"So—so you know about me?" I ask, hearing Rayne think: Well, duh! As Romy nods her head solemnly.
"And you think that I'm bad?"
Rayne rolls her eyes, while Romy smiles gently, saying, "Please, ignore my sister. We think nothing of the sort. We are in no position to judge."
I glance between them, taking in their pale skin, huge dark eyes, razor-slashed bangs, and thin lips, their features so exaggerated they're like Manga characters come to life. And I can't help but think how strange it is for two people to be so identical on the outside and yet so opposite inside.
"So, tell us what you've learned," Romy says, smiling as she heads down the street, assuming we'll all just follow along—which we do. "Did you find all the answers you seek?"
And more. I've been wide-eyed and speechless ever since that crystal went blank. Having no idea what to make of the knowledge I've been given, but well aware of the fact that it holds the potential to change not only my life but quite possibly the world. And while I have to admit that it's pretty amazing to have access to such powerful wisdom, the responsibility that goes with it is undeniably huge. I mean, what am I expected to do with it now that I know? Was I shown the information for a reason? Some kind of big global reason? Is there some new expectation of me of which I'm not even aware? And if not, then what's the point? Seriously—why me? Surely I'm not the first person to ask that sort ofquestion. Am I?
And the only plausible answer I can seem to come up with is: Maybe I'm meant to go back. Maybe I'm meant to return. Not to halt assassinations, stop wars, and basically change the course of history—I just don't think I'm the right girl for that job.
Though I do think I've been shown this information for a reason—one that leads right back to what I've been thinking all along: That this whole scenario of the accident, my psychic powers, and Damen making me an immortal has all been a terrible mistake. And that if I can just pop back in time and stop the accident from ever happening—then I can put it all back to the way it was before. I can go back to Oregon and reenter my old life like my new life never even occurred. Which is what I've wished for all along. But where does that leave Damen? Does he go back too? And if so, will he still be with Drina until she managesto kill me, and everything happens all over again? Will I just be delaying the inevitable? Or does everything stay the same except me? Does he die at Roman's hands while I'm back in Oregon, completely unaware he exists? And if that's the case, then how can I let that happen? How can I turn my back on the one and only person I've ever truly loved?
I shake my head, noticing Romy and Rayne still looking at me, waiting for an answer, though I've no idea what to say. So, instead, I just stand there, my mouth hanging open like a ginormous dork. Thinking how even in Summerland, a place of absolute love and perfection, I'm still a total dweeb. Romy smiles, closing her eyes as her arms fill with red tulips—beautiful red tulips she promptly offers to me. But I refuse to take them. I just narrow my eyes and start backing away.
"What are you doing?" I glance between them, my voice tenuous, fragile, noticing how they look just as confused as I am.
"I'm sorry," Romy says, trying to ease my alarm. "I'm not sure why I did it. The thought just popped into my head, and so—"
I watch as the tulips dissolve from her fingers, going back to wherever they came from. But having them gone doesn't make the least bit of difference, and all I want now is for them to go too.
"Isn't anything private around here?" I shout, knowing I'm over-reacting but unable to stop. Because if those tulips were some kind of message, if she was listening in on my thoughts and trying to persuade me to give up the past and stay put, well, it's just none of her business. They may know all about Summerland, but they know nothing about me, and they've no right to butt in. They've never had to make a decision like this. They've no idea how it feels to lose every single person you've ever loved.
I take another step back, seeing Rayne furrow her brow as Romy shakes her head, saying, "We didn't hear a thing. Honest. We can't read all of your thoughts, Ever. Only the ones we're permitted to see. Whatever you see in the akashic records is yours and yours to keep. We are merely concerned by your distress. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less."
I narrow my eyes, not trusting her for a second. They've probably been snooping in my thoughts all along. I mean, why else give me the tulips? Why else manifest such a thing? "I wasn't even visiting the akashic records," I say. "This room was—" I pause, swallowing hard as I remember the smell of my mom's brownies, the feel of my grandma's blanket, and knowing I can have it all again. All I have to do is wait for the right day and time and I can return to my family and friends. I shake my head and shrug. "This room was different."
"The Akashic Hall has many faces." Romy nods. "It becomes whatever you need it to be." She looks at me, her eyes roaming over my face as she says, "We only showed up to help, not to upset or confuse you."
"So, what? You're like my guardian angels or spirit guides? Two private-school-uniform-wearing fairy godmothers?"
"Not quite." Romy laughs.
"Then who are you? And what're you doing here? And how come you always manage to find me?"
Rayne glares and pulls on her sister's sleeve, urging her to leave. But Romy stays put, looking me in the eye when she says, "We are only here to aid and assist. That is all you need to know."
I look at her for a moment, glance at her sister, then shake my head and walk away. They're deliberately mysterious and way beyond weird, and I've a pretty good hunch their intentions aren't good. Even as Romy calls out from behind me, I keep going. Eager to put some distance between us as I head for an auburn-haired woman waiting just outside the theater, the one who, from behind anyway, looks exactly like Ava.
Chapter Thirty-One
The huge disappointment I felt when I tapped that auburn-haired woman on the shoulder only to discover she wasn't Ava, made me realize just how badly I need to talk to her. So I exit Summerland and land back in my car, plopping onto the driver's seat right in front of the Trader Joe's in the Crystal Cove Promenade parking lot, and startling an unsuspecting shopper so badly she drops both her bags, scattering numerous cans of coffee and soup under a whole row of cars. And I promise myself that from now on, I'll make sure my exits and entries are a bit more discreet. When I get to Ava's, she's in the middle of a reading, so I wait in her bright sunny kitchen while she finishes up. And even though I know it's none of my business, even though I know I shouldn't be snooping, I go right for my quantum remote and access their session, amazed by the amount of accuracy and detail Ava provides.
"Impressive," I say, after her client is gone and shecomes into the kitchen to join me. "Very impressive. Seriously, I had no idea." I smile, watching as she goes through her usual ritual of filling the teapot to boil, then placing some cookies onto a plate and pushing itmy way.
"That's quite a compliment coming from you." She smiles, taking the seat just across from me. "Though if I remember right, I gave you a pretty accurate reading once too."
I reach for a cookie, knowing it's expected. And when I lick the little bits of sugar from the top, I can't help but feel sad that it no longer holds the allure that it used to. "You remember that reading? On Halloween night?"
She watches me closely.
I nod. I remember it well. That's the night I discovered she could see Riley. Up until then I'd been sure I was the only one who could communicate with my dead little sister, and I wasn't too happy to learn that was no longer the case.
"Did you tell your client she's dating a loser?" I break the cookie in half. "That he's cheating on her with someone she thinks is a friend and that she should dump them both ASAP?" I ask, removing some crumbs that fell onto my lap.
"In so many words," she says, getting up to fetch our tea the moment the pot starts to whistle. "Though I can only hope you'll learn to soften the message if you ever decide to give readings." I pause, overcome by a sudden pang of sadness whenI realize just how long it's been since I last thought about my future, about what I might want to be when I grow up. I went through so many phases—wanting to be a park ranger, a teacher, an astronaut, a supermodel, a pop star—the list was endless. But now that I'm immortal, now that I'm in a position to try out all of those things over the course of the next thousand-plus years—I no longer feel that ambitious.