Or was it Haven, who, from what I’ve seen anyway, seems to have developed a serious elixir addiction problem?

And, even more importantly, does it really matter anyway, considering my only real concern here is obtaining the shirt?

Damen nudges me, ready to move on. And since there’s no reason to stay, nothing to be gained here, I take one last look around, making sure I haven’t missed anything, then follow him out the door, the two of us slipping out just as quickly and covertly as we came.

No closer to obtaining what we need, though more assured than ever that we’re definitely getting closer, definitely making progress of some sort.

Haven’s world isn’t just showing signs of wear—it’s also starting to crumble all around her. And now it’s just a matter of time until she either reaches out for help or completely self-destructs.

Either way, I intend to be there.

Chapter 34

Since the store ended up being such a complete and total bust, I drop Damen at his house so that he can help Miles rehearse, then decide to head home so I can regroup and hopefully come up with a new plan of attack. Feeling more determined than ever to locate that shirt, especially now that Damen and I are so solidly back on track.

I pull into the garage, heaving an immediate sigh of relief when I see that it’s empty. Sabine’s vacant space signaling that she’s either still at work or out with Munoz, and knowing that either way it allows me the promise of an empty house, some much needed time on my own, and a few hours of calm and peaceful, non-arguing silence, which is exactly what I need before I head out again.

And I’ve just walked through the side door and am about to make my way up the stairs to my room when it hits me:

A cold blast of energy.

The effect so stinging and frigid it could mean only one thing:

I’m not nearly as alone as I’d thought.

I spin on my heel, not the least bit surprised to find Haven standing behind me. Her body fidgety, twitchy, her formerly beautiful face reduced to a shockingly pale arrangement of sunken cheekbones, a sharply angled nose, grim shrunken lips, and eyes so narrowed and hollowed and red, it’s like gazing upon a crime scene photo.

Her lips twisting in a way so gruesome, it instantly transforms her into a vision even more lurid than she was just a moment ago. Scowling at me when she says, “Where is it, Ever?”

And suddenly I know exactly who dismantled the fridge in the store.

Know exactly what she’s here for.

Misa and Marco broke into her house to steal her elixir—it all makes sense now.

Roman never passed on the recipe, and without him, the rogues’ supply is cut off. And now it’s only a matter of time before their powers dwindle, and ultimately their youth and beauty are lost.

I’m Haven’s only hope of retaining her new powers.

Her new life.

Still, it’s not like I’m about to make it easy on her. Not when this could turn out to be just the solution I need.

She wants something I have—and I want something she has. So, under the circumstances, that leaves me pretty well positioned to broker some kind of deal.

I’ll just have to tread carefully, cautiously. I can’t afford to alert her to the true significance of the shirt, just in case she hasn’t realized it yet.

Lifting my shoulders casually, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then I smile, stalling for time, trying to get a better read on her as I formulate a plan in my mind.

But she’s not about to play along, she’s in much too big a hurry for that. She’s fading fast, barely holding on, and she doesn’t have time for this particular game.

“Quit fugging around and justgive it to me !” She rolls her eyes and huffs under her breath, shaking her head in a way that throws her completely off-balance, forcing her to grab hold of the stair rail in order to steady herself.

I narrow my gaze, taking a moment to really study her, noting the way she appears so edgy, so jumpy, so out of whack and unsteady, she can barely stand still, can barely hold herself up without some kind of support. Focusing on her solar plexus, seeing it like a bull’s-eye smack dab in the center of her torso, fully prepared to take her out if I have to, though still hoping it won’t really come to that. Then I try to tune in to her energy, tune in to her head, try to get some kind of read on just where she’s at, and just how far she’s willing to go to get what she wants—but getting nothing for my efforts.

She’s not just shut off from me—she’s shut off from everything around her as well.

Belonging to no one and nothing.

Barely belonging to herself.

She’s like a walking talking Shadowland.

Dark.

Alone.

Totally caught up in a past she’s hell bent on avenging, even though the truth of it is nothing at all like the version she’s chosen to convince herself of.

“Theelixir , Ever! Give me the fugging elixir already!” Her voice is shaky, high-pitched, raspier than ever, revealing just how much her desperation has come to define her. “I’ve already checked all the fridges—the one in the kitchen, the one outside by the barbecue, the spare one in the laundry room, and I was just about to head up to the den off your room, when, well, you came home and beat me to it. So, I figure as long as you’re here, I may as well ask nicely—seeing as what good friends we used to be and all. So, come on, Ever, for old time’s sake, for oldfriend ’s sake, hand over the fugging elixir you stole!”