For Ever (25 page)

“You should close your eyes for this part,”
Ever says.

“Are you serious?”

This is the worst possible place to close my
eyes. I stare nervously at him before complying. In an instant, he
sweeps me up against his chest. I gasp and then smirk, waiting for
the punch line.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Go ahead.”

He sets me down, and I look around.

“Oh!”

We’re still on the cliffs, but we’re at least
a hundred feet from where we just were, around an impassable area
walled off by enormous stones.

“How did you … ?”

He shrugs and points in the other direction.
Up ahead the cliff juts out, the jagged outcropping of rocks
looking like some sort of sacrificial offering site. There’s a sign
with a crude drawing of a man falling over the edge to warn people
away, but I doubt anyone but Ever could get to this spot without
mountaineering equipment. Walking very carefully, I get as close to
the edge as I can stand and watch the hungry waters below. My heart
begins racing unevenly in my chest, and I back away slowly. Once
I’ve reached a conservative distance from the edge, I lower myself
onto the ground, leaning against a large, weatherworn rock. I wrap
my arms around my knees and watch Ever at the edge, his hair
whipped by the wind. He looks like an avenging angel bent on
conjuring a storm.

“Who are they? Audra and Chasen, I mean,” I
ask quietly, knowing he can hear me.

He turns slightly toward me, but his eyes
remain unfocused.

“They are like me.”

“Guardians?” I ask.

He nods and a chill runs down my spine.

“Are there many of you?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Are they,” I pause, “your family?”

I’m straining at my limits to grasp the truth
about Ever, if such a thing even exists.

“They are the closest I have to family.”

He walks back from the edge and sits beside
me, while continuing to watch the ghostly nothingness beyond the
cliff.

“And they came back here because of …”

I stop when he looks over at me.

“Yes, because of you.”

“They seemed to think I was … insignificant.
Why would they care?”

“I told you before, they believed I was
concealing you from them,” he says.

I swallow.

“And you said you were.”

“Yes.”

I shake my head.

“Okay. You’ve lost me again. Why?”

Ever’s expression darkens, and I feel a
flicker of fear. Is it possible that I haven’t yet learned the
biggest of the secrets he has been keeping?

“When I didn’t leave here, they were
curious,” he says cautiously.

I stiffen.

“You were going to leave?”

“Yes.”

Both the certainty in his voice and depth of
my disappointment catch me by surprise. I look away, like it will
hide my feelings. How different would things have been if he had
simply never come back after that first day?

“I thought it would be better for you if I
never came back,” he says. “Then it became clear that I was putting
you in danger regardless of the choices I made.”

Frowning, I’m about to remind him of all the
times he’s saved my life, but I stop when his hand comes up. I
freeze as he touches my cheek very softly. His skin is perfectly
smooth and unyielding, like glass coursing with heat.

“You’re cold,” he whispers.

As he says this, warmth begins to spread
across my skin from his touch, and even the biting wind doesn’t
feel as cold. His expression begins to change, the impossible
emerald color of his eyes darkening as he leans forward, his
fingers still resting on my cheek. I stop breathing altogether when
his other hand reaches out and his fingers begin to trace my
jaw.

Sucking in a ragged breath, I close my eyes.
Instantly, his touch evaporates, causing me to blink and shiver.
When my eyes focus, Ever is at the very edge of the cliff. A roar
of pain sweeps out across the water and disappears in the wind. My
stomach plunges when he turns to me, his eyes glowing and
desperate. I scramble to my feet and walk toward him, but before I
can reach him, his hand shoots out in warning. I continue toward
him slowly, and when I’m inches away from him, I reach up until I
can touch his cheek. His eyes close, and his head tilts toward me,
his cheek resting lightly against my palm. Several moments pass
before he opens his eyes and pulls back.

“That first day, I was so certain that I
could end it. I watched you to be sure you were the one, but I
knew. …” He shakes his head. “It should have been so simple, but I
hesitated.”

Thinking back, I remember my relief at having
a table all to myself that first day in the cafeteria. Then I
remember the person who had risen from the table and disappeared
just before I got there, and I feel my face go pale.

“That was you?” I whisper.

He nods.

“I swore to myself that I was merely being
judicious. I continued to watch you, and then you heard me. …”

The strange laughter I heard in my head that
first day—it had been his?

“No.” I shake my head furiously. “I can’t
hear people unless I’m looking directly into their eyes.”

“But you
did
hear me. And I knew then
that I could never leave you alive.”

With immediate clarity I understand why Ever
came here, why he has been posing as a high school student. I’m
suddenly very cold, any heat from Ever’s touch gone. It’s been me
all along—a vessel that these incorporeal beings could use to take
root. By getting rid of me, Ever would have eliminated their
opportunity. He had never been hunting shapeless demons; he had
been hunting
me
.

“Then that morning I blacked out in class—you
were
trying
to kill me?”

When I take a step back, he looks down at me,
his eyes pleading.

“Please understand. If I had tried, you would
not be alive now,” he whispers. “But I never anticipated that you
would be able to see into my world so easily. Those few seconds
nearly destroyed you.”

It takes every ounce of willpower I have to
hold very still as I try to make sense of the information crashing
down on me. The conflicting thoughts and emotions are about to
suffocate me. Part of me wants to run away from him as fast as I
can. Another part can’t forget how many times over I would be dead
if it weren’t for Ever.

“All those times after that, though,” I
whisper, needing something to hold onto. “You could have let me
die, but you didn’t.”

His eyes tighten, and he shakes his head.

“No. I couldn’t. If you had come so close to
death, you could have very easily been inhabited. It is my function
not to let that happen.”

His function? A wave of nausea hits me when I
finally digest the truth: that I am truly an
obligation
to
him. I try to hide the hurt before it can spread its way across my
face.

“That makes sense,” I whisper like he just
said something exceptionally logical.

His sudden growl startles me.

“Do you realize how endlessly infuriating
your logic is?” he says, his tone somewhere between amusement and
pure frustration. “You completely misunderstood my intention. I did
not
follow you around solely out of some morbid
obligation.”

“That’s what it sounded like! So,” I exhale,
“for once, can you explain in a way that makes sense?”

He studies me.

“Why did you care when you found out I hadn’t
returned to school?” he asks.

I throw my hands in the air.

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

“Humor me.”

“I don’t know! I had nothing better to do?
I’m a conspiracy theorist? I couldn’t understand why no one else
cared? I didn’t know you, but I couldn’t get you out of my head for
some stupid reason?” I stop and smirk. “And you just answered my
question with a question!”

“I suppose my motivations were similar. From
the moment I saw you, I couldn’t get you out of
my
thoughts,
and for once I felt very
human
. For the first time it felt
as though I had a purpose beyond destruction. A future that didn’t
seem so dark and meaningless.”

I blink.

“Because of me?”

“Yes.”

The look in his eyes is so intense that I
look down and shake my head, arguing against something I find
utterly irrational.

“But you were so indifferent. You spoke to me
once. And after that you acted horrified any time you had to be
around me!”

“Don’t you understand that I had to be? I
swore to myself that I would leave you alone, but from that first
morning, seeing you lifeless—because of me—I felt such a profound
loss—not guilt, but a loss like something had been ripped from me.
I knew then that I would betray everything I knew to make amends.
To protect you. Even from myself.” He exhales. “Instead, you are in
constant danger, because of me.”

“I’m the one who has an absurd rationale? Do
you have to save me indefinitely to feel you’ve
atoned
enough? And for what? What could you have done that’s so terrible?
You
didn’t
kill me, remember?”

His eyes cloud over.

“You don’t understand. You can’t.”

Ever’s words aren’t dismissive. It sounds
like he’s stating a fact as he believes it.

“Then, explain it to me, okay?”

He reaches for my hand and gently steers me
in the direction of the trail.

“Close your eyes first.”

I hesitate, feeling my stomach flip at the
thought of hurtling several hundred feet through the air—or however
we made it from one side of the cliffs to the other.

“Are we going to fly?” I ask
suspiciously.

He laughs.

“Not quite.”

His arm wraps around my waist, and I squeeze
my eyes shut apprehensively. I’m not curious enough to risk opening
my eyes mid-flight and losing my lunch. But only seconds later he’s
pulling me along the other side of the trail like nothing happened.
I’m about to demand how he did that when he interrupts me.

“Did you notice anything unusual when you
arrived here?” Ever asks.

I suppress my impatience and decide to play
along, simply because it’s a relief to have a two-way conversation
for once, rather than having thoughts pulled out of my head at
random.

“You mean other than
you
?” I
shrug.

“I meant your capacity for misfortune.”

I smirk.

“Bad luck?” I muse. “Let’s see. I freaked out
and fainted in front of a bunch of strangers on my second day of
class, I slipped and nearly killed myself on the cafeteria floor,
then a drunk driver would have mowed me down if it hadn’t been for
you. …”

We reach the car, and he opens the door for
me. I sit down and look toward the driver’s side. Ever is already
there, and the car’s engine is purring.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it wasn’t simply luck,” Ever
says.

“What then?”

“A gathering.”

“A gathering?” I repeat flatly.

“Your presence is attracting … bad
things.”

“You’re serious?”

He nods, and I frown.

“What about
you
? How did you get here
before I did?”

“Let’s just say I had a head start.”

“You knew I was coming here?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t get it. If you knew about me this
whole time, why didn’t you just show up in Topanga and—” I stop,
unable to finish.

“I could see where you would be, not where
you had been.”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of what
he just said.

“You can see the future, but not the
present—whoa, hold on. You can
see
the future?”

“Not in the way you’re imagining. It’s not a
linear view so much as it is a bending of time. A brief glimpse—a
trail to follow.”

“Into the future?”

He nods. I look down when my stomach
growls.

“I’ve kept you too long,” he says
apologetically.

“No! I’m fine. Really.”

He smiles at me.

“
You
are a poor liar.”

“Well, yeah. Sure I am—when you can poke
around in my head for answers.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he laughs.

His laughter is hypnotic, just like this new
side of him is intoxicating. And despite the continuous stream of
grim revelations, I can’t help enjoying every second I’m with him.
This scares me more than anything else.

“This whole honesty thing between us is
pretty new,” I point out. “I barely know anything about you.”

“You know more than anyone else.”

Ever’s features become solemn again.

“It was wrong of me to tell you any of
this—”

“Stop! No more regret.” I pause. “I don’t
regret meeting you.”

He looks at me doubtfully, but I already know
that I can’t regret my connection with Ever, whether it means as
much to him or not.

“I don’t regret our meeting. I only wish
…”

When he stops, I don’t press him. It takes me
several minutes to work up the nerve to test the limits of Ever’s
candidness.

“So … I’m not sure how I see stuff in
people’s heads, but I need eye contact, at least with normal
people.” I wince, wishing I had found a better way of excluding
Ever. But he isn’t
normal
. He looks over and smiles wryly in
a way that says he doesn’t take offense, and I relax. “Well, your
ability goes way beyond mine. Can you try to explain how it
works?”

He raises an eyebrow and then goes back to
watching the road.

“Because I kind of want to avoid embarrassing
myself every five minutes,” I murmur.

“In most cases, I can only see thoughts as
they are crossing a person’s mind during a particular moment in
time. It’s not an endless catalog of an individual’s every thought.
The reception becomes much hazier if the person is highly agitated
or frightened and it can make the flow of information difficult to
follow, including a person’s location. That night,” he stops and
inhales, his hands gripping the steering wheel before he continues,
“I used poor judgment. By trying to keep my distance, I nearly cost
you your life.”