Night Star

thirty-seven

She turns, eyes darting between us as she says, “You know, at first I kept the shirt with me all the time. Carried it everywhere I went. To school, to the store, I even slept with it just so I’d never have to be far from his scent.” She shrugs. “I pretty much looked upon it as my last connection to Roman—the one remaining thing I’d ever truly have of his. But now I know differently. Everything you see here is mine. Roman never planned on dying, so he didn’t bother making a will. Which means no one else has any claim to his things, and I dare them to try. This is my connection to Roman.” She waves the shirt through the air, the fabric gently swaying as she points at the collection of antiques. Using her other hand to tighten her grip on Jude’s sleeve as she adds, “This house, these things, everything, all of it, belongs to me. I have reminders of him everywhere I look, so it’s not like I need some dumb white shirt anymore. No, you’re the one who needs it, Ever. This is all about the stain, right? It’s left over from that infamous antidote you came so close to getting if it wasn’t for this guy.” She grips Jude harder, causing him to flinch, but he refuses to cry out, refuses to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s actually causing him pain. “And now it seems he’s done it again.” She turns to Jude, tsking as she shakes her head. “If this guy hadn’t gotten in the way, you’d be living happily ever after now, wouldn’t you? Or, at least that’s been your version of the story anyway. So I ask you, you still willing to stand behind that? You still willing to blame him for everything?”

I look at her, keeping my gaze steady, my body tensed, ready for anything, though refusing to answer, refusing to fall into whatever trap she has set.

But she just rolls her eyes, not at all dissuaded by my silence, saying, “Well, it’s not like it matters anyway, because what’s done is done, and it’s not like I need you to know what’s really going on here. You honestly managed to convince yourself that all the answers live here.” She wags the shirt before me. “In a big, green blob of a stain on a white linen shirt. You honestly plan to drop it off at some crime lab or, better yet, take it to the science lab at school so you can get extra credit for breaking down all the components, as well as finally getting your hands on the recipe that’ll allow you and Damen to, as Roman would say: shag your bleedin’ hearts out!” She laughs and shakes her head, her Ouroboros tattoo flashing in and out of view as she shoots me a pitying look, as though she can hardly believe the foolishness of it all. “So tell me, Ever, how am I doing so far? Am I right? Am I pretty much on track?”

But even though she continues to eyeball me, even though she pretty much nailed the truth on its head, I don’t answer, and I’m careful not to let on. I just continue to stand there, warning Jude with my eyes not to do anything as rash and stupid as the last time, while keeping watch over Haven, who’s still a long way from being at the top of her game, but is still able to do a good bit of damage and wreak a good bit of havoc, from what I’ve seen.

Taking great care to not let her catch me as I covertly call for backup. Sending a telepathic message to Damen that consists of nothing more than the image unfolding before me.

Knowing it’s just a matter of time before he appears.

All I have to do is stall until then.

“Listen, Haven—” I start, but I don’t get very far.

She’s seen it.

Seen the shift in me.

And because of it, she’s not about to indulge me any further.

And before I can do anything to stop it, she’s got Jude by the neck again, while she kicks the screen away from the fire and dangles Roman’s white shirt just over the blaze.

Her fingers shaking as the shirt dangles precariously. Allowing the flames to spark and lick and blacken the hem, as she looks at me and says, “No use wasting any more time here, is there? So whaddya say we just cut to the chase, shall we? Time to decide, Ever. The choice is yours and yours alone to make. What’ll it be—a lifetime of nonstop, happy shagging or—Jude getting to enjoy a long life?”

Jude gasps and struggles against her, but when he looks at me, instead of a plea for help, his gaze begs only forgiveness. His oxygen supply becoming more and more scarce the tighter she grips, yet he still allows me to see inside his head.

He came here for me.

Only for me.

He wanted to make good on his word, to prove that he really does just want to see me happy. He wanted to make up for what he did all those months before, right here in this house. And now, he’s ready to die for it if it should come to that. He’s fully prepared to sacrifice himself to see that I finally get what I want, to see that it’s done.

Do it! he urges, his gaze holding mine, the feel of it so warm, so loving it robs me of breath. Please, I just want you to be happy. And because of everything you’ve shown me, everything I’ve learned in Summerland, I’m free of all fear. Think of it as my final gift to you. I was wracking my brain, trying to think of a way to make up for everything, when I remembered Roman’s shirt, remembered the way you reacted the day I spilled my coffee and soaked it up with my sleeve. And after putting the two together, I realized this would be the perfect way to erase my mistakes.

He closes his eyes, but the thoughts don’t stop there, he continues to think: But now I’ve only made it worse, and I’m so sorry. I really, truly am. I just want you to know that my love has always been true and my intentions good. I’ve never once meant to harm you.

I choke back a sob, work past the knot in my gut, blink back my stinging wet tears, and glance between him and the shirt Haven holds just shy of the flames.

And I know that all I have to do to get the one thing I’ve sought for so long is to make the choice they’re both begging me to make.

Jude’s already given his consent. He’s practically pleading with me to do it already.

And Haven, well, Haven can hardly contain her excitement. This is exactly the sort of thing she’s come to live for.

Exactly the kind of thing she’s come to enjoy most in this world.

So I take a deep breath, allowing the words forgive me, to stream from my mind to Jude’s as I turn to Haven and say, “You know, this is the exact same kind of crap Roman used to play. And like I told him, I’ll tell you, I don’t play this game anymore.”