Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(40)
“O-kay . . .” He squints, his eyes kind, patient, waiting for me to get to it.
“You see—the thing is—” I twist my crystal horseshoe bracelet around and around, hardly able to look him in the eye. “Well, lately, that magick I told you about—the spell—it’s gotten worse. It’s like, everything’s fine when I’m here, but back on the earth plane—I’m pretty much a wreck. It’s like a disease. I’m consumed with thoughts of Roman, and in case you haven’t noticed it’s like my outer state is starting to reflect my inner state. I’m losing weight, losing sleep, and there’s no getting around it—back home, on the earth plane, I look like crap. But every time I try to confide in Damen or ask him for help—heck, even when I try to ask you to ask him to help—it’s like the spell takes over—the dark magick—or the beast as I’ve come to think of it—won’t let me speak. It’s like it doesn’t want anything to come between Roman and me. But here in Summerland, it can’t stop me. It’s the only place where I’m my usual self again. And so, I thought that maybe by bringing you here, you could—”
“So why don’t you just bring Damen to Summerland then? I don’t get it.” He cocks his head to the side and takes me in.
“Because he won’t come.” I sigh, gazing down at my feet. “He knows something’s wrong, knows something’s up with me, but he thinks it’s because I’m addicted to this place or—or something like that. Anyway, he refuses to join me, and since I’m unable to tell him the truth, he’s standing firm, refuses to budge. And because of it, well, let’s just say it’s been way too long since I’ve even seen him.” I swallow hard, wincing at the way my voice just cracked.
“And so—where do I come in?” He looks at me. “You want me to buzz back to the earth plane so I can tell Damen?”
“No,” I say, shoulders lifting when I add, “Or at least not yet. First I’m going to take you somewhere, and if you’re able to get inside—” I look at him, hoping against hope that he can. “Then I want you to seek help on my behalf—find a solution to my problem. And I know it sounds crazy, but trust me when I say that all you have to do is desire the answer and it’ll come. I’d do it myself if I could—but I’m—I’m—no longer welcome in there.”
He looks me over and nods, back to walking alongside me when he says, “So where is this place?” His expression transforming to one of awe as he follows the tip of my pointing finger all the way to that beautiful, grand old building, whispering, “So it is true!” His eyes lighting up as he takes the steep marble stairs in a handful of leaps.
Leaving me to stand there, jaw dropped to my knees, as both doors spring open and sweep him inside before I can blink.
The same two doors that slam closed on me.
I slump onto the steps, locked out again. Wondering just how long I’ll be forced to wait it out ’til he’s done doing—well, whatever it is he plans to do in there. Knowing it could be a very long time since, for a newbie especially, the Great Halls of Learning are just too good to resist.
I jump to my feet and brush myself off, refusing to sit outside like the loser I am, deciding to look around a little, maybe do some exploring. I’m always so single-minded when I come here, I rarely, if ever, take the time to just wander.
Knowing I can travel by whatever method I choose—subway, Vespa, heck, even astride a great painted elephant since there’s really no limit to what you can do here—I choose to go on horseback instead. Re-creating a mount similar to one I first rode with Damen, back when he lured me here for the very first time, only this one’s a mare.
I hop onto her back and settle into the saddle, running my hand over her silky, soft mane and down the side of her neck. Cooing softly into her ear as I give a gentle nudge in her gut and we set out on a leisurely walk with no real destination in mind. Remembering what the twins once told me about Summerland, that it’s built of desires. That in order to see something, do something, have something, experience something, or visit something, you must first desire it.
I stop my mount briefly and shut my eyes, attempting to desire the answers I seek.
But, as it turns out, Summerland is smarter than that, so nothing really happens other than the fact that my horse grows bored and lets me know it by snorting, grunting, whisking her tail, and stomping the ground with her hooves. So I take a deep breath and try something else, thinking out of everything here, out of all the movie theaters, the galleries, the beauty salons, the great and wonderful buildings, what’s the one thing I haven’t yet seen that I should?
What’s the one place I really need to know about?
And before I know it, my horse takes off at full gallop—mane flying, tail swishing, ears tucked back tightly, as I grip the reins and hang on for dear life. The scenery blurring and whirring right past me as I duck down low and squint against the gale. Covering a great distance of unfamiliar land in a matter of seconds, until my horse stops so suddenly, so unexpectedly, I vault right over her head and into the mud.
She whinnies loudly, rearing up on her hind legs before slamming back down on all fours, grunting and snorting and backing up slowly, as I struggle to my feet, slowly, carefully, not wanting to do anything sudden that might spook her even more.