I say them over and over again, my voice gaining strength as they fill up the room.

But when I open my eyes, I'm alone. And I know I waited too long.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I head downstairs, in search of some ice cream, knowing a rich and creamy Haagen Dazs Band-Aid can't possibly heal my broken heart, though it just might help soothe it. And after retrieving a quart from the freezer, I cradle it in my arms and reach for a spoon, then the whole thing crashes to the ground when I hear a voice say:

"So touching, Ever. So very, very touching."

I bend over, squeezing the toes that got nailed by a quart of Vanilla Swiss Almond, as I gape at a perfectly turned-out Drina legs crossed, hands folded, a prim and proper lady, seated right there at my breakfast bar.

"So cute how you called out for Damen after conjuring that chaste little love scene in your head." She laughs, her eyes grazing over me. "Ah, yes, I can still see inside your head. Your little psychic shield? Thinner than the Shroud of Turin, I'm afraid. Anyway, as far as you and Damen and your happily ever after, and after, and after?" She shakes her head. "Well, you know I can't let that happen. As it turns out, my life's work has been destroying you, and little do you know, I still can."

I gaze at her, concentrating on my breath, keeping it slow and steady, while I try to dear my mind of all incriminating thought, knowing she'll only use it against me. But the thing is, trying to dear your mind is about as effective as telling someone to not think about elephants—from that moment on that's all they'll think about.

"Elephants? Really?" She groans, a low evil sound that vibrates the room. "My God, what does he see in you?" Her eyes rake over me, filled with disdain. "Certainly not your intellect or wit, since we've yet to see any evidence it exists. And your idea of a love scene? So Disney, so Family Channel, so dreadfully boring. Really, Ever, may I remind you that Damen's been around for hundreds of years, including the free-love sixties?" She shakes her head at me.

"If you're looking for Damen, he's not here," I finally say, my voice scratchy, hoarse, like it hasn't been used for days.

She lifts her brow. "Trust me, I know where Damen is. I always know where Damen is. It's what I do."

"So you're a stalker." I press my lips together, knowing I shouldn't antagonize her, but hey, I have nothing to lose. Either way, she's here to kill me.

She twists her lips and holds up her hand, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails. "Hardly," she mumbles.

"Well, if that's how you've chosen to spend the last three hundred years, then some might say—"

"More like six hundred, you dreadful little troll, six hundred years." She looks me over and scowls.

Six hundred years? Is she serious?

She rolls her eyes and stands. ' You mortals, so dull, so stupid, so predictable, so ordinary. And yet, despite all your obvious defects, you always seem to inspire Damen to feed the hungry, serve mankind, fight poverty, save the whales, stop littering, recycle, meditate for peace, just say no to drugs, alcohol, big spending, and just about everything else that's worthwhile—one horribly boring altruistic pursuit after another. And for what? Do you ever learn? Hello! Global warming! Apparently not. And yet, and yet, somehow

Damen and I always seem to get through it, though it can take far too long to deprogram him, return him to the lusty; hedonistic, greedy, indulgent Damen I know and love. Though believe me, this is just another little detour, and before you know it, we'll be back on top of the world again."

She moves toward me, her smile growing wider with each approaching step, slinking around the large granite counter like a Siamese cat. "Quite frankly, Ever, I can't imagine what it is that you see in him. And I don't mean what every other female, and let's face it, most males, see in him. No, I mean, it's because of Damen that you always seem to suffer. It's because of Damen that you're going through all of this now. If only you hadn't lived through that damn accident." She shakes her head. "I mean, just when I thought it was safe to leave, just when I was sure you were dead, the next thing I know Damen's moved to California because, surprise, he brought you back!" She shakes her head again. "You'd think after all of these hundreds of years, I'd have a little more patience. But then, you really do bore me, and clearly that's not my fault."

She looks at me but I refuse to respond, I'm stil deciphering her words—Drina caused the accident?

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Yes, I caused the accident. Why must everything be so spelled out for you?" She shakes her head. "It was I who spooked the deer that ran in front of your car. It was I who knew your father was a sappy, kindhearted fool who'd gladly risk his family's life to save a deer. Mortals are always so predictable. Especially the earnest ones who try to do good." She laughs. "Though, in the end, it was almost too easy to be any fun. But make no mistake, Ever, this time Damen's not here to save you, and I will stick around to get the job done."

I scan the room, searching for some sort of protection, eyeing the knife rack on the other side of the room, but knowing I'll never get to it in time. I'm not fast like Damen and Drina. At least I don't think I am. And there's no time to find out.

She sighs. "By all means, please, get the knife, see if I care." She shakes her head and checks her diamondencrusted watch. ' I'd really like to get started though, if you don't mind. Normally I like to take my time, have a little fun, but, today being Valentine's Day and all, well, I have plans to dine with my sweetie, just as soon as I've eliminated you."