Never (The Ever Series Book 2)

by C. J. Valles

  There’s a long pause.

  “Wren, we don’t live close enough for you to go back to Pali—”

  “I don’t care! I just want to leave!” I blurt.

  He’s silent again for several seconds, and I’m afraid he’s going to argue or refuse.

  “Why don’t you talk to you mom first and give me a call in a few days?”

  “You don’t want me to come back, do you?”

  “It’s not that, Wrennie. … But I’m sure your mom doesn’t want you to leave, and wouldn’t it be better to finish out the semester? You could come down here for summer.”

  “Please,” I beg.

  There’s another pause, and I wait for him to argue some more.

  “All right,” he sighs. “I’ll try to make a flight for the end of the week. But I don’t think the break for Capistrano Unified starts until a couple of weeks … so you’ll have to go to school the Monday after you get here.”

  That’s nothing compared to giving up my life here.

  “That’s fine,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

  Ending the call and setting the phone on the bed, I stand up and walk out of my room. At the landing, I turn and look into the mirror at the top of the stairs. In it, all I see is my own reflection looking back. It’s an expressionless, hardened version of me. When I get downstairs, Ever is standing there waiting for me, and I realize my mom must be in the kitchen.

  “Don’t do this,” Ever says quietly before I can say a word.

  Harnessing every last bit of fury in me, I stalk toward him.

  “No! You don’t get to tell me what to do, you lying jerk!” I yell. “Now get out! I never want to see you again!”

  My mom rushes into the living room, staring back and forth between us as Ever walks toward me. Sidestepping him, I swing open the front door. When he stops in front of me and holds his ground, I start to shake and then nearly crumple at the sound of his voice in my head.

  Wren, you don’t have to do this. Don’t destroy your life. We can help. We will protect your mom.

  I can’t stop shaking, just like I can’t stop the tears, but I still manage to keep my face empty until he finally begins walking toward the door. My mom is standing completely still behind me, and I know what I’m going to do next will take a piece of my soul. The second Ever’s gone, I slam the door and turn on my mom.

  “Honey!” she cries in dismay. “Have you lost your mind? What on Earth did you do that for? That boy would do anything for you!”

  I sneer.

  “Anything except tell me the truth. But I guess that’s something you two have in common.”

  I stare at her icily, and my mom’s eyes widen in shock, but not because she’s realized I can read her mind. In her clear blue eyes, I see it: a necklace—a nice one, sitting on top of her dresser. A name and a face pops into her head. Dave. She’s dating someone. I want to tell her how happy I am for her, ask her why she didn’t tell me. But instead, I bury the impulse and go on the attack.

  “You think I didn’t notice your new piece of jewelry on the dresser? Like I’m stupid?! And let me guess! You’re going to do the same damn thing Dad did—new family and, surprise! No room for me! Well, screw that!” I spit venomously, the tears flowing freely.

  “Oh, sweetie. I would never—”

  She rushes toward me with her arms out, but I hold up my hand.

  “Forget it. I’m going back to California. I already called Dad. At least I know where I stand with him. But you—you let me down!”

  I turn away from her and start walking toward the front door. I hate myself for what I just said, for what I just did to my mom. But I’ve gone too far to take it back, and there’s a sense of relief in the fact that there is no turning back. I have effectively ended my life and everything I care about, hurting my mom so badly that she may not even care if I never come back. Shoving on my shoes, I open the door and stalk out, slamming it shut behind me without daring to look at my mom again.

  Without a jacket, I barely make it to the sidewalk before the cold sets in. The wind is whipping through the evergreens surrounding our street and cutting right through my sweater. By the time I reach the corner, my teeth are chattering, maybe from shock. I look down. My hands are purple. When a car pulls up next to me, I walk over and get in. Closing the door after me, I turn and look at Ever.

  “I’m sorry. … But if I didn’t do it now, I would have lost my nerve. And I can’t stay here. I just can’t. Someone will get hurt, or worse. Because of me.”

  I shake my head, a sob catching in my throat.

  “Wren, no one’s been hurt,” Ever says, reaching out to touch my face.

  I shake him off.

  “Yet! Someone kidnapped Ashley and held her ransom all to make some sick deal with me—and then some … some thing,” I shudder, “possessed Taylor! I mean, what happens the next time? You and the others can’t be everywhere at once, can you?”

  “We can come close,” he says with a small smile.

  “And protect everyone I’ve ever known?” I gulp.

  “It won’t come to that.”

  “How can you know?!”

  “Wren, you have to trust me.”

  I shake my head bitterly. I thought that when I made the deal with Alex I was protecting those around me. Now I realize that there was no deal to be made. I am a useful tool, a commodity—not just to Alex, but to whatever is lurking beyond this world, waiting to use me.

  “It’s not about that! This is about me putting people in danger. I won’t do it anymore. Do you understand me? I’m a ticking time bomb!”

  “And you think leaving is going to solve anything? Going somewhere else?”

  “You said you could keep me hidden. I mean, when Audra and Chasen got here, they didn’t even know about me—”

  “It’s not that simple,” Ever says. “You would still be in danger.”

  Another idea strikes me, and I feel the frenzy of possibility take over my rational side.

  “What if you destroyed that part of my mind? Made me useless to them? You said you’ve done it before.”

  He shakes his head, his expression pained.

  “I could kill you,” he whispers.

  “What about what Alex did? He disrupted my memories, made it hard for even you to find me. You could try to do the same thing, get rid of my memory of all this supernatural stuff. That way no one gets hurt …” except me. “And I start over again.”

  Ever’s face darkens.

  “You would risk losing your memory—of us—forever?”

  My stomach is in knots, and I want to scream. I don’t have any good answers. Do I want to give up my life again—throw away everyone and everything that I care about? No! Absolutely not. But it makes me weak if I put those closest to me in danger, because they can be used as leverage. I’ll be stronger alone, because I’ll have nothing left to lose. When my father left, he said it would be better this way, and I remember thinking that he meant better for him. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe he truly meant better for everyone.

  “Yes,” I answer quietly.

  I reach for the door, but Ever catches my other hand before I can pull away. The car’s interior is very warm, and his touch is like hot metal on my skin. His fingers intertwine with mine, and I close my eyes, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks. He reaches up with his other hand, his fingertips tracing the contours of my face. When his lips finally graze mine, I wrap my hands around his neck, trying to root myself in this moment. Instantly, his other hand reaches around and pulls me closer, and I gasp for breath. Then, with no effort, he lifts me across the center console into his lap, and I stop breathing entirely. I’m facing him, and we’re only inches apart as he takes my face between his palms. Seconds after his lips touch mine again, his hands fall to my hips urging me closer. I shudder, and it takes all my strength to pull back and look into Ever’s burning green eyes.

  “I’ve waited for you too long to give up so easily,” he says.

  He dr
aws me to him again, but the urgency and desperation I feel in his touch scares me. I jerk away, trying to recover my sanity.

  “We can leave here,” he whispers in my ear. “Just the two of us. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I feel a brief moment of indecision laced with temptation before shaking my head. I’ve made my decision. My breathing is raspy and jagged as I try to say something. But what is there left to say? I wrench open his door and stumble away from him onto the pavement, shaking off his hand when he steadies me. I start running, and I don’t stop until I reach the house. Stepping through the front door, I keep my head down, refusing to look at my mom, because I know her wounded expression would cut through me like a knife.

  Upstairs, I turn on my music and keep telling myself over and over that I did the right thing. My mom knocks once on my door before the end of the night, so I turn up my music. I just want this to be over. By the time I get to school on Monday, I’ve perfected the blank expression I saw so many times on Ever’s face when I first got here. For the rest of the week, I pretend like nothing is wrong—except for the part where I ignore the people closest to me. I avoid my mom at all costs, relieved for once that she works nights most of the week. And during school, I pretend like Ever and I are in a fight, which is easy to do, because just looking at him makes me want to break down in tears.

  While everyone talks about their spring break plans, I stare out the window. Then, at lunch one day, when Ashley leans over asks why I’m not talking to Ever, I tell her that he called me too needy. I smile wryly and say that I’m proving him wrong. When she laughs and throws an arm around me, all I want to do is confess my sins.

  You could have died! Something possessed Taylor! It’s all my fault!

  Alex lingers in the background. Always there, but never saying anything. I get the feeling he’s enjoying himself, which only makes me want to kill him—if that were even possible. What makes it even worse is that he is my last resort, the one I’ve asked to suppress my memories of anything supernatural after Ever refused.

  On Friday after school, as I’m waiting for the bus, Audra’s silver sports car pulls up right in front of me. I don’t bother hesitating. I just get up and get in the passenger seat. When the engine revs and her car rockets forward, I’m sure for about two seconds that she’s going to kill me. Then I remember that this is probably the way she always drives. We ride along in silence, and she stops at the trail that borders the creek near our house. She gets out, and I open my door, zipping up my jacket against the wind.

  “I don’t understand you,” she says mildly. “You’re so worried that you might lose something that you’re going to throw away your entire life—all for people who are going to cease to exist anyway.”

  Lose something? She’s referring to my mom and my friends as something? Frowning at her insensitivity, I try to think about things from her perspective, as someone who will outlast virtually everyone on the planet, since she seems incapable of seeing things from a mortal viewpoint.

  “Audra, I’m in the same category—mortal. Remember? And these are people I care about.”

  “And Ever?” she asks quietly.

  “You think I want to do this?”

  “No, I can see you don’t,” she says contemplatively. “But I do think you have other options.”

  “Not that I can see. Ever can’t keep me in a bubble until this all blows over. And when exactly is that going to happen anyway? Never, right?”

  She sighs.

  “It’s impossible to know, but I hope you understand that whether you like it or not, you are tied to us for the rest of time,” Audra says. “And whatever decisions you make, Ever will do anything in his power to protect you … and bring you back.”

  “Then he’ll do what he thinks he has to, and I’ll do what I have to do to protect the people around me.”

  It starts sprinkling again, and I turn and watch the drops casting thousands of ripples across the creek. As we walk back toward Audra’s car, the ducks and few Canadian geese that were floating placidly along begin drifting toward shore like they can sense it’s only going to get worse. The drive to my house is short and silent, and when we get there, Audra parks at the curb and looks over at me.

  “You realize that I will have to do something to keep everyone from asking about you, right? Or they’ll call, ask about Ever—and your whole plan will fall apart.”

  “Go ahead,” I sigh, exhausted. “I’ve already made sure my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

  When I open the door to get out of the car, she puts a hand on my arm.

  “For what it’s worth, I’ll miss you. You’ve … grown on me.”

  Like mold? I wonder silently. I smile, because it’s not much, but that’s probably the nicest thing she’s said to me.

  “Tell Ever I love him.” I look down. “Please.”

  I can’t bear the thought of seeing him again knowing it might be the last time. I look up, and when Audra nods, I get out. By the time I’ve reached the front door, her car is long gone. As I walk into the empty house, I feel a familiar hollowness, a mixture of desperation and total hopelessness. I remind myself that I made this choice and that it was the only one I could have made. If I had waited or hesitated, it could have cost someone’s life this time.

  Now, it will only cost mine.

  13: Put a Spell on Me

  When I get upstairs to my room, there’s a small box wrapped in pale green paper with a note in my mom’s handwriting that says I should have what’s inside. Leaving the gift where it is, I sit down at my desk and take out the stationery my mom got me a few years ago.

  Dear Mom,

  I hope you find this someday and forgive me for what I did. I never could have asked for a better mom than you, and no matter what happens I want you to be happy.

  I love you. I always will. Please remember that.

  Wren

  Folding up the piece of paper, I lift the corner of my mattress and reach as far back as I can before dropping the note. Then I stand up and walk around my room, picking up random pieces of clothing and shoving them into my rolling suitcase. When I’m done, I go downstairs and eat some cottage cheese, which tastes like mushy nothingness. Going to the sink, I wash my bowl and spoon and then stare out the window. After a few moments, I reach blindly into the drawer and pick up the chef’s knife—the same one I sliced myself with the night Ever first came to our house for dinner. Looking down, I watch my unsmiling features in its reflection.

  La Rapière. The double-edged blade.

  Returning the knife, I walk upstairs and stop in front of the mirror. This time I’m making a choice before I have no options left, but I refuse to think that I’m surrendering. I’m not. I’m just giving up anything that would make me weak. And by cutting myself off from everything I love, I will make it safer for those around me.

  The only problem is that the same things that make me vulnerable also make me happy.

  From the desk, I pick up a picture of my mom and me and slide it out of the frame. My dad took the picture of my mom and me, both of us smiling as we pose in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. This is how I want to remember my mom and me—happy, together. Putting the picture into the pocket of my backpack, I pick up my phone and send her a brief text saying what time my plane leaves and that someone is taking me to the airport in the morning.

  I told my teachers that I wouldn’t be returning next week. Mrs. Rose, Mrs. Lawrence, and Mr. Gideon all seemed genuinely regretful. Mr. Bellarmine was indifferent, and Mr. Van Houten made a strange joke about chemical reactions. Mrs. Rice, my AP U.S. History teacher, who I haven’t said more than five words to since I started at Springview, just nodded and asked if I needed my test scores sent to my new school.

  My new school.

  I’m relieved not to be going back to Pali, but the thought of starting over again makes my stomach twinge. In freshman year, I sat next to a girl whose dad had just retired from the Navy. She told me that she made a new best f
riend every year when her family moved to a new base. That’s not me. Like I told Taylor, if Ashley hadn’t come up to me on my first day, I might have sat alone all semester, unwilling to approach a bunch of strangers whose thoughts I could hear.

  Earlier in the week, I went to the office and asked Mrs. Heinz to send a copy of my transcripts to my new school before sending a text to my dad asking him to call during the day to see if he could register me for classes. The pictures on my new school’s Web site made it clear that there’s a zero percent chance of me fitting in with the rest of the student body. Pictures of perky cheerleaders in blue and white uniforms and bleachers packed with a school-spirited student body made me wince. Even the school’s upcoming spring musical looked wholesome and cheerful, while I feel like I’m about two clicks on the dial away from hissing at anybody that comes near me.

  When my phone rings, I don’t pick up. It’s my mom, and I can’t talk to her after what I did. I get up and go to her room where I collect her laundry and take it to the washing machine. It’s a small gesture and not intended to make amends. I want things bad, maybe unfixable after I’m gone. It will be better than way.

  After packing up as much of my life as I can fit into two bags, not counting my backpack, I take a shower and get my clothes ready for the morning. Eventually my stomach growls again, I relent and go into the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I eat half and then can’t stomach anymore. Once I’ve put my mom’s clothes in the dryer, I climb the stairs and finish getting ready for bed.

  My last night in Portland is eerily free of emotion, but I know it won’t last. At some point, the extent of how badly I’ve damaged my life will hit me. For now, I’m ignoring it. Walking to my bedroom window, I look out at the street and my heart stutters in my chest at the sight of Ever. He’s standing beneath the streetlamp, bathed in a yellow pool of light that makes his honey-colored hair glow. He looks the way he did the first time I saw him—only instead of completely detached, his flawless features look sad, resigned.