Calling over my shoulder to say, “Sabine, I’m sorry. Really I am. But there are things you just don’t understand—don’t want to understand—and, as it just so happens, this is one of them.”
thirty-six
As soon as my foot hits the stoop, I start running. Not wanting to waste the time it’ll take to go into the garage and get my car and start it up and back out of the drive and all the other steps in the whole “normal” routine I work so hard to keep up if for no other reason than to appease Sabine (even though pretty much all of my actions so far have done just about anything but appease her), but also not wanting to manifest anything while she’s still watching from the window. Knowing that’ll only result in a whole new slew of questions—questions I have no intention of answering.
Her gaze follows me. I can feel the weight of it wrapping all around me in a horrible mix of anger, worry, and fear.
Thoughts are things. Made of a very tangible form of energy. And hers are shooting straight to the heart of me.
But despite feeling terrible about everything that just happened, it’s not like I can take the time to stop and worry about it now, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I’ll no doubt have my work cut out for me trying to find a way to make it up to her, but for now, my only concern is finding Haven.
I turn off my driveway and onto my street, thinking I’m finally home free, only to be confronted with the sight of Munoz slowing his Prius as he heads right toward me.
Great, I mumble, watching as he lowers his window and calls out my name, his face clouded with a look of genuine concern when he asks, “Everything okay?”
I stop, stealing a second to look at him and say, “Actually, no. Pretty much nothing’s okay. In fact, not even close.”
He scrunches his brow and glances between the house and me. “Can I help?”
I shake my head, starting to take off again, but then I think better, so I turn to him and say, “Yeah, please tell Sabine that I’m sorry. That I’m really and truly sorry for everything…for all the trouble I’ve caused, for hurting her in the way that I have. She probably won’t believe it, probably won’t accept it, and I can’t say I blame her, but, well, anyway…” I shrug, feeling more than a little foolish for having shared all of that, but it’s not like that stops me. “Oh, and failing that, you can always greet her with these…” I close my eyes and manifest a large bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, knowing I shouldn’t have done it, knowing it’ll only spawn a whole new slew of questions I have no time to answer, but still thrusting them upon him when I add, “They’re her favorite—just don’t tell her how you got ’em, okay?”
And before he can reply, before I can take in the full impact of the shock on his face, I’m off.
Having wasted more time than I can afford, I take one more second to manifest a black BMW for myself, just like the one Damen drives. Aware of Munoz’s bewilderment, his outright astonishment, as he continues to watch me from his rearview mirror. Seeing his jaw dropped down to his knees in a bug-eyed, did I really just see what I think I did kind of stare when I speed out of sight.
Making my way toward Coast Highway, figuring I’ll find a way to deal with him later, as I accelerate along the series of curves and try to determine where Haven might’ve gone.
My gut sinking the second the answer appears in my mind.
The shirt.
Now that she got what she wanted—thanks to Sabine’s interfering—she has no plans to make good on her end of the deal. She hates me so much, she’d much rather destroy the one thing I want, the one thing I didn’t just ask for but insisted upon in return for the juice, even though it clearly holds great sentimental value for her.
Even though I’m pretty dang sure she has no idea of the promise it holds for me.
But that’s hardly the point. As far as Haven’s concerned, the fact that I want it, the fact that I was willing to bargain for it, is reason enough to destroy it.
I could tell by the way she looked at me. She may have been shaky, more than a little unsteady, but she’d had just enough elixir to allow her to think and act somewhat logically.
So when I offered to provide her with a nice supply of juice if she gave me something in return, she just shrugged and said, “Fine. Whatever. Just go ahead and spill it already. What’s this big thing you so desperately need?”
“I want the shirt,” I’d said, moving until I was standing right before her, seeing her squint in reply as I added, “the one Roman wore on his very last night. The one you snatched right out of my hand before you threatened me and told me to leave.”
Her gaze narrowed, and the way she looked at me, well, it was clear she still had it. But it was also clear she had no idea why I’d want it, what the significance could possibly be. And I can only hope it stays that way, at least until I can get the shirt safely within my possession.
“You mean, the shirt he was wearing on the night when you killed him?” she’d said, brow quirking crazily.
“No.” I shook my head, keeping my voice steady and sure, my gaze focused on hers. “I mean the shirt he wore on the night he so tragically died an accidental death at Jude’s hands.” My gaze holding, making sure I had her full attention, when I added, “You hand over that white linen shirt he was wearing, and I mean that very same one, because trust me, Haven, I will know if you try to swap it for a fake, but anyway, you give me that and in exchange I’ll give you all the elixir you need.”
She glanced between the box of elixir I’d just filled—the box I referred to as a good-faith down payment, since it was all that I had on hand—and me. Wanting so badly to deny me, but so completely overcome by her own de pen den cy, her own raging need, in the end, she was unable to do anything but reluctantly agree.
Finally nodding her consent when she said, “Fine. Deal. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
And that’s when we headed downstairs. Haven carrying a fresh new bottle she was well on her way to draining, and me lugging the box for safekeeping, determined to keep it from her until the exchange was complete.
But then Sabine came home and wrecked everything.
I sigh, switching my focus back to the present, just about to stop by her old house, the one where her parents and little brother still live, wondering if she might’ve stashed it there for some reason, primarily because it seems like the last place anyone would look, when I have this overwhelming urge to head somewhere else instead.