The Everlast Series Boxed Set

by Juliana Haygert

  I turned, conscious I wore gloves and goggles and my hair was pulled up in a messy bun. I yanked off the goggles.

  “As far as I know, the lab isn’t mine.”

  Beautifully clad in jeans and a black sweater, he stepped into the classroom.

  “But you’re the only one in here.” He halted across from the table where I was working.

  Hoping he didn’t notice the accident that had occurred before his arrival, I continued cleaning up the mess while we both remained silent. The silence was killing me. What was he doing here? Why was he looking for me?

  I glared at him. “What do you want?”

  “What do you think?” he asked. That was when I realized his hands were trembling.

  “God,” I muttered, taking off my gloves and offering him my hands. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  He shrugged, placing his hands over mine. The warmth spread. He gasped and the quivering eased.

  Once it was done, he pulled his hands back and placed them inside his pockets. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  And he walked away. Just like that.

  My legs gave out, and I found a stool to sit down before I fainted from breathing the toxic substance I’d been working with. Or because of my response to him.

  Oh my God! I was just an object to him. A thing he could use whenever he wasn’t feeling well. I felt like a recyclable soda can he used up and then threw away.

  A tiny explosion forced me to return my attention to the lab and my project. Shit. I cleaned up the mess and, fighting tears, went back to work.

  Then, after a light pang in my chest, warmth and tingles filled my body, as the room revolved in darkness, and I wasn’t in the lab anymore.

  I was in a forest, among many tall and thick trees, in almost absolute darkness. The heavy smell of moss and wet leaves engulfed me.

  I jumped back when a spot of light came from my right. I saw a cloaked figure approaching, her arm extended, her palm facing up, a bright pink flame hovering over it.

  She stopped right beside me, but didn’t seem to see me. I was in one of the ghost type visions. I leaned to look at her face from under the cloak, but that wasn’t necessary. Ceris. She looked sideways, her piercing and unforgettable blue eyes searching around, anxious and fretful. After making sure she was alone, Ceris ran and I darted after her.

  We ran fast—it wasn’t easy to keep up with her—dodging trees and roots and small animals.

  I concentrated on her wondering why I was seeing her and what she was doing in the middle of a forest. The questions distracted me from the fear building inside my chest. The total darkness and the sounds of wild animals didn’t help.

  After a great distance, she slowed and, suddenly after passing a few more trees, we entered a clearing. A wooden cottage stood in the center. Light emerged from its few windows and smoke came from its chimney.

  Appearing relieved, Ceris marched to the door.

  Before she could knock, it opened.

  In the tiny living room were three identical women. They had no wrinkles or age marks, long silver hair, knowing gray eyes, and translucent, pale skin. Even though I couldn’t tell their age, I knew they were old. Very, very old. They wore simple white clothing. One was seated on a ragged brown love seat, knitting a red scarf. A second sat on a pillow on a faded beige rug and read an old book with torn pages. And the third was knelt before the fireplace, stirring a rusted kettle placed over it. None of them appeared to have noticed Ceris’s presence.

  As the goddess and I stepped in, the door closed—by itself—and the silver-haired women kept on with what they were doing.

  Ceris took off her black cloak, letting her white-blond hair flow freely behind her.

  She placed herself among the three women. “I need your help.”

  After what seemed an eternity, the one knitting spoke. “We cannot help you anymore.”

  The one reading added, “We already altered too much of the future to help you.”

  “He needs her. I may not know how she does it, but he would have died without her,” Ceris yelled, her eyes wide.

  “Yes,” the third one said. The way they kept to their activities and did not look at Ceris was disturbing. “He would have died without her. However, you did not think of her, did you?”

  “No, you did not,” the one knitting said. “What do you think will happen to her once this all is done?”

  She shrugged. “I promised her life to you. After the deal is done, she won’t matter anymore.”

  “Oh, won’t she?” The one reading stood up and her gray eyes glowed. “How do you know she won’t matter?”

  “I don’t care about her life. Not after the deal is complete,” Ceris snarled. “She will be all yours then.”

  “Yes, but until then, she is yours,” the one at the fireplace said, also standing. “Until then, her life is the most precious possession you have.”

  The one knitting joined the other two in front of Ceris. “Take good care of her.” She smiled, and it was almost evil.

  That was when the three pairs of gray eyes met mine. My stomach revolved and I gasped. They were looking at me, directly at me, during a vision where I was supposed to be a ghost.

  I came back from the vision still seated at the lab’s stool, acid dripping over the table. The acid fizzed and popped, melting the wood and making a huge hole.

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath and jumped down, frantically trying to clean up my most recent mess.

  But I couldn’t. My hands shook so badly, I only made a bigger disaster. First, a cold visit from Victor, then a vision I couldn’t understand and scared the hell out of me. It was too much.

  I needed help. Immediately. I needed Cheryl. After months of avoiding telling her about the visions, it was time to come clean. She was a psychologist, and even if I did need a psychiatrist, she could at least explain to me what was going on. She could give me reassurance while some colleague of hers helped me. Then, I would be okay.

  My breath ragged, I pulled out my phone and called Cheryl. No answer. I left a quick voice message, hoping she would hear it soon and call me back.

  Sighing, I glanced at the mess over the lab table. I didn’t have any strength left to clean—or try to clean—anymore. I grabbed my stuff and left, pausing only at the monitor’s office to pay him to clean the mess for me.

  I ran home with plans to drug myself to sleep so I wouldn’t have to think about the damned gods and goddesses that kept haunting my visions.

  After I’d changed my outfit four times, Raisa dragged me out of my closet.

  “You look beautiful. Now let’s go,” she said, opening the door for me. Already in the hallway, Olivia stuck her head in to add her urging.

  Before leaving our apartment, I stopped by the mirror. I wore skin-tight jeans, a loose pink crochet sweater with a white, cropped sports top underneath, and pink pumps. I had pulled my hair back in a ponytail, leaving a few messy strands adorning my face and had applied makeup—just enough to accentuate my eyes and my high cheekbones. Perfect for the fundraiser carnival organized by the university.

  “He’ll fall in love with you tonight,” Olivia said.

  I rolled my eyes, but felt a smile creeping over my face. Maybe Victor wouldn’t fall in love with me, but I was hoping to be attractive enough to get his attention. Maybe get him to like me a little.

  We were still down the street from the carnival, but I already could see the colorful lanterns—red, yellow, green, blue, pink—that had been raised atop decorated but temporary poles. Their soft glow illuminated the whole park, casting lively shadows on the grayish stone floor. Each concession stand matched the color of the lantern placed directly in front of it. I gasped, amazed with the beauty. The real New York had never looked this good.

  I scanned my surroundings, taking everything in. Students and their relatives and friends strolled around with wide smiles on their faces, talking animatedly, holding large cotton candies
or tasty-looking caramel apples. Long lines formed in each of the many game stands. A round stage had been set up in the center of the park, and a local band was playing cheerful songs.

  I took a deep breath, relishing the smell of sweets and tangy beverages that formed a thick, invisible cloud of scent over the place. On days like this, it was almost easy to pretend the world was safe, joyful, and fair, and the people who lived in it were decent, happy, and well cared for. My heart squeezed a little, secretly wishing it could be true.

  “He doesn’t sing as well as we do,” Olivia said, gesturing toward the skinny lead singer on stage. I nodded, laughing.

  “Let’s go grab a hot dog.” Raisa pulled my hand, jumping up and down. “I’m starving.”

  “I vote we go for a hamburger or a pizza,” Olivia objected. “There are fewer people in those lines.”

  “And I want a cotton candy first,” I said as my stomach growled.

  The girls and I parted ways to get what we each wanted, and agreed to meet again near the kissing booth. Raisa wanted to see who were the girls giving kisses out and the guys who would pay for them.

  I nibbled my cotton candy, ambling to our meeting point, my mind distracted by the real world and mundane things, when I saw Victor. I froze. He was headed toward the booth he had helped set up. I couldn’t pretend he didn’t look handsome in dark jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt.

  But beside his looks and his sexy do-not-get-close stance, I was disappointed in him. I was starting to think he knew I would never say no to healing him, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed being used.

  Adding to my frustration was the reality that my visions scared me. They made no sense, and they weren’t about Victor anymore. In the back of my mind I could see the answer: It was time to seek professional help. But what if I was hospitalized or interned in a clinic? I’d risk not graduating. If I didn’t graduate and get a good job, there wouldn’t be anyone else to help my family, to provide a better future for them. Could I do that to them? I would rather call Cheryl, ask for her help, and see if there was a way to cure me of this insanity without being locked away in an asylum. But I couldn’t find her, and she hadn’t returned my calls.

  “Nice view,” Olivia said from behind me, rescuing me from my thoughts. “He’s really cute.”

  “Yes, he is.” Trying to forget about him, I turned to her and saw she was frowning while munching her pizza. “What is it?”

  “I have a terrible headache.” She rubbed her temple with her free hand. “Even ibuprofen and paracetamol aren’t working anymore.”

  An idea popped into my head. “Let me try something.” I offered her my hand and, frowning even more, she put hers over mine.

  Nothing happened. At least, I didn’t feel any shock or jolt or warmth or cold. I tried thinking about healing her, taking away her pain, but I didn’t feel my energy being passed into her. When I saw her suspicious gaze examining me as if I were crazy, I pulled my hand from hers.

  “What were you trying to do?” she asked. I shrugged and she laughed. “You’ve been watching too much TV. The spiritual healers in TV series aren’t your style.”

  I forced a smile. “They aren’t, right?”

  But my mind was elsewhere. I was starting to believe I couldn’t distinguish reality from visions anymore. How could I heal Victor and Micah and not heal Olivia?

  A guy sauntered past us with a sweatshirt from NYU’s football team. The number displayed on his sweatshirt was eighty-six. And sure enough, the eight glowed like a beacon.

  My pulse rose. Oh God, please, I didn’t want to be crazy.

  I turned around and started walking away. Connecting with Victor didn’t matter anymore. Not if I was losing my mind. Even if there was a special connection between real Victor and me the way there was in my visions, if I was mentally ill, I shouldn’t be trying to connect with anyone. Besides, the only connection we had in reality was my healing touch. That wasn’t something we could build a relationship on—me crazy and him using me. I’d had enough.

  “Hey, Nad, where you going?” Raisa asked when I darted past her.

  I stopped just long enough to answer. “Home. I’m not feeling well.” I resumed my walk before she could say anything that would change my mind.

  Then a loud caw came from above. My palms dampened. I looked up and saw the raven flying against the dark sky. The scar confirmed it was the same one. Oh no. Not the damn black bird too.

  I pressed forward, hoping to get out of the crowd before frantic tears spilled out of my eyes.

  Every few steps, I glanced up to keep tabs on the bird’s location, wishing it would stay around the carnival to prove it wasn’t following me.

  I was almost out of the crowd when Victor appeared by my side. “You don’t seem well.”

  “And what do you care?” I snapped before resuming my frenzied stride.

  He caught up with me. “What’s the matter?”

  I halted again, and my breath caught when I looked deeply into his wonderful sea-green eyes. They weren’t as unfriendly as before. For a second, I could pretend he was my Victor, the one I loved. But just for one second. I shook my head, wishing there was a switch where I could turn “me” off sometimes.

  “Do you need my touch?” I asked, a hostile end to my words.

  “No.”

  “Good.” I turned. And practically ran over Micah. “Hi,” I whispered, aware I sounded like a breathless teenage girl.

  With his black eyes shadowed by a scowling brow, he said, “Hello.” His frown deepened as he glanced from me to Victor. Then, he gave a brief nod to Victor, who nodded back.

  “Is everything all right?” Micah asked as he stepped closer to me.

  “Yes,” I said. “I was just leaving. Going home.”

  “I’ll walk you.” He offered me his arm without taking his glaring eyes from Victor’s.

  With all my strength I tried not to, but I glanced at Victor. As if he had felt it, his gaze briefly met mine, much softer than the scowl he’d offered Micah.

  I forced myself to keep going. “Sure.” I linked my arm with Micah’s, turned away from Victor, and left without saying goodbye.

  Only after we had walked about a block did Micah seem to relax.

  “Who is that guy?”

  “Just … a guy.” I glanced up at him. He seemed more relaxed, but not his normal confident self. “What is it?”

  He kicked a pebble on the pavement. “Nothing.”

  He seemed worried or frustrated by something, but I decided it was better not to press him for answers. Instead I remained quiet the rest of the way, occasionally humming the last song I’d heard at the carnival.

  “Well,” I said when we got close to my building. “Thanks for walking me.”

  He shook his head and flashed one of his dazzling smiles. He was recovering. Definitely. “Thank you for the company.” He bowed.

  I curled a lock of my hair. “See you soon?”

  “Hmm, I’m leaving.”

  “What?” my voice broke, revealing my discontent.

  He grinned and approached me. Oh God. His serious eyes bore into mine. “Something came up. I need to go abroad.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So, you need my touch?” The hole in my soul called “disappointment” grew. Didn’t they all need my touch? That was probably the only thing I was good for. Once more, I felt used.

  “I don’t need it, but I would like to have it. Like recharging batteries, you know?”

  “Yup,” I snapped, my temper rising. I extended my hand to him. “A goodbye gift.”

  As soon as his hands covered mine, the cold jolt spread from my skin to his. I watched as he boosted his energy and sent away all his pain.

  Then it was done, and he pulled back.

  Micah glanced at his cell phone. “It’s time for me to go.”

  Anxiety hit me. I might feel used, but I didn’t want anyone suffering. Not if I could do something about
it. Even if that meant putting my needs last. “What are you going to do if it happens again?”

  “What I did all these years. Grit my teeth and endure it.” He bowed, retreating. “Take care, Nadine.” His melodious voice wrapped around me.

  “You too,” I whispered, unable to move.

  I watched as he strode to his bike, about half a block down the street, and left in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

  14

  My plan was to remain in bed until the world ended, or until Cheryl called back or came over and forced me out of my bed. If that didn’t happen, I would wait until the girls called 911 to take me to a psychiatric hospital where I would spend the rest of my life.

  But on Monday morning, Adam called, yelling at me that I was late for work. What a familiar refrain. Then my mother called, saying how she was proud of me, of my plans for the future, of the person I was. If only she knew. But it was the hospital’s call that finally forced me get up. I had been chosen for the position of Patient Care Technician, and they wanted me to go there that afternoon to sign the contract.

  Finally something good in my life. Perhaps it was a sign that not everything was lost, and I shouldn’t let the craziness in my life take over. A sign to let me know I would get through this. I would be a great doctor, and I would have money to provide a better life for my family.

  I knew what could happen in the hospital, who I might meet there, but I tried to ignore that thought. I entered the clinic in the early afternoon and was escorted to human resources where I signed my contract. Suddenly, I felt almost hopeful, if not happy. The pay was much better than working at the café, and it would look much nicer on my resume. Plus, I’d be able to help people.

  With a satisfied smile, I left the room and was heading out when I heard two nurses talking.

  “She just died?” one of them asked as they walked past me.

  “An hour ago,” the other one said. “Her grandson is in shock, poor young man.”

  My heart squeezed. Oh no.

  I was barely thinking when I ran to the elevator and went straight to the eighth floor. I didn’t know for sure who the nurses were talking about, but I had a pretty good guess. I didn’t stop to consider maybe Victor wouldn’t be in his grandma’s room anymore and kept running until I was at the door. I stopped, panting, and leaned against the doorframe.