Everbound: An Everneath Novel

by Ashton, Brodi

  “Yes. But not when that gift is a book about mythology and you’ve been trying to cure your daughter of her ‘unhealthy obsession’”—I curled my fingers into air quotes—“with mythology.” He didn’t know that my obsession was really a desperate search to find a story that would hold the key to rescuing Jack. That there really was an Underworld, once ruled by Persephone. That myths were real. To him, it just looked like another red flag for a therapist to investigate.

  “I never used the word unhealthy.”

  I held up the book so that the cover was facing him. “Dad. What’s going on?” I demanded.

  His smile faded. “I was hoping that if I gave you this, you might do something for me.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

  He looked sheepish. “Maybe you could spend today reading instead of … doing other things.”

  And there it was. The real reason for the bacon. And the book.

  I put the book on the table and slid it toward him. “I’m going to graduation.”

  Any remnants of his earlier levity disappeared, and his expression shifted to a pained look. “Why? It’s not your graduation. Why are you putting yourself through this? Dr. Hill is very concerned.”

  “I don’t care what Dr. Hill thinks,” I snapped. My dad winced. I hated that I couldn’t talk to him without upsetting him anymore. I lowered my voice. “I’m going because the graduation ceremony is where he would be.”

  “But Jack’s not here.”

  I flinched at his name. “I know—”

  “And you going to graduation won’t bring him back.”

  “I know that!” I said, more harshly than I’d intended.

  Silence fell upon us. The only sound came from Tommy’s fork scraping across his plate. He was used to this discussion.

  “I’d feel better about it all if you’d at least talk about J … him to Dr. Hill. You know it would all be confidential.”

  Confidentiality wasn’t what I was worried about. I was more worried about the fragile dam I’d constructed around my heart over the past two months. It had taken me this long just to find a way to function. To stand without falling. To breathe in and out without concentrating. To talk without sobbing. If I started to let those feelings out, I’d never stop; the broken dam would destroy everything around me, and I’d be back to where I was.

  Dr. Hill couldn’t help me face reality, because my reality was so unreal to humans. My dad always said honesty is the best policy; but when I imagined telling Dr. Hill the truth, it was almost comical.

  “So, Nikki, what’s really on your mind?” she’d say.

  You see, Dr. Hill, there’s this Everliving named Cole—an immortal—who feeds on the emotions of humans. He Fed on me in the Underworld for a hundred years; and when I survived the Feed without growing old, he became convinced I was destined to be the next queen. Then I Returned to the Surface, where I had six months to be with my family and make amends with my ex-boyfriend, Jack, before the Tunnels of the Everneath came for me.

  And, oh yeah, Dr. Hill, Jack and I tried to kill Cole by smashing his guitar; but that didn’t work, so Jack jumped into the Tunnels, taking my place in hell, and now he’s being drained of everything—like a battery—until he wastes away and dies.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Hill. What was the question?”

  I’d be taken away by the men in white coats. But the truth was, I didn’t belong here, in this kitchen, in my bed, in my car. Breathing air. Free. I didn’t belong in this life on the Surface. The life that should’ve been his.

  I was going to the ceremony, and no amount of mythology books could convince me otherwise. Jack had taken my place in hell. The least I could do was take his place on Earth.

  My eyes started to sting, and I tried to blink back the tears. I pushed the book toward my dad. “I’m going.”

  He watched me carefully, then put his arms around me. My dad isn’t usually a hugger, and it didn’t last long; but it told me what my face must’ve looked like.

  “I know,” he said, running his hand through his hair, messing up the perfect comb lines. “Will you be okay?”

  I half smiled. Jack was gone. I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  TWO

  NOW

  The Surface. Graduation day.

  As I drove to the school, clouds from an early-summer storm rolled over the mountains, sweeping everything away, leaving only clear blue sky in their wake. I wished the wind could do the same thing to my soul: sweep away all of the horrible things I’d done until there was a clean soul left, with no memories, no guilt.

  Most of the horrible things, though, were just the fallout from one stupid decision: going with Cole to the Feed. He had taken me to the Everneath and fed on my emotions for a hundred years. I relived that decision a thousand times a day, adjusting the factors that led to it to see if I could mentally change the outcome. What if my mom hadn’t been killed by a drunk driver the year before? Her death changed me. What if the driver of the car hadn’t been acquitted? I didn’t know I had it in me to be so angry after the verdict. What if I’d stayed home instead of driving up to Jack’s football camp? What if I hadn’t seen Lacey Greene leaving his dorm room, in shorts that were barely there?

  What if I had stayed and let Jack explain instead of peeling out of the parking lot and going straight to Cole?

  I shook my head. That was the decision I was most ashamed of. Jack had never done anything to jeopardize my complete trust in him. It had been my own stupid insecurities that let doubt of his character in. If I had stayed …

  If I had just stayed.

  But I hadn’t. I’d gone straight to Cole’s condo. I’d begged him to take my pain away, and he did. Cole drained me of my emotions. I was his Forfeit. For a hundred years, he fed off my energy, leaving me a shell of my former self.

  Brake lights ahead of me snapped me back to the present, and I made the final turn toward the school. A half hour before the start of the ceremony, the parking lot was already nearly full, but I found a place at the end of the farthest row, turned off the engine, and sat quietly for a moment.

  Despite what I’d said to my dad, I still wasn’t sure about my decision to be here. There would be more than a few people in the audience who blamed me for Jack’s disappearance, even though nobody knew the truth about what had happened that night. It was an undisputed fact that I was the last one who had seen Park City’s football hero. I couldn’t go anywhere in this town without feeling the unspoken scorn directed at me. Thankfully, because I’d recovered all of my own emotions, I could no longer taste other people’s like I could when I’d first Returned to the Surface. I imagined that the scorn would’ve tasted bitter and would’ve stung as it traveled down my throat.

  But I deserved it, because it was true. I had been the last one to see Jack the night the Tunnels came for me, and he had pushed me out of the way and taken my place. I had been the last one to touch his hand as the mark on my arm—the black Shade inside of me that led the Tunnels directly to me—had jumped from my skin to Jack’s.

  I had been the last one to scream his name. I had been the last one to stop crying over Jack.

  The truth is, I never stopped.

  I had no control over the tears. They fell even now as I sat in my car, wiping at them futilely. They fell even though I was sure there couldn’t be any moisture left inside of me. They stained my pillow every night and greeted me in the mirror every morning.

  When I’d first Returned from the Feed, I’d been drained so dry that I wondered if I would ever be able to feel anything again.

  Now it felt as if I were made up of shards of glass and tears, and nothing else.

  I grabbed two tissues from the box I kept in my car, emptying it out. Balling up one in each hand, I shoved the tissues against my eyes. Lately, I’d started to attack my tears as I would any other bleeding wound in my body. Apply pressure until the bleeding stops.

  Despite the tea
rs, I knew I would eventually get out of the car. I would be at the ceremony, just like I’d watched spring football tryouts from the bleachers and the Park City soccer games from the parking lot. I couldn’t help going to the places where Jack should’ve been.

  But maybe my dad was right. What difference did it make if I was here or not? It wasn’t as if Jack would know. I felt like a hypocrite. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Maybe I should just drive away.

  A knock at my window made me jump. I raised my head to find Will’s face staring back.

  I smiled.

  I’d seen Jack’s older brother a few times since the night we’d tried to kill Cole. Will’s eyes were clear. If there was one good thing that came out of this whole mess, it was that Will had stopped drinking the moment the Tunnels took Jack. Maybe, like me, he needed to feel the pain—not numb it—to be closer to his brother.

  I rolled down the window.

  “Hey, Becks,” he said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned his elbows on the car door. “I thought I’d find you here. You weren’t having second thoughts, were you?”

  I shook my head. It was hard when Will was so nice to me, because I felt guiltiest around him. Two months ago he had watched the Tunnels of the Everneath come for me, and leave with his brother. How could he look at me without thinking that they’d taken the wrong person?

  “I was just psyching myself up,” I said.

  He opened the door. “C’mon. We’ll sit together.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to let a flash of sunlight blind me; and in that flash, with his profile against the light, Will looked like Jack. So much so that I held my breath and had to stop myself from reaching up to touch his face.

  The moment passed.

  We walked side by side, silent through the first few rows of cars, our feet crunching against the gravel. The sun shone especially bright and strong. As I stepped onto the sidewalk that led to the football field, Will stretched out his arm in front of me and pulled me back.

  “What is it?” I asked. I followed his gaze to see Mrs. Caputo—Jack and Will’s mom—a few yards ahead of us. “Oh.”

  Will shrugged and gave me a guilty look. “Sorry, Becks.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Of course she blames me.”

  Will’s cheeks turned pink, and he shook his head. “It’s not that she blames you. She just doesn’t know anything about what happened, except that you were the last one to see him. If it wasn’t for Jack’s note …”

  Jack’s note. His mother found the note the day after Jack disappeared. In it, Jack had said that he was running away. He begged them not to look for him. I hadn’t known about the note until after he was gone.

  “Do you … do you think he knew what he was going to do?” My voice cracked at the end, and I took a deep breath. “I mean, how could he have known? How could he …” But he did know. The note proved it.

  Will put his arms around me and held me tight as I focused on not causing a scene.

  “I was as surprised as you were. He never said a word about taking your place. If anything, I thought he was planning on going with you.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Don’t say that. Jack knew what he was doing. Besides, if he were still here and he had lost you again … there’d be no living with him.” Will’s lips pulled up in a sad smile. “Trust me, I’ve seen it. There’s a lot of moping, body piercing, bad poetry, tattoos. It’s not pretty.”

  I smiled and thought about the tattoo on Jack’s arm. It said Ever Yours in ancient Sanskrit symbols. The same words he had written to me after our first dance. His last words to me before the Tunnels took him.

  “Nothing could have changed Jack’s mind,” Will said.

  I didn’t answer, but I knew Will was wrong. I was the reason Jack was getting the life sucked out of him. Some part of Will had to believe that too, even though he’d never say.

  I shivered despite the warmth from the sun. He held me quietly for a few moments more until my regular breathing had resumed and his mom had made it a sufficient distance away.

  We started walking again.

  Will broke the silence first. “It’s been two months. Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “I know he is.” That was the truth. I’d told Will about my dreams countless times, but I could understand how difficult it was to believe. Or maybe it was comforting to hear me say it again and again.

  “Tell me how you know,” he said.

  I smiled. “He’d told me that the symbols on his tattoo were ancient Sanskrit. I researched it, and it’s true. How could my subconscious have known to look in ancient Sanskrit?”

  He nodded.

  I grabbed his arm. “I’m going after him, Will. You know that, don’t you?”

  Will shook his head and smiled faintly. “How, Becks?”

  I hesitated to tell him about my map of the Dead Elvises sightings and my theory that they were getting closer to Park City. I didn’t want to get his hopes up, but then I thought about our history. For a few of us there was no such thing as getting our hopes up too high. It wasn’t possible.

  “Cole’s band was in Austin last night,” I said. “He’s getting closer. I think he’s coming back.”

  Will’s face changed so slightly, I almost didn’t catch it. But there it was. In the tiny lines around his eyes, in the microscopic twitch of his mouth. Hope.

  Not the beach sands of hope of someone who hadn’t been through what we’d been through. Will’s hope was like mine. A tiny kernel. One grain of sand coursing through our bodies, leaving traces of it in ways only the other could see.

  I grabbed his arm. “And if Cole comes back, all I need is one little part of him. One strand of hair. One … I don’t know … fingernail. Anything I can swallow in the Shop-n-Go.”

  We were at the bleachers now, the graduates and their families filing past us, but Will stopped.

  “If Cole comes back,” he said, “I’m gonna kill him.”

  I snorted despite the seriousness of the situation. “You can’t kill him.”

  “Why not? We know where his heart is now. I can break his pick.”

  “But if you do, we lose our best chance to get back to the Everneath.” He was quiet for a moment as he considered this. “Besides,” I added. “We aren’t even sure what would happen if we broke his pick.”

  It was true. We’d only been acting on a theory about breaking Cole’s heart. Another Forfeit, named Meredith, had given me an ancient bracelet with Egyptian symbols on it. She was convinced that it held the key to killing an Everliving, but the Tunnels captured her before she could find out. Jack and I showed a picture of the bracelet to a professor of anthropology named Dr. Spears; after he studied the symbols, he’d theorized that breaking the heart would destroy the Everliving.

  Because Everlivings such as Cole didn’t have real hearts inside their chests. Their hearts had been transformed into objects they could carry around with them. It happened the instant they became immortals. The emptiness in their chests symbolized their unbreakable link to the Everneath, and also meant that they couldn’t survive on the Surface unless they stole emotions from humans. There was a point when I thought I’d figured out that Cole’s heart was in his guitar and that smashing it should’ve killed him. Or at least made him mortal. But Cole’s heart was actually in his guitar pick, and the Tunnels came for me anyway.

  It was still hypothetical. We didn’t know what would really happen because we never got that far.

  “A guy can’t live without his heart,” Will said, but I could tell he was reconsidering Cole’s immediate demise.

  “C’mon.” I tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. “We can’t miss this.”

  But he didn’t move. “Becks.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to know, here and now, that if we can’t get Jack back … you won’t be able to stop me from killing Cole. Whether I have to break his heart or tear him apart.”

&nbs
p; I let out a breath. “If it gets to that point, it’s you who won’t be able to stop me.”

  I didn’t know if I could physically kill Cole. Breaking a guitar pick was one thing, but doing something more violent? Such as … stabbing someone? Strangling someone? That was another thing entirely.

  Then again, wasn’t it murder just the same? I didn’t know. But I had plenty of time to contemplate it because the graduation speakers were boring. Jennifer Carpenter talked about how the future was theirs for the taking, and Dione Warnick—yes, that was her real name—gave a resounding speech that had something to do with the size of the graduates’ shoes and their carbon footprint on the earth. She even had visual aids: a pair of her grandpa’s old hiking boots.

  The principal spoke last. He made a reference to “loved ones who are no longer with us.” All eyes shifted to the empty seat between Farah Cannon and Noni Chatworth, where Jack would’ve been sitting.

  A few people glanced back toward me, which meant I hadn’t entered as stealthily as I’d thought. Looks that said, You were the last one with him. You should know where he is.

  The commencement announcer got to the Cs and called Jack’s name; and despite the number of times I’d imagined this moment, and thought I’d prepared myself for it, hearing his name felt like a hammer on my heart, threatening the dam that I’d built up there.

  In the silence that followed, a woman near the front stood and walked toward the podium. Jack’s mom. I sank a little lower in my chair, trying not to think of the times she had grilled me since his disappearance. My story never changed. I didn’t know where he’d gone or when he’d be back.

  Mrs. Caputo climbed the stairs to the stage and took the diploma, shaking the principal’s hand. She turned away and wiped under her eyes, and the audience applauded. Scattered football players in the crowd jumped out of their seats, and soon it turned into a standing ovation. I was at once overcome by the outpouring of love for Jack and immobilized by the guilt in my chest. I stayed in my seat, my head lowered.

  The rest of the ceremony was a blur, only partly because of the fresh moisture in my eyes.