Night Star

nine

By seven o’clock, the last sale has been rung, the front door locked, and I’m in the back room with my feet propped up on the desk, peering at my cell phone long enough to see that Sabine has left no less than nine messages, all of them demanding to know where I am, when I’ll return, and what possible explanation I could have for flaunting her rules in such a deliberately blatant way.

And even though it makes me feel bad, I don’t return the call. I just turn off my phone, stash it back in my bag, and blow it all off in favor of Summerland.

Stepping through that shimmering veil of soft, golden light and landing right on the front steps of the Great Halls of Learning. Hoping that, once again, it’ll come through in a pinch and provide the answers I seek.

I stand before the door, breath caught in my throat, as I gaze upon the glorious, ever-changing façade of all the world’s most beautiful and wondrous places. Watching as the Taj Mahal morphs into the Parthenon, which turns into the Lotus Temple, which becomes the great pyramids of Giza, and so on, until the doors swing open and I’m swept inside. Taking a moment to gaze all around, wondering if I’ll run into Ava or Jude now that they both know how to get here, but not recognizing anyone, I settle onto one of the long wooden benches, slipping in amongst the monks and rabbis and priests, and various other seekers, before closing my eyes and focusing on the answers I need.

My mind rewinding to the exact moment when Jude’s spilled coffee ran across his desk, just about to race over the side and down to the floor, when he stopped it with his sleeve. Allowing the liquid to seep into the fabric, to blend with the fibers, until it caused a big stain, much like the antidote stained Roman’s white shirt.

Leaving behind a big blotch of green.

An imprint of sorts.

A combination of chemicals—a kind of recipe if you will—permanently embedded into those soft, cotton fibers.

Chemicals that if properly broken down will lead me to the formula for the antidote that I need—the only thing that will allow Damen and me to truly touch each other again.

While I once thought that all hope of claiming the cure died along with Roman—now I know better—now I know it lives on.

What I’d originally thought was lost forever—survives in the stain on his shirt.

The shirt Haven snatched right out of my hands.

The shirt I have no choice but to snatch right back if Damen and I are ever going to enjoy any kind of normal life together.

I take a deep breath, replacing the image of Jude’s stained T-shirt with Roman’s white linen one, as my mind asks the question:

Where is it?

Soon followed by:

And how do I go about getting it?

But no matter how long I wait—no matter how many times I inquire—no answers come.

The stubborn silence ultimately growing into a message of its own.

An undeniable refusal to help.

Just because the Halls welcomed me, doesn’t mean they’re willing to assist. This isn’t the first time they’ve denied me the answers I seek.

And I’ve finally come to realize it means one of two things: Either I’m delving into something that is none of my business, which really doesn’t make any sense in this case since it’s obviously very much my business, or I’m delving into something I’m not meant to know at this time or possibly any other, which, unfortunately, makes plenty of sense.

Something is always conspiring against us.

Something is always keeping us apart.

Whether it’s Drina always killing me, Roman always tricking me, or Jude either intentionally or unintentionally sabotaging me—something is always standing in the way of Damen’s and my ultimate happiness.

And I can’t help but wonder if there’s some kind of reason behind it.

The universe is not nearly as chaotic as it seems.

There’s a definite reason for everything.

But when the Great Halls decide to shut you out, no amount of clever rephrasing can change that.

This one is on me.

It’s my job to find the shirt. My job to determine if Haven even realizes what it is that she’s keeping from me.

Is she holding it for sentimental reasons, because it’s the last thing Roman wore on the night he died?

Does she keep it as a visual reminder that helps fuel her rage against Jude and me?

Or does she know about the stain and the promise it holds?

Has she known all along what I’m just discovering now?

All I know for sure is that without the aid of Summerland, I’ve got no choice but to head back to the earth plane to see what I can learn there.

And I’m just about to make the portal again, when I sense him.

Damen.

He’s here.

Somewhere close by.

So, instead, I close my eyes and make one last request, asking for Summerland to lead me to him.