Dark Flame (The Immortals #4)(64)
“Jude—” I start, but he presses his finger to my lips, stopping the word from going any further.
“Go inside, Ever.” He nods, pushing my hair off my face and tucking it back behind my ear, fingers lingering a few seconds too long, reluctant to leave. “Make amends, reverse your spell, find an antidote to the antidote, do whatever it is that you need to do. Because no matter how you feel about me, no matter what choice you make, at the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. But I also want you to know that I haven’t given up—and that I don’t plan on doing so anytime soon. I’m already four hundred years into this, so I may as well go the distance. And while the last few centuries may not have resulted in a very fair fight, at least now, with the aid of Summerland, I’m a little more equally equipped. I may not be immortal, probably wouldn’t ever choose that path for myself, but hey, it’s like they say, knowledge is power, right? And now, thanks to you and the Great Halls of Learning, I’ve got that in spades.”
I take a deep breath and push out of the car and into her house without even pausing to knock. And even though I failed to call or warn her that I was on my way, even though the hands on the clock point to a time that’s well past the usual visiting hours, I’m not the least bit surprised to find Ava in her kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of tea, and smiling when she says, “Hey, Ever, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m so glad you made it.”
twenty-eight
She pushes the plate of cookies toward me, out of habit, without thinking. Shaking her head and laughing softly under her breath as she tries to yank them away, but not getting very far before I reach out and snatch one out from under the bottom. Creamy beige in color, round, bendy, and decorated with thick squares of sugar all along the top, breaking a piece off the side and placing it onto my tongue, remembering how it used to be my most favorite kind, and wishing I could enjoy sweets, any food really, in the same way I used to.
“You don’t have to eat them on my account,” she says, lifting her cup to her lips and blowing on her tea once, twice, before taking a sip. “Trust me, the twins like them plenty enough for both of us, so I won’t be offended if you’re no longer interested.”
I shrug, wanting to tell her how sometimes, when I miss being normal, I go through the motions of eating and drinking and buying things at the store instead of manifesting them, just to prove I still can. But it doesn’t usually last all that long, and lately it only comes around when it’s late and I’m tired, and more than a little lost, as I am now. Other times, I can’t imagine ever wanting to return to that brand of ordinary.
But, instead, I just look at her and say, “So how are the twins?” Breaking off another bite of cookie, remembering how it used to taste, sweet, rich, delicious, not all cardboardy bland like this and knowing it’s me that’s changed, not the recipe.
“You know, it’s funny.” She sets down her cup and leans toward me, fingers playing at her woven green placemat as though ironing it with her hands. “We’ve all settled in so well and so quickly, it’s like no time has passed. Who would’ve thought?” She gives a half smile and shakes her head at the wonder of it. “I know reincarnation is primarily about karma and unfinished business of our past, but I never dreamed it would end up quite so—literal—for me.”
“And their magick—is it coming back?”
She takes a breath, slow and deep, fingers reaching for her cup again, anchoring firmly around the handle but stopping just short of lifting it when she says, “No. Not yet. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” She shrugs.
I look at her, confused by what that could possibly mean.
“Well, it hasn’t seemed to work out so well for you now, has it?”
I drop my hands to my lap, clasping, twisting, pulling at my fingers, the hunched-over, nervous sight of me alone pretty much all the answer she needs.
“And while I used to practice magick too—well, obviously.” She drops her tongue out the side and raises her hand in a way meant to signify a noose, then bursting into laughter and wagging her finger at me when I gape. “Oh lighten up.” She smiles, a quick flash of teeth. “No use crying about a past I can’t change. Each step leads us to the next, and as it stands, the next step is right here.” She gives the table a flat-palmed slap. “Because of my past life experiences, because you helped me to access the Summerland, where I eventually got to the Great Halls of Learning, I’m much more able to understand the things I could only guess at before.”
“Yeah, like what?” I squint, slipping right back into my old, belligerent ways, not even giving her a chance to speak her piece without a rude interruption from me.
But Ava, true to her usual ways, chooses to ignore it, continuing on as though I didn’t even say it. “I’ve learned that magick, like manifesting, is really just the simple manipulation of energy. But where manifesting is usually reserved for manipulating matter, magick, in the wrong hands anyway—” She pauses to look at me, her gaze screaming your hands! or at least that’s how it seems to me. “Well, if not practiced correctly, without proper intent, it tends to manipulate people, and that’s where the trouble begins.”
“Wish the twins would’ve warned me of that,” I mumble, hardly believing I’m blaming them, but still, there it is.