Shadowland (The Immortals #3)

I walk home. Or at least, that’s the direction I originally head in. But somewhere along the way I take a turn. And then another. And another. My feet moving so slowly they practically drag, knowing there’s no need to run, nothing to prove. Despite my strength and speed, I’m no match for Roman. He’s the master of this game and I’m merely his pawn.

I continue, deep into the heart of Laguna, or the Village, as it’s called. Too awake to go home, too ashamed to see Damen, making my way through the dark, empty streets until stopping before a small, well-tended cottage, with flowering plants flanking either side of the door and a woven welcome mat placed just so, making it appear warm, friendly, completely benign.

Only it’s not. Not even close. Now it’s more like a crime scene. And unlike the last time I was here, this time I don’t bother knocking. There’s no point. Ava’s long gone. After stealing the elixir and leaving Damen to fend for himself, she has no intention of returning.

I unlock the door with my mind and step in, taking a quick look around before I move past the den and into the kitchen. Surprised to find the usually well-ordered room reduced to an absolute mess—the sink piled high with dirty glasses and dishes as the trash overflows to the floor. And even though I’m sure it’s not Ava who’s done this, clearly someone is here.

I creep down the hall, peering into a series of empty rooms until I get to the indigo door at the end—the one that leads to Ava’s so-called sacred space where she used to meditate and try to reach the dimensions beyond. Opening the door just a crack and squinting into the dark, making out two sleeping figures sprawled on the floor. Skimming my hand along the wall and fruitlessly searching for a light, before remembering my ability to illuminate the room on my own—only to find the last two people I ever expected to see.

“Rayne?” I kneel down beside her, holding my breath as she rolls over and opens one eye.

“Oh hey, Ever.” She rubs her eyes and struggles to sit. “Only I’m not Rayne, I’m Romy. Rayne’s over there.”

I glance at her twin at the far side of the room, noting the scowl that crosses her face the second she realizes it’s me.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, focusing on Romy again since she’s always been the nicer of the two.

“We live here.” She shrugs, tucking her wrinkled white shirt into her blue plaid skirt as she gets off the floor.

I glance between them, taking in their pale skin, large dark eyes, and straight, black, shoulder-length hair with the razor-slashed bangs, noticing how they’re both still dressed in the same private school uniforms as the first day we met. But unlike in Summerland where they always appear so clean and pristine, now they’re pretty much the opposite—sadly disheveled and completely uncared for.

“But you can’t live here. This is Ava’s house.” I shake my head. The idea of them squatting here leaves me extremely unnerved. “Maybe you should think about going home. You know, back to Summerland?”

“We can’t.” Rayne pulls on her kneesocks, making sure they’re of exact equal height, unintentionally providing the only real clue that helps me tell them apart. “Thanks to you, we’re stuck here forever,” she mumbles, taking a moment to glare at me.

I glance at Romy, hoping she’ll explain. But she just shakes her head at her sister, before looking at me. “Ava’s gone.” She shrugs. “But don’t let Rayne give you the wrong impression. We’re quite happy to see you. We had a running bet on how soon you’d show.”

My gaze darts between them, laughing nervously as I say, “Oh, really? Who won?”

Rayne rolls her eyes and points at her sister. “She did. I was sure you’d abandoned us for good.”

I pause, something about the way she just said that—“Wait, you mean you guys have been here this whole time?”

“We can’t get back.” Romy shrugs. “We’ve lost our magick.”

“Well, I’m sure I can help you return. I mean, you do want to return—right?” I look at them, seeing Rayne smirk as Romy just nods. Knowing this’ll be a lot easier than they think since all I have to do is make the portal, get them settled, then say my good-byes and make the return trip back to Laguna alone.

“We’d like that very much,” Romy says.

“And we’d like to leave now,” Rayne adds, eyes narrowed. “After all, it’s the very least you can do.”

I swallow hard. I deserve that, but I still wonder who’s more desperate for them to leave, them or me?

I motion toward Rayne as I head for the futon, wondering why neither of them thought to sleep on it instead of the floor. “Come,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “You sit here on my right, and Romy, you sit here.” I pat the lumpy cushion. “Now grab my hands and close your eyes, then focus on seeing the portal with all of your might. Envisioning that golden shimmer of light as though it’s before you. And as soon as the image is clear, I want you to see yourself stepping right through, knowing I’m right there beside you, keeping you safe. Okay?”

I peek at them, seeing them nod before we go through the motions, re-creating all the right steps. But just as I step through the light and into that vast fragrant field, I open my eyes and find I’m alone.

“Told you,” Rayne says, the second I return. Standing before me, eyes angry, accusing, small, pale hands clutching her plaid skirted hips. “Told you our magick is gone. We’re stuck here now with no way to get back. And it’s all because we tried to help you!”

“Rayne!” Romy shakes her head at her sister, then glances at me with an apologetic look on her face.

“Well, it’s true!” Rayne scowls. “I told you we shouldn’t risk it. I told you she wouldn’t listen. I saw it clear as day. The overwhelming possibility she’d make the wrong choice—which, I might add, she did!” She shakes her head and frowns. “It went exactly as predicted. And now we’re the ones paying the price.”

Oh, you’re not the only ones, I think. Hoping they’ve lost their ability to read minds as well, since I’m immediately shamed by the thought. No matter how much she’s annoying me, I know she’s right.

“Listen,” I say, swallowing hard as I glance between them, needing to defuse this. “I know how bad you want to get back. Trust me, I do. And I’m going to do everything I can to help you.” I nod, seeing them glance at each other, two identical faces marred by complete disbelief. “I mean, I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to do it, but just trust that I will. I’ll do everything I can to help you get back. And in the meantime, I’ll do everything I can to keep you both comfortable and safe. Scout’s honor. Okay?”

Rayne looks at me, rolling her eyes and heaving a sigh. “Just get us back to Summerland,” she says, arms crossing her chest. “That’s all we want. Nothing short of that will do.”

I nod, refusing to let her get to me when I say, “Understood. But if I’m going to help you, I’ll need you to answer some questions.”

They look at each other, Rayne’s gaze signaling a silent: No way, as Romy turns, nodding at me as she says, “Okay.”

And even though I’m not quite sure how to phrase it, it’s something I’ve been wondering for a while now, so I just dive in. “I’m sorry if this off ends you, but I need to know—are you guys dead?” I hold my breath, fully expecting them to be mad, or at the very least insulted—pretty much any reaction but the laughter I get. Watching as they fall all over themselves, Rayne doubled over, slapping her knee, as Romy rolls off the futon, practically convulsing. “Well, you can’t blame me for asking.” I frown, definitely the one who’s insulted. “I mean, we did meet in Summerland where plenty of dead people hang out. Not to mention how you’re both unnaturally pale.”

Rayne leans against the wall, fully recovered from her laughing fit and smirking at me. “So we’re pale. Big deal.” She glances at her sister, then back at me. “It’s not like you’re exactly rockin’ a tan. And yet, you don’t see us assuming you’re a member of the dearly departed.”

I wince, knowing it’s true, but still. “Yeah, well, you had an unfair advantage. Thanks to Riley you knew all about me long before we met. You knew exactly who I am and what I am, and if I have any hope of helping you, then I’m gonna have to know a few things too. So as much as you may resent it, as much as you may want to resist, the only way we’re gonna get anywhere is if you tell me your story.”

“Never,” Rayne says, staring at her sister, warning her not to rebel.

But Romy ignores her and turns right to me. “We’re not dead. Not even close. We’re more like—refugees. Refugees from the past, if you will.”

I glance between them, thinking all I have to do is lower my guard, focus my quantum remote, and touch them for their entire life story to be revealed, but figuring I should at least try to get their version first.

“A long time ago,” she starts, peering at her disapproving sister before taking a deep breath and forging ahead. “A very long time ago, in fact, we were facing a—” She squinches her brow, searching for just the right word, nodding at me when she says, “Well, let’s just say we were about to become victims of a terribly dark event, one of the most shameful times in our history, but we escaped by fleeing to Summerland. And then, well, I guess we lost track of time and we’ve been there ever since. Or at least until last week when we came to help you.”

Rayne groans, dropping to the floor and burying her face in her hands, but Romy just ignores her, still looking at me when she says, “But now our worst fear has come true. Our magick is gone, we’ve nowhere to go, and no idea how to survive in this place.”

“What sort of persecution did you flee?” I ask, watching her closely, searching for clues. “And how long ago is very long ago? Just what are we dealing with here?” Wondering if their history stretches as far back as Damen’s, or if they belong to a more recent past.

They gaze at each other, communicating a wordless agreement that shuts me right out. So I move toward Romy, grasping her hand so quickly she has no time to react. Immediately pulled into her mind—her world—seeing the story unfold as though I’m right there. Standing on the sidelines, an unnoticed observer, fully immersed in the chaos and fear of that day, witness to images so horrible I’m tempted to turn away.

Watching as an angry mob swarms their home, voices raised—torches high—their aunt barring the door as best she can, making the portal and urging the twins toward the safety of Summerland.

Just about to step through the portal and join them when the door gives way and the twins disappear. Separated from everything they once knew, having no idea what became of their aunt until a visit to the Great Halls of Learning showed them the torturous trial of false accusations she was forced to endure. Refusing to confess to any kind of sorcery, having taken the Wiccan Rede of “An it harm none, do what ye will,” and knowing she’d done nothing wrong, she rebuffed her oppressor and held her head high—all the way to the gallows where she was brutally hung.

I stagger back, fingers seeking the amulet just under my tee, something about their aunt’s gaze so eerily familiar, leaving me shaky, unsettled, reminding myself that I’m safe, they’re safe—that things like that don’t happen these days.

“So now you know.” Romy shrugs as Rayne shakes her head. “Our whole story. Everything about us. Do you blame us for choosing to hide?”

I glance between them, unsure what to say. “I—” I clear my throat and start over. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I glance at Rayne, seeing how she refuses to look at me, then over at Romy who solemnly bows her head. “I had no idea you guys escaped the Salem Witch Trials.”

“Not exactly,” Rayne says, before Romy chimes in.

“What she means is we were never tried. Our aunt stood accused. One day she was revered as the most sought-after midwife, and the next, she was rounded up and taken away.” She sucks in her breath, eyes welling up as though it were yesterday.

“We would’ve gone with her, we had nothing to hide,” Rayne says, lifting her chin and narrowing her gaze. “And it certainly wasn’t Clara’s fault that poor baby died. It’s the father who did it. He didn’t want the baby or its mother. So he did away with them both and blamed Clara. Crying witch so loud the entire town heard—but then Clara made the portal, and forced us to hide, and she was just about to join us when—well, you know the rest.”

“But that was over three hundred years ago!” I cry, still unused to the idea of an existence that long despite my immortality.

The twins shrug.

“So if you haven’t been back since—” I shake my head, the monumental size of this problem just beginning to unfold. “I mean, do you have any idea how much things have changed since you were last here? Seriously. It’s like a whole different world from the one that you left.”

“It’s not like we’re idiots.” Rayne shakes her head. “Things progress in Summerland too, you know. New people arrive all the time, manifesting the things they’re attached to, all the stuff they can’t bear to let go.”

But that’s not what I meant, in fact, not even close. I wasn’t just referring to cars versus horse-drawn carriages, and trendy boutiques versus hand sewn—but more their ability to get along in the world—blending in, adapting, not standing out in the glaring way that they do! Taking in their razor-slashed bangs, their large dark eyes and extremely pale skin, knowing their twenty-first-century make over is far less about a uniform change than a complete and total overhaul.

“Besides, Riley prepared us,” Romy says, eliciting a loud groan from Rayne, and my full attention from me. “She manifested a private school and convinced us to enroll. That’s where these uniforms came from. She was our teacher, coaching us on all the modern ways, including our speech. She wanted us to return and was determined to prepare us for the trip. Partly because she wanted us to look after you, and partly because she thought we were crazy for missing out on our teens.”

I freeze, suddenly grasping a new understanding in Riley’s interest in them—one that’s got far less to do with me, and everything to do with her. “How old are you guys?” I whisper, looking to Romy for the answer. “Or should I say, how old were you when you first arrived in Summerland?” Knowing they haven’t aged a day since.

“Thirteen,” Romy says, knitting her brow. “Why?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, stifling a laugh as I think: I knew it!

Riley always dreamed of the day she’d be thirteen, a bona fide teenager having finally made it to the important double digits. But after dying at twelve, she chose to hang around the earth plane, living her adolescence vicariously through me. So it only makes sense she’d try to convince Romy and Rayne to return, not wanting anyone else to miss out like her.

And if Clara can find the strength, and Riley the hope, in situations so incredibly dire and bleak, surely I can overcome Roman.

I glance between the twins, knowing they can’t stay here on their own or come home to live with Sabine and me, though there is someone who’s quite able and ready, if not entirely willing to lend us a hand.

“Grab your stuff,” I say, heading for the door. “I’m taking you to your new home.”