Shadowland Read online

  He looks at me, gaze softening as he trails the tip of his gloved finger from my temple to my chin. “I thought you hated my ‘dusty old room’ as you once called it.”

  “People change.” I shrug. Wishing, not for the first time, that he’d change back to the Damen I knew. “And speaking of change, why are you so freaked by Miles’s trip to Florence?” Noting the way he stiffens at the mere mention of the word. “Is it because of the whole Drina and Roman thing? The connection you don’t want him to know about?”

  He looks at me for a moment, lips parting, about to speak, then he turns away and mumbles, “I’m hardly what you’d call freaked.”

  “You know what? You’re absolutely right. For a normal person, that was hardly what you’d call freaked. But for the guy who’s always the coolest, calmest one in the room—all it takes is the slight narrowing of your eyes and the most minute clenching of your jaw to know you’re upset.”

  He sighs, eyes searching mine as he moves toward me again. “You saw what happened in Florence.” He squints. “Despite all its virtues, it’s also a place of unbearable memories, ones I’d rather not explore.”

  I swallow hard, remembering the images I viewed in Summerland—Damen hiding in a small dark cupboard, watching as his parents were murdered by thugs intent on obtaining the elixir—then later, abused as a ward of the church until the Black Plague swept through Florence and he encouraged Drina and the rest of the orphans to drink the immortal juice, hoping only to heal and having no idea it would grant eternal life—and I can’t help but feel like the world’s worst girlfriend for bringing it up.

  “I prefer to focus on the present.” He nods, gesturing around the large empty room. “And right now I really need your help furnishing this space. According to my Realtor, buyers like a nice, clean, contemporary look when shopping for homes. And though I was thinking of leaving it empty, to really emphasize the size of the rooms, I suppose we should try—”

  “Your Realtor?” I gasp, practically choking on the word as my voice raises several octaves at the end. “What could you possibly need a Realtor for?”

  “I’m selling the house.” He shrugs. “I thought you understood?”

  I gaze around, longing for that ancient velvet settee with the lumpy cushions, knowing it would provide the perfect landing for when my body collapses and my head quietly explodes.

  But I just stand there instead, determined to keep it together. Gazing at my ridiculously gorgeous boyfriend of the last four hundred years as though it’s the first time we’ve met.

  “Don’t look so upset. Nothing’s changed. It’s just a house. A seriously oversized house. Besides, I’ve never needed all this space anyway. I never even use most of these rooms.”

  “And what exactly are you planning to replace it with, then? A tent?”

  “I just thought I’d downsize, that’s all.” His gaze is pleading, begging me to understand. “Nothing sinister, Ever. Nothing meant to hurt you.”

  “And is your Realtor going to help with that too? With the downsizing?” Studying him closely, wondering what’s gotten into him, and where this will end. “I mean, Damen, if you’re seriously looking to downsize, why not just manifest something smaller? Why are you choosing this conventional route?”

  I flick my gaze over him, moving from his glorious head of longish dark glossy hair to his perfect rubber flip-flop–shod feet, remembering how, not so long ago, I longed to be normal again, just like everyone else. But now that I’m getting used to my powers I don’t see the point.

  “What’s this really about?” I squint, feeling more than a little betrayed. “I mean, you’re the one who got me here. You’re the one who made me this way. And now that I’m finally adjusted, you decide to jump ship? Seriously. Why are you doing this?”

  But instead of answering, he closes his eyes. Projecting an image of the two of us laughing and happy, frolicking on a beautiful, pink-sand beach.

  But I just shake my head and cross my arms tighter, refusing to play until my questions are answered.

  He sighs and stares out the window, turning toward me when he says, “I’ve already told you, my only recourse, my only way out of this hell of my making, is to atone for my karma. And the only way to do that is to forego the manifesting, the high life, the big spending, and all the other extravagances I’ve indulged myself in for the last six hundred years, so I can live the life of an ordinary citizen. Honest, hard working, and humble, with the same day-to-day struggles as anyone else.”

  I stare at him, replaying his words in my head, hardly believing what I just heard. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?” I squint. “Seriously. In your six centuries of living, have you ever even held a real job?”

  But even though I’m dead serious and not at all joking, he throws his head back and laughs like I was. Eventually calming down enough to say, “You honestly think no one will hire me?” He shakes his head and laughs even harder. “Ever, please. Don’t you think I’ve been around long enough to have honed a few skills?”

  I start to respond, wanting to explain that while it’s truly remarkable to watch him paint a Picasso better than Picasso with one hand while simultaneously outdoing Van Gogh with the other, I really don’t think that’ll help him land that coveted barista position at the Starbucks on the corner.

  But before I can say it, he’s standing beside me, moving with such speed and grace all I can manage is, “Well, for someone who’s turned his back on his gifts, you still move awfully fast.” Aware of that warm wonderful tingle swarming my skin as he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me close to his chest, carefully avoiding skin-on-skin contact. “And what about telepathy?” I whisper. “Are you planning to ditch that too?” So overcome by his proximity I can barely eke out the words.

  “I’ve no plans to ditch anything that brings me closer to you,” he says, gaze on mine, steady and still. “As for the rest—” He shrugs, glancing around the large empty space before finding me again. “Tell me, what matters more, Ever? The size of my house—or the size of my heart?”

  I bite my lip and avert my gaze, the truth of his words leaving me feeling small and ashamed.

  “Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip code—those are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.”

  I swallow hard, focusing on anything but him. It’s not that I care about his BMW or faux French chateaux, I mean, if I want those things I’ll just manifest them myself. But even though they aren’t important, if I’m going to be honest then I have to admit they were part of the initial attraction—adding to his sleek, shiny, mysterious persona that lured me right in.

  But when I finally look at him again, standing before me, stripped bare of all the usual dazzle and flash, honed down to the very essence of who he really is, I realize he’s still the same, warm, wonderful guy he’s been all along. Which just proves his point. None of that other stuff matters.

  None of it has anything to do with his soul.

  I smile, suddenly remembering the one place where we can be together—safe and secure and protected from harm. Reaching for his gloved hand as I grasp it in mine, saying, “Come on, I want to show you something,” and pulling him along.

  seven

  At first I was worried he’d refuse to visit a place that not only requires a certain amount of magick for entry, but that is nothing but magick once you arrive. But just after landing in that vast fragrant field, he wipes the seat of his jeans and offers his hand, gazing all around as he says, “Wow. I don’t think I was ever able to make the portal so quickly.”

  “Please, you’re the one who taught me.” I smile, gazing at the meadow of pulsating flowers and shivering trees, noting how everything here is reduced to its absolute purest form of beauty and energy.

  I tilt my head back, closing my eyes against the warm haz
y glow and shimmering mist. Remembering the last time I was here, how I danced with a manifest Damen in this very same field, delaying the moment when I’d have to let go.

  “So you’re okay with being here?” I ask, unsure just how far his ban on magick extends. “You’re not mad?”

  He shakes his head and takes my hand. “I never grow tired of Summerland. It’s a manifestation of beauty and promise in its purest form.”

  We make our way through the pasture, buoyed by the grass just under our feet as our fingers graze the tops of golden wild-flowers that bend and sway alongside us. Knowing anything is possible in this wonderful place, anything at all, including—just maybe—us.

  “I missed this.” He smiles, gazing all around. “Not that I remember the last few weeks without it, but still, it seems like such a long time since we were last here.”

  “It felt strange coming without you,” I say, leading him toward a beautiful Balinese-style cabana perched beside the rainbow-colored stream. “Though I did discover a whole other side I can’t wait to show you. Only later—not now.”

  I push the gauzy white fabric aside and plop onto the soft white cushions, smiling as Damen lands right beside me, the two of us lying side by side, gazing up at the elaborately carved coconut beams. Heads together, the soles of our feet just a few inches shy—the result of my elixir-fueled growth spurt.

  “What is this?” He turns onto his side as I draw the curtains closed with my mind. Eager to shut out all that surrounds us so we can enjoy our own private space.

  “I saw one on the cover of a travel magazine featuring some exotic resort, and I liked it so much I thought I’d manifest one. You know, so we could—hang out—and—stuff.” I avert my gaze, heart racing, face flushing, knowing I’m quite possibly the most pathetic seductress he’s met in his six hundred years.

  But he just laughs, pulling me so close we just nearly touch. Separated only by the slimmest veil of shimmering energy, a pulsating screen that hovers between us—allowing us to be near without harming each other.

  I close my eyes, surrendering to the wave of warmth and tingle as our bodies come together. Two hearts pumping in perfect unison, reaching and retreating, expanding and retracting, the tempo perfectly synchronized as though beating as one. Everything about it feeling so good, so natural, so right, I snuggle closer. Nestling my face in the hollow where his shoulder meets his neck, longing to taste his sweet skin and inhale his warm musky scent. A low moan escaping from deep in his throat as I close my eyes and press into his hips, my tongue tipped toward his skin, only to have him spring from my reach so fast I’m met with a mouthful of cushion.

  I scramble upright, seeing him move so quickly he’s reduced to a blur. Stopping only when he’s safely ensconced on the other side of the curtain, eyes blazing, body trembling, as I beg him to tell me what happened.

  I move toward him, wanting to help. But just as I get close, he moves again, hand held before him, gaze warning me away.

  “Don’t touch me,” he says. “Please, stay right where you are. Don’t come any closer.”

  “But—why?” My voice hoarse, unstable, hands trembling by my sides. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought—well—because we’re here—and since nothing bad can happen in Summerland—I just thought it would be okay if we maybe tried to—”

  “Ever, it’s not that—it’s—” He shakes his head, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. So dark the irises are indistinguishable from the pupils, blending right in. “And who says nothing bad can happen here?” His tone so edgy, gaze so harsh, it’s clear he’s traveled a very long way from his usual state of infallible calm.

  I swallow hard and stare at the ground, feeling foolish, ridiculous—to think I was so desperate to be with my boyfriend I risked taking his life.

  “I guess—I just assumed . . .” My voice fades, knowing very well what happens when one assumes. Not only do you make an ass out of u and me, but in this particular case, that very same u just might end up dead. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, knowing it’s completely inadequate considering the life-and-death circumstances we’re in. “I—I guess I didn’t think it through. I don’t know what to say.”

  I pull my shoulders in, wrapping my arms around my waist, trying to make myself smaller, so small I’ll disappear from his sight. And yet, I can’t help but wonder exactly what kind of bad thing could happen in a place where magick comes easily, and wounds are healed instantly. I mean, if we’re not safe here, then where?

  Damen looks at me, answering the thought in my head when he says, “Summerland contains the possibility of all things. So far, we’ve only seen the light, but who’s to say there’s not a dark side? Maybe it’s not at all what we think.”

  I gaze at him, remembering when I first met Romy and Rayne and how they said something similar. Watching as he manifests a beautifully carved wood bench, then motions for me to sit.

  “Come.” He nods, urging me toward him as I take a seat at the far end, not wanting to get too close and risk setting him off again. “There’s something you need to see—something you need to understand. So please just close your eyes and clear your mind of any random thoughts and clutter as best you can. Keeping yourself open and receptive to any visions I send. Can you do that?”

  I nod, eyes shut tight, doing my best to sweep my mind of such thoughts as: What’s going on? Is he mad at me? Of course he’s mad at me! How could I be so stupid? But how mad is he? Is it possible to change his mind and start over again? My usual paranoid play-list set on permanent repeat.

  But even after clearing it out and waiting for what feels like a reasonable amount of time, all I’ve gotten so far is a heavy void of dense solid black.

  “I don’t get it,” I say, opening one eye and peeking at him.

  But he just shakes his head, eyes shut tight, brows merged in concentration, as he continues to focus with all of his might. “Listen,” he says. “And look deep down inside. Just close your eyes and receive.”

  I take a deep breath and try again, but still, all I get is a foreboding silence and the feeling of black empty space.

  “Um, I’m really sorry,” I whisper, not wanting to upset him but sure that I’m missing the point. “I’m not getting much of anything other than silence and darkness.”

  “Exactly,” he whispers, unfazed by my words. “Now please, take hold of my hand and go deeper, delve past the surface using all of your senses, then tell me what you see.”

  I take a deep breath and do as he says, reaching for his hand and pushing past the solid wall of black, but all I get is more of the same.

  Until—

  Until—

  I’m sucked into a black hole, limbs flailing, unable to stop or slow down. Free-falling into the darkness, my horrible high-pitched scream the only sound. And just as I’m sure that this fall has no end—it stops. The scream. The fall. All of it. Everything. Leaving me to hang there. Untethered. Suspended. Completely alone in this solitary place with no beginning or end. Lost in this dark and dismal abyss with no trace of light coming in. Abandoned in this infinite void, a lost and lonely world of permanent midnight. The horrible realization slowly dawning on me—This is where I live now.

  A hell with no escape.

  I try to run, scream, cry for help—but it’s no use. I’m frozen, paralyzed, unable to speak—completely alone for all of eternity. Purposely held apart from everything I know and love—cut off from everything that exists. Knowing I’ve no choice but to surrender as my mind goes blank and my body limp.

  There’s no use in fighting when no one can save me.

  I remain like that, solitary, eternal, a shadowy awareness creeping upon me, tugging from a place just outside of my reach—

  Until—

  Until—

  I’m yanked out of that hell and into Damen’s arms, relieved to see his beautiful, anxious face hovering over me.

  “I’m so sorry—I thought I’d lost you—I thought you’d never come back!” he
cries, holding me tight, his voice like a sob in my ear.

  I cling to him, body shaking, heart racing, clothes drenched with sweat. Never having felt so isolated before—so disconnected—from everything. From every—living—thing. Hugging him tighter, unwilling to let go, my mind connecting with his, asking why he chose to put me through that.

  He pulls away, cupping my face in his hands as his eyes search mine. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to punish you, or harm you in any way. I only wanted to show you something, something you needed to experience firsthand in order to understand.”

  I nod, not trusting my voice. Still shaken from an experience so awful it felt like the death of my soul.

  “My God!” His eyes widen. “That’s it! That’s exactly what it is. The soul ceases to exist!”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, voice hoarse, shaky. “What was that horrible place?”

  He looks away, fingers squeezing mine when he says, “The future. The Shadowland. The eternal abyss I’d thought was meant only for me—that I’d hoped was meant only for me . . .” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “But now I know better. Now I know that if you’re not careful, extremely careful—you’ll go there too.”

  I look at him, starting to speak, but he cuts me off before I can get to the words. “The past few days I’ve been getting these flashes—glimpses, really—of various moments from my past—both distant and near.” He looks at me, carefully searching my face. “But the moment we came here—” He gestures around. “It started trickling back, slowly at first until it all came surging forth, including the moments I was under Roman’s control. I also relived my death. Those few brief moments after you broke through the circle, before you had me drink the antidote, as you know, I was dying. I watched my entire life flash before me, six hundred years of unchecked vanity, narcissism, selfishness, and greed. Like an endless reel of all of my actions, every misdeed that I’d done—accompanied by the impact I had—the mental and physical effect of my mistreatment of others. And though there were a few decent acts here and there, the majority, well, it amounted to centuries of me focusing on nothing but my own self-interest, giving very little thought to anything or anyone else. Focusing solely on the physical world to the detriment of my soul. Leaving me no doubt I was right all along, my karma’s to blame for what we’re going through now.” He shakes his head and meets my gaze with such unflinching honesty I want to reach out and touch him, hold him, tell him it will all be okay. But instead I stay put, sensing there’s more and it’s about to get worse.