Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(18)
“The journey back.” She bows her head again, leaving me with a view of silvery hair with no discernable part.
“Back to where?” I plead, face flushing with the makings of hysteria—and knowing I need to dial it down a notch, or maybe two.
“Back to the beginning. To the scene you’ve yet to see. Back to its very origin. You must see it. Learn it. Know it. Al of it. Though, you must be warned it is only the start. The journey is long, arduous, but the reward very great. The truth begets true happiness—
but only the pure of heart may seize it.” Her gaze switching to Damen as she adds, “The journey is yours and yours alone, Adelina. Damen is not welcome there.”
Damen cuts in, having heard more than enough.
“Listen,” he says, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but—”
His anger halted by the surprising sight of her palm rising, fol owed by the shock of it pressing to his cheek. It’s like, one minute he’s yel ing, a good two feet yawning between them, and the next, she’s practical y pressed up against him, her rheumy old gaze boring into his, transmitting something, some kind of message or memory meant only for him. I watch, fascinated, wondering just what it is that transpires between them. Knowing only one thing for sure, that whatever it is, it’s causing her to glow in a way that prompts a stream of light to radiate al around. The color spectrum so intense, it’s as though it originates from somewhere so deep, it can’t help but seep outward until the glimmer surrounds her. But while she glows, Damen does the opposite. His normal y tal , lean form appears to darken and shrink until he’s barely a shel of himself.
“Damen Augustus Notte Esposito,” she says.
“Why do you deny me?”
I watch, startled to see him so flustered he’s unable to respond, unable to find his own voice, much less fight his way out of whatever it is that she shows him. Just about to intervene when he shakes his head, straightens his spine, and yanks himself right out of her spel , pul ing himself together enough to say, “You’re crazy. You’re wrong and you’re crazy. And while I have no idea what your deal is or what you’re trying to do here, I do know you better stay away from Ever. Far, far away, do you hear?
Otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you, regardless of how old you claim to be.”
But if he expected her to back off or run away scared, wel , he must’ve been just as surprised as I was to see her smile instead. The two of us watching her face brighten, her cheeks widen, her lips spreading and lifting enough to display a startling spreading and lifting enough to display a startling array of teeth—startling in that a good deal of them are either graying, yel owing, or entirely missing. Her attention shifting as she moves from him to me, taking my hand in her soft papery dry one, her words confident and sure when she says, “His love is the key.”
I look at her, release myself from her grip. “I thought you said Adelina was the key?”
“It is one and the same.” She nods, as if that made any sense. “Please. Please consider the journey. It is the only way to release me.
To release you as wel .”
“The journey back—back to the beginning?” I say, sarcasm blooming. “And just where does this journey start? Where does it end?” I look at her, noticing how she stil appears lit from within.
“The journey begins here.”
She points down at our feet, or maybe the mud, I can’t be too sure. I’m more confused now than I was when this started. But when our eyes meet again, I know the instruction is literal—the journey begins in the very muck where we stand.
“And it ends in the truth.”
And before I can say another word, before I can beg for a little more clarification, Damen swings his arm around my waist and pul s me away.
Hurling the words over his shoulder, not bothering to look back when he says, “No one’s going anywhere. Don’t bother us again.”
chapter nine
“So what do you make of it?” Ava swings her wavy auburn locks over her shoulder and levels her brown eyes on me, lowering herself onto one of the old plastic fold-up chairs Jude dragged into his office in an attempt to accommodate us al in this impromptu meeting.
“What do you think it al means?”
I venture a glance toward Damen, who, having refused a chair, chooses to lean against the wal , arms crossed before him, face bearing a look that reads loud and clear: I thought we were through with this? I thought I warned her to stay away? I thought you said you were merely planning to swing by, pick up a book or two, and be on your way?
Meeting it with one of my own that says: You promised me a week and I’m holding you to it—
unless, of course, you want to tell me what the old woman showed you?
He frowns, looks away, just as I figured he would, so I turn away from him in favor of Ava.
“I have no idea what it means,” I admit, doing my best to pretend I didn’t just hear Damen sigh even though that was clearly his intent.
Jude glances between us, his gaze cautious, correctly sensing there’s trouble in paradise and wanting nothing more than to steer clear of it. Stil , since he also promised to help, he takes his place behind his desk, tilts his chair way back, and pretends to be lost in deep thought as he stares into space, when real y, he’s just dreaming of being some other place. Summerland would be my best guess.