“We would’ve gone with her, we had nothing to hide,” Rayne says, lifting her chin and narrowing her gaze. “And it certainly wasn’t Clara’s fault that poor baby died. It’s the father who did it. He didn’t want the baby or its mother. So he did away with them both and blamed Clara. Crying witch so loud the entire town heard—but then Clara made the portal, and forced us to hide, and she was just about to join us when—well, you know the rest.”
“But that was over three hundred years ago!” I cry, still unused to the idea of an existence that long despite my immortality.
The twins shrug.
“So if you haven’t been back since—” I shake my head, the monumental size of this problem just beginning to unfold. “I mean, do you have any idea how much things have changed since you were last here? Seriously. It’s like a whole different world from the one that you left.”
“It’s not like we’re idiots.” Rayne shakes her head. “Things progress in Summerland too, you know. New people arrive all the time, manifesting the things they’re attached to, all the stuff they can’t bear to let go.”
But that’s not what I meant, in fact, not even close. I wasn’t just referring to cars versus horse-drawn carriages, and trendy boutiques versus hand sewn—but more their ability to get along in the world—blending in, adapting, not standing out in the glaring way that they do! Taking in their razor-slashed bangs, their large dark eyes and extremely pale skin, knowing their twenty-first-century make over is far less about a uniform change than a complete and total overhaul.
“Besides, Riley prepared us,” Romy says, eliciting a loud groan from Rayne, and my full attention from me. “She manifested a private school and convinced us to enroll. That’s where these uniforms came from. She was our teacher, coaching us on all the modern ways, including our speech. She wanted us to return and was determined to prepare us for the trip. Partly because she wanted us to look after you, and partly because she thought we were crazy for missing out on our teens.”
I freeze, suddenly grasping a new understanding in Riley’s interest in them—one that’s got far less to do with me, and everything to do with her. “How old are you guys?” I whisper, looking to Romy for the answer. “Or should I say, how old were you when you first arrived in Summerland?” Knowing they haven’t aged a day since.
“Thirteen,” Romy says, knitting her brow. “Why?”
I close my eyes and shake my head, stifling a laugh as I think: I knew it!
Riley always dreamed of the day she’d be thirteen, a bona fide teenager having finally made it to the important double digits. But after dying at twelve, she chose to hang around the earth plane, living her adolescence vicariously through me. So it only makes sense she’d try to convince Romy and Rayne to return, not wanting anyone else to miss out like her.
And if Clara can find the strength, and Riley the hope, in situations so incredibly dire and bleak, surely I can overcome Roman.
I glance between the twins, knowing they can’t stay here on their own or come home to live with Sabine and me, though there is someone who’s quite able and ready, if not entirely willing to lend us a hand.
“Grab your stuff,” I say, heading for the door. “I’m taking you to your new home.”
CHAPTER 13
The second we step outside I realize we’ll need a car. And since I’m more interested in speed than comfort, especially after seeing the way the twins cling to each other as they gaze around warily, I manifest something that’ll get us there fast and quickly herd them in. Ordering Romy to sit on Rayne’s lap as I get myself settled and step on the gas, navigating the streets with surprising skill, while the twins practically hang out the window, gaping at all that we pass.
“Have you guys been inside this whole time?” I glance at them, never having seen anyone react to the beauty of Laguna Beach in quite the same way.
They nod, never once averting their gaze. Squirming in their seat as I pull up to the gate. Allowing the uniformed guard to peer through the window and scrutinize them, before letting us in.
“Where are you taking us?” Rayne eyes me suspiciously. “What’s with the guards and big gates? Is this some kind of prison?”
I head up the hill, glancing at her when I say, “Don’t you have gated communities in Summerland?” Never actually having seen one myself, but then again I haven’t lived there for the last three centuries like they have.
They shake their heads, eyes wide, clearly on edge.
“Not to worry.” I turn onto Damen’s street and into his drive. “It’s not a prison, that’s not what the gates are for. They’re more to keep people out rather than in.”
“But why would you want to keep people out?” they ask, two childlike voices blending into one.
I squint, having no idea how to answer since it’s not like I was raised like this either, all the communities in my old hood were open access. “I guess it’s meant to keep people—” I start to say safe, but that’s not really it either. “Anyway.” I shake my head. “If you’re going to live here, then you better get used to it. That’s pretty much all there is.”
“But we’re not going to live here,” Rayne says. “You said this was just a temporary fix until you find a way to get us back, remember?”
I take a deep breath and grip the wheel harder, reminding myself how scared she must feel, no matter how bratty she gets.
“Of course it’s temporary.” I nod, forcing a smile. Or at least it better be, because if not, someone’s going to be extremely displeased. I climb out of the car and motion for them to follow, saying, “Ready to see your new temporary home?”
I head for the door, the two of them close at my heels as I stand right before it, debating whether or not I should knock and wait for Damen to open it or just stride right in since he’s probably asleep. And I’m just about to do the latter when Damen swings the door open, takes one look at me, and says, “Are you okay?”
I smile, tacking on a telepathic message of: Before you say anything—anything at all—just try to stay calm and give me a chance to explain—his eyes curious, questioning as I say, “Can we come in?”
He moves aside, eyes wide with shock when Romy and Rayne step out from behind me and barrel right into him. Skinny arms wrapped around his waist, gazing up at him adoringly as they squeal, “Damen! It’s you! It’s really you!” And as nice as this little reunion is, I can’t help but notice how their reaction to him, with all the love and excitement, is pretty much the opposite of their reaction to me.
“Hey.” He smiles, ruffling their hair and bending down to plant a kiss on the top of their heads. “How long has it been?” He pulls away and squints.
“Last week,” Rayne says, complete adoration displayed on her face. “Seconds before Ever added her blood to the antidote and wrecked everything.”
“Rayne!” Romy glances between her sister and me, shaking her head. But I just let it go. This is one battle I’ll never win.
“I meant before that.” Damen squints into the distance, trying to remember the date.
They look at him, a mischievous gleam in their eyes when they say, “It was just over six years ago when Ever was ten!”
I gape, eyes practically popping out of my head as Damen laughs. “Ah, yes. And I have you two to thank for helping me find her. And since you know how much she means to me, I’d appreciate your kindness toward her. That’s not too much to ask—is it?” He chucks Rayne under the chin, causing her to smile as her cheeks flush bright pink.
“So to what do I owe this incredible honor?” He leads us into the still empty living room. “Of being reunited with my long lost friends, who, I might add, haven’t aged a day since we met.”
They look at each other and giggle, clearly prepared to be charmed by anything he says. And before I can even think of a reply, find the right words to slowly break him in and get him used to the idea of their living with him, they look at each other and shout, “Ever said we could live with you!”
Damen glances at me, smile still planted on his face, as a look of pure horror creeps into his eyes.
“Temporarily,” I add, gaze meeting his, sending a barrage of telepathic red tulips his way. “Just until I find a way to get them back to Summerland, or their magick returns, whichever comes first.” Tacking on a mental note of: Remember when you said you wanted to improve your karma, to make up for your past? Well, what better way than to help someone in need? And this way you can keep the house, since you’ll need the extra space. It’s the perfect solution. Everyone wins! Nodding and smiling so eagerly I’m like a bobble head doll.
Damen glances first at me, then the twins, laughing and shaking his head when he says, “Of course you can stay. For as long as you need. So what do you say we all head upstairs so you can pick out your rooms?”
I sigh, my perfect boyfriend proving himself even more perfect. Following behind as the twins race up the stairs—happy, giggling, completely transformed now that they’re in Damen’s care.
“Can we have this room?” They ask, eyes lighting up as they stand in the doorway of Damen’s special room that’s still devoid of his things.
“No!” I answer too quickly, wincing when they turn, eyes narrowed and glaring at me. But even though I feel bad about the negative start, I’m determined to return this room to its normal state, and there’s no way I can do that if they’re camping in it. “It’s taken,” I add, knowing it did nothing to soften the blow. “But there’s plenty more, this place is huge, you’ll see. There’s even a pool!”
Romy and Rayne glance at each other before marching down the hall, heads bobbing together, whispering quietly, not bothering to hide their annoyance with me.
You could’ve just given it to them, Damen thinks, close enough to send a charge through my veins.
I shake my head and walk silently alongside him, telepathically replying, I want to see it filled with your things. Even though they no longer mean anything to you, they mean a great deal to me. You can’t just toss out the past—can’t just turn your back on the things that defined you.
He stops, turning to me as he says, “Ever, we are not defined by our things. It’s not the clothes that we wear, the cars that we drive, the art we acquire—it’s not where we live—but how we live that defines us.” His gaze bores into mine, as he gathers me into a telepathic embrace, the effect seeming so real, it robs me of breath. “It’s our actions that are remembered long after we’re gone,” he adds, smoothing my hair as his lips telepathically meet mine.
True. I smile, enhancing the image he created with tulips and sunsets and rainbows and cupids and all manner of clichéd romantic themes that make us both laugh. Except that we’re immortal, I add, determined to sway him to my side. Which means none of that really applies. So with that in mind, maybe we can just—