Night Star

twenty-three

The weeks go by, but nothing much changes. Jude continues to avoid me until I come to a decision, Damen continues to guard Stacia at school, Miles continues to guard my feelings regarding Damen guarding Stacia at school, and Haven continues to rule the school, while I continue to remain on high alert, waiting for the moment when she decides to go after me.

But that’s just on the surface.

Because a closer look reveals more than a few cracks that are starting to show.

For one thing, there’s just no hiding the fact that Honor’s just as miserable being Haven’s number two as she was being Stacia’s number two—maybe even more so.

For another, while I can’t be too sure, since it’s not like we actually talk or anything, but by the way Stacia keeps glancing at table A with such determination and longing, well, it’s pretty clear she’s getting sick of being protected by a guy who’s immune to her charms and truly only wants to protect her.

And as for Haven, after having hooked up with and discarded just about every guy who’s ever snubbed her in the past, she’s clearly getting bored with the game. She’s also growing increasingly annoyed with the way everyone copies the various looks she works so hard to create, forcing her to invent new, more outrageous ones that ultimately get copied too.

I guess being the alpha chick isn’t quite what she thought it would be. The reality is starting to wear thin, like a job she doesn’t particularly enjoy and wasn’t really all that qualified for in the first place.

I can tell by the way she snaps at her supposed new friends, by the way she rolls her eyes dramatically, heaves these big loud sighs, and sometimes even resorts to foot-stomping tantrums when she’s really, really frustrated and wants them all to know it.

Life at the top is dragging her down, and from what I can tell, Honor is really starting to resent her being there, just like I predicted she would.

Yet it’s also clear that neither one of them has any plan to forfeit their positions. Haven has too much to prove, and Honor, well, while I have no idea what level she might’ve reached in her magick skills now that Jude’s taken a break from tutoring her, regardless of what she’s managed to learn, she’s still no match for Haven and there’s no doubt she knows it.

And even though Miles and I don’t really discuss it, even though I pretty much just stick to the same ol’, day in, day out, boring routine—of training in the morning, remaining vigilant at school, and then training again before bed, only to get up and do it all over again—I know I’m not the only one who notices.

Damen sees it too.

I can tell by the way his gaze is always on me—following me wherever I go. He feels anxious, worried about me.

Worried that she’s starting to lose it—that she’ll blow without warning and decide to come after me.

Worried that I’ll fail to alert him when it happens, even though I promised I would.

And he probably has good reason to worry. She’s strung out. Unruly. She’s a complete and total wreck.

Like a bomb only seconds from detonating.

A thread that’s this close to snapping.

And when it happens, I’ll be the first one she seeks.

Or at least I hope it’s me.

Better me than Jude.

On my way home from school I stop by the store. Despite the fact that Jude asked me to stay away, claiming he can’t bear to have me around until I make a firm decision either way.

Still, I convince myself it’s my duty—that I have a serious obligation to look after him and make sure that he’s safe and okay and all that.

But when I catch myself manifesting a cute new dress and shoes to go with it, just before checking my hair and makeup in the rearview mirror, I know that’s only part of it. The other part is I need to see him. Need to see if being around him will spark something in me.

Something I can build on.

Something strong and tangible and defined enough to steer me in the right direction.

I stop just outside the door, fussing with my clothes and my hair once again, before taking a deep breath and going in. Half expecting to find Ava behind the counter, since it’s such a warm and beautiful day, I figure the siren song of all that good surf will be pretty hard for Jude to ignore, but thrilled to find him right there behind the register instead. Laughing and joking as though he hasn’t a care in the world, his face relaxed, his aura green and easy, as he goes about the business of ringing up a customer.

A cute customer.

One whose blazing pink aura tells me she’s only partly there for the books that she’s buying and mostly there to see Jude.

I pause, wondering if I should just leave and come back later, when the door closes behind me, the bell clanks hard against it, and Jude looks past his customer to find me standing only a few feet away. Prompting his eyes to darken, his smile to falter, as his aura grows wavy and dim—pretty much the opposite of how he looked when he was talking to her.

As though the mere sight of me is enough to suck the joy right out of the room.

He shoves her stuff in a bag and sends her on her way so hastily, so abruptly, she can’t help but notice the change. Giving me a quick up and down, chased by an accusatory frown, she mumbles something under her breath and makes her way past, while Jude busies himself behind the counter as though I’m not there.

“She likes you,” I say, watching as he takes an extra long time to handle his copy of the receipt.

“She likes you and she’s cute,” I add, getting no more than a grunt in reply.

“She likes you and she’s cute and she’s got good energy,” I insist, urging him to look at me as I make my way toward him. “Which makes me wonder, what’s wrong with you?”

He stops. Stops with the fumbling, and the busy making, and the pretending I’m not standing right there in front of him when we both know I am.

Stops with all of that and finally looks at me and says, “You.” Stating it so openly, so simply, I’m not sure what to do. “You are what’s wrong with me.” I gaze down at my feet, unable to look at him, feeling foolish for coming here like this, and barely daring a breath when he adds, “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

I nod, slightly, barely, because he’s right. It is what I wanted to hear. It’s exactly why I came here.

He sinks down onto the stool, shoulders slumping as he buries his face in his hands. Rubbing his eyes, the pads of his fingers digging in deep, before lifting his head and squinting at me when he says, “Ever, what’s this about? Seriously? What’re you doing here—what do you want from me?”

I swallow hard, knowing I owe him an answer, owe him the truth—in both of its forms. Venturing to do just that when I say, “Well, first of all, I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I haven’t seen you in a while and—”

“And—?” he snaps, clearly in no mood for games.

“And… I just really wanted to see you. Needed to see you, I guess you could say.”

“You guess?”

His eyes rake over me, leaving me feeling raw, exposed, and weirdly traitorous toward Damen. Still, I need something from him. I’m all out of options. I mean, I can’t find the shirt, the Great Hall refuses to help me, the wish I made on my night star has yet to come true, and so far there’ve been no omens or signs of any kind—all of which has led me right here, left with only one way I can think of to get to the bottom of it.

A way that’s only been attempted but never actually completed.

A way that just might steer me toward the right one.

“Jude,” I start, my voice sounding raw, unused. “Jude, I—”

I move closer, thinking: This is ridiculous—this whole thing is ridiculous.

I mean, he loves me, and I know I once loved him, or, even if it wasn’t exactly love, I know for a fact I felt something for him. And maybe a kiss is all it’ll take to reveal it to me. Just like when I first kissed Damen, how we felt so connected, so bonded, before all the other cruel realities moved in.

I move around the counter and reach for his hand, moving so quickly barely a moment passes before my fingers are pressed against his and a soothing rush of his cool, calm energy streams through my limbs. Quieting my mind—causing my body to soften and yield—watching as his face veers closer, gaze probing, burning, as my fingers curl around the lean tautness of his arm.

My entire being flushed with anticipation as I pull him right to me, waiting for the swell of his lips against mine, needing to experience this once and for all, needing to know just what it is we’ve been missing throughout all of these centuries.

At first shocked by the feel of it, the unexpected coolness, the pillowy firmness of his kiss—so opposite Damen’s perfect blend of tingle and heat. Aware of the low groan escaping his throat as he cups the back of my head and presses me to him. His mouth parting softly, his tongue seeking mine, as the door swings wide open, crashes hard against the wall, and sends the bell ringing and scattering across the floor.

We turn.

Jolted apart in surprise.

Only to find Haven, looking dark, sinister, cruelly shadowed by the light at her back, blocking the doorway and glaring at us.

Her lip curled, eyes narrowed, a hand perched on each hip as she says, “Wow. Would you look at that? This must be my lucky day. Two birds, one stone, and neither one of you standing a chance.”