Everlasting (The Immortals #6)
Alyson Noel
chapter one
“Ever—wait!”
Damen reaches toward me, grasping my
shoulder, hoping to slow me, to bring me back to him, but I keep moving forward, can’t afford the delay. Not when we’re so close, almost there. The worry streaming off him like rain from a windshield, not dimming in the least when he picks up the pace, matches my stride, and laces his fingers with mine.
“We should head back. This can’t be the place. Nothing about it looks remotely the same.” His gaze travels the distance from the disturbing landscape to my face.
“You’re right. Nothing about it is remotely the same.” I hover at the perimeter, my breath coming too quick, my heart beginning to race.
Taking a moment to survey my surroundings before I hazard a step forward again. One smal stride fol owed by another, until my feet sink so deep into the mud-laden earth, the tops of them vanish completely. “I knew it,” I whisper, the words barely audible, though I don’t need to speak for Damen to hear me, it’s just as easy to communicate telepathical y. “It’s exactly like the dream. It’s…”
He looks at me. Waiting.
“Wel , it’s just as I expected.” I glance to the side, my blue eyes meeting his dark ones, holding the look, wanting him to see what I see. “Al of this, everything you see here, it’s like… it’s like it’s al changed because of me.”
He kneels beside me, fingers splayed on my back, running his palm in slow circles up and down the path of my spine. Wanting to soothe, to refute everything I just said, but choosing to swal ow the words instead. No matter what he says—no matter how good and solid an argument he may wage—he knows better. Knows al too wel that I wil not be swayed.
I heard the old woman. He heard her too. Saw
the way her finger pointed, the way her eyes stared accusingly—listened to the haunting tune of her creepy song with its cryptic lyrics and lingering melody.
The warning intended solely for me.
And now this.
I sigh as I gaze upon it—Haven’s grave—so to
speak. The spot where just a few weeks before I dug deep into the earth to bury her belongings—al that was left of her—the clothes she wore when I sent her soul into the Shadowland. A spot I held sacred, hal owed—now transmuted, transformed. The once rich earth turned to a wet, soggy mush with no sign of the flowers I’d manifested, no life of any kind. The air no longer shimmering, no longer glistening, virtual y indistinguishable from the dark part of Summerland I’d stumbled upon earlier. So bleak, so foreboding in both its feel and appearance, Damen and I are the only creatures wil ing to venture anywhere near it. The birds keeping to the perimeter—the carpet of nearby grass shrinking back on itself—providing al the evidence I need to know it’s changed because al the evidence I need to know it’s changed because of me.
Like fertilizer sprinkled onto a smal patch of weeds—each immortal soul I’ve sent to the Shadowland has
tainted
and
infected
the
Summerland. Creating its opposite, its shadow-self
—an unwelcome yin to Summerland’s yang. A place so dark, so dreary, and so contrary, magick and manifesting cannot exist.
“I don’t like this.” Damen’s voice is edgy, as his eyes dart, eager to leave.
And while I don’t like it either, while I’m just as ready to turn around and never look back, it’s not quite as simple as that.
It’s only been a few days since my last visit, and despite knowing that I did what I had to, that I was left with no choice but to kil Haven, my former best friend, I can’t seem to keep myself from returning, from asking forgiveness—forgiveness for my actions as wel as hers.
And that short amount of time is al it took to go from light to dark—to grow murky, muddy, and barren—which means it’s up to me to do something to stop it from spreading even further.
From getting any worse.
“What exactly did you see in the dream?”
Damen’s voice softens as his eyes pore over me. I take a deep breath and sink my heels deeper, the pockets of my old worn jeans dipping into the mud, but not real y caring. I can manifest a clean, new pair just as soon as we’re out of here. My clothes are the least of my concerns in the face of al this.
“It’s not a new dream.” I turn and meet his gaze, seeing the flash of surprise that crosses his face.
“I’ve had it before. A long time ago.
Just before you decided to leave me on my own, so I could decide between you and Jude.” He swal ows hard, flinches ever so slightly at the unpleasant memory, which makes me feel bad, it wasn’t the point I was trying to make. “Back then, I was sure Riley had sent it. I mean, she appeared in it, and she seemed so vibrant and… alive.” I shake my head. “And, wel , maybe it was her, maybe it was just wishful thinking, a result of my missing her. But, just after she’d gotten my attention, I realized it was you she wanted me to see. You were the point of the dream.”
His eyes widen. “And…” he prompts, jaw
tightening, poised for the worst.
“And… it’s like you were trapped in this tal , glass, rectangular prison, and you were fighting like hel to escape. But no mater how hard you fought, you couldn’t break free. Even though I tried to help, tried to get your attention so we could work together, it’s like… like you couldn’t see me. I was right there on the other side, with only the glass between us, and yet, I may as wel have been invisible to you— you had no sense of my presence. Couldn’t see what was right there in front of you…”