Night Star

eight

“You sure you’re okay with this?” I turn toward Damen, more than willing to let him join me if he wants but still hoping to handle this one on my own. Things between him and Jude are always so weird, and even though I totally get the reason behind it, I still prefer to lessen the tension whenever I can.

He nods, and one look in his eyes makes it clear that he is. His trust in me is complete, just as mine is in him.

“Do you want me to wait or come back later?” he asks, more than willing to do either one of those things.

But I just shake my head and gaze toward the store. “I don’t even know how long it’ll take. I have no idea what to expect.” I scrunch my nose and lift my shoulders before dropping them again. “All I know is I can’t avoid him any longer. Haven’s serious about going after him, she’s not about to back down. Trust me, she made that abundantly clear.” I swallow hard and look away. Still shaken from the scene in the bathroom, still reeling from the force of her power and strength, not to mention her ability to surprise me, overwhelm me, and control me in a way I hadn’t seen coming, and certainly hadn’t rehearsed for. But when I look at Damen again, I know I’m doing the right thing by playing it down. He’s freaked enough as it is, there’s no need to make it any worse.

“I just—” I pause, searching for just the right words. Knowing how uncomfortable it must make him, the thought of me being alone with Jude, and wanting to make it clear that not only is it strictly business, but that I can totally handle myself where he’s concerned. “I just need to convince him of the seriousness of all this. I also have to try to help him find a few ways to protect himself, even though, short of hiring an immortal bodyguard, I’m not even sure what good it’ll do. But anyway, that’s my goal, and I have no idea if he’ll even agree to cooperate, much less listen to me. He could take me up on it, or he could kick me out within the first fifteen seconds and warn me never to return. Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

Damen nods, his tone more knowing than jealous when he says, “Oh, I doubt he’ll kick you out…”

He looks at me, leaving the thought unfinished, causing me to nervously fiddle with the hem of my dress. “Anyway.” I clear my throat, desperate to move away from all that. “The point is, I can always just manifest a car or something when I need a way home. I’ll just have to remember to ditch it as soon as I turn onto my street—don’t want to give Sabine yet another reason to freak.” I sigh, trying to imagine how I’d ever go about explaining something like that—my ability to manifest large, expensive, inanimate objects, then make them disappear at will. Looking at Damen when I add, “But here’s the thing—”

He meets my gaze.

“As much as I appreciate this, and as much as I like being with you…you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to chauffeur me to and from school every day or anywhere else for that matter. I’m fine. Really. And I’ll continue to be fine. I can totally handle this. So…” I pause, hoping my words sound more convincing than they feel. “So please, don’t waste any more energy worrying about me, okay?”

He smooths the leather-wrapped steering wheel with his thumbs, going back and forth, forth and back, the movement deliberate, rhythmic, then he says, “I can do everything on your list except that.” He turns, allowing his gaze to bore into mine, looking at me in a way that makes my heart race, my cheeks flush, as my skin begins to tingle and heat. “I can stop chauffeuring you if that’s what you want, but I could never stop worrying about you. I’m afraid that’s just something you’re destined to live with.” He leans toward me, cupping his hands around the sides of my face, his touch so soothing, so calming, his voice low and deep. “So, tonight? Shall we visit our favorite Summerland haunt?”

I press my lips to his, softly, briefly, before pulling away. “I wish. But I think it’s probably better if I take the night off from all that. You know, stay home, pretend to eat dinner, pretend to do my homework, and pretend to be completely normal in every conceivable way so that Sabine can start to relax, find another focus, and get on with her life—which will allow me to finally get on with mine.”

He hesitates, still not convinced of his inability to fix this despite what I’ve said. “And would you like me to come over and pretend to be your perfectly normal boyfriend?” He arches his brow. “I can do a pretty good imitation of that. I’ve played the part many times, had over four hundred years of experience so far.”

I smile, leaning in to kiss him again, longer, deeper this time. Lingering for as long as I can, before pulling away with a sigh. The words hurried, breathless, I say, “Believe me, I’d like nothing more. But Sabine wouldn’t. So for now, I think it’s probably better if you stay away for a while. At least until things calm down and have a chance to sort themselves out. For some strange reason, she’s chosen to focus on you as the number one suspect to blame for my downfall.”

“Maybe because I am.” He looks at me, tracing his finger down the length of my cheek. “Maybe she’s on to something without even realizing it. Ever, when you boil it right down to its very essence, to its very origins, I am the one who caused the change in you.”

I sigh and look away, we’ve had this discussion before, and I’m still not quite willing to see it his way. “You—the near-death experience—” I take a deep breath and turn to him again. “Who’s to say for absolute sure? Besides, it’s not like it matters, it is what it is and there’s no going back.”

He frowns, clearly not willing to take my side but willing to drop it for now. “Okay,” he says, almost as though talking to himself. “Maybe I’ll stop by Ava’s then. The twins started school today and I’m eager to see how it went.”

I balk, trying to imagine Romy and Rayne navigating their way through junior high. Everything they know about modern American teenage life they learned either from my ghostly little sister Riley or reality shows on MTV—not the best sources, for sure.

“Well, hopefully for them it was way more uneventful than ours.” I smile, sliding out of the car and closing the door between us, leaning through the open window when I add, “At any rate, tell them I said hi. Even Rayne. Or, should I say, especially Rayne.” I laugh, knowing how much she dislikes me, and hoping that someday I’ll be able to mend that—but knowing that day is still a long way away.

Watching as he speeds away from the curb, leaving me with a smile that lingers, circling all around me like a hug, before I enter the store on my own, surprised to find it dark and empty, with no one around.

I stand there and squint, allowing a moment for my eyes to adjust, before making my way toward the back. Freezing right there in the office doorway when I find him completely slumped over with his head on his desk.

And the second I see him I can’t help but think: Oh crap—I’m too late!

I mean, just because Haven said she’d spare me for the time being, doesn’t mean she’d extend the same courtesy to Jude.

Though just after I think it, I catch a reassuring glimpse of his aura and immediately relax.

Only living things have auras.

Dead things and immortals do not.

But when I notice the color, the blotchy, dull, brownish-gray haze that surrounds him, I can’t help but think: Oh, crap, all over again.

As far as colors go, his is pretty much at the bottom of the aura rainbow; only black, the color of imminent death, could be worse.

“Jude?” I whisper, my voice so soft and low it’s almost inaudible. “Jude—are you okay?”

He lifts his head so suddenly, so startled by my presence, he knocks over his coffee. Causing a milky brown trail to race across his desk, just about to spill over the side and onto the floor when he stops it with the long, slightly frayed sleeve of his white T-shirt—allowing the liquid to spread into the fabric, leaving a sizable stain.

A stain that reminds me of—

“Ever, I—” He runs his fingers over his tangle of golden-brown dreadlocks, blinking a few times until he’s able to fully focus. “I didn’t hear you come in—you startled me—and—” He sighs, gazing down at the desk and mopping up the rest of the spill with his sleeve. Then, noticing my speechless, wide-eyed gaping, he says, “Trust me, this is nothing. I can either wash it, toss it, or take it to Summerland and cure it.” He shrugs. “A stained T-shirt is the least of my worries right now…”

I lower myself onto the seat just across from him, still shaken by the stain and the new idea it just spawned. Hardly able to believe I was so caught up with training and Haven and all the drama she’s created that I hadn’t even thought of it until now.

“What’s happened?” I ask, forcing myself away from those thoughts and back onto him, though vowing to return to them as soon as I can.

Sensing that something terrible has happened and assuming it’s more threats from Haven, when he says, “Lina’s gone.” The words simple, stark, though the meaning is clear.

I look at him, eyes wide, mouth open, but unable to speak and unsure what to say if I could.

“Her van crashed in Guatemala, on the way to the airport. She didn’t make it.”

“Are you…sure?” I ask, immediately regretting the words. It was a dumb thing to say, when it’s so obvious that he is. But that’s what bad news does—it creates unreasonable denial and doubt, prompting a search for hope in places where there clearly is none.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He wipes his eyes with his dry sleeve, gaze clouded with the memory of when he first heard. “I saw her.” His eyes meet mine. “We had a pact, you know? We promised each other that whoever went first would stop by and tell the other. And the second she appeared before me—” He pauses, his voice tired, hoarse, prompting him to clear his throat and begin again. “Well, the way she just glowed, the way she looked so…radiant… there was no mistaking it. I knew she’d moved on.”

“Did she say anything?” I ask, wondering if she decided to cross the bridge or stay behind in Summerland, since, unlike me, Jude can communicate with spirit in all of its forms.

He nods, his face beginning to lift ever so slightly. “She told me she was home. That’s what she called it, home. Said there was so much to see, so much to explain, and that it’s even better than the Summerland I told her about. And then, before she left, she said she’d be waiting for me when it was my turn—but not to hurry over anytime soon.”

He laughs when he says it—well, as much as one can laugh when they’re consumed by grief. And I swallow hard and gaze down at my knees, tugging on the hem of my dress, straightening the seam until it fully covers them. Remembering the first time I saw Riley in my hospital room, and how it seemed so dreamy and unreal I pretty much convinced myself that I’d somehow imagined it. But then it happened again—and again—and it kept on happening until I was able to convince her to cross the bridge to the other side—which, unfortunately, made her disappear from me forever. Making Jude my only connection to her.

I peer at him again, taking in his bleary aura, hollow gaze, and shaken face—so different from the cute, sexy, laid-back surfer boy I first met. And I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for him to return to that, or if he even can. There’s no quick fix for grief. No shortcuts, no easy answers, no way to erase it. Only time can do that, and even then, just barely. If I’ve learned nothing else, I’ve learned that.

“Then, about an hour later,” he continues, voice so low I have to lean forward to catch it, “I got the call that confirmed it.” He shrugs and leans back in his seat, gazing at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, knowing firsthand just how small those words are in the face of something so big. “Is there anything I can do?” Doubting there is, but extending the offer anyway.

He shrugs, busying himself with his sleeve, his long dark fingers rolling the wet fabric away from his skin. “Make no mistake, Ever, my grief is for me, not Lina. She’s fine…happy even. You should’ve seen her—it was like she was headed off on her most exciting adventure yet.” He leans back in his seat, smoothing his tangle of hair, gathering it all together and holding it briefly, before releasing it again and allowing it to spill down his back. “I’m really going to miss her. Everything just feels so empty without her. She was more a parent to me than my birth parents were. She took me in, fed me, dressed me, but most importantly, she treated me with respect. She taught me that my abilities were nothing to be ashamed of, nothing I should try so hard to deny. She convinced me that what I had was a gift—not a curse—and that I shouldn’t let other people’s narrow minds and fears determine how I live, what I do, or how I perceive myself in the world. She actually made me believe that in no way, shape, or form did their uninformed opinions make me a freak.” He looks away, taking in the overflowing bookshelves, the collection of paintings on the wall, before returning to me. “Do you have any idea just how big a deal that was?”

He meets my gaze, holding it for so long I can’t help but look away. His words instantly reminding me of Sabine, and how she took the exact opposite approach of Lina when she chose to blame me.

“You were lucky to know her,” I say, my throat going all hot and tight, until it threatens to close up completely. I know all too well how he’s feeling. My own family’s death is never far from my mind. But I can’t let myself go there—there’s another crisis on the horizon and I need to focus all of my energy on containing it.

“But if you were serious about helping out—” He pauses, waiting for my assurance before continuing on. “Well, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching the store. I mean, I know you don’t really want to work here anymore, and believe me, I know how angry you’ve been with me lately, and trust me, I don’t think for a minute that any of that will change because of this, but—”

I swallow hard. Swallow my words, knowing I have no real choice but to wait for him to continue. I came here not just to talk about Haven and all the ways he could go about protecting himself from her, but also to try to determine just what his intentions were the night he killed Roman.

What was he thinking?

What’s the real reason he did what he did?

But now, after all this, there is no way that conversation is going to happen anytime soon.

“—there’s just…” He shakes his head and breaks the gaze, squinting far into the distance when he says, “There’s just so much to take care of—the house, the store, the funeral arrangements…” He takes a deep breath, takes a moment to compose himself. “And I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed at the moment. And since you already know how everything works around here, it would be a huge help if you could stay and close up. But if not, no worries. I can probably try Ava, or even Honor I guess, but since you’re already here, and since you already offered—I just figured—”

Honor. His friend-slash-trainee Honor. Yet another topic we’ll have to discuss at some point.

“Not a problem.” I nod, eager to assure him. “I’m ready and willing to stay and work for as long as you need.” Knowing that if Sabine somehow finds out, it will not go over well, not in the least. But then again, it’s really none of her business. And if she chooses to make it her business, well, she can’t really fault me for helping a friend in his time of deep need.

Friend?

I look at Jude again, my eyes grazing over him, studying him carefully. No longer sure if the word still applies, or if it ever really did. We shared a past. We share a present. That’s all I really know at this point.

He sighs and shuts his eyes, his fingers moving over the lids, past the spliced brow, before dropping to the desk and gripping the sides as he stands. Taking a moment to dig deep into the front pocket of his jeans, fingers fishing around until he finds the bulky ring of keys he tosses toward me.

“Do you mind locking up?” He makes his way around the desk as I rise to my feet, the two of us suddenly finding ourselves face-to-face, sharing an awkwardly close proximity.

Close enough for me to take in the depths of those blue-green eyes—to feel the lull and sway of the wave of calm his mere presence brings.

Close enough to prompt me to take a step back, an act that causes a flash of pain to flit across his gaze.

Waving my hand at the keys when I say, “I don’t actually need those, you know.”

He looks me over for a moment, then nods and pockets them again.

The silence lingering between us for so long, I’m desperate to break it when I say, “Listen, Jude, I—”

But when his eyes meet mine, his amazing aqua gaze reduced to a bottomless sea of loss, I know I can’t even give him the summarized version of what he needs to know. He’s far too consumed by his grief to care about Haven or the threats she promises to keep—far too depressed to even think about the best ways of defending himself.

“Just…just take all the time you need. That’s all I wanted to say,” I mumble, watching the way he moves, carefully, cautiously, allowing for a wide berth between us, working to avoid any sort of accidental physical contact with me.

But I know it’s more for my benefit than his. His feelings for me haven’t changed, that much is clear.

“Oh and Jude—” I call, noting how quickly he stops, though he refuses to turn. “Be careful out there…please?”

He nods, his only reply.

“Because later, when things have settled a bit, and you have some time, we really need to—”

Not even giving me a chance to finish before he’s already making his way down the hall.

Discarding the words with a wave of his hand, as he moves through the dark store and into the daylight, disappearing into the warmth of the sun.