Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(61)

I stand before him, the dark flame raging within, urging me toward those ocean blue eyes, golden tousle of hair, moist waiting lips, trim, slinky hips . . .

“No,” I mumble, taking a step back. “I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted you. It’s not me—it’s—it’s something else. This isn’t my fault, I’m not in control!”

I press my lips together, knowing there’s only one way out of here, but that I shouldn’t do it in front of him, shouldn’t raise his suspicions like that. But still, it’s not like I can trust my legs to carry me anywhere but to his bed.

I clutch the amulet to my chest as I concentrate on the shimmering, golden veil. Envisioning the portal to Summerland and seeing it spring open before me, just about to step through when he says, “Foolish Ever, don’t you realize there’s no longer any difference between you and your—monster? You are the monster. It’s your dark side, your shadow self, and you’ve now joined as one.”





twenty-six


I land in that vast fragrant field. Reluctantly, guiltily, knowing I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have come here like this. Shouldn’t have let Roman watch me disappear. But what choice did I have?

My resolve was running thin, chipped away by the monster within, and just a few seconds more in his presence would’ve surely been the end. The end of me. The end of all I hold dear.

Because the thing is—Roman is right. Totally and completely right. The only reason I lost, the only reason I failed to get what I want, is because the monster is me, there’s no difference between us. It makes all the moves, calls all the shots, while I’m just along for the ride, with no idea how to pull the brakes or get off. I’m all out of options. I’ve no idea where to turn. All I know is:

The reversal spell failed, as did the bid to Hecate.

And Damen, well, Damen can’t save me.

Can’t ever learn about the repulsive thing I almost just did.

Can’t spend the next hundred years saving me from myself.

I’ve sunk so deep, fallen so far, there’s no getting up. No getting my life back on track. No way I can head back to the earth plane and risk all of that.

So I wander, with absolutely no destination in mind and no idea what I’ll do once I get there. I wander along the rainbow-colored stream, feet moving idly, unhurried, just ambling along, barely paying any notice when the stream ends and the ground beneath my feet becomes a mushy, soggy, wet path.

Barely noticing when the air cools by several degrees, and that light golden shimmer grows thicker, denser, hard to see through.

And maybe that explains my shock when I see it. When I realize I’ve unknowingly reached the place where the mist is always at its thickest, where it’s easy to get turned around to the point of no return. Taking in its familiar sloping outline, the frayed and worn ropes, the slatted, splintering wood, its shape wavering in and out of focus, obscured by the fog, but still, even so, there’s no denying what it is.

No mistaking the bridge that crosses to the other side.

The Bridge of Souls.

I kneel down beside it, knees sinking into the damp, mist-laden earth, wondering if it’s some kind of sign, if I was led here on purpose, if I’m meant to finally cross it.

What if the opportunity I previously denied is now being offered again? A no-questions-asked, special deal for repeat customers like me.

I reach for the handrail, an old frayed rope that looks as though it could snap at any second, seeing the way the fog grows increasingly thicker toward the middle, becoming so dense, its final destination is a white, shrouded mystery. Reminding myself that this is the very same bridge I urged Riley to cross, the same one that my parents and Buttercup took to the other side. And if they were able to cross it and come out okay, then really, how bad could it be?

I mean, what if I just got up, brushed myself off, took a deep breath, and crossed it?

What if all it takes to solve all my problems, rid myself of the monster, extinguish this flame, and see my family again is just one small step, followed by another?

A handful of steps toward their warm, welcoming arms.

A handful of steps away from Roman, Haven, the twins, Ava, and the horrible mess that I’ve made.

A handful of steps toward the peace that I seek.

I mean, seriously, what could it hurt? Surely I’ll find my family all waiting for me—just like you see on all those afterlife shows on TV?

I grasp the rope tighter and push myself to my feet, my legs shaky, unstable, as I lean forward ever so slightly and strain to get a better view. Wondering just how far I’d have to go before I’d reach the point of no return. Remembering how Riley claimed to make it about halfway, before she turned right back around and went looking for me, only to get so confused by the mist, she couldn’t find it again—or at least not for a while anyway.

But even if I did decide to keep going, make my way clear across to the other side, would the final destination be the same for me as it was for them? Or would it be more like a freight train suddenly switching its tracks, leading me toward the eternal abyss of the Shadowland instead of the sweet ever after?

I take a deep breath and shift, lifting my foot off the wet soggy ground, just about to make a move when I’m suddenly overcome by a soothing wave of calm—a peaceful rush that can only mean one thing—that only one person can yield in me. A calm so opposite Damen’s tingle and heat, I’m not the least bit surprised when I turn to find Jude beside me.