Juliet Immortal (33 page)

She laughs. “Good. Ariel will require all of your extraordinary charm, and then some.”

Ariel. But she’s dead. I killed the body that hosted Juliet’s soul, put a bullet in her brain.

The woman stands, watching my face, somehow reading my fear in the scraps of skin that cling to my cheeks and chin. “I know what you did. That is why only you can undo it. Our choices create many realities. I can send you back, give you the chance to make another choice, to create a different reality, and a new place for Ariel in the world.”

I let the blanket slip from my shoulders. “I’m ready. Send me now.”

“Patience,” she says, even as she presses her hands together, summoning a light so bright it burns my eyes. “I must send you back to the body you wore when you killed her, to a moment when Dylan Stroud’s fate split in two very different directions.”

“Very well. He will suit my purpose.” Dylan is handsome, reckless, damaged—all the things young girls love before they grow wise enough to realize it isn’t smart to play with fire. But Ariel is young. She will be drawn to him, seduced by the flames. I smile at the thought of her big blue eyes, her silver hair.

This might not be such a chore after all.

“Remember, you must make her believe in love,” she warns, moving her hands farther apart, building the knot of power she holds there until the air hums with potential energy, with magic. “It doesn’t matter what you feel or don’t feel, but you must make her love you. Banish the darkness inside her, set her on her true path.”

I wave one skeletal hand in the air. “Consider it done.”

The redhead’s mouth curves again, but this time there is something predatory in her smile. “Then go and do well, Romeo. Make the most of your one and only chance.” Her hands fall to her sides and the golden ball flies at me, striking me straight in the face, making the world explode in a shower of sparks. I am on fire, dropped into a pit of flames, a torturous molten world where there is no air to breathe, no mercy to be found. I burn and burn for what seems like hours, blinded by agony, nerves sizzling.

And then, just as suddenly, it’s over. I’m in another body, on a dark road, driving through a cool spring evening.

I suck in a breath, pulling air into my lungs. It streams in through the open windows, carrying night smells—evergreen and freshly cut grass, rosemary growing wild on the hills and
the faint hint of cow manure from a nearby field. It’s … glorious. I pull in another breath, holding it until my lungs ache, then finally let it out with a satisfied sigh. Beside me, in the passenger’s seat, someone makes a sound closer to a growl.

I’m not alone. I turn my head, catching Ariel Dragland’s impossibly big blue eyes. She huddles in the seat next to me, glaring at me with thinly veiled hatred, her arms crossed, those long, spidery fingers of hers rubbing at the collar of her shirt. I feel Dylan’s memories of her swim inside me, a strange new sensation after so many years living in the cold, empty bodies of the dead.

He’d thought the shirt made her prettier, made it less of a chore to fulfill the bet he’d made and seduce the school freak. He’d nearly succeeded, nearly won almost five hundred dollars. If Jason hadn’t texted him, if Ariel hadn’t seen …

But she had seen. And she’d been enraged, the mad fury in her eyes burning bright enough to scare even a young villain like Stroud. Ariel might really be as crazy as everyone said. She’s certainly angry. And faster than one would think.

I barely have time to flinch before she’s reached for the wheel, tugging hard.

I curse beneath my breath, understanding the Ambassador’s smile when I waved off her warning as the car begins to spin, hurtling toward the ravine where Dylan died and I first entered his body. I’ve been sent back in time to woo a girl who hates the body I’ve entered. For good reasons.

Even if we survive this crash, I am doomed. She will never love me.

No, she’ll never love Dylan. You are a different monster, one with soft words and gentle hands
.

Sometimes gentle, sometimes not. I reach for the wheel,
ripping it—none too gently—from Ariel’s grasp, turning the car, offering just enough resistance to slow our spin. We hit the guardrail and bounce back onto the road, the tail end of the car skidding across the center lane before coming to a stop on the deserted highway.

For a moment, the silence is broken only by our swiftly drawn breath, the narrowness of our escape stealing all our words.

Ariel is the first to recover. “I hate you. I will destroy you, Dylan Stroud. Just you wait and see!” And then she is out the door, running down the highway back toward Los Olivos, silver hair shimmering in the moonlight.

I glance into the rearview mirror, watching her run, an unexpected smile on my face. She is glorious in her hate. The Mercenary I was can’t help but admire her. Too bad the Ambassador I’ve become has to put out that particular fire, smother it with the sweet press of true love’s kiss.

“True love’s kiss. True. Love’s. Kiss!” I belt out the song and reach to turn on the radio as I spin the wheel, pulling around, heading after the girl who has no clue she’s going to love me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to Michelle Poploff, Rebecca Short, and the entire production team at Delacorte Press for excellence and awesomeness. Thanks to the Ithaca College theater department for all the background on the Bard, and to the Bard himself, of course. Thanks also to my critique partners, Stacia Kane and Julie Linker; to the Debutantes of 2009; to Maria Montes, my Spanish expert; and to my amazing readers. Special thanks to Riley and Logan, for being the best boys a mom could hope for, and to my husband, Mike, my soul mate, my best friend, my love. Thanks for always knowing when to say “Everything will be okay,” and for making me believe it.