Devoted

by Hilary Duff

  I parked the car and we made our way to the beach, saying nothing.

  The night was perfect. The moon was just over three-quarters full, and it reflected off the rolling waves. I kicked off my boots and sat on the sand, stretching out my legs until my feet were just inches from the water pulsing toward us.

  “Come sit,” I said.

  Ben cocked his head, studying me. “Clea . . .”

  “Come on. It’s beautiful.”

  Ben shook his head, but he joined me on the sand.

  I took off my coat and spread it behind us. I lay back on it.

  “You have to lie back and look at the stars. They’re amazing.”

  He did.

  The night sparkled. With no other lights, it seemed like we could see the entire universe.

  “It’s incredible,” I said. “It’s like looking at eternity.”

  Ben nodded. “Kind of puts things in perspective. ‘It doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.’”

  “Casablanca,” I said. “And here I thought you’d go for Greek mythology.”

  “Because of the constellations?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “I can do that. I’m guessing you’d like Perseus and Andromeda. Star-crossed lovers so in love that after they died, the gods put them in the sky to be together for eternity.”

  “Eternity’s a long time. I wonder if they ever wish the gods made a different choice.”

  “What’s going on, Clea? Why did you bring me here?”

  I let the question sit. I listened to the lapping of the water. I watched the stars. Looking up at them, I spoke.

  “Do you ever think about what would have happened if things had been different?”

  “Different?”

  “Different.”

  “I used to.”

  I could feel the heat of Ben’s arm, less than an inch from mine. We were so close, lying on my jacket in the moonlight. Nearly as close as Sage and Lila had been on the rug.

  “It almost was, you know.”

  “Clea . . .”

  “That night in Rio. It was just before sunrise. We’d been up all night. We were dancing together, and you were holding me, and the only thing I saw was you. And it was like everything in that moment changed, and more than anything I wanted . . .”

  “Clea, don’t. . . .”

  I rolled over to face him. He needed to look at me.

  “I wanted you, Ben. With everything I had, I wanted you.”

  I could tell he didn’t want to look at me, but he rolled to his side and met my eyes. His were glassy, and when he spoke his voice cracked.

  “Clea . . .”

  I placed my hand on his cheek, just as I had that morning in Rio. Just like Sage had done to Lila.

  “I think about that night,” I said. “I think about it a lot. And I wonder . . . what would have happened if I’d . . . if we’d . . .”

  I rolled closer to him, sliding my body next to his. I turned my head and pressed my lips gently against his. He recoiled for a second, then came back, his lips moving with mine. He pushed closer to me, wrapping his hands in my hair, just like Sage had done to Lila. I felt the hot rush of triumph and kissed Ben even harder, rolling on top of him. Bear rug by the fireside? Ha! Try sandy beach in the moonlight. I rolled us onto our sides and tugged at Ben’s hoodie and shirt, sliding them up and feeling the heat of his bare skin. My sundress had slid up to my hips, and I could feel Ben’s hands moving the fabric higher, freeing my skin to press against his. We rolled again and I was on the sand, my dress above my chest, the sand against my bare back. I wrapped my legs around Ben as we kissed, moving my hips against his. He was mine now; this was going to happen and Sage deserved every moment of it for what he was doing to me, what he had done to me over and over. . . .

  “What the fuck?!”

  Ben had sprung away from me. He was panting in sharp gasps, his eyes wild.

  “What?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “What are you doing? Jesus, Clea, what are you doing?”

  His voice was breaking, and his hands clenched and unclenched. He kept darting forward, like he was about to run but didn’t know if he could do it.

  “If you have to ask, then I’m not doing it right,” I said with a smile.

  “Stop it! You don’t want this! You don’t want me. Why are you? . . .”

  He grabbed his hair with both hands this time, wincing, his eyes shut tight. He took a long, broken breath and blew it out. When he opened his eyes, they were red and swollen.

  “I think you should go,” he said.

  “How will you get home?”

  “I can call someone. She’ll come get me. Just go. Please.”

  He was immovable. I got up, not bothering to brush the sand off me. I grabbed my boots and jacket and turned back to Ben, but he was looking at the water.

  “Ben?”

  Nothing. He wouldn’t even answer.

  I trudged up the sand, then stuffed my feet into my boots for the walk along the gravel back to my car. I made it back out to the highway before I started to cry, but once I started I couldn’t stop. I pulled over to the side of the road and freed the sobs that were buried so deep.

  When I saw headlights coming the other way, I knew it was Suzanne. She whizzed by, and I started the car. I didn’t want to be sitting there when she came back the other way with Ben.

  Back in my room, I peeled off my clothes and climbed into bed, sandy grit and all. I didn’t want to dream, I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to stop.

  I wasn’t that lucky.

  The minute I fell asleep, I was back in the Girly Room. I sat on a chair. Petra was there too. She sat cross-legged on the floor, a big grin on her face. I opened my mouth to ask her something, but she shook her head and pointed to Sage. He was there, pacing up and down like a lion. The comparison was apt. His eyes were wild, more agonized than they’d been during any horrible torture.

  The door clicked open, and Lila padded in. She wore a long satiny slip, and was barefoot. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed . . . except her hair was shiny from being brushed, and I could swear her lips shone with a coat of clear gloss.

  “Lila!”

  Sage pounced on her, his hands clinging to her upper arms.

  “Sage? Are you okay? I heard you ringing for me, but it’s so early, I thought I was dreaming.”

  Ringing for her? He couldn’t just go get her? Was he locked in at night? Did that mean he’d tried to escape?

  “I was dreaming . . . but it wasn’t a dream. This woman . . . she took me somewhere . . . but it was real. What she showed me, it was real.”

  My heart started thudding in my chest and I tried not to throw up. I turned to Petra, but she shrugged.

  “What was it?” Lila asked. “What did she show you?”

  I already knew, but he said it out loud anyway.

  “It was Clea. Clea and . . .”

  He couldn’t even say it out loud. He looked like he was going to cry, but then he pulled himself upright and clenched his jaw.

  “It’s better this way. It’s for the best. If she can be with someone else . . .” His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, then pushed it out through his mouth. “Maybe she can be happy this way.”

  “No,” I said. “No, Sage, it’s not like that! No, no, no, no, no!”

  He didn’t hear me, so I wheeled on Petra. “It’s not like that! You didn’t show him everything! You didn’t show him what I saw! He doesn’t know why! He doesn’t know what happened! He thinks . . . what did you do?”

  “It’s not what I did, Clea. Honestly, if it’s that awful to have someone see your behavior, maybe you shouldn’t behave that way.”

  I lunged for her, absolutely prepared to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze, but my hands clenched around nothing. She was across the room, sitting at the head of the bed.

  I was helpless.


  “I’m so sorry, Sage,” Lila said. She took his hands and looked into his eyes with infinite understanding.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “Like I said, it’s for the best. It’s over.” He took another deep breath, then said, “I want to do the ceremony.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “It’s not reversible. It won’t erase your memories or anything, but that tie that’s kept your souls united . . . that will be gone . . . forever.”

  “Giving her a chance at a life. A real life. I want to do it.”

  Lila nodded and held out her hand. “Come.”

  Sage took her hand and they left the room. I tried to follow them, but I bounced back at the door. I turned to Petra, now lying on her side on the bed, her elbow propping up her head.

  “Why can’t I follow them? I want to follow them.”

  “You’d need me to take you, and I’m comfortable here. It’s a nice room, don’t you think?”

  “Take me to them. Now.”

  “Just let it go. He’s letting you go. And if you want to know the truth, I think you’re much better off for it. Plus, Ben’s a good one. You’ll be much happier with him.”

  “Please! I need to see what’s happening!”

  “You know what’s happening. Sage is cutting his eternal ties to you. But fine, if you want to see, I guess I can show you.”

  Instantly I was back in the room by the fire. Again Sage and Lila were on the faux bearskin rug, but this time they were on their knees, and both looked solemn. The fire was raging as before, but sitting on the hearth was a small clay pot. It smelled like mulled cider. Between Sage and Lila was a basket. A cloth covered its contents, so I couldn’t see them. A thick glove sat next to the basket.

  “The pot on the hearth represents true love,” Lila intoned. “Its contents are herbs that represent love: clove, cinnamon, cardamom, and apple blossom.”

  She removed two candles from the bag. Both were red and had plants tied around them.

  “Two red candles,” she said. “One wrapped in sage leaves, representing you, and one wrapped in iris petals, representing Clea.”

  She handed the candles to Sage, and gestured for him to hold them together, which he did. She wrapped the two candles together with a red ribbon.

  “Two souls, tied together for eternity in love. Tonight we will poison that love, and break those eternal bonds. To do this, we take a symbol of the two of you and your lifetimes together.”

  She pulled something else out of the basket.

  “My necklace!” I gasped.

  Sage recoiled. “How did you get that?”

  “I don’t know. The others gave it to me for the ceremony, in case you decided you wanted to go through with it.”

  “How did they get it? Clea always wears that necklace. Is she okay?”

  “Please don’t think I’m being glib, but . . . did she look okay?”

  Sage opened his mouth to reply, then closed it in a grim line.

  “She looked fine. Continue.”

  Lila nodded. She placed my necklace into the clay pot filled with herbs. She tugged the thick glove onto her hand. “By melting down the symbol and mixing it with the herbs of love, we reduce your bond to its most elemental.”

  The glove was fireproof. With it on her hand, she placed the clay pot into the hottest part of the fire. I could see my silver necklace melting away to a puddle. It hurt me so badly, anger burned inside of me.

  Lila pulled a capped tube from the basket.

  “Sulfuric acid. Very corrosive—enough to corrode even the love bond held in this crucible. Be careful—this isn’t something you want to breathe in.”

  Using her glove, she poured the acid over the melted silver-and-herb mixture.

  “Should I be feeling anything different?” Sage asked softly.

  I was wondering the same thing. I didn’t feel different. I shouldn’t have worried. If love bonds are real, then nothing can break them apart. Certainly not a few words intoned over a melted necklace.

  “Not yet,” Lila said. With her gloved hand, she pulled out another item from the basket. It was a thick black needle threaded not with yarn but with barbed wire. She held it up to show to Sage. “I’ll coat this needle and wire with the mixture in the crucible, recite an ancient spell, then pierce the needle through the candles representing you and Clea. Once I do that, there’s no going back. Your bond will be broken. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Sage said with the solemnity of a bridegroom.

  “We can stop right now, if you want. It’s not too late.”

  “It’s okay. You can continue.”

  Lila nodded, then reached into the flames, soaking the spiked needle and thread in the noxious mixture. She let the excess drip off, then gestured to Sage to raise the candles, which he did. Lila closed her eyes and intoned something in a language I didn’t understand. She opened her eyes and locked them on Sage, who gave the smallest nod and moved the candles closer to her. She raised the needle to their side and pierced it through . . .

  . . . and I bolted upright in my bed, gasping for air.

  There was a hole in my body. A hole, right in the middle, and every breath I took escaped through it. I sucked in air, but it wouldn’t stay. I reached my hand to my chest and felt it—a gaping hole in the middle of my body. Where my stomach and heart used to be was nothing. I could feel the sheets beneath me as my hand went through . . .

  . . . and I bolted upright again.

  I could breathe.

  I felt my chest, my stomach.

  Intact.

  And yet part of me was missing.

  There was no other way to describe it.

  Physically I was whole. I looked in the mirror to check, because it seemed impossible. I felt like everything about me was different, the way I imagined someone would feel if they lost a limb. I was fundamentally not the person I was before, yet unlike someone who’d lost a physical part of them, I couldn’t point to it and say this is what I’m missing.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t remember Sage either. I remembered everything. And I loved him. That was the worst part. I loved him just as much as before, but it was our love that was different. Once we were tied together in an eternal bond. No matter what separated us, we would find each other. For at least a brief period of time, we were guaranteed to have each other. It was our destiny.

  Now it wasn’t.

  The bond was broken.

  We were just two people, floating separately along in a giant world. Maybe we’d find each other, maybe we wouldn’t. And if we did, there’d be no eternal pull of destiny keeping us together. That was gone forever.

  Sage may have been eternal, but our love was not. Not anymore. It was fleeting, and mortal, and human.

  My stomach turned as I had a horrible realization.

  I pulled out the overstuffed file full of my Sage pictures—the grainy, enlarged prints I’d made of his image hidden in my photos. I flipped through them, one by one. I didn’t need to—I knew once I looked at the very first what I’d find in the others, but I had to look anyway.

  They had become barren landscapes.

  Sage wasn’t in a single one.

  nineteen

  * * *

  When I came back to myself, I didn’t know how much time had passed, and I wasn’t sure where I stood with Mother. Had she punished me because she knew what I’d done with Clea and Sage, or had she just sent a warning, and it was my weakness that made the effect so powerful? I wasn’t sure.

  What had happened while my consciousness was gone? Was I too late?

  No. If I was too late, I’d have awakened in my body, in the glass-enclosed Snow White bed I’d been sealed into so very long ago.

  There was time, but I didn’t know how much.

  I thought about Grandfather, and was quickly united with his consciousness. He was in the last place I expected him—the secret room of our safe house, looking at our bodies in their four glass cas
es.

  “Strange to see them, isn’t it?” he said. I didn’t have to say hello or announce myself—he knew I was there the minute I arrived.

  I looked down at my own face, slack in its deathly repose.

  “Very.”

  “Even stranger to think how soon we’ll be back inside them. I wonder if it will feel strange. Cramped, even.”

  “Will it be soon?”

  Grandfather turned to face me, an inscrutable look on his face. “I haven’t seen you lately, Amelia. Your mother was worried.”

  I lowered my head in obeisance. “She wasn’t happy with me,” I admitted. “But she was mistaken, Grandfather. I hadn’t done anything.”

  “That’s what I told her. The results bear it out. Nothing has upset our plans. You’ll be happy to know that Sage is no longer tethered to the mortal realm.”

  “You mean . . . he agreed to cut his ties to Clea?”

  Like magic, the minute I said the word “Clea,” Mother appeared. I didn’t hesitate. I ran to her like the eager, loving child I’d once been. “Did you hear, Mommy? Did you hear? He cut his ties to Clea! We can have our bodies back!”

  “It’s true, baby!” She scooped me into her arms and spun me around, then peered down at her own face in her sealed bed. “You hear that? Get ready for me, ’cause I’m coming back!” She grimaced and recoiled. “My God I need a manicure. That’s just frightening.”

  Grandfather laughed. “A haircut as well. Our nails and hair have been growing in our absence. I’m afraid we’ll have a lot of grooming to do when we first come back.”

  “A spa day!” Mother crowed. “Maybe I should whisper in Lila’s ear and have her set up appointments for us. I just hope we can find a place that schedules at the last minute.”

  “Last minute?” I asked.