Impossibility of Tomorrow (21 page)

The breeze shifts, bringing with it the earthy scent of the Morgans’ garden, a neighbor’s seasonal wood smoke, and memories. This isn’t the first time Cyrus has sabotaged a love affair.

I will always remember how hot it was that night in March, Charlotte’s birthday, when we went out to the local bar to celebrate. We were living in Mexico at the time, laying low while Cyrus worked out some complicated business dealings involving, I think, shipments of cocaine to the States. It was hot and sultry, the temperature soaring well past 80 degrees even at night. I was slick with sweat, standing at the bar with Cyrus as he downed tequila like it was water, watching Charlotte dance with Sébastien on the bougainvillea-drenched patio, the brilliant purple flowers forming a dramatic backdrop for her scarlet hair. Neither Cyrus nor I missed Charlotte’s rosy cheeks, echoing the color of the rose she had tucked behind her ear. Sébastien grinned as he twirled her around and around till she collapsed dizzily into his chest. And then they danced some more.

“Do I detect a blossoming romance?” Cyrus asked over
the blare of the mariachi musicians. I knew him well enough to sense there was a threat hiding behind his question. Cyrus hated Charlotte, regretted bringing her into the coven. He wanted to be the only person I confided in, the only person who cared about me. Once Charlotte joined us, he wasn’t, for the first time in four hundred years.

Cyrus was supposed to be the center of our world, the sun that we all orbited. If Sébastien and Charlotte fell in love, they would care about each other more than they relied on him. And
that
he could never allow.

“I think they’re just having fun,” I replied, sweat dripping into my eyes. On the patio, the song slowed down as the musicians launched into a traditional rendition of “Amor Eterno”—“Eternal Love.” Sébastien drew Charlotte close, his hand wrapped around her waist and tangling in her black lace shawl.

“That had better be true,” Cyrus said icily. “Sébastien is one of my soldiers, and your bodyguard. I can’t have him getting distracted by your dear friend’s . . .
charms
.” The way he said “charms” suggested he thought Charlotte was an evil seductress out to ruin Cyrus’s life. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought exactly that. “I’d hate to have to remove such a
distraction
.” I shivered, despite the night’s heat.

I found Sébastien later that night on the beach when Charlotte slipped away to use the bathroom. “Cyrus is
watching you and Charlotte,” I breathed over the crashing waves. “He doesn’t like it.”

Sébastien’s face darkened. “Why should he care?”

“Cyrus is in charge of us. We don’t get to ask what he cares about.” I scrunched up my toes in the sand, defeated.

“But . . . I think I love her,” he said softly, his eyes searching mine. I shook my head. I couldn’t risk Charlotte’s life. And I had no illusions that if Cyrus had to choose between her and Sébastien, she’d lose in a heartbeat.

“If you love her,” I said sadly, “you’ll stay far away from her.”

He stared at me. “It’s not right,” he said finally.

“Please,” I begged, grabbing his hands. “I need to know she’s safe. That’s the most important thing.” After a beat, he nodded.

He snubbed Charlotte after that. She was heartbroken. She didn’t understand. And though I held her as she cried, though I let her talk about it for hours, analyzing what she did wrong, how she lost his affections, I never admitted that I knew the reason.

Sébastien did the right thing—he put Charlotte’s well-being over his own happiness. And that’s what I need to do with Noah. That’s what I need to remember, when I’m tortured by thoughts of him kissing Nicole, of his crow-black hair falling over hers.

I can only hope that now, with Cyrus in Berkeley, Sébastien and Charlotte are finally together. If only they’d known the truth about the other Incarnates, I think bitterly, they could have escaped Cyrus’s control years ago. Joined another coven. I could have gone with them . . . .

A door slams nearby, making me jump.

“Your mother had the right idea!” a man’s voice shouts, a familiar voice. “I’d leave here too, if I could! If I didn’t have to worry about
you.
Waste of fucking time. Waste of a life.” It’s Noah’s father, and the venom of his words carries clearly to where I sit on weary boards, shrouded by leaves.

Just a few moments later, I hear footfalls growing near. I hear someone walking through the Morgans’ backyard, padding softly across the spongy carpet of redwood needles that covers the grass.

My fingers move inside my coat, wrap themselves around the birdcage necklace that hangs over my heart. A few seconds later, Noah’s face appears. His eyes meet mine in a beam of champagne moonlight. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, making no move to leave. He hesitates, looking up at me, his eyes full of questions that I am incapable of answering. “Come on up,” I say.

He launches his body the rest of the way into the tree
house and sits in the corner opposite me. He bends his head into his lap.

“He’s horrible. I would do anything to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words sound hollow, even to me.

“Kailey,” he says, but it sounds like a question. I turn my head toward his.

And then he’s next to me, his muscled arms holding me, his hands wrapping around me. My birdcage necklace glints in the half-full moon. He touches it with one finger. “Why?” he asks. I have no answer.

His lips are on mine, searing me. I wasn’t aware of how cold it was up here until he appeared, until he tangled himself up in me. My own lips must be freezing. It must be like kissing a dead girl.
Borrowed time,
I think.
A borrowed kiss. A debt I will certainly have to pay.

He holds me tight, tighter, like the secrets I keep. Finally, I pull away, touching my fingers to my lips.

“Let’s try again, Kailey,” he says.

“No,” I whisper. “This was a mistake.”

I want so badly to cross the tree house to where he sits, to pull him into my arms. The gulf between us shatters me. His pain shatters me. Thoughts of Nicole are nothing compared with this. I don’t care about other girls. I just want him to be okay.

“You should go,” I say sharply, and he flinches.

He stands up and I’m immediately freezing. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper, thrusts it into my hands.

I look down and my breath catches in my throat.

It’s a photo of Kailey. No—not Kailey—
me
. The photo he took of me last Friday, only a week ago, before my world fell apart, before Cyrus destroyed it with a song. My eyes look into the camera, full of love, the golden setting sun changing their color, an abandoned fountain behind me.

“Keep it,” Noah says, as I hear him leaving. “I don’t want it anymore.”

THIRTY-ONE

Sunday afternoon has been torturous. I stole away from the Morgans’ house earlier to call the hospital from a pay phone. Taryn is still in a coma, and the nurse didn’t sound optimistic. And then I had to come here to help set up for the dance, where I’ve been forced to work alongside Noah for hours.

He flicks a switch, and my back is flooded with heat from the photographic lights he’s arranging around Echo’s mural backdrop, diffused with white umbrellas.

“Damn,” I mutter, as my hammer hits the nail off-center, bending it in half. “Echo, can you give me another nail?” I ask.

“Here you go.” She pulls one from the front pocket of her overalls and hands it to me.

I’m acutely conscious of Noah’s nearby presence, awash in longing that’s tainted by awkwardness. We haven’t spoken the entire afternoon—no small feat when we’re both wedged in the same small corner of the Claremont’s ballroom, the makeshift photo studio that just needs Echo’s mural to be complete.

On top of that, I’m anxiously waiting to hear back from Lucia. She’s had the details on both bidders for days, but she hasn’t called me back yet. I’ve been checking my phone compulsively all day. She must not have heard back from her computer guy yet, the guy who should be tracing the identities of the bidders. And until she does, I’m in a state of suspended animation. I can’t do anything about Reed until I know for sure that he’s Cyrus, and it’s driving me mad. I’m worried I won’t have my proof before the auction is over tomorrow, while we’re at the winery. Time is running out.

“Echo, it’s beautiful.” I stiffen at the sound of Reed’s voice behind me.

“Thank you,” she replies. I glance at her face and am surprised to see her blushing, her brown cheeks rosier than I’ve ever seen them, nearly matching the cinnamon-hued scarf that she’s wrapped around her mass of yarn-and-ribbon hair.

Reed’s right—her mural
is
beautiful. The ten-foot-wide
finished canvas is absolutely stunning, the celestial star map shimmering with metallic paint and exquisitely rendered detail.

“Hey, Noah, Kailey.”

“Hi,” I answer Reed coolly, not turning around, and raising my hammer for another whack at the nail that my fingers somehow manage to hold perfectly straight.

“Hey,” Noah tosses back with genuine friendliness.

“You’ll definitely want to bring your camera tomorrow,” Reed tells Noah. “The winery is quite picturesque.”

“Don’t worry,” Noah replies. “I never leave home without it.”

I hate this—Noah and Reed bantering like the best of friends. My stomach starts to ache.

“We’re going to have a fantastic time,” Reed declares. I aim my hammer. With a satisfying
thunk
, I hit the nail right in its center, driving it deep into the wall with one bang. I kneel down to the box of nails and grab another handful, dropping them into the pocket of my baggy cargo pants, before whirling around to face Reed.

“What are we going to do up there, anyway?” I ask.

He appraises me. “You think you can make me show my hand so easily? Nice try, Kailey.”

“So you’re going to surprise us?” Noah grins at Reed, careful to avoid looking at me.

Reed chuckles softly. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I answered that, would it?” His face turns serious. “I’m just looking forward to getting to know you all.”

Looking forward to knowing who Seraphina is, you mean. And then punishing her.
I turn around to the mural, pulling the canvas taut and moving several feet down, readying myself for the next nail.

“You two won’t mind if I borrow Echo for a minute? There are some glitter-covered stars that require her artistic direction,” Reed says.

“Go ahead,” I say listlessly. I sense Reed and Echo walking away, leaving me alone with Noah, but I keep focused on my task, holding the next nail in my lips as I pull the canvas into place.
Please,
I plead silently to the phone in my pocket,
ring. Please call me, Lucia.

I can feel Noah’s eyes on my back. I wish he weren’t coming tomorrow, that he would stay home where he’s safe. Even verbal abuse from his father is preferable to whatever Cyrus has planned.

“Noah?” I ask.

“What?” he says flatly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come tomorrow.”

He sucks in his breath. “Seriously? You hate me so much you can’t even stand to be near me for a night?”

Against my better instincts, I shove the hammer in the
loop of my cargo pants and turn around. His sweatshirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, revealing his well-muscled forearms and large, long-fingered hands. One of the photo lights is shining on his face, illuminating the hurt in his blue eyes. They remind me of a mountain lake, high in the Sierras, treacherous and deep. “I think we need some space. Some time apart,” I say quietly.

He folds his arms across his chest. “Can’t we even be friends? The way we used to be, before . . . this? Before your car accident. We used to have so much fun together.”

“Things change,” I say coldly. “And I’d rather you just stay away from me.” His eyes flash with pain. I don’t know who my words hurt more, him or me.

I look behind him, on the ballroom’s antique floral carpet, the crystal-dripping chandeliers, the straight white columns that flank the parquet dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a girl approaching, a vision of shiny brown hair and a clingy tank top. Nicole.

“If that’s really how you feel, maybe I’ll stay home tomorrow,” he says sadly, raking his hands through his hair.

“What are you talking about?” Nicole cries, hurrying to his side. “You have to come. I was going to ask you for a ride. You wouldn’t let me down, would you?” She pouts, jutting out her glossy lower lip even as she gazes hopefully into his eyes. I shove my hands inside my pockets and clench them into fists.

“Well, if you need a ride . . .” Noah smiles at her, and I want to die.

“Thank you!” She beams. “I never got to ask you that question I had the other night. We can talk about it in the car.” She puts her hand on his arm. “Plus, I make a
very
good road trip partner.”

I press my lips together tightly. Regret curls around my heart. I struggle to breathe.

“Noah, there you are!” Madison is positively cooing. Nicole’s eyes dart in Madison’s direction, taking in the high-waisted skinny jeans that cling to her curves, her slim legs emphasized by brown ankle boots. Rebecca follows a few steps behind, holding the clipboard. Nicole lets her hand fall away.

I suddenly feel like I’m watching vultures sweep in to pick at the carcass of my relationship.

Noah takes a step backward. “What’s up, Maddy?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably.

“I need some help moving those tables around,” Madison says sweetly. “And you’re done here, right?” She gestures toward the photography setup. I want to punch her in the stomach when he nods. Judging from Nicole’s poisonous expression, she feels the same way.

“Sure,” he says. “Show me the tables.”

“Thank you,” Madison replies with a wide smile, a dimple
appearing in her chin below her jeweled stud. “After that, I think it’s quitting time.”

She leads him away, her arm looped through his, and I turn on my heel toward the mural. I make quick work hanging the rest of it, putting nail after nail through the canvas, punching each one deep into the plaster with a swift
thwack
. I don’t miss once.