Night Star

thirty-five

Just as she’s leaving, clutching a single bottle of elixir tightly to her chest, Sabine marches through the side door.

Juggling her briefcase in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, she stops, does a quick double take, and says, “Haven? I haven’t seen you in…ages. You’re looking…” Sabine pauses, brow slanted as she slowly looks her over. And even though Haven’s in much better shape than she was when she arrived, she’s still a long way from being anywhere even close to presentable. And for those not used to seeing her new look—well, she’s downright scary.

But Haven just laughs, shooting Sabine a friendly, broken-toothed smile when she says, “No worries. Trust me, my mom’s not crazy about it either. Which, by the way, is just one of the many reasons I’m divorcing her.”

Sabine glances between us, clearly confused by the statement.

But Haven’s quick to fill in the blanks. “I’m divorcing all of them actually, both my parents and my little brother. I’d divorce the housekeeper too if I could.” She laughs, the sound so unnatural, so disturbing, it instantly sets Sabine on edge. “Anyway, long story short, I moved out. I’m in the middle of getting emancipated so I don’t have to deal with their crap anymore.”

Sabine frowns, eyes narrowed in a look I’ve come to know all too well, a look that clearly signals her outraged disapproval.

But Haven’s immune to all that. If anything, it only seems to egg her on even further. Causing her to smile that much brighter when she says, “They just refused to accept me as I am, so, I just packed up my stuff and said—adios!”

Sabine glances between us, probably wondering if I’m somehow playing a role in this, if I fed Haven the lines, told her just what to say and when. But even though the words clearly apply to the way Sabine’s been treating me, I had nothing to do with it. Haven’s a one-woman show.

“Well, I’m sure they miss you very much.” Sabine nods, reverting to her courtroom litigator’s tone.

But Haven’s not playing that game, the one where everyone acts all polite and politically correct and pretends that what was just said really wasn’t, and that everything will work out in the end despite a load of evidence piling up against it.

She’s also way past playing the parent and/or guardian game where you work overtime trying to put your best manners on display, so your friends’ parents will like you, trust you, and invite you to come back again.

Because Haven and I aren’t friends.

And she couldn’t care less what Sabine thinks of her or if she’s ever invited back.

So she shrugs and rolls her eyes and sings, “Doubtful!”

Causing Sabine’s gaze to immediately harden and switch over to me as though I’m somehow responsible, that my silence, my not saying a word, my not doing anything to stop it, signals consent of some kind. When really, I’m just waiting for this whole thing to end. Waiting for Haven to finally shut up, for Sabine to finally give up, head into the kitchen, and put the groceries away, so I can finally make some progress toward closing the deal Haven and I made.

Though, unfortunately, Haven’s far from done. Clearly relishing every last bit of tension she’s introduced and eager to add to it, she says, “But then, I don’t miss them either, so I guess that makes us even.”

Sabine looks at me, ready to speak, but Haven just waves her hand in the air, temporarily losing control of the juice and watching as it hurtles toward the floor—sparking and flaring as it splashes up the sides, until she casually reaches out, flattens her palm, and catches it in midair. Her eyes glinting when she sees the way Sabine blinks, shakes her head, and instantly talks herself out of what she just saw, convincing herself that no one can actually move that fast, that it didn’t happen at all like she thought.

“Whoops!” Haven laughs. “Well, anywho, don’t mean to keep you. Just came over to grab some of Ever’s elixir here.” She holds the bottle before her, tilting it from side to side, causing it to spark and flare, before pointing at the box I grasp in my arms, the one that houses the rest of the supply.

“You came to get her…what?” Sabine squints, struggling to make sense of it, glaring suspiciously between the bottle and me, before rising up onto her toes and peering inside the box, wondering why she failed to pay it any real notice until now. She places her bag on the entry table and reaches for the bottle Haven happily offers. If it means trouble for me, Haven will gladly hand it right over.

But this has gone far enough, and there’s no way I can let it continue.

I can’t allow Sabine to get her hands on the juice.

Can’t allow Haven to play me like this.

“It’s nothing,” I say, shoving the box into Haven’s side, pushing hard against her. “It’s just that energy sports drink I like.”

But Sabine’s not buying it. One look at her face is all it takes to know that she’s launched into a full-scale alert. Suddenly making the connection between my strange behavior, my refusal to eat, and all of my other strange, unexplainable, and just plain weird habits, assuming, somewhat correctly, that it all stems from this one single thing.

Haven laughs, thrusting the elixir toward her, taunting her, tempting her, urging Sabine to try a little sip so she can see for herself just how good—just how refreshing—just how energizing and life changing one sip can be.

And Sabine’s just about to do it, lured by the pull of Haven’s gaze, the spark of the elixir, and just about to take the bait, when Haven laughs even harder and snatches it away.

Causing Sabine to shake her head, straighten her shoulders, and quickly pull herself together when she says, “I think you should leave.” The words ground between tightly clenched teeth. “I think you should go right now. And while I’m sorry to have to say it, Haven, you’re obviously very troubled and in need of some serious help, and until you find a way to get your behavior under control, I really don’t want to see you hanging around here anymore.” She reaches for the shopping bag, lifting it off the table and balancing it back on her hip as she continues to eyeball her carefully.

“Oh, no worries.” Haven smiles, turning to leave. “You will not be seeing me again anytime soon. I have absolutely no need to ever return, now that I got what I need.”

She reaches for the door and I’m right there behind her, determined to get this over with as quickly and seamlessly as I can, before the calming effects of the juice wear off and Haven starts raging again.

But just as I’m about to step onto the stoop, Sabine stops me by grabbing hold of my arm. She has no intention of letting me leave, not now, and certainly not with a friend she just banned from her house.

She narrows her gaze, fingers slipping down to my wrist, circling tightly, as she says, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

My gaze meets hers, and I know I have no choice but to say it as calmly and succinctly as I can. Leave no doubt whatsoever that whether she likes it or not, she will not keep me from going through with my plan.

“Sabine—I have to go somewhere with Haven. It won’t take long, and when I get back, we can talk all you want, but for now, I have to go.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” she cries, her voice high-pitched, shrill, as she grips me that much tighter, my wrist turning an angry shade of red that won’t even have time to bruise before it’s healed again. “Didn’t you hear me? You are not to hang around with that girl anymore. I thought I made myself clear?”

I’m just about to yank free, just about to agree that yes, she has made herself clear, but that it’s not really her choice to make, when Haven smiles, lifts the box right out of my arms and says, “No worries, Ever. You stay with your auntie. She’s obviously very upset. I can get it from here.”

And I watch as she heads for her car—Roman’s car—dumping the box on the passenger seat before settling in, revving the engine, and laughing hysterically as she waves good-bye and backs down the drive.

Sabine’s fingers still on me, still clutching me, still keeping me from doing the one thing I need to do most—the one thing that could end this horrible curse and put my life on a whole new course of complete and total happiness—shouting, “Go to your room!” Her cheeks red, eyes blazing, face so full of outrage it makes me feel terrible for causing it.

But that’s nothing compared to how I feel when I yank myself free. Pulling so hard and fast that the bag of groceries slips from her grip and sends a barrage of cans and fruits and vegetables and egg cartons and cottage cheese containers scrambling all across the floor, leaving a trail of curds, pulpy bits, and runny yellow yolk all over the polished travertine stone.

Nothing compared to how I feel when I catch her expression—a horrible mix of hurt, outrage, surprise, and even worse—fear.

Nothing compared to the regret I feel when I glance between the mess and her, wishing I could just make it disappear with my mind, erase it entirely, make it seem as though it never did happen—but knowing that’ll only serve to make things worse, I turn my back on it all, and head out the door.

Desperate to catch up with Haven who’s just used the opportunity to renege on our deal. Having no idea where to start but knowing I need to start somewhere, and I need to start now.

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.”