—completely belying the determination within.

  “The amulet,” Damen whispers, gaze briefly meeting mine, before returning to her. “She’s not wearing it, it’s…gone.”

  My eyes instantly locate her neck, searching through the complicated tangle of dark, shining jewelry, only to see that he’s right. The amulet we gave her, the one that was meant to keep her safe from harm, safe from me, is no longer there. And I know it’s no accident, nothing of the kind. It’s a message meant for me. One that’s intended to scream loud and clear:

  I don’t need you. I’ve outgrown you. I’ve transcended you completely.

  Having risen to a pinnacle of power of her very own making, she’s now in a place where she no longer fears me.

  Despite the fact that her aura is no longer visible, hasn’t been since the night I had her drink from the elixir that turned her immortal like me, it’s not like she needs one for me to sense what she’s thinking.

  To know how she’s feeling.

  Her grief over Roman, combined with her rage toward me, is what spawned this whole thing. She’s completely guided, completely redefined, by an overwhelming sense of anger and loss, and is now seeking revenge on every single person who’s ever once done her wrong.

  Beginning with me.

  Damen stops in his tracks and pulls me close to his side, allowing me one last chance to cry uncle and bail on this scene, but I won’t. Can’t. While I’m fully committed to letting her make the first move, the second she does I’ll have absolutely no problem reminding her just who’s in charge around here. It’s what I’ve been training for. And while she may feel confident and sure of herself now, I happen to know something she doesn’t:

  She may feel strong, empowered, and completely invincible—but her powers can’t even begin to touch mine.

  Damen shoots me a worried glance, aware of the pierce of her gaze, little arrows of hate aimed straight at me. But I just shrug and keep moving, leading him toward our usual table, the one she surely thinks is beneath her, knowing that the hateful looks are just the beginning, something we’d better get used to if we’ve any hope of surviving the year.

  “You okay?” He leans toward me, concern in his eyes, hand on my knee.

  I nod, gaze never once leaving hers, knowing that if she’s anything like Roman, she’ll drag this thing out like a cat with a mouse, take her sweet time before she moves in for the kill.

  “Because I want you to know that I’m here. I’ll always be here. Even though we don’t have any classes together, thanks to you I might add”—he shakes his head—“I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I won’t cut, sneak out, play truant, or anything of the sort. I’ll go to every last boring class on this godforsaken schedule of mine. Which means if you need me, all you have to do is call and I’ll—”

  “Be there.” I meet his gaze, but only for a moment before it returns to her. Watching as she revels in her position as the new queen of the A list, presiding over a table that just a few months before she wasn’t even allowed to walk past, much less sit at. And I can only assume that Stacia and Honor decided to exercise their new senior year privilege of going off campus for lunch, since they would never allow this to happen if they were around, which only makes me wonder how they’ll react when they return to find Haven has taken their place.

  “Listen,” I say, twisting the top from my elixir and taking a sip. “We’ve been over this, and I’m fine. I can handle it. I can handle her. Really.” I turn toward him, giving him a look that shows just how much I mean it. “We have an eternity together—just you and me and infinity.” I smile. “So it’s not like we need to sit next to each other in physics too, right?” My heart practically skipping when I see the way his eyes brighten, his mood lightens, and he smiles too. �
�You have no reason to worry about me. Between my meditations with Ava and my training with you—I’m like a new and improved, more powerful me! And I can handle Haven, believe me, I’ve no doubt about that.”

  He glances between us, his face a mask of apprehension, obviously struggling between his own nagging doubt and his desire to believe. Despite my continued assurances, his fears for my safety, his belief that he alone is to blame for setting this whole thing in motion the day he decided to turn me, is what keeps him from fully taking that leap.

  “Okay, but one last thing—” He tilts my chin until I’m eye level with him. “Just remember that she’s angry, powerful, and reckless—a dangerous combination if there ever was one.”

  I nod, not missing a beat when I reply, “Well, that may be true, but don’t you forget that I’m centered, more powerful, and have way more control than she ever will. Which means she can’t hurt me. No matter how badly she may want to—no matter how hard she tries—she won’t win this one. Not to mention, I have something she doesn’t—”

  He looks at me, eyes narrowed, not anticipating this sudden change in the script we’ve rehearsed so many times.

  “You. I have you. Always and forever, right? Or at least that’s what you said last night when you were trying to ravish me in the English countryside…”

  Oh, so it was me trying to ravish you? You sure about that? He laughs, closing his eyes as he presses his lips to mine, at first softly, gently, then with more urgency. Kissing me in a way that causes my entire body to ignite with the kind of tingle and heat only he can provide, only to pull away just as quickly, knowing we can’t risk losing our focus this way.