I grip my knees, preparing to stand when Damen says, “How can you be sure it was an immortal?”

My eyes meet his, and suddenly the room begins to swirl, forcing me to grab hold of the counter to steady myself.

But just as quickly, it’s passed.

In the end, it’s just like Lotus said—I did all I could—the rest was up to them.

There’s such a thing as free will, and from the looks of it, someone has decided to exercise theirs.

“Toss it,” I say. “Toss all of it. I’ve reserved plenty of leftover fruit for any immortals who find themselves trapped. But as for the elixir, we’ve no need of it—it’s time to wash our hands of it.”

We get to work, me removing the tops, then handing him the bottles, which he empties down the drain. And when we’re finished, he turns to me, grasps my hands in his, and tells me to envision a shimmering golden veil.

“Summerland?” I quirk my brow, wondering why I need to pack a bag for Summerland when you can just manifest anything you want, and wondering if we’ll still be able to get there. Knowing I’ll be crushed if it turns out we can’t.

But he just shakes his head and says, “Believe.”

So I do.

And a moment later, we’re stepping through the light, stepping right into that vast fragrant field, feeling happy, satisfied, pleased to know it’s still within the realm of possibilities.

Damen looks at me, as relieved as I am when he says, “And now for part two…”

I wait, hold my breath, having no idea what that might be.

“Remember when Miles used to talk about us all backpacking around Europe after high school?”

I nod, growing even more perplexed.

“Well, I thought it sounded like a great idea. And since we never went on that vacation because of the journey to the tree and all, and since you got a late college admission, I figured we’d take him up on it.”

“But Miles isn’t going to Europe,” I say, knowing for a fact that he’s on his way to a big audition in New York City and that Holt’s going with him. And, if memory serves, I prophesized that he’d get that audition—he’s going to be a huge Broadway star, and Holt’s going to be by his side for a very long time.

“I know. But then I figured that doesn’t mean we can’t go, right? So, if it’s okay with you, I thought we’d start in Italy. I can’t wait to show you around my old haunts—Firenze is a beautiful city, I know you’ll love it. And the food!” He looks at me, grinning when he says, “Well, I hear it’s vastly improved over the last six hundred years.”

“So… we’re going to the Summerland version of Italy?” I say, trying not to sound as disappointed as I feel.

But Damen just laughs. “No. I had two reasons for coming here—one, to see if we could—and two, because I wanted to beat the traffic. We’re departing out of LAX. Our plane leaves at—” He glances at his watch then at me. “Our plane leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“But we have to go through security! And get to the gate, and—”

My words stopped by his own when he says, “Shhh… just close your eyes and picture yourself in seat three-A with me sitting right there beside you…”

Chapter forty-five

We land in our seats. And despite my fears, there’s so much preflight commotion no one seems to notice how we just suddenly appear.

And when Damen busies himself with placing my bag in the overhead bin, that’s when I notice how he failed to bring one of his own.

“What about you?” I watch as he takes the seat beside me. “I know it’s going to be an adjustment, but you can’t just manifest new stuff whenever you need it, you know? You’re going to have to actually go to the store and buy it. You’re gonna need money and credit cards and passports and—oh my gawd, did you remember to bring money and credit cards and passports? And why are we even flying? Why didn’t we just make it so we landed in Italy?”

Damen grins, stops the flow of words with his lips. Instantly dissolving my worries, reminding me of what matters most.

He pulls away, brushes his hand across my cheek, tucking some stray strands back behind my ear when he says, “No worries. I’ve got it covered. Everything’s handled. We’re good. Oh, and as far as the plane goes, you wanted to be normal…”

“First class is normal?” I glance around the spacious, well-appointed cabin, then back at him.

“It is with me.” He laughs.

I nod, enjoying the warmth of his hand in mine, gazing out the window as the plane makes for the runway. Unable to stop marveling at how far we’ve come—how far we’ve yet still to go. Realizing I feel happier than I have in a very long time—perhaps maybe, ever.

Just about to direct my attention to the safety video (now that I’m no longer immortal I’m forced to worry about mundane things like that), when I see her.

Standing on the wing, jumping up and down and waving at me.

Riley.

My adorably sassy, ghostly little sister—and from what I can see, Buttercup is right there beside her.

I gasp in amazement, press my hand to the window. Wondering if the vision is real, if I’m truly able to see her now, or if it’s just wishful thinking. Then Buttercup barks and wags his tail, as Riley looks all around, as though she’s expecting to see somebody, as though she was followed.

I turn to Damen and yank on his sleeve, wanting him to see what I see. But by the time we turn, she’s gone. And try as I might, I can’t bring her back.