by Hilary Duff
A digital clock stood among the boulders, just like the one on the field. This one was running. When it hit 11:45:00, Grandfather nodded to Mother, who nudged me.
“Do what we do,” she said, “but keep still, like us. Your grandfather says they like that; it impresses them.”
She, Father, and Grandfather manifested into physical form. I did the same and stood as rigid as the rest of them.
“Welcome to your destiny!” Grandfather boomed. The Saviors turned and gasped, then cheered like wild.
“A toast to immortality!” one man called.
“A toast to the Elders!” another cried.
“The first with champagne, the next with the Elixir of Life!” a woman yelled.
Another roaring cheer. They raised their glasses and drank.
“Are you prepared?” Grandfather asked.
An older man stepped forward. He looked like someone who had once been an athlete, but whose body had seen better days.
“Albert,” Grandfather acknowledged him.
“We have fire,” Albert said, gesturing to a blaze at the foot of Sage’s rock. “We have arranged tokens of earthly pleasures the Sacrifice must relinquish.”
He pointed out one of the other rocks around the perimeter of the ceremony. I had been too transfixed by Sage to notice before, but it was laden with things a person might miss if leaving the world forever: flowers, pictures of beautiful places . . . and framed in the middle, a large photograph of a young woman. She had blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. She was smiling confidently in the image, but there was something sardonic in her eyes, like it was secretly a big joke that she was posing for the picture.
Albert held up a silver bowl.
“We have the bowl,” he said, “a vessel of purest silver, in which we’ll catch the blood of the Sacrifice at exactly midnight, under the full moon of renewal.”
“And the dagger?” Grandfather asked.
Albert turned to one of the Taser wielders, who reached behind a boulder and took out a large velvet box. He opened it to reveal a golden hilt and scabbard. With great ceremony, Albert took the hilt in one hand, the scabbard in the other, then separated the two, brandishing a glistening-sharp dagger.
Everyone gasped appreciatively.
“A plunge into his heart will sever his soul,” Albert said.
There was silence . . . then applause.
Behind his gag, Sage screamed.
I felt ill.
The clock read 11:59:05.
How could my family be okay with this? They must be having second thoughts. I looked at their faces. No. No second thoughts. They looked . . . ecstatic.
If they weren’t going to stop this, I had to . . . but I was terrified. Not because I thought they’d do anything to me—back then I didn’t know that was possible—but because I knew that if I ripped this opportunity from Mother, Father, and Grandfather, they’d never forgive me. Never. That meant an eternity on my own. Could I really handle that?
I waited until the last possible second. I told myself that was because I didn’t want to give my family a chance to stop me, but I actually just wanted to put off the choice as long as possible.
11:59:50.
In the blink of an eye, I saw my whole long, wonderful lifetime flash in front of my eyes. One way or another, the next ten seconds would change everything forever.
Albert raised the dagger high above his head.
I prepared to lunge.
Albert started his downward arc . . .
“STOP! ABORT THE CEREMONY!”
The desperate ferocity in Grandfather’s voice froze everyone . . . everyone but me. I staggered forward, unable to stop my momentum.
Mother noticed. She eyed me suspiciously.
The clock clicked to 12:01:00.
It was no longer midnight.
“Why did you stop us?” a woman demanded.
“Look at the dagger,” Grandfather rasped.
The dagger glowed bright red. Albert screamed and let it thump to the ground.
“It’s hot!” he cried, then glared at Grandfather. “What happened? You promised us! You promised us immortality!”
“And you will have it,” Grandfather said. “But only if you prepare properly. You’ve read the texts, Albert. The red- hot blade means he’s still tied to the mortal world. Had you stabbed him, the ceremony would have failed.”
“That’s impossible!” Albert sputtered. “We did everything right!”
“Apparently not,” Mother snapped. “Maybe next time we’ll offer this gift to someone more competent!”
The crowd roared with such terrible fury, I had to remind myself they couldn’t actually hurt us.
“My daughter speaks out of turn,” Grandfather said. “All is not lost. We will find out and fix what went wrong. By the next full moon, I assure you, the ceremony will succeed. I ask you to be patient, and hold the Sacrifice until then. Do not falter, for immortality still awaits.”
Grandfather nodded imperceptibly to us, then disappeared, taking his mind elsewhere. We all followed, drawn to Grandfather in the familiar limbo space.
“How did that happen?” Mother raged. “I should be in my body right now!”
“It’s just as I said, Petra. The red glow means his earthly ties weren’t properly broken. It won’t happen again.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I know how,” I said. “We could decide not to make the Saviors immortal at all.”
Three pairs of eyes glared at me.
“Is this about the Sacrifice?” Mother asked.
“No!” I said. “It’s about the Saviors and what they’ll do with eternal life.”
“They’ll bring us back to our bodies,” Mother said.
“Okay . . . and then what?”
“Then they’re no longer our concern,” Grandfather said.
“They are! Didn’t you hear them talking? If they drink the Elixir, they’ll hurt people. They’re planning it!”
“People say all kinds of things,” Father said. “Doesn’t mean they’ll do it.”
“Even if they do,” Mother added, “that’s their choice, not ours.”
“But if we give them eternal life, aren’t their choices our responsibility?”
“We’re not giving them anything,” Grandfather said. “They’ll do the ceremony all by themselves.”
“Because you taught them how!”
“So what are you suggesting?” Grandfather asked. “We find a more acceptable group of people, then bring the Sacrifice to them? How do you propose we find them, a Facebook post? ‘Click here to apply for eternal life’?”
I took a deep breath, my insides fluttering, already imagining their reactions. “Maybe we don’t need to make more immortals. We’ll find another way to get our bodies back. Or we won’t, and maybe that’ll be . . . you know . . . okay.”
“Amelia.” Mother’s voice was calm, but her fists clenched at her sides and the muscles in her neck bulged. “Tell me you’re not suggesting we stay like this for eternity.”
“Would it be that horrible?” I asked meekly.
“Listen to me, Amelia. I need to know you will not get in the way of this ceremony. You have to promise me.” Mother’s voice worked to push through her tightly clenched jaw.
“I want my body back too,” I said. “It’s just, if we have to kill someone, and give eternal life to bad people—”
“Amelia . . . ,” Mother warned.
“I’m just saying, it might not really be worth it—”
“SHUT UP!” Mother howled.
I didn’t have time to say another word. My mother lunged at me, eyes flashing and talon-arms straining for me.
Had we been in our bodies, she’d have knocked me to the ground. Instead her hands clawed right through me.
The pain was immediate and blinding, but tempered by shock. My mother had never hurt me before, not even in our mortal lives. Now she had . . . and in a way I hadn’t known was possible. Before
, these visions of our bodies had obeyed the laws of physics. We hugged, we touched, we held hands . . . But now Mother tore inside me, inside my consciousness to claw me apart until . . .
I blacked out before I could fully comprehend it.
I was gone.
I didn’t know for how long. Eventually I started to exist again, to be aware . . . but I had no sense of place or being. I had no clear thoughts, just half-formed nightmare images . . . and pain.
When my thoughts returned, it was almost worse.
My own mother had tried to destroy me, and my father and grandfather did nothing to stop her.
There was no question now. I was completely on my own . . . and even though I’d been alive for so many years, I was only seven years old.
I wanted my blanket—not the pink threadbare one tucked in with my body, but the one I’d had when I was just another mortal. My mother had woven it when she was pregnant with me. It had disintegrated centuries ago.
I wanted my mommy . . . but the person I wanted didn’t exist anymore. She had changed, and it was all my fault. Everything was my fault. I wanted to die.
I thought about the dagger. Couldn’t I do the ceremony on myself? Steal the dagger, find a way to get it to my sleeping body in Switzerland, prepare the ritual, and at the stroke of midnight drive the blade into my heart?
But if I was gone, who would stop my family from making the Saviors immortal? No one.
Did Mother realize that too? If she did, would she send someone to Switzerland to get rid of me once and for all?
It was possible, but I couldn’t let it happen. I had to be strong. I had to pull myself together and convince my family I was on their side. I had to believe they wouldn’t destroy me unless they thought they had to. If I was very good and obedient, if I had a true change of heart, I could bide my time until I could stop them.
I waited until I’d regained some strength, then reached out and called to them.
In no time I was back in that limbo space with Mother, Father, and Grandfather. They stood far from me, their lips pursed in disapproval.
I put on my best little-girl smile. “Hi, Mommy,” I said. “I missed you.”
She looked away, her eyes to the ceiling.
“Daddy?”
He didn’t look at me either.
“I know . . . I was very bad. I’m so sorry.”
“You were gone a long time, Amelia,” Grandfather said. “It was not unpleasant.”
Ouch.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say. . . . I messed up.”
“Yes, you did,” Grandfather said. “I worked very hard to bring us back to ourselves. I’m still working hard at it. We all are. It’s most frustrating to have my own granddaughter getting in the way.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?” Father asked. “Or are you just saying that so you won’t be in trouble?”
In trouble. Like they were thinking of grounding me, not getting rid of me.
“I’m really sorry. I want the ceremony to happen. I want to go back to the way things were.”
“Even if it means the Sacrifice dies and the Saviors get eternal life?” Grandfather asked.
“If that’s what it takes,” I said. “I won’t stand in the way. I’ll help. I promise.”
Grandfather’s and Father’s eyes were softening. They wanted to believe me. Mother still looked suspicious. I took her hand.
“Mommy?”
She thought a moment, then knelt down smiling. She brushed my hair out of my face, then took both my hands.
“Amelia,” she said. “I believe you want our bodies back. I do. I believe you want to stretch to the sky, run through the grass as fast as you can, feel the sun on your skin, smell chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. . . .”
Her words painted beautiful images in my head . . . but I saw them through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. They were tiny and far away. What did chocolate chip cookies really smell like? I couldn’t remember. What did it feel like to have the warm sun on my face? How did newly mown grass crumple under my feet and tickle my nose?
I couldn’t remember any of it, and the rush of longing brought tears to my eyes.
“You do want those things, don’t you, Amelia?”
I nodded. I didn’t just want them, I needed them, and if I tried to speak, I might break.
“But do you want them enough ? Enough to look the other way from the Saviors’ shortcomings?”
Shortcomings. I guess that was one way to describe a murderous streak.
I nodded again. “Daddy was right. They were probably just talking. None of our business anyway.”
“And the Sacrifice?” Mother asked.
“It’s sad . . . but it’s the only way.”
Mother considered. “I’m proud of you, Amelia,” she finally said. “You’ve grown up a lot.”
She hugged me, and for just a minute I let my guard down. I was a kid, she was my mom, and everything was okay. She pulled back and held me at arm’s length, a kind smile on her face.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I’ve never been a disciplinarian, but you respond so well to punishment. I’ll have to remember that.”
There it was. The threat. She gave me a last squeeze—a little too hard—then blew me a kiss as she stepped away.
I was on notice, but I was back in the family fold.
“So,” I began nonchalantly, “did you ever find out what went wrong with the ceremony?”
Grandfather had. The problem, he realized, was Sage’s connection with Clea Raymond, the woman from the picture. It was no secret to us that Clea and Sage were in love, or even that their love had spanned lifetimes and reincarnations. This was all information Albert had known and shared with Grandfather.
What we hadn’t known, and what Grandfather had learned from a wealth of “alternative” practitioners, was that letting go of a soulmate is not a simple process.
“Soulmate” is an overused term, but a true soul connection is very rare, and very real. Two people who meet and share such a connection do more than fall in love; they change each other both deeply and irreversibly. Real soulmates will always weather difficult times; they have to. They’re eternally bound together, drawn back to each other no matter what.
This was the bond Sage had formed with his first love, Olivia, and that biological “soul tag” was passed down to every reincarnated version of her.
Breaking a soul bond apparently took more than a framed picture on an altar of earthly sacrifices. A soul bond is so rare and wondrous that it’s sacrilege to sever it. It can only be done with the darkest black magic. Moreover, the bond breaking can’t be forced on a couple. It’s a choice that must be made by one of them. His or her verbal acceptance primes the body. Without it, no magic is strong enough to sever a soul bond.
It took Grandfather many dreamtime visits to self-proclaimed witches, voodoo priestesses, and sorcerers, and many run-ins with frauds and charlatans, but eventually he found one ceremony on which the most reliable dark practitioners agreed.
Now the mission was simple: Get either Sage or Clea to agree to break their bond.
At first, Grandfather told me, they tried to torture Sage’s acceptance out of him. When that didn’t work, Mother had come up with a better idea. The torture would continue—at least as long as it was helpful—but she also had Albert hire an actress, Lila. Lila’s role was “junior member” of the Saviors, someone who could believably be critical of them. Lila was put in charge of Sage’s care, and followed her script to a T. She was loving and gentle, and slowly but surely let Sage know she was falling hard for him. Mother wanted Lila to win him over with her kindness and understanding, until eventually Sage would fall for her as well, and agree to break his bond with Clea.
That was the idea, but there was no way Mother would rely on anything as fickle as human emotions. To make sure Sage responded the way she required, she had the Saviors drug the water and salves Lil
a used to take care of Sage. It was a smart move—Sage might worry about poisoned food or drink, but when he was weak and in pain, he wouldn’t worry about Lila’s balms. The drugs in question were made to help put people into hypnotic states. In Sage’s case, they left him more open to suggestion, and apparently his feelings for Lila were growing every day.
Mother, however, was still impatient. She was moving to the next step: working on Clea. Mother thought Clea was unlikely to willingly break her bond to Sage, but she thought she could use Lila and Sage to drive Clea to someone else, even for a little while. If Mother could show that to Sage, she thought it would push him to agree to sever their bond—ideally before the next full moon.
At the time, that brought me up to speed. I said I’d do anything I could to help them, which is when they started bringing me to hang around the Saviors and join in the weekly meetings. They kept a close eye on me at first, especially Mother, but the more I behaved, the more they relaxed.
Then I messed up. The first time the whole family appeared to Clea, I tried to signal that I was on her side and different from the others. I thought I was being subtle, but I wasn’t—not subtle enough. That’s when Mother locked in on my words and started her surprise visits. Her suspicions and paranoia only grew as the next full moon loomed closer and closer. It was a miracle I found that perfect moment when Clea was on the plane to bring her and Sage together.
I only hoped I’d given Clea enough to cling to.
As for myself, I was spent from the effort. I needed to rest. I wouldn’t have the strength to split myself and check in on Clea for quite a while. I hoped she’d stay strong. I hoped she’d hold tightly to Sage, no matter what.
Everything was riding on it.
eleven
* * *
“NIGHTMARE?”
I wheeled to face Ben, hazy from my dream, or visit, or whatever had just happened, and in that second it was like he wasn’t asking a question but announcing the truth: He was my nightmare, mine and Sage’s, and even if he tried to change things, that wouldn’t change.
“No! I mean . . . I don’t know. . . . I don’t remember what I dreamed. . . .”
The cabin lights were dimmed, and as Ben leaned closer, eerie shadows sank his eyes into blackness and arched his brows. “Are you sure?” he asked.