The Eternal Ones (32 page)

“And you never—”

“Never. If you don’t believe me, you can log back into my account. Send a message to Gordon Stewart. He’s the guy who makes the dates. See what
he
says.”

Haven was beginning to feel foolish. She’d never imagined there could be an innocent explanation for what she’d seen. Still, she refused to stop. “What about Marta? What happened to her?”

“That’s another thing. How do you know about Marta anyway?”

“I saw you guys together at your father’s gallery. I thought you two might be involved, but then I went to see her—”

Iain’s left eyebrow rose. “Wait a second. You were at the gallery?”

“I followed you,” Haven said.

“Do you know how dangerous that was? You came very close to getting yourself in a great deal of trouble.” Clearly horrified by the thought, Iain didn’t linger on the subject. “So what did Marta tell you when you went to see her?”

“She said you guys were just friends.”

“Then I guess I’ve been proved innocent once more. When should I expect an apology?”

“Not yet. I was there this morning when you showed up at her apartment right before she disappeared. Did you take her?”

“Yes,” Iain admitted.

Haven took a stumbling step backward as if she‘d been punched. “You did?”

“Marta was in trouble. I had to help her leave town. That’s one of the reasons I came back to New York when I did. But I had to keep my plans a secret. Even Marta didn’t know anything until I went to get her. She landed in Mexico three hours ago. Now there are
two
people who know that. Let’s try and keep it that way. Anything else?”

Haven was no longer feeling so confident. She was in danger of hurting someone whose actions and motives might have been nothing but noble. “I spoke with Padma Singh after I went to see Marta.”

“Oh
God
, Haven!” Iain picked up his knife and slammed its tip into the wooden cutting board. “I thought I warned you to stay away from the Ouroboros Society.”

“Well, why didn’t you
tell
me what was going on there with the drug dealing and the gray men? Why did
Marta
have to explain it to me?”

“So Marta told you about the OS? How high
was
she when you talked to her? Do you have any idea how much danger she put herself in? How much danger she put
you
in?”

Haven had never thought of it that way.

“And what did you and
Padma
discuss?” Iain demanded.

“Padma Singh was Rebecca Underwood.”

“I
know
, Haven. Does she know who you were?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell her? It’s important that I know. Did you tell her who I am?”

Haven ignored the question. “She said Ethan murdered Constance and Dr. Strickland.”

Iain nodded stoically, as if his worst fears were being realized. “You see? This is
exactly
why I didn’t want you to go there. Padma would say anything to come between us. And I bet she can be quite persuasive, can’t she?”

“So Ethan didn’t kill anyone?”

“Not a single person. Ever. I swear. I
hope
you didn’t tell Padma that I was Ethan. Did you?”

“No,” Haven said. “But she has a hunch that Ethan is back.”

“Damn it! Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to hide my identity from her? I’ve had to invent an entire past life!” Iain took a deep breath to cool his temper. “We’ll need to get out of New York before they figure it all out. Now do you understand why we can’t be photographed together?” he asked, and Haven nodded. “Is there anything else you want to ask me? Has anyone else been whispering lies in your ear?”

“No.”

“Are you
sure
?”

“Positive.”

“When did all this girl-detective business start, anyway? What did I ever do to make you mistrust me?”

“You lied about the phone in Rome. You lied about having dinner with your lawyer. You lied about—”

“Okay,” Iain stopped her, his anger fading. “Those were fibs. I’ll admit it. But my intentions were good.”

“You know what they say about good intentions,” Haven said.

“You have no idea how true that really is,” Iain replied, picking up the last tomato and chopping it into fine chunks.

“Iain?” Haven said once he’d finished.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I got carried away. I just have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re innocent, why are you putting up with all of this from me?” Haven asked.

“Because I love you,” Iain said simply. “I always have. I love your bad temper. I love your jealous streak. I love your strength and pigheadedness. And I know you love me. And sometimes love makes people go a little crazy. The insanity won’t last forever . . . I hope.”

“But if we’re really meant to be together, shouldn’t this be a lot easier?” Haven asked. “Why has it all been so hard?”

Iain threw the chopped tomato into the pot and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Come here,” he ordered. When Haven was close, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t expect me to be perfect. Despite all my lives, I’m still only human. I can’t deliver perfection, and I’ll only disappoint you. But I want you to remember that you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Haven nodded.

“Sometimes I’m going to screw things up. I may even tell a white lie now and then. But you have to give me the benefit of the doubt, okay?”

“I will.” Thankfully, only Haven seemed to notice the slight hesitation in her voice.

“And do you promise to never go near the OS again?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Dinner’s going to take a while to cook. Can you think of anything we can do to pass the time?”

Haven giggled. “Nope,” she said.

“How about a guided tour of the house?” Iain offered, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. “We’ll start with the bedrooms.”

 

LATER THAT NIGHT, Haven woke from a vivid dream. The world she’d visited with her eyes closed was an ancient, mysterious place that bore no resemblance to the one Haven had seen in her visions. She’d been greeted by a voluptuous woman, her body clothed in shimmering golden robes. The woman held both hands over her head, and in each fist writhed a poisonous snake. Three more serpents twisted about the woman’s torso. As the woman opened her mouth to speak, Haven sat upright.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw Iain beside her, lying facedown on the bed. His back was bare, and she let her fingers trace the length of his spine. When she reached the base, he moaned softly and the sheet shifted, exposing a small tattoo of a silver serpent swallowing its tail.

“Haven,” Iain whispered in her ear.

Haven opened one eye. “Where are you going?” she asked when she saw he was dressed.

“Something’s come up. I have to meet with my lawyers,” he said, forcing a smile. “And this time I’m telling the
truth
.” His attempt at a joke fell flat. Haven could see he was worried.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It will be.” Iain bent down and kissed her. “I forgot to stock up on coffee for you, but there’s a café a couple of blocks down Lexington if you need some. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

When she heard the elevator doors open and shut, Haven propped herself up in bed and stared out the bedroom window. Across Central Park stood the Andorra, its two towers reflected in the lake below. Frances Whitman’s terrace was just a speck of green on the hulking beige facade. Yet that one patch of color taunted Haven. She had arrived in New York a week earlier and was still no closer to finding the truth about what had happened back in 1925 to the girl from the other side of the park. If Ethan hadn’t killed Constance—who had?

The cell phone in Haven’s handbag rang, and she leaped out of bed trying to get to it in time. She saw that it wasn’t Iain or Beau just before the call went to voice mail.

“Haven, this is your mother.” It wasn’t a particularly friendly way to start a message. “Imogene was looking through a magazine this morning, and you would not
believe
what she came across. A picture of her very own granddaughter. With a boy. In
Rome
. As you might imagine, she was on the phone to Dr. Tidmore the second she saw it. Hunted him down on vacation to tell him that your demon has finally taken control.

“I
warned
you, Haven Moore. I told you it was time to come home. Now, if you aren’t on your way to Tennessee by this evening, Imogene is going to report you as a runaway, and we’ll have the New York City police find you and haul your bottom to the train station. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but you’ve really left us no choice.”

Haven stared at the phone. So Imogene the hypocrite liked to read a little gossip now and then, did she? It figured. Haven erased the message and pulled on some clothes. She needed coffee to deal with this unfortunate turn of events.

The café on Lexington was packed, and the line snaked out the door and onto the sidewalk. Haven dialed Beau as she began walking south, looking for a less crowded option.

“Haven?” Beau didn’t wait for her to respond. “Are you safe? You had me so worried that I barely got an hour of sleep.”

“I did?” Haven asked before she recalled her last conversation with Beau. It felt like an eternity had passed. “Oh, yeah. It was a false alarm. Iain didn’t kidnap Marta.”

“A false alarm?” Beau scoffed. “How the hell . . . Hold on. I can’t wait to hear all about this, but you’ll have to let me call you back in a minute. I’m on the other line.”

Haven kept walking. None of the cafés in Midtown seemed to suit her. She was already across from Grand Central Station, beneath the giant steel gargoyles of the Chrysler Building when she finally heard her phone ring.

“That was a lot longer than a minute,” Haven pointed out. “It’s been at least half an hour.”

“Don’t get all snippy with me. For your information, I was talking to Leah Frizzell. Why she doesn’t just call you directly is anyone’s guess.”

“She told me she thinks someone might be eavesdropping on my conversations,” Haven explained.

“Yeah, but how does she figure I get the information to you? Telepathy? Anyway, she’s dusted off her crystal ball again, and she wants you to know that you’re being watched.”

“Right now?” Haven couldn’t help but take a peek over her shoulder.

“She didn’t say. See, that’s the problem with Leah’s visions. She’s got a blind spot the size of an eighteen-wheeler.”

“There you go again,” Haven said. “How many things does Leah need to get right before you start to believe her?”

“What do you mean, ‘how many things’? Right now, her success rate’s somewhere between a telephone psychic and a Magic Eight-Ball. What’s all this about a false alarm, anyway?”

“Iain didn’t kidnap Marta. He just helped her get out of town. I guess she was in trouble with the OS.”

“And what about all the things Padma Singh told you?”

“Lies,” Haven said. “She’d do just about anything to keep Constance and Ethan apart. That’s why Iain had to keep his real identity a secret from the Society.”

“And you believe all this?”

“Of course!”

“Well, I sure hope this is the end of the roller-coaster ride, Haven.” Beau still sounded skeptical. “I was starting to get kind of nauseous. So what are you going to do now? Live happily ever after with your billionaire boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. Iain had to get up early this morning to go see his lawyers. I have a feeling something’s happened with the Jeremy Johns case,” Haven began to explain before she recalled her own troubles. “But listen—I didn’t call to talk about all of this. I need you to do me a favor.”

“Okay. What is it this time?”

“Imogene saw that picture of me in Rome, and now my mom says she’s going to report me as a runaway. Will you go talk to Mom and work your magic? Try to calm her down?”

“Why can’t
you
call your mother?”

“’Cause if I talk to her, she’ll expect me to tell her everything, and I don’t want to be forced to lie. But if you let her know that the picture is just a big misunderstanding, that might be enough to convince her to call off the dogs for a while.”

“So you’re saying you’re too big a wuss to call your own mother.”

“Yeah,” Haven admitted.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Beau said. “But at some point I’m going to have to take some time off from being your slave so I can start living my own life.”

“Spending all your free time trawling the Internet for juicy gossip doesn’t count as a life.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“It’s a gift. So will you do it?”

“I’ll try to drop by there later,” Beau said. “But I still say this would be an excellent day to start doing your own dirty work.”

“Why bother when you’re so good at it?”

“Funny.
Goodbye
, Haven.”

“
Goodbye
, Beau.”