He looks at me, face ful of alarm, about to ask for an explanation when Sabine comes back into the room, hands me a glass of water, and takes her place next to him.
I cross and uncross my legs, brush my hands over the skirt of my dress until the hem fal s just shy of my knees. A series of gestures greatly lacking in subtlety, a series of gestures that practical y beg her to take notice, to inquire how I managed to change clothes so quickly, to say something, anything, but a denial as deeply rooted as hers is hard to defeat.
Hard, but not impossible.
I can’t al ow myself to believe it’s impossible. Otherwise there’s no point in my being here.
Knowing it’s best to just take the lead and jump in, I look at her and say, “I missed you.”
She squirms, nods, leans closer to Munoz, who welcomes her into the crook of his arm and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
But al she can manage in reply is, “So, are you going to tel me where you’ve been?”
I press my lips together, a little stunned by her response, but I guess she figures the emotional cost is too high for her to admit that she missed me too. But that’s okay. Even if she won’t admit it, I know she did miss me. I can see it in the way her aura flashes with just the slimmest hint of pink in the midst of al that stil raging red.
Auras never lie. Only people do.
“I was in Summerland,” I say, my gaze traveling between her and Munoz.
“In Santa Barbara?” She shoots me a skeptical look but I’m quick to deflect it.
“No. Not the beach town in Santa Barbara, the real Summerland. The first Summerland. The mystical dimension that exists between this one and the one just beyond.”
Munoz tenses, his body on ful -scale alert, prepared for the worst. While Sabine’s mouth grows grim, her gaze narrowing as she says,
“I don’t understand.”
I lean forward, scooting to the very edge of my seat, saying, “I know. Believe me, I total y get it. It’s a lot to take in. Especial y the first time you hear it. It was the same way for me. I chose to deny it for a real y long time. Pretty much until I no longer could. I also know this wil be even more difficult for you because of your reluctance to believe in anything that fal s outside of your comfort zone, and how you prefer to dismiss anything you can’t see happening directly in front of you. But the reason I’ve decided to confide in you anyway, despite the uphil battle I face, is because I’ve grown tired of the game. I’ve grown tired of lying to you al the time. I’ve grown tired of hiding things from you. But mostly, I’ve grown tired of having to work so ridiculously hard at being this total y manufactured, false version of me just so you can continue to believe what’s most comfortable for you to believe.” I pause for a moment, giving her a chance to respond, but she just looks as cold and stone-faced as ever, so I quickly press on. “The first two weeks I was gone, I was at Damen’s. And I know you know that because I know he told you. But what you probably don’t know is that I was ful y committed to never coming back. I’d vowed to move far away after graduation and to never see you again. And it’s not because I was being vindictive or trying to punish you—despite what you may think, I truly bore you no il wil . The reason I’d planned to leave you forever is because I truly believed it would make both our lives easier. But now things have changed, or at least they’re about to change in a real y big way…” I swal ow hard, chance a glance at Munoz and see him nod, encouraging me to go on, and I do. “But before that real y big change can take place, I wanted to come clean with you. I wanted to take one last stab to try to make you believe.”
“And just what is it that I’m supposed to believe?” she asks, but I can tel by the defiant arch of her brow and the chal enge in her tone that she already knows.
“I need you to believe that I’m not just some crazy, sad, attention-starved teen who’s so scarred and damaged by the loss of her family that she pretends to have psychic powers. I need you to believe that I’m not some con-artist charlatan who rips people off for a living.
And the reason I need you to believe that is because it’s the truth. I am psychic. I can and do hear other people’s thoughts. I can also see a person’s entire life story with merely a touch, just as I can see auras and communicate with al the ghostly spirits who choose to hang around the earth plane long after they should’ve moved on. And, in addition to that, I’m also immortal.” I stop, al owing enough time for my words to sink in, for my confession to take ful effect. Knowing it has when her aura begins to flare and rage so bright, I’m surprised by the absence of smoke I thought for sure would be shooting out of her nose and ears.
“That red juice I always drink?” I tilt my head and look at her. “As it just so happens, it’s the elixir of eternal life. The one man has sought through the ages—only Damen is one of the few who actual y succeeded in discovering the secret formula just over six hundred years ago.”
“Ever, if you think that I’m…” She shakes her head, far too furious to even complete her own sentence, though she does manage to think it, and this time I tune in. If for no other reason, it might help prove my point.
My eyes meet hers, watching her closely as I slowly repeat her unspoken words. “No, I real y don’t think you’re willing to consider something so ludicrous, so ridiculous, so far-fetched, so … sad—for even one second. ” Seeing her eyes widen in shock, but she’s just as quick to dismiss it, assuring herself it was obvious what she was thinking. And though it was, I’m not about to stop there.
“And if that didn’t convince you, then maybe this wil . Though I have to warn you, I’m going to pul out al the stops to prove to you I’m not lying, I’m not crazy, and I’m not some attention-starved phony. I’m going to show you exactly what I’m capable of, which is something I probably should’ve done long before. And the only reason I didn’t is because neither of us was quite ready. But now we are. Or at least I am, and I’m pretty sure you are too. And as for Munoz”—I switch my gaze to him—“he already knows. In fact, he’s known for some time.”
Sabine turns to Munoz, her eyes imploring. But he just takes a deep breath and nods, directing her attention back to me when he says, “It’s true. Sabine, honey, Ever’s not lying. She possesses powers that are nothing short of astonishing. Al I ask is that you give her a chance. Just try to watch and listen with an open mind, and I think you’l be amazed at what you see. And if not, if you stil choose not to believe…” He looks at her, clearly hoping that won’t be the case. “Wel , then, that’s your choice. But for now, why not just try to broaden your world to a whole new set of ideas you may have never considered.”
She crosses her arms and legs, which, as far as body language goes, is a pretty discouraging display. Her eyes warily focused on me, when I say, “For starters, what was I wearing when you opened the door?” She squints, her eyes moving over me, engaged in a ful inspection, and when she refuses to answer, when she just wraps herself up even tighter, I say, “Is it the same thing I’m wearing now?”
She shifts, squirms, but refuses to reply, which as far as I’m concerned is answer enough.
“Or was it this?” I manifest the filthy clothes I was wearing wh
en I first got here, the sight of which garners no response from her. “Or maybe it was this?” I manifest a dark green silk gown just like the one I wear in the pavilion when Damen and I revisit scenes from my London life, back when I was the spoiled little rich girl named Chloe. Choosing to remain like that, sitting before her in a bright and shiny display of centuries-old finery. Wil ing her to say something, anything, but she won’t. She’s completely unwil ing to budge from the ideas she’s clung to for so long.
“My powers aren’t just relegated to rapid wardrobe changes,” I say. “I can manifest an elephant just as easily.” Then I close my eyes and do just that. Choking back a laugh when I see just how much effort she puts into maintaining her cool. So completely dedicated to her rigid set of views, she refuses to react in any way whatsoever when an elephant appears right beside her and swings his trunk in her face. “I can manifest flowers as wel ,” I add, covering the coffee table with a huge pile of bright yel ow daffodils. “I can also manifest jewels.” I close my eyes and when I open them again Sabine is dripping in diamonds and rubies and emeralds and yet, al it does is make her even more stone-faced. “I can even manifest cars and boats and houses and, wel , basical y whatever you can imagine.
Virtual y nothing is off-limits—wel , except for people. You can’t manifest a person because you can’t manifest a soul—though you can manifest their image as I once did with Orlando Bloom.” I smile briefly at the memory and Damen’s reaction that fol owed when he saw what I’d done. “But what I can’t manifest, no matter how hard I try, is your wil ingness to stop denying what you see right in front of you.
That’s cal ed free wil , and it belongs only to you.”