Shadowland (The Immortals #3)
Shadowland: Chapter 29

“Your boyfriend seems cool.” Jude looks at me, leaning on the edge of the counter, coffee mug in hand.

“That’s because he is cool.” I nod, thumbing through the appointment book, seeing I’m booked for a two o’clock, followed by a three, a four, and a five—and relieved to see that the names aren’t even slightly familiar.

“So he is—your boyfriend, then?” He takes a quick sip of his drink, eyeing me from over the top of the cup. “I couldn’t be sure. Seems kind of old, you know?”

I slam the book shut and reach for my water, even though I’d really prefer a gulp of immortal juice instead. But ever since Roman showed up I vowed to cut back on my public consumption. “We’re in the same class.” I shrug, returning his gaze. “Which would make us the same age, no?” Hoping to avoid further scrutiny by phrasing it like that.

But Jude continues to stare, gaze deepening when he says, “I don’t know, does it?”

I swallow hard and look away, heart beating overtime as I think, Does he sense something too? Is he onto us?

“Could mean he was held back—for—” He smiles, those sea green eyes sparkling, full of light. “Several decades—at least?”

I lift my shoulders, determined to ignore the insult if that’s what it was. Reminding myself that Jude’s not just my boss—providing a job that gets Sabine off my back—but also the keeper of the Book of Shadows, a tome I desperately need to get to again.

“So, how’d you meet Honor?” I ask, leaning down to tinker with the jewelry display. Rearranging the silver chains with their gemstone pendants, tucking the price tags away. Hoping to appear nonchalant, blasé, as though I’m just filling up the silence and not because I care.

He leaves his cup on the counter and disappears into the back, fiddling with the stereo system until the room fills with the sound of crickets and rain, the same CD he plays every day. “I was hanging a flyer over at this place.” He returns to the counter and points to the name on his cup.

“Was she alone or with someone?” I squint, imagining Stacia egging her on, making her approach him, as some kind of dare.

He looks at me, eyes searching my face for so long I avert my gaze and busy myself with the rings, organizing them by color and type, as he continues to study me.

“Didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “She just asked about the class so I gave her a flyer to take with her.”

“Did you talk? Did she tell you why she’s interested?” Blowing my cover as a person who’s only mildly curious the moment the words escape.

He squints, gaze deepening as he says, “Said she’s having boyfriend problems and wanted to know if I knew any good spells she could cast.”

I gape, unsure if he’s joking, until he laughs.

“What’s with all the interest? She try to steal your boyfriend or something?”

I shake my head, shutting the jewelry case and meeting his gaze when I say, “No, her best friend did.”

Jude eyes me, voice careful when he says, “And was she successful?”

“No! Of course not!” Cheeks flushing, heart racing, knowing I answered too quickly to ever be believed. “But that doesn’t stop her from trying,” I add, knowing that was no better.

“Doesn’t stop her, or didn’t stop her? She still at it?” He lifts his cup and takes a long pull, his gaze never once leaving my face.

I shrug, still trying to recover from my previous outburst. Knowing I’m the one who started all this.

“So, you in the market for a spell of your own? Something that’ll keep the girls away from Damen?” Brow raised, voice giving no hint if it was a joke.

I shift on my stool, unnerved by the weight of his gaze, not liking the sound of Damen’s name on his lips.

“Guess that explains your sudden interest in the Book of Shadows,” Jude says, refusing to let it go.

I roll my eyes and move away from the counter, not caring if it’s an insubordinate act. This conversation is over. I’m making that clear.

“Is this going to be a problem?” he asks, his voice carrying a tone I can’t read.

I stop just shy of the bookshelf, unsure what he’s referring to. Turning to read his sunshiny aura, and still not having a clue.

“I know you don’t want people to know about you, and now there’s some girl from your school dropping in…” He shrugs, allowing me to fill in the rest.

I shrug too, realizing the list of people who know my psychic secret is really starting to grow. First Munoz, then Jude, and soon Honor, which means Stacia will follow (though she already suspects anyway)—and then of course there’s Haven who proclaims to be “onto” us as well. And the awful part is—all of this can be traced back to me.

I clear my throat, knowing I have to say something though I’ve no idea what. “Honor’s not—” nice, pleasant, kind, decent, at all what she seems—but the truth is, that more describes Stacia. Honor’s much more of an enigma to me.

Jude looks at me, waiting for the finish.

But I just turn away, face obscured by a chunk of blond hair when I say, “Honor’s not someone I know all that well.”

“Guess that makes two of us.” He grins, tossing back the last of his coffee before crumbling his cup and projecting it toward the trash where it lands with a thud. His gaze seeking mine when he says, “Though she does seem a little lost and unsure, and that’s exactly the kind of person we try to help around here.”

By six, my fifth client, a last-minute walk-in, is gone for the day, and I’m in the back room smoothing my hair from the black wig I decided to wear.

“Better.” Jude nods, glancing up from his computer briefly, before returning to his work. “The blond suits you. That black was a little harsh,” he mumbles, tapping the keyboard and shaking his head.

“I know. I looked like a severely anemic Snow White,” I say, looking at Jude as we laugh.

“So, what’d you think?” he asks, back to his computer screen.

“I liked it.” I nod, moving away from the mirror and closer to the desk where I perch on the edge. “It was good. I mean, some of it was kind of depressing and all, but it’s nice to be able to help someone for a change, you know?” Watching his fingers move across the keyboard so fast my eyes can hardly keep up. “Because honestly, I wasn’t so sure. But I think it went okay. I mean, you didn’t get any complaints or anything—did you?”

He shakes his head, squinting as he shuffles through a stack of papers at his side. “Did you remember to shield yourself?” He takes a moment to gaze up at me.

I lift my shoulders, having no idea what he means. The only shielding I’ve ever done is the kind that shuts off everyone’s energy, which would make it pretty much impossible to give a reading.

“You need to protect yourself,” he says, pushing away his laptop to better focus on me. “Both before and after a reading. Has no one ever shown you how to leave yourself open while still shielding yourself from unwanted attachments?”

I shake my head, wondering if that’s even necessary for an immortal like me. Unable to imagine anyone’s energy being strong enough to drag me down, but it’s not like I can share that with him.

“Would you like to learn how?”

I shrug, scratching my arm as I glance at the clock, wondering how long it’ll take.

“It won’t take long,” he says, reading my expression, already moving away from the desk. “And it really is important. Think of it like washing your hands—it releases all the negative stuff your clients carry with them, making sure it can’t contaminate your life.”

He motions for me to take one of the seats as he perches on the adjacent one, regarding me seriously as he says, “I would guide you through a meditation that’ll help strengthen your aura—but since I can’t actually see your aura, I have no idea if it needs strengthening.”

I press my lips together and cross my right leg over my left, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, unsure how to respond.

“Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you hide it like that. I’d love to learn your technique.”

I swallow hard and nod slightly, as though I might just do that someday, but not now.

Keeping his voice low and smooth, almost to a whisper, he says, “Close your eyes and relax, breathing slowly and deeply as you picture a swirl of pure golden energy with each intake of breath, followed by a swirl of dark mist with each outtake. Breathing in the good—ridding yourself of the bad. Continuing this cycle again and again, allowing only good energy to work its way through your cells, until you feel cleansed and whole and ready to begin.”

I do as he says, reminded of the grounding meditation Ava once put me through, concentrating on my breath, keeping it slow, steady, and even. At first feeling self-conscious under the weight of his gaze, knowing he’s studying me closer than he would if my eyes were open, but soon, I’m pulled into the rhythm—pulse calming, mind clearing, concentrating on nothing but breathing. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Then, when you’re ready, imagine a cone of the most brilliant, golden white light reaching down from the heavens and descending upon you—growing and expanding in size until it bathes you completely—surrounding your entire being and allowing no lower energies or negative force fields to creep in—keeping all your positivity fully intact, safe from those who might leech it.”

I open an eye, peeking at him, never having thought of someone trying to steal my chi.

“Trust me,” he says, waving his hand, motioning for me to close my eyes and return to the meditation again. “Now imagine that same light as a powerful fortress, repelling all darkness while keeping you safe.”

So I do. Seeing myself in my mind, sitting on that chair, with a cone of light extending from above and moving down past my hair, over my tee, and well past my jeans to my flip-flops below. Enveloping me completely, keeping the good stuff in, and the bad stuff out—just like he said.

“How does it feel?” he asks, voice much closer than I expected.

“Good.” I nod, holding the cone of light in my mind, keeping it steady and bright. “It feels warm and—welcoming—and—good.” I shrug, more interested in enjoying the experience than rooting around for just the right word.

“You need to repeat that every day—but this is the longest it should ever take. Once you’ve imprinted yourself with the cone of light, all you need to do to maintain it is a few of those deep cleansing breaths, followed by a quick image of you sealed by the light, and you’re good to go. Though it’s not a bad idea to renew it now and then—especially since you’re about to become very popular around here.”

He places his hand on my shoulder, palm flat and open, fingers splayed across the cotton of my tee, the sensation so shocking, so jolting, the images so revealing, I jump to my feet.

“Damen!” I cry, voice hoarse, scratchy, as I turn to find him at the door, watching me—watching us.

He nods, gaze meeting mine in what, at first seems his usual loving way—filled with a complete and total reverence for me. But the longer it holds, the more I sense something behind it. Something dark. Troubling. Something he’s determined to keep.

I move toward him, clasping his hand as it reaches toward mine, aware of the protective shield of energy that hovers between us—an energy I was certain no one could see, until I notice Jude squinting.

I peer at Damen, unable to determine the big hidden thing in his gaze, wondering what he’s doing here, if he somehow sensed this.

His arm tightens around me, pulling me near when he says, “Sorry to interrupt, but Ever and I have somewhere to be.”

I gaze up, drinking him in—the smooth planes of his face, the swell of his lips—the tingle and heat strumming from his body to mine.

Jude rises and follows us into the hall, saying, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep her so long.” His hand reaching toward me, glancing my shoulder then falling away as he adds, “Oh, I forgot—the book! Why don’t you take it, it’s not like I need it around here.”

He turns back toward the desk, about to retrieve it from the drawer, and even though I’m tempted to grab it and run, with the way Damen stiffens as Jude’s aura grows brighter—well, it’s beginning to feel like a test. And it’s all I can do to force the words past my lips when I say, “Thanks, but not tonight. Damen and I have plans.”

Damen’s energy relaxes, returning to normal as Jude’s gaze dances between us. “No worries,” he says. “Another time.” Holding the gaze for so long, I’m the first to turn away.

Leading Damen out the door and onto the street, determined to shake off Jude’s energy, along with the thoughts and images he unwittingly shared.

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