The Eternal

by Bianca Hunter

  “Give me this,” Ravenna said, reaching for the cake and lifting the first bite to her mouth. “God, I haven’t had anything sugary to eat in almost a year. I don’t know why. She looked at me with surprise in her eyes. “It’s a fantastic pastime.” She sighed when I didn’t reply. “Your grandmother was best friends with my mother and absolutely hated Serena, really couldn’t stand her. I’m positive she would help; however, finding your grandparents would be in one word, impossible.”

  “Why?” I asked shaking my head.

  “They’re the oldest immortals I know of, that anyone knows of. Well, them and a dear friend of theirs. They disappeared almost a hundred years ago, leaving Kate and your mother behind in Greyhaven to keep them safe from the other covens and nomad immortals.”

  “How old were my mother and Kate?” I asked, frowning.

  “I would say, give or take, two thousand years old,” Ravenna replied.

  “How old was your mother when she died?” I suddenly thought of Astara and remembered how young and innocent she looked in the dreams.

  “Astara? I think she was just shy of her ninetieth year as an immortal.”

  “She was so young, I mean, compared to Kate, what happened, how did she—?”

  “Astara was, well, she was charming and seductive, everyone loved her, but somewhere underneath, deep down, she was ruthless and manipulative, and together with Serena—well, let’s just say that my mother paid the price for Serena’s sins, which is probably why the witch is so eager to undo her mistakes.” She scowled and placed the plate of half-eaten chocolate cake on the bed.

  “Blake said something to me earlier,” I said slowly. If anyone was going to share information with me, it was Ravenna. “Something about seeing my future and that I should never become immortal.” I left the sentence hanging in the air.

  She observed me for a moment, her lips drawn and eyes narrowed. “Evelyn, I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about that.”

  “Ravenna, if it were you, you would want to know. Wouldn’t you?” I hoped that she would take pity on me.

  “There is a reason Blake isn’t telling you. You’ve seen a rather unique side to Blake, Evelyn, someone gentle, almost kind. Believe me when I tell you that he is not always like that, and very few immortals, including me, would cross him.” She placed her scorching hand on my bare shoulder.

  “I’ll leave you to rest. Viktor has granted you leave to stay. There are only a handful of immortals that can protect you from Serena, and most of them are in this town.”

  “What is Serena? Blake mentioned she’s a—witch.” I closed my eyes and shook my head at how ridiculous it all sounded, but I was suddenly desperate for Ravenna to stay just a bit longer, even if she wouldn’t tell me what Blake knew and even if I had to talk about witches.

  “Iona, otherwise known as Serena, was stolen from her Viking home a thousand years ago by Aurelius, the ruler of The Divine. He allowed her to create a binding spell that tied their lives together, gifting Serena with the same eternal life that had been granted to him. She escaped Aurelius’s clutches and found my mother, who allowed Serena to use the same spell to bind their lives together. The day my mother died should have been the day that Serena died, and yet, here she is, alive and kicking.”

  “Lorenzo,” I whispered, remembering the conversation I’d had with Blake earlier.

  “Yes, Astara’s father was never the same after she died—weak, almost crippled. You see, Evelyn, it turns out that a binding spell is not as straightforward as Serena would have led Astara to believe. The truth of it is that the witch would have been continuously syphoning off the immortal she is bound to. I doubt very much that my mother started killing innocent immortals for their abilities.”

  “She was killing them for their years,” I whispered.

  “Yes, which were keeping Serena alive without crippling my mother,” Ravenna replied, her eyes now full of fire. “Anyway, sweet girl, you need rest.” She turned her back again and walked to the door.

  “Oh, Viktor has also insisted that you attend school,” she said, glancing back at me. “He wants to ensure that when you return to a mortal existence, you can do so without issue.”

  “What if I don’t want to return to a mortal existence?” I asked without thinking.

  “My happiest day was when I turned immortal. When Blake turned, it was his worst. Not all of us are made for eternal life. Days turn into months, months turn into years, and years turn into decades and centuries. Time is only a gift when it’s finite. Just something to think about.” She walked out the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She shut it and left me in the silence of the room, sitting next to a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake.

  I placed it on the bedside table and quickly pulled on the white cotton nightgown.

  Sleep, and hopefully, you’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will have just been a miserable dream.

  I turned off the main light switch next to the door. The moonlight from outside was so bright that I found my way back to the bed easily enough.

  Everything will be okay in the morning. Somehow.

  I lay on the duvet and pulled the fur blanket over me. My last thought before I drifted to sleep was of Blake, the feeling of my hand in his. What did he know about me? What had he seen?

  -

  “Evelyn?” Astara asked, sitting on the side of the bed and staring out the window, watching the snow fall in the darkness of the night.

  I could no longer tell if I was dreaming or awake. I was in the Mary, Queen of Scots, the fur blanket still covering me from the waist down. I sat up and stared at Astara. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders to her waist. She wore a loose cotton dress, and for the first time, I noticed how small and frail she was, childlike almost.

  “Are you really here?” I asked, frowning and glancing around. The chocolate cake was still sitting on the bedside table. This could not be a dream, could it?

  “Evelyn, will you do something for me?” she whispered, turning from the window to gaze directly into my eyes. “Will you help me?”

  “I don’t know if I can do anything to help you,” I replied, remembering everything that Ravenna had told me. Had Serena forced Astara to kill innocent immortals?

  “I need you to help me come back,” she said, looking out of the window at the snow again.

  “But how? I don’t think that’s even possible,” I replied, shaking my head.

  “All you have to do is find my brother and bring him to me. He’ll be able to do the rest.” She didn’t look back at me.

  “Your brother, I don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t know him.”

  “Just find my brother. He can help me,” she said soothingly, raising her small hand to stroke my hair. “Evelyn, I have to come back. It’s the only way I can save you and Blake from her.” Her eyes widened.

  “Save us. I don’t understand. Are you talking about Serena? Is she planning to hurt Blake and me?” My heart pounded.

  She touched my hand, and suddenly an inexplicable jolt of serenity soared through my body. I frowned at her.

  “Yes, my sweet, sweet girl,” she said, running the back of her cold fingers over my warm cheek.

  “I think you need to ask Blake to help you. I’m not—I’m not the right person for this, for any of it,” I stammered.

  “No,” she replied so forcefully that my entire body jerked. “Not Blake, sweet girl. If you tell him, it will only lead to his death.” She added gently.

  “You must never tell anyone in Greyhaven that I will return. Only you can do this, Evelyn, my evening star. I have been waiting for you to be born for centuries.” She took my hand and lifted it to her icy-cold cheek. “Daughter of Lucile, granddaughter of Mirena.” She cocked her head as her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Will you try to find my brother?” She returned my hand and played with a lock
of my hair again.

  “How?” I asked.

  “Go to Lorenzo’s house. You will find what you need there,” she replied.

  “It’s near the cemetery?”

  “That’s right,” she said, her voice chiming.

  “I can try,” I agreed easily, especially now that he was dead and there was no threat of him trying to kill me again.

  “That’s my star,” she whispered, tucking the strand of my hair behind my ear. “And remember, don’t tell anyone. I want it to be a surprise. And when I return, I will take you to your family. Your grandmother was my best friend, I know exactly where she is.”

  My heart pounded again. If Astara could take me to my family, I would have someone again. I would have a home again. I wouldn’t be alone in this world anymore.

  “I won’t tell them.”

  “Now, sleep a dreamless sleep; you deserve it.” She gently pushed me back onto the bed, then stood up, leaned over me, and kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, my evening star,” she whispered just before everything went dark.

  Chapter Twenty

  “America,” a voice droned. “Time to wake up.”

  I groaned and turned over and then realised that the towel I had wrapped around me had fallen off and a flimsy sheet was the only thing covering my body.

  “Oh my God! Tristan,” I gasped, sitting up in bed, lifting the fur blanket to cover myself.

  “Oh, come on, I thought we were at the stage in our relationship where we’re ready to share.” He grinned, still perched at the end of my bed.

  “What is wrong with you?” I gaped but felt the grin forming on my lips.

  Darn it.

  “Come on, I’m on babysitting duties this morning, and we have to get our moody little mortal princess to school.” He smirked. “Ravenna has left some outfits for you. Let’s try our best not to let Victoria destroy those, they’re couture.”

  “Uhh, Victoria,” I sighed, allowing myself to fall back into the soft bed.

  “In the grander scheme of things, not the most villainous female we’ve come across of late,” Tristan added, walking to the wardrobe.

  “Why do you date her?” I asked as Tristan grabbed two items from the closet.

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?” he replied, walking back toward the bed, his brow raised.

  “Can you maybe just not be here?” I moaned, covering my eyes with my hands.

  “Come on, America, most girls would be grateful to have me in their bedroom in the morning.”

  “Yeah, that’s before you open your mouth though,” I said, now smirking at him.

  “Here, wear this,” he said, and he threw the black pants and top on the bed.

  I glared at him for a moment. “I’m not getting undressed in front of you,” I said, and he grinned.

  “No, but what wouldn’t I bet that you would be okay with getting undressed in front of Blake,” Tristan replied, his smile so wide I could see every one of his teeth.

  My mouth fell open and my cheeks burned red hot. “Wh—no, I—can you just leave?” And then it dawned on me. “You can read minds.”

  “I most certainly can but not just minds, I can read your inner most desires, America.” He smirked. “And in case you haven’t figured what those are yet, they start with a ‘B’. I’ll be waiting outside.” He cackled as he walked across the room and closed the door behind him. I wanted the bed to swallow me whole.

  “Evelyn,” Ravenna’s voice ventured as the bedroom door creaked open. “You ready to—oh, you’re so not ready to go,” she said when she saw me still sitting up in bed. “You okay?” She walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge.

  “I’m fine, Tristan, he just—” I was too embarrassed to even tell Ravenna what he had said.

  “Ah, he regaled you with his little theory that you’re besotted with my brother?” Ravenna replied immediately and casually.

  “I am not besotted,” I protested immediately. Ravenna fought a grin and looked away from me and down to the ground.

  “Well, besotted is a slight exaggeration I suppose,” she said while trying her best not to laugh.

  “Ravenna!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being having feelings for someone, Evelyn,” she said, laughing now. “Seriously. Okay, granted, it’s a bit odd that you two are so attracted to each other and practically don’t know a thing about each other.” She shrugged.

  “Wait, what did you say?” I asked before she could take a breath and continue.

  “What? That Blake has a thing for you too,” she said, narrowing her eyes, her smile staying put. “Did you not pay attention to when I pretty much told you Blake was a taciturn and ruthless person, and that somehow, whenever he’s around you, he’s just, well, so very nice.”

  I sat back on the cold headboard. Did I have feelings for him? No, you’re attracted to him, there is a difference.

  “Don’t worry, this happens to everyone. There’s always that one person you come across every three hundred years or so that you simply can’t resist. My last one was Marcello, in Italy. I couldn’t speak a word of Italian, but there he was, irresistible.” She sighed.

  “Did you end up together?” I asked.

  “Yes, he ended up teaching me Italian and a few other things.” She smirked. “But, he’s dead now.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, no, no, don’t worry. He was fifty-five, very good age for a mortal in the 1600s.” She nodded.

  “Oh,” I said, trying to fight a grin myself now.

  “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about Blake, he could be completely in love with you and he’d never do anything about it,” Ravenna said as she got off the bed. Was I disappointed hearing what Ravenna just said? “I have to go. I just came to say bye.” She smiled as she turned away from me. “Ciao Bella.”

  As I got dressed, my thoughts about Blake were replaced by the dream as I started to remember it.

  I have to find Astara’s brother.

  I pulled Ravenna’s black Alexander McQueen top over my shoulders and clenched my jaw. Astara had promised to reunite me with my family, but how was I going to bring her back? Especially without telling Blake and therefore Ravenna and Tristan. I silently prayed that Blake had given Gwenn her memories back. I needed her help more than ever.

  “America, what the hell are you doing in there? You’re taking the amount of time I do to get ready in the mornings,” Tristan called from behind the door.

  I rolled my eyes and made my way to the door, not bothering to check my hair in the mirror.

  “No,” Tristan said, looking at me. “My car would be offended by the way you look right now. Can you at least try to brush that tangled mop of yours?”

  “Seriously, I’m probably going to die soon, does my hair really matter?”

  “Evelyn, you’re probably going to die last by the sounds of it, and you can’t let someone with better hair than you be your murderer.” He smirked, clearly referring to Serena’s beautiful tresses.

  “Fine.” I slumped and walked back into the room while Tristan leaned on the doorframe.

  I found a brush on the vanity cabinet and started tackling the immense tangled mess.

  “How are you holding up with—everything?” Tristan asked, clearly struggling to speak without his usual sarcastic tone.

  “You mean besides the fact that if I don’t help an ancient psychotic witch, everyone in this town dies?” I replied, holding a clump of my hair up and brushing out the knots, grateful that he wasn’t bringing up Blake again.

  “Why don’t you just cut it?” he asked.

  “What? My hair?” I gaped, dropping the lock and meeting Tristan’s gaze.

  He shrugged. “You don’t seem to enjoy having long hair.”

  “I’ve always had long hair.” I looked at my reflectio
n. A tired, thin, and bruised face stared back at me.

  “You were always one person, now you’re someone else,” Tristan replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. Maybe it was time to say goodbye to the old me. She was never coming back again, one way or another.

  “You know, I think I will,” I said, turning to face Tristan. “Do you have any scissors?”

  “Wait, what? Not now,” Tristan replied, shaking his head.

  “Right now,” I said and set the brush on the vanity.

  This is exactly what you need, a change.

  I walked toward the doorframe where Tristan was standing. “Well, this was your idea, help me,” I said as I walked passed him and into the hallway.

  “I meant at a nice salon in London while sipping champagne and getting a pedicure,” he replied, following me. “Not like some Neanderthal leaning over the kitchen basin.”

  “Where is the kitchen?” I asked. There would definitely be some scissors there.

  “This is why no one ever lets me babysit,” Tristan mumbled as we reached the entrance hall.

  “Kitchen?” I asked, turning to face him.

  “Come on.” He rolled his eyes, clearly giving in.

  I followed him down the hallway to our right and then through a door and down a dark set of gray stone stairs that led into the lower ground.

  “How big is this place?” I mumbled as we entered yet another dark passageway and finally into a door. Fayme was standing in the middle of a massive kitchen, holding a bunch of pink peonies, the only color in the entire room.

  “Evelyn, I was just going to deliver these to your room.” She smiled kindly. “Oh my gosh, I forgot that you need to eat.” She immediately laid down the flowers on the big wooden table in the center of the room.

  “No, no, it’s okay.” I waved my hand. “I actually just need some scissors.”

  “Scissors?” she asked, her head cocked.

  “Evelyn suddenly has an insatiable urge to cut her hair,” Tristan said, pulling out one of the chairs from the table and sitting down.