Dark Flame Page 7

  “Fine.” She nods. “Guess I’ll just have to get it from Roman, then. I’m sure he’d be happy to give it to me.”

  I swallow hard, not saying a word, well aware that she’s challenging me. Watching as Luna jumps onto her lap and Haven starts to pet her.

  “Hey there, kitty—weren’t you supposed to be mine? Is that why you’re here now? Because you sense your true owner?” She lifts her up high and nuzzles her chin, laughing when Romy jumps up from her end of the couch and snatches her away. “Relax.” Haven laughs. “It’s not like I’m gonna steal her or anything.”

  “You can’t steal her.” Romy glares, lifting Luna onto her shoulder, her favorite place to perch. “You can’t own her either. Pets aren’t possessions, they’re not accessories you discard when you decide you no longer want them. They’re living creatures that share our lives.” She looks at her sister, signaling for her to follow as she storms out of the room.

  “Jeez—testy!” Haven glances over her shoulder, watching them leave.

  But I’m not about to let her brush that off, she’s the one who put it out there, now I’m just following up. “Speaking of—how is Roman?” I ask, trying to come off as conversational, only vaguely interested, hoping no one else noticed the way my voice just trembled when his name left my lips.

  She shrugs, sensing exactly where I’m going with this when she says, “Fine. He’s just fine, thanks for asking. But I’ve got nothing to report. Or at least nothing that would interest you.” She glances between Damen and me, her lips curling up at the corners as though it’s all a big joke, a game she hasn’t fully committed to playing, despite the assurance she gave. Switching her focus to her nails when she says, “Jeez, do your nails grow this fast too? I mean, I just cut them this morning and check it out, they’re already long again!” She holds her hands up so we can see. “And my hair—I swear my bangs have grown a full half inch in just a few days!”

  Damen and I exchange a quick glance, both of us thinking the same thing: All of this on just one bottle of elixir? And knowing I’ve no choice but to tell her, and hoping I can pull it off convincingly, I say, “Listen—about Roman—”

  She drops her hands in her lap, cradling the box as she looks at me.

  “I’ve been thinking—” I pause, aware of Damen’s gaze, deep, intense, boring right into mine, wondering where I’m headed with this, since I certainly haven’t discussed it with him. But the truth is, it’s a conclusion I’ve only just come to myself—a result of all the creepy things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours. “I think you need to avoid him at all costs,” I say, eyeing her carefully. “Seriously. If it’s money you need, I can totally float you until you find another job, but I don’t think you should be working there. It’s not—safe. And even though I know you don’t believe me, even though you think I’ve got it all wrong, the thing is, I don’t. Damen was there too, he can tell you.” I glance at Damen, seeing him nod in agreement, but Haven remains unaffected, her face so placid it’s like she hasn’t even heard. “I can’t express it enough,” I urge. “Seriously. He’s dangerous. A complete and total menace. Not to mention he’s—” Evil and awful, and devastatingly, alluringly irresistible—his voice in my head, his face in my dreams—always there, ever-present—and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to shake him—can’t stop thinking about him—can’t stop wanting him—can’t stop dreaming about him—“And—um—anyway, I’d hate to see you get hurt.” I swallow hard, my body so ramped up with just the thought of him, with that strange, foreign pulse stirring inside me, I come this close to blowing my cover.

  But when she looks at me, her brow lifted as though she heard the words in my head, sees what I really am up to, I panic. Privately and quietly panic. Until I remember that my shield is in place. And no matter how powerful she may be, if Damen couldn’t hear me, then neither could she.

  “Listen, Ever, it’s been covered, and now you’re just being redundant. I heard you the first time, just like I heard you this time. And if you’ll remember, we agreed to disagree. Besides, how you gonna get what you want if I don’t cozy up to him?” She glances between us, eyes narrowed, catlike. “Trust me, Roman’s hardly a threat, at least not to me. He’s so incredibly sweet, and kind, and loving—he’s nothing at all like you think. So if you two want to be together”—she wags her finger between Damen and me—“then you’ll probably want to stay on my good side. As far as I can tell, I’m pretty much your only shot at this point—no?”

  Damen steps forward, his eyes sparking, angry, voice low and menacing when he says, “It’s a dangerous game that you’re playing. And while I realize you’re excited about your prospects, thrilled with this new power that’s raging inside you, it’s all too easy to get in over your head. I know, because I was once like you. In fact, I was the first. And even though it was a very long time ago, I remember it like yesterday. I also remember the long list of mistakes I made, the regrets I accumulated when I let my hunger for power override my common sense and human decency. Don’t be like me, Haven. Don’t make that mistake. And don’t you even consider threatening either Ever or me in any way. We have plenty of options, plenty of means, and we don’t need you to—”

  “Enough already!” Haven shakes her head as her eyes dart between us. “I’m sick of you both talking down to me all the time. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I can teach you guys a thing or two about how to use all this power?” She rolls her eyes and scowls, answering her own question when she says, “Of course not! It’s just, ‘Do this, Haven, do that, Haven, we’re rationing your elixir because we don’t trust you, Haven.’ I mean, come on. If you refuse to trust me, then why am I supposed to trust you?”

  “It’s not you we don’t trust,” I say, eager to defuse this, calm things down before it gets any more heated. “It’s Roman. I know you don’t want to see it, but he’s using you. You’re just a pawn in this twisted little game that he plays. He sees all your weaknesses and he’s using them to pull your strings like a puppet.”

  “And what weaknesses are those?” She drums her fingers against the box and presses her lips into a thin, grim line.

  But before this can go any further, escalate into something we’ll all surely regret, Damen holds up a hand and jumps in. “We’re not trying to pick a fight with you, Haven. We’re trying to protect you. It’s for your own good.”

  “Because I need protecting? Because I’m too dumb to figure stuff out for myself?” Her gaze darts between us, and when Damen sighs in frustration, her eyes grow cold. Then she nods, grips the box tighter, and stands. “I wish I could believe you, but the thing is, I just can’t. Because you’re the one holding something back, Ever—I can feel it. And even though I have no idea what it is, one thing’s pathetically clear—you’re jealous.” Her lip curls when she adds, “Yep, believe it or not, perfect Ever Bloom is jealous of me—little Haven Turner.” She shakes her head. “How’s that for a change of events?”

  I stiffen but continue to stand there, not saying a word.

  “You’re used to being top dog around here. The smartest, the prettiest, the most perfect at everything, with the most perfect, smartest, sexiest boyfriend.” She smiles at Damen, then shrugs and laughs when he fails to return her smile. “And now that I’m immortal like you, it’s just a matter of time until I catch up—until I’m perfect too. And the fact is, you can’t stand it. Can’t stand the thought of it. But the funny part, the ironic part is, in the end, you have only yourself to blame, since you’re the one who made me this way. And even though you claim you’d make the same decision all over again, I can’t help but think you liked me better before. Back when I was a pathetic, little, attention-starved wannabe—the loser who ate too many cupcakes and made up stuff at anonymous meetings.” She shrugs, shoulders rising and falling with such confidence, such arrogance, it’s clear she’s no longer that girl. “Don’t bother denying it, I know those are the weaknesses you were referring to. It’s pretty obvious how superior you
’ve always felt to Miles and me. Like you were deigning to hang with us until something better came your way—”

  “That’s not true—you’re my best friends—my—”

  “Please.” She rolls her eyes, clucking her tongue against her cheek in the same way Roman does. “Spare me your heartfelt declarations. The moment the Italian stallion came along”—she nods at Damen—“we pretty much only saw you at lunch, and sometimes not even then, since the perfect little couple was too busy with their perfect little lives, and their perfect little love, to hang with such unperfect dorks like us. We were just the losers you kept on standby—just in case you might need us someday. But now it looks like you’re in for a long and lonely summer cuz Miles is headed for Florence, and I made some new friends who aren’t the slightest bit intimidated by the new me.”

  “Haven—this is crazy! How can you even say these things?” I ask, as my eyes rake over her, taking her in. Even though she’s just as teeny as ever, even though she hasn’t grown even the slightest bit, it’s like her diminutive stature is somehow more pronounced—more toned, more sinewy, like she’s a tiny black panther in black leather leggings, lacy black shirt, and tall spiky black boots. And though she’s gotten mad at me before, this time is different—she’s different. Now she’s dangerous, and knows it, and likes it that way.

  “How can I say it?” she mocks, eyes narrowed into slits. “Because it’s true, that’s how.” She dumps the box into Damen’s arms, assuming he’ll catch it as she heads for the door, glancing over her shoulder to say, “You can keep your elixir. I’ve got my own source. And trust me, he’ll be more than happy to teach me all the things that you won’t.”

  eight

  Damen turns toward me, the word trouble coursing from his mind to mine.

  But I just stand there, so stunned I have no idea where to take it from here.

  “I knew she’d be a problem.” He shakes his head and drops onto the couch. “She’s too fragile, too volatile, she won’t be able to handle any of this. She’ll be consumed with power before long, just wait.”

  “Wait?” I perch on the armrest beside him. “Are you serious? Wait for what? You think it’s actually gonna get worse than what we just saw?”

  He nods, making a great effort to withhold the I told you so gaze. But it’s not like it matters. We both know I’m the one responsible for this mess.

  I sigh, sliding off the armrest and toppling onto him. Knowing I have to do something—take control of this situation before it gets any worse—but having no idea what that something is. Every decision I’ve made up to this point has only made everything worse. And I’m just so tired—so drained—all I want to do is take a nice long peaceful nap where Roman can’t enter my dreams.

  Roman.

  The name reverberating from my mind to his, and when he looks at me, I know it’s too late—I know that he sensed it.

  “Why’d you change your mind?” He studies me closely, seeking the truth behind the look in my eyes, the words on my tongue. “Why’d you tell her to avoid him?”

  “Because you were right,” I mumble, hating the lie I’m about to tell. “It was a selfish thing to do—to put her in that kind of danger just so we could benefit—” I shake my head, allowing my hair to fall onto my face in a way that obscures it.

  Because the truth is, I’m worried I didn’t do it for her.

  I’m worried I tried to keep her from Roman, so there’d be more room for me.

  I remain like that, face hidden as I struggle to pull myself together, summon up some small glimmer of the old me. Finally lifting my head only to find his brow creased with worry, as his hand squeezes my knee.

  “Hey, take it easy,” he says, voice soft and low. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. So, we’ve entered a bit of a glitch, we’ll get through it. We still have each other, right? That’s all that matters in the big scheme of things. As for everything else—we’ll find a way—I promise we will.”

  “Do we?” I look at him, my eyes going wide when I realize what I just said, having meant to say will we—meant to question the part about finding a way and not the part about us having each other.

  He looks at me, clearly disturbed by my words. “I thought that was a given. Am I wrong?”

  I swallow hard and reach for his hand, watching as the slim veil of energy dances between his palm and mine, holding back the words until I can trust my voice again. “You’re not wrong,” I whisper. “You’re the best thing in my life—the only thing that truly matters.” Repeating the words that I know for sure to be true, just wishing I could feel them in the same way that I used to.

  But Damen’s not buying it, he knows me too well—having witnessed a million different mood swings, a gazillion different voice inflections and avoidance techniques over the last four hundred years—and that’s just counting mine.

  “Ever, is something wrong? You’ve been acting strange ever since—”

  I look at him, my voice sharp, edgy, cutting in when I say, “Ever since I made you drink the elixir that turned our touch lethal?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Ever since I turned Haven into an immortal?”

  He shakes his head again, this time pressing his finger to my lips, quieting me when he says, “I wasn’t referring to any of those things. You made the best decisions you could under the circumstances you found yourself in. I’ve no right to fault you for that. What I was going to say is you’ve been acting strange ever since you started delving into magick. You seem preoccupied, distracted, like you’re never fully present anymore. And I’m worried about you, wondering if you’ve gotten in over your head, and if so, how I might help.”

  I look into his eyes, and there’s so much hope and tenderness there that I can’t bring myself to confess what I’ve been feeling for Roman. The thought alone is too gruesome. “I admit, I got into a little bind. And while I’d rather not go into all the details, it’s better now. Romy and Rayne showed me how to undo it, and it’s all—good. You just have to trust me.”

  He looks at me, his concern deepening, but still he just nods and says, “If you tell me to trust you, then I’ll trust you. But let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  I reach toward him—my boyfriend—my soul mate—my partner for life. Knowing this is how it’s meant to be—that everything I’m going through now is just a rude interruption—a technical difficulty—a brief blip on the screen of our infinite lives. Aware of that horrible insistent hum, thrumming in the background, threatening to take over again, I look him right in the eyes and say, “What do you say we get out of here?”

  He looks at me, face softening, eyes lightening, always game for a good adventure. “Any place in particular?” he asks, having no idea what I have in mind but clearly complicit in his gaze.

  I nod, squeezing his hand and quietly urging him to close his eyes, as I whisper, “Follow me.”

  nine

  The second we land, the two of us toppling side by side on the grass, I feel better. Like a million, trillion, gazillion times better. Jumping to my feet and skipping through the field, freed from that horrible trespassing energy—that strange foreign pulse and the thoughts of Roman it brings. All of it reduced to nothing more than a vague and distant memory, as the buoyant grass springs under my feet, and the perfumed flowers shiver beneath the tips of my fingers. Glancing over my shoulder, beckoning for Damen to join me, as a genuine grin lights up my face for the first time in days.

  I am regenerated, renewed, able to begin all over again.

  He comes toward me, stopping just shy of my reach as he closes his eyes and instantly transforms the vast fragrant fields of Summerland into an exact replica of the Château de Versailles. Placing us in the middle of a hall so grand and opulent it takes my breath away.

  The floors are made of the smoothest polished parquet, while the cream-colored walls gleam with a liberal use of gold leaf. And the ceilings—those insanely high, elaborately frescoed ceilings—are punctuated b
y a succession of glistening chandeliers, their finely cut crystals shining and glinting from the flames of burning candles, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of soft, glowing light. And just when I think it can’t possibly get any better, the majestic sounds of a symphony begin and Damen bows before me and offers his hand.

  I lower my gaze, bending into a brisk curtsey, taking the opportunity to glance down at my dress—its bodice tight and low, spilling into soft loose folds of the shiniest blue silk that swirls all the way to the floor. Lifting my gaze to find him retrieving a slim velvet box from his coat, and gasping in excitement when he opens it to reveal an exquisite sapphire-and-diamond-encrusted necklace he clasps around my neck.

  I turn, glancing into the long line of mirrors that punctuate each side of the hall, gazing upon the two of us together, he in his breeches, blazer, and boots, me in my opulent finery, hair twisted and curled into the world’s most complicated updo—and I know exactly what he’s doing—exactly what he’s up to—he’s giving me the happily ever after Drina stole from me.

  I gaze around the ballroom in awe, hardly believing I could’ve had this, could’ve been part of this world—his world. If my Cinderella ending hadn’t been ripped right out from under me, robbing me of my chance to even try the glass slipper.

  If I’d only been allowed to live, he would’ve given me the elixir and instantly transformed me from the lowly French servant named Evaline into this—this radiant being staring back from the mirror. And a hundred and some-odd years later, we could’ve danced here together, shared this beautiful night, dressed in our finest and glinting with jewels, right alongside Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI.

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, Drina killed me, forcing Damen and me to continue our search for each other, again and again.