by C. J. Valles
“Maybe,” I whisper, “in another lifetime.”
His hands grip my shoulders instantly, and in a millisecond he’s shifted us so that I’m facing him on the bed, my legs straddling his in a way that makes my breath quicken and my cheeks flush. I try to wrench free, but his grip on the small of my back roots me in place as his lips touch mine. The instant urgency of his kiss makes me shudder. There is nothing right about this, but that doesn’t stop the shock of pleasure from racing through my veins when his hands move to my hips, pulling me even closer. When his head dips to my neck, and his lips graze my jaw, my head falls back. Temporarily regaining my sanity, I open my mouth to tell him to stop. Before I can say a word, his lips are on mine again. Suddenly he bites my lower lip. The pressure is gentle, but it causes a sensation so intense that I whimper with longing. I’m about to lose myself completely when I feel his lips at my ear.
“Yes. I want you, Wren. I need you. I … love you.”
His voice is ragged, and the desire I hear in his voice is so powerful that it frightens me, breaking the spell I’m under. Like a thunderbolt, reality comes racing back, and I shove back with all of my force, stumbling backward off the bed. His hand shoots out and catches mine before I hit the floor. My horror is ten times what it was when he first brought my memory back.
This time I knew exactly who he was and what I was doing. I wrench free of his grip and hold up my hand in warning when he stands and begins approaching me. I will zap the hell out of him if tries to touch me.
“This is the only lifetime I have, and I love Ever.”
“Do you truly?” Alex demands. “Or is it simply my eternal bad luck that he found you first?”
He begins stalking toward me again, and the desperate look in his eyes scares me, causing a spark of my earlier rage to ignite.
“I don’t belong to you or to Ever! Do you understand me? I am a just sixteen-year-old human, and you crazy freaking immortals are going to give me some space. Now, back off.”
The fire in his blue eyes suddenly dims, and he laughs.
“Wren, you are anything but just human.”
He turns and walks over to the chair in front of the window. When he sits down facing the darkness, I walk unsteadily over to the bag at the foot of the bed and find a shirt that looks like it should fall to my knees. In the bathroom, I change and brush my teeth without looking in the mirror once. I can’t face my reflection. By the time I come out, Alex is still where I left him. He doesn’t turn around this time as I crawl into the giant bed, but as soon as I pull the covers over me, the lights go out.
I’m exhausted again, and despite everything, my eyes close almost immediately. The next time I open them, it’s still dark, but for the first time in days I have a feeling like I’ve slept longer than a few hours. The sound of the curtains opening suddenly makes my heart race, and I blink as the room is flooded with blinding light. I see Alex and feel my stomach tighten at the memory of last night. There’s a tray next to the bed with an assortment of pastries and other breakfast items. I fold back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Alex begins speaking before I can.
“If that was my last chance to kiss you, then I will never regret last night. I meant every word I said, and I will never give up the shred of hope I have that you will forgive me. Now, get ready. We need to leave as soon as possible.”
I nod, turning my attention to the tray of food. I eat as much fresh fruit as my stomach will allow, afraid I’ll end up eating nothing but nuts and dried goods for the rest of eternity. Eventually I look down at the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing, and in the daylight I’m embarrassed by my outfit. Getting up, I go over to the duffle bag and start pulling out a random assortment of items.
“Dress warmly,” he says with his back turned to me.
I walk to the bathroom to get changed, and by the time I’m ready, Alex is standing by the door with the duffle bag. We walk directly through the lobby to the front of the hotel, where the all-terrain vehicle is waiting. Outside in the crisp, cold air, I keep walking, looking up at the snow-capped mountains just behind the hotel. In the other direction, beyond the grassy hills and trees, I see the large harbor that had been almost invisible last night. I watch dozens of small boats on the smooth, silver water until Alex catches my hand. I pull free.
“I wish we were here under better circumstances,” he says, looking out at the water.
I feel a wave of confusion, remembering how I felt the night of the dance. Right now my thoughts and emotions are so jumbled that I can’t make sense of anything that’s happened in the past week. Even if I didn’t remember Ever while I was in Southern California, how is it possible that I could feel what I did for Alex? I stop and remind myself that anything I thought I felt for him was an illusion based on lies. When I turn and start walking back to the vehicle, Alex is already there holding the door open for me. When he appears on the driver’s side, I look away and try not to think about anything, because I have no safe thoughts left to keep me anchored.
Everything is at risk; nothing is certain. Not even my feelings.
We drive into the bustling city that’s tucked between the mountains and the harbor. When Alex stops at a storefront, he motions me out of the vehicle and takes my hand before I manage to step out. He keeps a tight grip on me as we walk toward the shop, and from the preternaturally vigilant expression on his face, I know this is not an affectionate gesture. Inside the store, he has a brief conversation with the store clerk, who points to a large trunk in the corner. Alex goes over and picks up the chest in one arm, causing the clerk to go wide-eyed with disbelief. Still holding my hand, he nods to the man as we leave. I follow him around to the back of the vehicle where he deposits the trunk.
“Wait! I’m not going anywhere else until I have proof that my parents are all right.”
Alex reaches into a pack in the back of the vehicle and retrieves a phone, one of dozens. He types something in, and then holds it out.
“Whom would you like to see first?”
He scrolls through half a dozen video files.
“My mom!” I gasp breathlessly.
He holds out the phone where I see footage taken from somewhere in our kitchen. My mom’s sitting at the kitchen table with a man who looks vaguely familiar. She’s laughing. She looks happy. Alex scrolls to a similar scene with my dad and Jessica in their kitchen, but I want to go back to the snippet with my mom. I take the phone from him.
“It’s a live feed,” Alex says. “Your friends are there, too.”
My stomach pitches. This is the same thing he did with Ashley to prove she was alive right before I stepped through the mirror. I know my mom would hate the thought of someone taping her, but it gives me peace of mind to know that she’s all right. With a pang of desperation all I want is to go home. Alex takes the phone back. When I get into the passenger seat, I look over at him, and he answers my next question before I can ask it.
“From here, we’ll take a craft across the channel and then travel by land.”
“Across Antarctica?” I whisper.
“Not far. Audra and Chasen will be waiting.”
“And Ever?”
“You’ll see him very soon, I imagine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he and I share that much in common. We will do anything to keep you safe.”
“Safe? You mean tucked away at the edge of the world?” My breath hitches and panic wells in my chest. “Alex, I can’t do this. I can’t give up my life.”
“I promise you that won’t happen.”
We reach the harbor I saw from the hotel, and Alex ushers me into a building on the dock. I wait silently as he has another a rapid-fire conversation with a weathered, white-haired man who looks like he spends most of his time on the water. Eventually Alex hands over an enormous sum of cash, and the man nods. It’s very warm in the cramped room, and I’m glad when we return outside into the blustering wind since I’m dressed for t
he cold.
We walk to a small craft at the edge of the dock, and Alex takes the enormous pack and the trunk and throws them aboard. When he offers his hand, I can’t help doing a mental tally of all the vehicles: two planes, two boats, and counting. What’s next? I remember thinking I had gone down the rabbit hole when I first found out what Ever was. Now I know for certain that I’m still falling. Where I’ll end up, alive or dead, human or otherwise—I can’t guess anymore.
Alex starts the engine and I sit down, my eyes traveling to the mountains in the distance. Then I watch the boat’s mass parting the steel-gray liquid as we head out onto open water. As we cross the channel, an endless block of ice comes into view, and I count an increasing number of glaciers in the distance. I imagine without the hum of the engine, it would be close to silent out here.
“We’re crossing at the narrowest point of the channel,” Alex calls over the engine. “We’ll be there soon.”
There. Antarctica.
I nod, remembering having read something in a social studies class about Charles Darwin and an expedition to this part of the world—the very edge of it. I can see why explorers would be drawn here, to the savage beauty, the regal blue, white, and steel colors. Sky, snow, and water. That’s all that’s left. Alex’s wild copper hair is like a beacon of fire in this blue-tinged world. His eyes, though—they match perfectly.
Fire and ice.
We approach a massive glacier. It’s glowing in the sunlight and surrounded by ice-blue water. I stare up at it in awe. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I probably never will again. My cheeks are wet with tears when Alex looks over at me. He cuts the engine, his expression baffled, and I hiccup.
“I forgot you can erase my mind, but you can’t read it. I was thinking how beautiful it is. Have you been here before?”
He nods.
“Of course you have,” I mumble. “Does it get old—infinite existence? Having seen and done everything before?”
“Infinite conflict has given me eternal purpose. It has for all of us.”
“That’s sad,” I say softly.
“Humankind is no different. Perpetual conflict, warfare.”
“But if that’s all you exist for?”
“It isn’t any longer.”
When the engine starts up again, I tuck myself out of the wind, trying to ignore Alex and forget last night, even though I know I never will. Staring at the steel trunk, I give the handle a good yank and can’t even make it budge. No wonder the store clerk looked at Alex like he wasn’t human. For a long time, I stare out at the water, and the next time Alex pulls back on the throttle, I look out and see a massive wall of ice. Glancing warily into the corner of the boat at the assortment of axes, ropes, and clips, I shake my head.
“We’re not climbing that, are we?”
“Of course not.”
Right. Like I’m being silly. Like there’s even a shred of possibility that there’s been anything rational about my life since I first laid eyes on Ever. Alex pulls on the pack and grips the trunk with one hand, and I take his other hand when he offers it. A second later, I feel a whoosh of freezing air against my face. Then we’re at the top of the ice, looking down on the tiny boat below. A wave of dizziness hits me, and I turn away from the edge, only to find myself looking out on a bluish white expanse I never could have imagined. It’s impossibly beautiful, and I think of any place on Earth, this one probably suits these immortals best.
Alex points, and several yards away I see a vehicle that resembles an oversized bulldozer.
“Really?”
He smiles.
“You aren’t afraid of a little snowcat, are you? This is the last means of transportation. I promise. It will only be an hour or two before we get there.”
“Where again is there?”
“The middle of nowhere.”
“Oh. I thought this was the middle of nowhere already.”
He helps me into the cab, and the beast starts rumbling. When Alex hands me a pair of industrial noise-blocking headphones, I put them on, relieved to find that the noise is instantly dulled. I look out and marvel at the vastness. Then, after a few minutes, way out in the distance, I see what looks like a gathering of people. My heart leaps, and I point mutely, taking off the headphones.
“Emperor penguins,” Alex yells with a wry smile.
“Good! ’Cause I thought it was an army of little men in tuxedoes coming to get us,” I mutter sarcastically.
Our icy surroundings look enduring, but somehow I’m sure with enough time, pollution, and human interference, everything here will cease to exist eventually. Everything ends, I realize—except these immortals. I look to Alex and study him, thinking of the first time I saw him, staring into his eyes, which were coal black at the time. How different would things have been if I had met him first. And how much had what Ever and the others told me about Alex—starting with the name Iago—colored how I saw him? If he had reached me first and told me that Ever had spent an eternity destroying people like me, would I have seen Ever as the monster?
Now I’ve seen a different side of both of them—a penitent side. But they would still be considered monsters by human standards. And what does that say about me that monsters seeking some brand of redemption are all I seem to attract?
We’ve been bumping along for what seems like forever when we come over a crest, and I see a small structure built into the base of the glacial ice below. After our race across the globe, I feel a sudden stab of claustrophobia at the sight of it. Do Ever and the others think I’m going to spend the remainder of my existence in a jail cell? Is that my ultimate punishment? As we get closer, I wonder if it’s just a research station, abandoned long ago. To me, it looks like a steel prison. I swallow and look at Alex.
“What is this place?”
“Your beloved’s plan A,” Alex says with a snide smirk.
When we get out, the wind whips at us, and I shiver, more at the remoteness than anything else.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “It does feel like the edge of the world.”
Alex helps me across the ice, and as I look around, I have an overwhelming sense of doom and panic. There’s nothing here.
I try to keep my breathing even as I lie and tell myself that everything will be okay. Ever will be here soon, and we’ll find a solution that doesn’t involve me staying at the southern most tip of the globe until I’m Madame Rousseau’s age. As Alex walks ahead of me toward the doors, I watch as he leans into a small alcove and positions his face at the center of a screen. Immediately the doors slide open, and I realize that this place isn’t so ancient after all.
He takes my hand, and we walk inside. The interior is mostly made up of stainless steel, but there’s a couch and a basic kitchen to the left. To the right, I see a long corridor with multiple doors. Near the entrance we just came through there’s a complicated computer system with a bank of monitors relaying images from every possible location—not just vantage points outside the bunker, but random locations as well. I squeak in surprise when Chasen appears right in front of us, and he laughs, thoroughly entertained.
“I will never get sick of that!”
I smile.
“Good. I’m glad you still find me so amusing.”
“So, you remember me now?” he says with a look at Alex.
I nod.
“Have you talked to Ever?” I ask nervously.
“He’s not with you?” Chasen asks with another look at Alex.
I shake my head as my anxiety ratchets up another ten levels.
“We hit a little snag at the airport,” Alex shrugs.
“That doesn’t explain why Ever would cut contact completely,” Audra says from behind me.
Alex smiles lazily at her, and I feel an undercurrent of hostility rolling off of her that rivals Ever’s loathing of Alex.
“Perhaps he had more pressing matters to attend to than providing you with status reports.”
When Audra steps towar
d him menacingly, I place myself between them.
“Hey! Now that we’re all together, don’t you think we should go after him?” I demand.
“No!” Audra and Alex say at the same time.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” she adds.
The way she says this makes my heart race. So, that is the plan. To keep me here indefinitely. Burying the terror rising in my chest, I smile.
“Fine. I hope somebody packed enough food for eternity.”
With that, I turn and start walking down the corridor for a better look at my prison. There are several rooms, and they resemble steel boxes for the most part. Some of them are set up as living quarters, but only one has a small sleeping cot. I assume this space is meant for me since I’m the only one who sleeps. Shuddering, I remember what Ever said about them having long periods of inertia. I’m just hoping the plan isn’t for all of them to lock the doors and power down for the next eighty years waiting for me to die of old age. Backing out of the room with the bed, I keep walking, relieved to find a functional bathroom.
Another blessing is the bookcase lining the wall of the atrium-like room at the end of the long hallway. At least I won’t get bored if I’m stuck here forever. And there’s a collection of cream-colored couches much like the ones I saw in the house in Portland. The sitting area faces a wall of glass, which is probably several feet thick and looks out onto an endless expanse of white.
Staring out into the nothingness, I focus my energy and call Ever’s name. I wait anxiously, but unlike the few other times I’ve tried this, Ever doesn’t appear instantaneously. Refusing to give up, I try again and again. Finally, with a sigh, I start pulling off some of the layers of clothing as I skim the bookshelves. Among the thousands of books, I find a hardback copy of Ivanhoe that looks like it could be two hundred years old. I take it from the shelf and drift back to the sofa. Flipping through the pages, I see certain passages have been marked with what looks like a fountain pen. The last section that is marked is way after the point I had read to in the fourth grade.