Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(43)

“Missus swears they crossed the bridge, said the little ’uns got tired of waiting for whomever’s they’s waiting for. But I say different. Rayne might’ve gone, but she’d never convince that sister of hers, that Romy—she’s a stubborn one all right.”

I squint, sure I misunderstood, shaking my head as I say, “Wait—you mean Rayne’s the stubborn one, right? Romy’s the kinder, gentler one.”

I nod, expecting him to nod too, but he just gives me that same odd look and digs his cane deeper into the dirt. “Meant what I said, I did. Well, good day to you, miss.”

I stand there, watching him walk away, head up, spine straight, cane swinging happily, hardly believing he’s chosen to leave it like that and wondering if my question somehow offended him.

I mean, he is kind of old, and the twins do look exactly alike, or at least they did when they lived here and wore those private-school uniforms every day, and I can only imagine how they dressed before Riley got ahold of them. But something about the way he said it, so sure, so confident, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve got it all wrong. Or if that mean, bratty, resentful side of Rayne is reserved just for me.

Hoping he can hear me before he gets too far away, I call, “Sir—um, excuse me—but do you think it’s okay if I go in and take a look? I promise I won’t disturb anything.”

He turns, waving his cane jauntily as he says, “Help yourself. Ain’t nothin’ ’ere that can’t be replaced.”

He turns, continuing on his way as I push the door inward and step inside, my foot meeting a simple, red, braided rug that softens the creak of my weight on the old wooden floor. Pausing long enough for my eyes to adjust to the dim light as I peer into a large square room dotted with a few uncomfortable-looking, straight-backed chairs, a medium-sized table, and a large wooden rocker beside a stone hearth full of ashes from a fire that was recently burned. Knowing I’ve just walked into an exact replica of the world Romy and Rayne both fled in 1692 only to recreate it right here—minus the hypocrisy, lies, and unabashed cruelty of course.

I make my way through the room, gazing up at the heavy wood beams lining the ceiling as my fingers trail along the plain, rough walls, the tables piled high with leather-bound books, along with an assortment of candles and oil lamps used to provide reading light. Unable to shake this sneaky, guilty feeling that I’m prying into something, peering into a private life I’m not sure I should see.

But, at the same time, I know it’s no accident that I’m here, I was meant to find this, of that I’ve no doubt. Because if nothing else, I know enough about Summerland to know that events are not at all random. Somewhere in these walls is something I’m meant to see. And as I wander into a small, plain bedroom I immediately recognize it as a replica of the bedroom of the aunt who raised them—the one who urged them to hide out here in Summerland in order to spare them from the Salem Witch Trials—the ultimate source of her own gruesome demise. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable-looking, offset by a small, square table holding a large leather-bound book and some dried flowers and herbs resting on top. And other than another braided rug and a tall, slim wardrobe in the corner, its door cracked just enough to glimpse the brown cotton dress hanging inside, the rest of the room is left bare.

And I can’t help but wonder if Romy and Rayne ever manifested her into existence like I once did with Damen. Can’t help but wonder just how long they fought to hold on to their life as they knew it before finally giving up, and settling for this—an imitation of what was.

I close the door behind me and head for the short ladder that leads to the loft, ducking my head against the dramatically sloped ceiling and wincing as the wood groans loudly under my feet. Quickly moving to an area where the ceiling rises higher, I straighten up and take in the narrow twin beds, and the small wooden table between them holding a pile of books and a well-used oil lamp—pretty much the same setup as their aunt’s—except for the walls that are littered with new millennium, pop-culture references that could only be the result of Riley’s influence. Every square inch of space covered with a collage of Riley’s favorites, who, knowing Riley, the twins had no choice but to pledge their allegiance to.

My eyes dart around the room, surrounded by the happy, shiny faces of former Disney stars turned teenaged tycoons, a lineup of American Idols, and just about anyone else who once graced the cover of Teen Beat magazine. And when I see the piece of notebook paper tacked to the door, I can’t help but laugh, knowing this class schedule, this roster of their manifested boarding school events, could come from no one other than my ghostly little sister.




1st period—Fashion for Beginners: Do’s & Don’ts & Mustn’t Evers

2nd period—Hair 101: Basic styling techniques, a prerequisite to Hair 102

Break—10 minutes: To be used for gossip & grooming

3rd period—Celebrity Basics: Who’s hot, who’s not, and who’s not at all what they want you to think

4th period—Popularity: A comprehensive course on how to get it & keep it without losing yourself in the process

Lunch—30 minutes: To be used for gossiping, grooming, and eating if you must

5th period—Kiss & Makeup: Everything you ever wanted to know about lip gloss but were afraid to ask

6th period—Kissing 101: What’s ick, what’s sick, and what makes him tick