Dark Flame ti-4

by Элисон Ноэль

  I head down the hall, peeking into the den, the kitchen, through the window to the detached garage in the back, and when I see that it's dark, with no sign of him, I head for his bedroom, calling his name and moving much louder than necessary, preferring not to surprise him or catch him in the middle of something embarrassing.

  Finding him lying on the middle of a large, elaborate, canopied bed, one with so many drapes and tassels it reminds me of the ones Damen and I enjoy in our Summerland version of Versailles. Clothed in an unbuttoned, white linen shirt and faded old jeans, his eyes shut tight, with a pair of earphones clamped to his head, and a framed picture of Drina clutched to his chest. And I stop, wondering if I should maybe just turn around and leave, catch him another time, when: "Oh, fer chrissakes, Ever, don't tell me you knocked the bloody door down again?" He sits up, tossing the earphones to the side and carefully placing the photo of Drina back in the drawer of his nightstand. Seemingly not the least bit embarrassed at being caught in such a private, sentimental moment. "This whole act of yers is gettin' a little overplayed, don'tcha think?" He shakes his head and rakes his fingers through those golden waves, pushing them back into place.

  "Seriously, darlin', can't a bloke get a little privacy around here? Between you and Haven-" He sighs and swings his bare feet to the floor as though he's about to stand, only he doesn't, he just remains sitting like that. "Well, I'm feelin' a little tapped out-you know what I mean?"

  I look at him, knowing I probably shouldn't say it, but I'm far too curious to let it go. "Were you-were you meditating? " I squint, never having pictured him as the type to go in, go deep, and try to connect to that universal force.

  "So what if I was, mate? So what if I was?" He rubs his hands across his brow, then turns to me when he says, "If you must know, I was trying to find Drina. You know you're not the only one around here with-abilities."

  I swallow hard, already well aware of that, already guessing the answer to my next question when I ask, "And-did you see her?" Willing to bet that he didn't, especially knowing what I know about the Shadowland.

  He looks at me, face bearing a fleeting expression of pain when he says, "No. I didn't. Okay? Satisfied? But someday I will. You can't keep us apart forever, you know? Despite what you've done-I've got every intention of finding her."

  I take a deep breath, thinking: Oh, I hope not. You are not going to like it there. And feeling terrible for the times I tricked him into thinking I was her-even though I wasn't in the driver's seat when it happened.

  But I don't say that. In fact, I don't say anything. I just continue to stand there, collecting my thoughts, my words, myself, waiting for just the right moment to begin.

  "Roman, listen, I-" I shake my head and start over, telling myself I can do this, summoning my strength from somewhere down deep when I look right at him and say, "This isn't what you think. I'm not here to seduce you, or play games with you, or taunt you, or try to get something from you, or at least not in the way that you think. I'm here to-" "To get the antidote." He picks his feet up off the floor and plops them back down on his rumpled bed. Arms folded, blocking his chest as he leans back against his silk-covered headboard and squints. "I'll say one thing, Ever, you're persistent if nothing else. How many more times are you planning to do this? Every time you come over here you have a new plan of attack, a new agenda in mind, and yet, every single time you fail to make the score even though I've provided you ample opportunity to do so. Makes one wonder if you really do want it. Maybe you only think that you want it, but your subconscious won't allow it, since it knows your real truth. Your deep-dark-truth." His eyes glint on mine, wanting me to know that he knows about the monster, and just how amusing he finds it. "And, sorry, luv, but I have to ask, how does Damen feel about all these little visits of yours? I reckon he can't be too pleased about that, or the fact that Miles is about to become privy to yet another one of his secrets. He's got many, you know. Secrets you haven't even yet begun to uncover-stuff you can't even imagine-" I nod, calmly, sincerely, refusing to let his words get to me.

  I'm just not that girl anymore.

  "So tell me, does he know you're here now?"

  "No." I shrug. "He doesn't." But when I think of the text that I sent him, just before I got out of my car and made my way in, I know it won't be long until he does know. As soon as he comes out of the movie with Ava and the twins, he'll check his messages, see my plans to meet him at the Montage, and he'll know. But for now, nope, not a clue.

  "I see." He nods, his eyes grazing over me. "Well, at least you took the time to clean yourself up. In fact, you're looking better than ever-radiant-kind of glowy even. Tell me, Ever, what's your secret?"

  "Meditation." I smile. "You know, cleansing, centering, focusing on the positive-stuff like that." I shrug, continuing to stand my ground as he erupts into a bout of shouldershaking, eye-squinching laughter.

  Allowing the hysterics to die down when he says, "That ol' Damen's got you trekking the Himalayas too, eh?" He tilts his head and takes me in. "That ol' bugger, he never learns. And a lot of good it does him."

  "Well, excuse me for saying so, but weren't you just meditating?"

  "Not like that, luv. No, not like that, I wasn't." He shakes his head. "You see, my way is different. I was reaching out to one person in particular-not calling upon some made-up, universal, all-is-one nonsense. Don't you get it, Ever? This is it. Right here, right now." He pats the rumpled sheets beside him. "This is our paradise, our heaven, our nirvana, our Shangri-la-whatever you want to call it." His brow shoots up as his tongue wets his lips. "This is it. And I mean that both figuratively and literally. It's all we got, and you're wasting your time seeking anything more. Now, granted, you've got plenty of time to waste, I'll give you that, but still, it's such a shame to see the way you choose to spend it. That Damen's a bad influence, I tell you." He pauses, as though taking a moment to consider. "So, what do you say? Shall we try it again? I mean, you come here looking like that, and, well, seeing as I heal quickly and all, I'm apt to forgive you for the last time, let bygones be bygones and all that. Just don't try any fast moves or make me think you're Drina again and we're good to go.

  You've pulled some cold stuff the last few times, though, funny thing, I think it just made me like you even more. So, what do you say?" He smiles, tossing a pillow aside to make room for me as he cocks his head, flashes his tattoo, and gazes at me in that mesmerizing way.

  But this time, it doesn't work. Even though I move toward him, toward the anticipatory gleam in his eye, it's not for the reason he thinks.

  "I'm not here for that," I say, watching as he shrugs, like he couldn't care less either way.

  Head bent forward, inspecting his perfectly buffed and manicured nails when he says, "Then just what are you here for? Come on, get on with it already, Haven'll drop by eventually, soon as her concert is over, and I don't think either of us needs a scene like that again."

  "I've no plans to hurt Haven." I shrug. "I've no plans to hurt you either. I'm merely here to appeal to your higher self, that's all."

  He gapes, eyes searching my face for the joke he's sure that I'm hiding.

  "I know you have one. A higher self. In fact, I know all about you. I know all about your past, how your mother died in labor, how your father beat and then abandoned you-I know it all-I-" "Bloody hell," he says, blue eyes wide, voice so soft, so stunned, I almost missed it. "Nobody knows about that-how the hell did you-?"

  But I just shrug, the how doesn't matter. "And after knowing all that, I find that I can no longer hate you. I just don't. It's not in me."

  He stares at me, eyes narrowed, full of skepticism.

  Returning to his usual bravado when he says, "Of course you do, luv, you love to hate me, that's just what you do. In fact, you love to hate me so much, I'm all you can think about." He smiles, nodding as though he's onto me, like he's known all along.

  But I just shake my head, perching on the edge of his bed when I say, "While that used t
o be true, it's not anymore. And the only reason I came here is to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to you. I really, truly am."

  He averts his gaze, clenching his jaw and kicking at the blanket when he says, "Well, you bloody well shouldn't be!

  There's only one thing you have to be sorry for, luv, and that's what you did to Drina. All the rest-you can spare me. I'm not the least bit interested in your misguided alms for the poor, destitute, and downtrodden. I don't need your sympathies, darlin'. In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer that kid.

  Surely you can see that, Ever, just look at me." He smiles and spreads his arms wide, inviting me to take a good long look at his undeniably, glorious self. "I'm at the very top of my game.

  Have been for centuries now."

  "And that's just it." I lean toward him. "You view it all as one big game-as though life is the board and you're the piece that always needs to stay three steps ahead of all the others. You never let your guard down, never allow yourself to get close to anyone-and you have no idea how to love or how to be loved, since love was never given to you. I mean, sure you could've made different choices, and there's no doubt you should've, but still it's kind of hard to offer what you've never had, what you've never experienced for yourself, and I forgive you for that."

  "What is this?" He glares at me. "Amateur hour? You gonna send me a bill for your ridiculous psychobabblings? Is that it?"

  "No," I say, my voice quiet, my gaze fixed on his. "I'm just trying to tell you that it's over. I refuse to fight you anymore. I choose to love you and accept you instead. Whether you like it or not."

  "Show me," he says, back to patting the bed again. "Why don't you just crawl on over here and show me the love, Ever?

  " "It's not that kind of love. It's the real kind. The unconditional kind. The nonjudgmental kind. Not the physical kind. I love you as a fellow soul who inhabits this earth. I love you as a fellow immortal. I love you because I'm tired of hating you, and refuse to do so any longer. I love you because I finally understand what made you the way you are. And if I could change it, I would. But I can't-so I choose to love you instead. And my hope is that my acceptance of you will spur you on to do something good too, but if not-" I shrug. "At least I can say I tried."

  "Bloody hell," he mumbles, rolling his eyes as though my words do nothing but pain him. "Somebody's been drinking the hippie juice!" He shakes his head and laughs, settling down and looking at me when he says, "Okay, Ever, you love me and forgive me. Bravo. Well done. But here's the news flash-you still don't get the antidote, okay? You still love me?

  Or you back to hating me again? Just how deep is your love, Ever-to quote a song from the seventies that I'm sure you've never heard of." He drops his hands onto his lap, leaving them open, relaxed. "I feel sorry for your generation. All that crap music you listen to. You should hear the band Haven went to see-The Mighty Hooligans? What kind of a piss-poor name is that?"

  I just shrug. I know an avoidance tactic when I see one, but no matter how hard he tries, I refuse to be swayed off course like he wants. "Your choice," I say. "I'm not here to ask you for anything."

  "Then what are you here for? What's the point of this little visit of yours? According to you, you're not looking for the antidote, you're not looking for a good shaggin' even though it's bloody obvious you're desperately in need of one. You just waltz on in here and disrupt my privacy so you could tell me you love me? Really, Ever? Because I'm sorry to say it, but I find that all a bit hard to digest."

  "Of course you do," I say, completely unfazed. This is pretty much exactly what I expected, it's all moving along just as I planned. "But that's only because you've never experienced that before. Six hundred years and you've never known a moment of real and true love. It's sad. Tragic really. But it's hardly your fault. So, for the record, this is what it feels like, Roman. This is what it looks like. I just want you to know that, despite all you've done, I forgive you. And because I forgive you, because I release you, you can't get to me or hurt me anymore. If you never give me the antidote-well, Damen and I will work around it, because that's what soul mates do. That's what true love is. It cannot be broken, it cannot be chipped away, it's eternal, everlasting, and it can weather any storm.

  So if you're determined to continue like this, I just want you to know you'll get no resistance from me. I'm done with all that.

  I've got a life to live-how about you?"

  He looks at me, and for a brief moment, I know I've got him.

  I see the flash in his eye, the blip of understanding that the game is now over. That it requires two players, and one just dropped out. But then, just as quickly, it's gone and the old Roman's returned, saying, "Come on, darlin'-you serious with all this? You mean to tell me you plan to spend the rest of your immortal life settling for a chaste bit of hand-holding? Hell, you can't even do that-despite the energy condom you've made-it's nothin' like the real thing now is it, luv? Nothin' like this."

  And before I know it, he's beside me, his hand gripping my leg, gaze deep, intense, locked on mine as he says, "I may have never known the kind of love you're blabbering on about, but I've had plenty of the other kind-this kind." His fingers inch higher. "And I'm telling you, darlin', in a pinch, it's just as good if not better. And I can't stand the idea of you missing out."

  "Then give me the antidote and I don't have to miss out," I say, smiling sweetly, making no attempt to remove his fingers from my flesh. That's what he wants me to do. He wants me to freak out and resist. To throw him against the wall. Make a menace of myself. The usual routine. But not this time. Nope.

  This time I've got too much to prove. Too much to lose.

  Besides, I'm about to show him just how boring the game can be when only one decides to play.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To win this one?"

  "It's a win-win, wouldn't you say? You do something nice-something nice will be done for you-it's karma. It's a ripple effect. It's no fail."

  "Oh, back to that, are we?" He rolls his eyes. "I say, that Damen bloke's really done a number on you."

  "Maybe." I smile, refusing to rise to his bait. "Or maybe not.

  You never know until you try it, right?"

  "What? You think I've never done anything nice?"

  "I think it's been a while. You're probably a bit rusty by now."

  He laughs, throws his head back and laughs, but he doesn't remove his hand, no, it stays right there, smoothing my thigh.

  "Okay, Ever, theoretically speaking, let's say I did do this one small thing for you. Let's say I did give you the antidote that would allow you and Damen to shag your little hearts out.

  Then what? How long do I have to wait for this so-called good karma to boomerang back at me? Can you tell me that?"

  I shrug. "From what I've seen, you can't force karma, it works on its own terms. All I know is, it works."

  "So, I'm supposed to just hand over something to you, something you desperately want, and risk getting nothing in return? That hardly seems fair darlin', so maybe you should reconsider, maybe there's something you can give to me." He smiles, sliding his hand much higher, way higher, too high.

  And when he gazes into my eyes, trying to overpower me, lure me into his head like he used to-it doesn't work. I remain right where I am, rooted in place.

  And yet, that simple act alone has spawned an idea, one that might move this along even quicker than I hoped, and get me to the Montage, where I told Damen we'd meet.

  "Well," I say, doing my best to ignore the feel of his fingers splayed across my thigh. "If you won't trust karma, will you at least trust me?"

  He looks at me, head titled, Ouroboros tattoo flashing in and out of view.

  "Because, come to think of it, I do have something to give you. Something I know for sure that you want. Something that only I can give you."

  "Well, bugger that!" He smiles. "Now we're talkin'. I knew you'd come around eventually, I knew you'd see the light." He scoots even closer, grip
s my leg tighter.

  But I just continue to sit there, breathing steadily, evenly, aware of the light still shining inside me when I say, "It's not that-it's-it's something much better than that."

  He squints. "Aw, now don't be so hard on yerself, darlin'.

  First time's always a wash. I promise we'll have plenty of goes for you to improve your skills and get better."

  And even though he laughs when he says it, obviously wanting me to laugh too, I don't. I'm still thinking about what I just said, this new plan now forming in my head. Knowing it won't be exactly what he expects, and may cause him to hate me even more, but still, it's the only way I can think of to get him to connect-well, if one can actually connect with a lost soul, that is. .

  "Let go of my leg." My eyes gaze into his.

  "Ah, bugger!" He shakes his head. "See, I knew you were full of it-you're nothing but a tease, Ever, you know that?

  Nothing but-" "Let go of my leg and take hold of my hands instead," I say, my voice calm, determined. "Trust me, you have nothing to lose, I promise you that."

  He hesitates, but only for a moment before he does as I ask. The two of us sitting cross-legged on the bed, my bare knees pressed against his, his hands gripping mine, the whole scene reminding me vaguely of the binding spell that started this mess.

  Only this is nothing like that.

  Nothing at all.

  I'm about to take a huge leap of faith. I'm about to share something with Roman that'll definitely result in his handing over the antidote. Looking him straight in the eyes when I say, "Your argument is flawed."

  He squints.

  "Your argument. About there being nothing but the here and now. If you truly believed that, then why were you trying to connect with Drina? If you truly believe that there's nothing beyond this, the earth plane, where we sit now, then exactly what is it you were trying to connect with?"

  He looks at me, obviously flummoxed when he says, "Her essence-her-" He shakes his head, tries to let go of my hands, but I just grip his tighter. "What the hell is this?" he asks, clearly unhappy with me.