In one fluid movement, I'm in. The door slamming so hard against the wall, the entire house reverberates from the force, as I slink down the hall, quickly, silently, finding Roman in his den, lounging on the couch, arms spread wide, face expectant, as though he's been waiting for me.
"Ever." He nods, not the least bit surprised, not missing a beat. "You really have an issue with doors, don't you? Is that another one I'll have to replace?"
I move toward him without hesitation, his name a purr on my lips as my body anticipates the chill of his gaze.
He nods, slowly, steadily, as though listening to a rhythm heard only by him. Allowing his Ouroboros tattoo to flash in and out of view, his voice low and measured, when he says, "Nice of you to drop by darlin', but truth be told, I liked you better the last time you came over. You know, when you stood outside my window in that fetching see-through nightie of yours?" His lips lift at the corner as he slips a cigarette between them, sparks the tip, and takes a long, thoughtful drag. Carefully blowing a succession of perfectly timed smoke rings my way when he adds, "As it stands now-well, you're hardly at your finest. In fact, you're looking rather-peckish, aren't you?"
I rub my lips together, moistening them with my tongue as I attempt to comb my fingers through my sad snarl of hair. What used to be a glossy thick mane I was inordinately proud of is now reduced to a dull, ratted nest of split ends. I should've done more, should've made some sort of effort, worn some perfume, dabbed on a little concealer, taken the time to manifest some new clothes that actually fit my newly shrunken form. Cringing under the weight of his glare, the way it rakes over my emaciated body, clearly far from impressed with what I have to offer.
"Seriously, darlin', if you're gonna come crashin' your way in
'ere like that, then you need to look a little more presentable.
I'm not Damen, luv. I won't go shaggin' just any ol' thing. I've got me standards, you know?"
I close my eyes, willing to do whatever it takes to please him, to be with him, and knowing I've succeeded when I see the glazed look that comes over his face.
"Drina!" He whispers, cigarette tumbling from his lips and burning a hole in the carpet as his eyes drink me in. Seeing creamy pale skin, pink rosy lips, and a blaze of coppery red hair that falls over my shoulders, as I kneel down before him, extinguish the cigarette between my long, tapered fingers, and place my hands on his knees.
"My God-it-it can't be-is it really-?" He shakes his head and rubs his eyes, gazing into ones the color of emeralds and wanting so badly to believe.
I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of him, the chill of him, sliding my hands ever higher, up over his knees, all the way to his thighs, so close to getting what I want, moving higher still, and then-Haven is behind me. Her eyes blazing, hands curled into fists, and I can't help but wonder just how long she's been watching, since I didn't even hear her come in, didn't even sense her for that matter. But then, Haven's of no real consequence here. She's merely the annoying barrier that's got a bad habit of getting in my way. One I can easily obliterate.
"What the fug do you think you're doing, Ever?" She moves toward me, her harsh, narrowed gaze raking over me, meant to intimidate, but it won't work, can't work, she just doesn't know it yet.
"Ever?" Roman squints, his eyes darting between us, unable to see what she sees. "What're you talking about, luv, this isn't Ever-it's-" But that's all it takes, the mere suggestion of her words and he's able to see me, see right through the facade I created.
"Bloody hell!" He shouts, pushing me away so hard I fly across the room, over a table, and into a chair, before I land next to where Haven is standing. "What kind of crap move you trying to pull, anyway?" He scowls, furious at having been played like that.
I swallow hard, my eyes never once leaving his, as Haven moves toward me in a swirl of black leather and lace, her frosty cold breath slamming my cheek as the bite of her nails cuts into my wrist. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
she says, the words ground out from behind tightly clenched teeth. "Seriously, Ever, does Damen know you're here?"
Damen.
The name stirring something-something down deep.
Something that causes my hand to clutch at my amulet as I take a tiny step back.
Her gaze scathing, face creased with fury, when she says, "You really can't stand it, can you? Can't stand for me to have something you don't." She shakes her head. "Warning me against Roman, trying to scare me away so you could have him all to yourself. Well, I've got news for you, Ever-I'm changed. Changed in ways you can't even begin to imagine."
And though I try to yank my hand away, try to step back and break free, her grip's too strong, too determined, and if her eyes are any indication, she's far from through with me.
"You've no business here. You shouldn't have come. I don't want you here, Roman doesn't want you here-can't you see what a joke you've become?" She focuses on my acnesplattered chin, my newly sunken chest-the exact opposite of her porcelain-skinned perfection and well-defined curves. "Why don't you just turn around and go back to wherever you came from, okay? I live by my own rules now, and this is how it goes: You don't get the heck out, you try to overstay your visit and do something crazy, and you're the one who's gonna get hurt." Her fingers snake around my wrist 'til they're flush with her thumb, her eyes never once straying from mine. "You look like crap. A snaggle-haired, zit-faced wreck."
She shakes her head in a shiny whirl of black wavy strands and platinum-tinged bangs. "What happened, Ever? Damen change his mind about wanting to spend the rest of eternity with you and cut off your elixir supply?"
I open my mouth, wanting to speak, but no words will come.
So I switch my gaze to Roman, begging, pleading for him to step in and help me, but he just waves it away, his eyes signaling he's finished with me. Now that he knows I'm not Drina, I'm on my own.
Left with no other choice, I raise my wrist, the one she's gripping so hard it's gone white and numb, and flip her around so suddenly, so unexpectedly, her back's flush to my chest before she can fight it.
My lips tipped toward her ear when I say, "Sorry, but I just won't tolerate that kind of talk." Feeling her struggle against me, trying to break free, but it's no use, no one beats the monster, no one but-My gaze wanders to the gilt-framed mirror hanging before us, struck by our image-Haven's hate-filled gaze a perfect match for my own-with my own face so angry, so distorted so-monstrous-I hardly recognize it. Finally able to see what they've seen all along, the complete degradation of what I've become.
My fingers loosen, just enough to allow her to break free.
Spinning on me in a cloud of fury, fist held high, a map of all seven chakras held firmly in mind.
But before she can complete the swing, I'm gone. The excruciatingly loud crack of her back hitting the wall lingering behind as I push her off and flee for the street.
Assuring myself she'll be fine, just fine, immortals always heal.
But no longer sure if I will.
When I reach the store, I expect to find Jude, but instead the door is locked and the sign flipped to closed. And after trying and failing to unlock it with my mind, I fumble through my bag, searching for the key with fingers so shaky, I end up dropping it twice before I finally get in. Whizzing past the bookshelves and CD racks so quickly, I forget about the fixture of angel figurines to my right and slam it so hard they crash to the ground in a pile of broken pieces and heavy shards of glass.
But I don't stop to fix it. Don't even give it a second look. I just keep going, making my way into the back room and over to the desk where I pull out the chair and completely collapse.
Slumped over the desk, my forehead pressed to the wood, as I fight to steady my pulse and slow my breath. Horrified by my actions, by how low I've sunk. The scene from ten minutes ago repeating again and again in my head.
I stay like that for a while, until my skin starts to cool and my mind starts to clear, and when I finally lift my head and take a good look around, I notice the calendar's been torn off the wall and propped up before me. Today's date circled in red along with a question mark, my name underlined right beside it, and the words, Maybe this'll work? written in Jude's messy scrawl.
And just like that, I get it. The solution I've been waiting for is now, thanks to Jude, right within my reach. And it's so unbelievably obvious I can't believe I didn't think of it before.
Gaping at Jude's sloppy circle, and the smaller, printed circle within it illustrating the moon and its phases. And the fact that this one is completely colored in signals that today, the moon is going dark.
Hecate is rising again.
And suddenly, I know exactly what to do.
Instead of waiting for the moon to go light and asking the goddess to cancel the queen like the twins had me do (which, by the way, probably only served to piss off the queen which is why it failed so miserably), I should've waited for today, for the moon to go dark again, so I could head right back to the source-pick up right where I started-with Hecate, ruler of the underworld-and forge an alliance with her.
I reach into the drawer, bypassing The Book of Shadows, and rummaging around for some of the supplies that I'll need.
Making a mental promise to make it up to Jude later, as I cram an assortment of crystals, herbs, and candles into my bag before slinging it over my shoulder and heading for the beach-the only place I can think of that'll provide not only the privacy I seek but the body of water required for the ritual bath that I need.
And in no time at all I'm standing at the edge of the cliff, toes curled around the rock as I gaze out at an ocean so dark it blends with the sky. Recalling the same sort of night just one month before, when I came here with Damen, so sure I couldn't possibly sink any lower than turning my best friend into an immortal, completely clueless to the fact that I was about to take it even further.
I make my way down the trail, anxious to begin. Carefully picking my way around jutting rocks and jagged turns, heart crashing hard against my chest as my body goes clammy with sweat, aware of that feeling rising inside me and knowing I need to get started before it takes over again. Feet carving deep into the sand as I make my way toward the cave, trusting it'll be empty, just like we left it, knowing it's just like Damen said: People rarely see what's in front of them. And they certainly never see this.
I drop my bag to the ground and reach for a long taper and small box of matches, the swish and sizzle of the match striking the case the only accompaniment to the gently pounding waves. Securing the burning candle into the sand, I go about the business of arranging the rest of my tools on a blanket. Taking a moment to get it all organized before shedding my clothes and heading outside.
I wrap my arms tightly around me, bracing against the wind that pricks at my skin, and attempting to warm it away.
Determined to ignore the protruding stack of ribs that poke at my fingers, the way my hip bones jut out in front of me, telling myself it's all over now, the cure is near, no one, not even the monster, can stop me from recovering.