All You Desire (8 page)

“Iain, I've got it!” Haven cried, unable to contain the bombshell that had just gone off in her brain. “If Naddo lives in New York now, and he knows he's been reincarnated, I bet he's been in touch with the Ouroboros Society. Even if he's not an actual member, they'll probably have a file on him—and I bet they'd know how to reach him too!”

She had expected Iain to applaud her discovery. Instead he was staring at her in disbelief.

“Do you realize what you just said?” he asked. “We can't contact the Ouroboros Society, Haven.”

“There's got to be a way,” Haven insisted. “It's
Beau
, Iain. I
owe
him.”

CHAPTER NINE

One Friday morning in the seventh grade, Haven had found a frilly pink card tucked inside her homeroom desk. It was an invitation to a Saturday slumber party, and the party's hostess was Morgan Murphy, the most popular girl in school. She and Haven had been best friends until Haven's visions had frightened away everyone but Beau. Now Haven saw her chance to reclaim her rightful place at Morgan's side.

She ate next to Morgan in the school cafeteria that day, gossiping with girls who hadn't spoken to her in three years, while Beau had his lunch alone outside. After school, Haven had run home to brag to her grandmother, who saw the invitation as a sign that the family's troubles were finally coming to an end.

The next evening, Mae Moore dropped Haven off at the Murphy house. The girl lugged her sleeping bag to the front door and rang the bell. It took several minutes for Haven to realize that there was nobody home. The Murphys were gone. There wouldn't be any party.

Haven should have called her mother to come pick her up, but she didn't. The light was fading, and she started looking for a place to roll out her sleeping bag. The thought of spending the night alone in the Murphys' yard terrified her. But she couldn't face owning up to the shame. The last thing she wanted to do was tell her grandmother she'd been the butt of a horrible joke.

That's when Beau showed up. He didn't say much; he just took Haven's sleeping bag in one hand and threw his other arm around her.

“Next time you need me, just text
pan-pan
,” he told her. “P-A-N P-A-N. You don't need to say anything more than that.”

“Pan-pan?” Haven had asked. “What's
that
mean?”

“My dad told me it's what they say in the Army. I think it's French or something. It means you need help.”

“Why don't they just say ‘help'? Why do they have to get all fancy and speak French?”

“How would I know? Stop asking so many questions and let's get a move on. I'm hungry as a horse. You wanna eat hot dogs?”

“Yeah,” Haven said. She hadn't eaten in hours, and her mouth was already watering.

Together, they walked the mile back to the Decker house. That night, they camped out in the yard. Beau's father built a fire for them, and they stayed up late roasting marshmallows. No one mentioned the party. It was one of the best nights of Haven's life.

Haven had sifted through her childhood memories and found dozens of similar scenes. Beau had always been there for her—even when Haven hadn't deserved his friendship. Now she had a chance to repay him properly. Whatever it took, she wouldn't let him down. Wherever he was, she would find him and take him home.

 

TWO DAYS HAD passed since Beau's disappearance—long enough for the police to officially declare him a missing person. Ben Decker now had the NYPD searching for his son, but no one was satisfied with the progress they'd made. There were no leads. No clues. Beau seemed to have stepped off a plane at LaGuardia Airport and vanished without a trace. The cops had warned Beau's father to brace himself for bad news. But Haven was certain that there was still time to save her best friend. It was this one little hunch, with no proof to support it, that managed to keep her sane.

Two mornings in a row, she dragged herself out of bed before dawn and returned alone to the palazzo Iain had shown her. Haven stood in the square from sunup to sundown, letting her body freeze in place as she tried to invite more visions from the past. She didn't notice all the tourists who snapped photos of her—or the locals who whispered and laughed. Iain offered to keep her company, but Haven couldn't allow anything to distract her. She needed to see more of the life Beatrice and her brother had shared in the mansion at the end of the square. More importantly, she needed to see
Naddo
.

But the vision Haven craved never revealed itself. There were a few tantalizing glimpses of medieval Florence—a rope being tossed out of a third-story window. Piero shimmying down the side of the building and Beatrice pulling up the rope once he'd landed. Or Beatrice hiding in a cabinet while her furious mother searched the house for her. But Haven saw nothing that could help her find Beau. Still she waited. The longer she stood in front of the palazzo, the darker the visions became. She watched the Vettori family's belongings be loaded into carts and hauled away in a hurry, the carts' drivers steering around bodies that lay in the street. Later she saw the plague doctors descending on the house like a flock of vultures, each dressed in a dark overcoat and a terrible, birdlike mask. Their parties lasted late into the night. Until they stopped altogether.

On the third day of Haven's vigils, Iain took a train back to Rome to pick up some much-needed cash and a few changes of clothes. The night before, they had lugged their suitcases from their luxury lodgings to a run-down youth hostel at the edge of town. Their new room reeked of pot smoke and bug spray. Next door, four British college girls partied with a local soccer team while Haven and Iain huddled together on the lumpy mattress, their arms locked tightly around each other. Unable to sleep, Haven gazed at the golden ring on her finger and wished it had the power to transport them back to their apartment in Rome. At dawn, she and Iain rose and began the long trek to the center of Florence When they reached the palazzo, Iain tucked Haven's scarf into her collar and filled her coat pockets with snacks he'd purchased along the way. Haven didn't tell him they'd never be eaten. There was too much on her mind to worry about food.

Hours later, Haven's stomach remained empty, but her head had filled with terrible thoughts. Church bells were tolling two o'clock when her phone began to ring. Thinking it must be Iain calling from the train, she answered without bothering to check the number.

“Haven Moore? That you?” Haven recognized Leah Frizzell's nasal mountain drawl in an instant. She and Leah had grown up together in east Tennessee. Both had been outcasts in tiny Snope City, but Leah would have stood out in any town. Raised in a family of snake handlers, the girl had been granted the gift of prophecy. Like Haven, she knew how it felt to possess abilities that frightened lesser folk. They could have been—should have been—friends from the start. But when Haven had looked at the scrawny redhead who paired old-fashioned dresses with combat boots, she'd seen the same freak everyone else saw. For years, Haven hadn't bothered to find out what lay beneath Leah's eccentric exterior. It was a mistake she had come to regret.

During Haven's encounter with Adam Rosier and the Ouroboros Society, Snope City's town freak had proven to be a critical ally. Now she and Haven were full-fledged friends. Leah was one of the three people Haven trusted with her secrets—and one of the six people on earth who knew Iain Morrow was alive. Leah was special—even more special than Haven had realized at first. Over the months, Haven had discovered that there were others who shared her own ability to peer into the past. But Leah was still the only person she'd ever met who was able to see the future.

“Leah, thank God you called! Beau's missing!” Haven blurted out.

“I heard.” Haven had never known Leah to mince words or indulge in small talk. She got right to the point and said what she thought—no more, and no less. It was a trait that took some getting used to.

“Have you seen something? What was I thinking?! I should have phoned you at Duke days ago!” Haven said, scrambling for any scrap of hope. Her desperation was so obvious that two passersby cast pitying looks in her direction. “Do you know where Beau is? Can you tell me how to find him?”

“Slow down, Haven,” Leah urged. “Mama just called to tell me Beau's vanished. Too bad she doesn't get into town very often—the news has been all over Snope City for days. But nobody seems to know much else. I thought you might be able to fill in a few blanks for me.”

Haven opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a sob.

“Haven? You okay?”

“He met someone online,” Haven explained through her tears. “A guy who claimed his name was Roy Bradford. He said he'd known Beau in another life, and he invited him up to New York. I should have stopped Beau from going, but I didn't even try.”

“Beau went to visit some man he met on the
Internet
? And you didn't try to talk him out of it?” Leah asked.

“You're right, it was stupid! But he knew Beau in fourteenth-century Florence. I was Beau's sister when they first met. I've seen bits and pieces of that life myself, so I know he was telling the truth about some of the stuff he said. Beau thought Roy Bradford might be his soul mate. I should have realized that the guy might be dangerous.”

“So you think you met Roy Bradford in person in one of your previous lives?” Leah asked.

“His name then was Naddo. I may have met him, but I can't remember!”

“Okay, Haven. Don't go getting all hysterical,” Leah said. “We're starting to make a bit of progress here. I had a vision of you last night, and I think I just figured out what it means. I'm pretty sure you need to see more of the life that you and Beau shared. I think there could be some sort of clue hidden deep in your memories.”

“I
know
. That's why I'm still in Florence.”

“You're in
Florence
?” Leah repeated as if it made no sense at all. “
Italy?”

“I've been standing in front of the place where Beau and I used to live, trying to summon a vision of Naddo. There might have been something unusual about him back then—a skill or talent—something that could help me find him today. But I haven't seen a single useful thing!”

“I don't think you're supposed to be in Italy,” Leah said. “You need to get back to New York. There's someone there who can help.”

“What do you mean?” Haven sniffled.

“In my vision, I saw you talking to an old woman. It's gonna sound crazy, but she had a towel on her head. And she was surrounded by smoke.”

“Smoke?”

“Yeah, I don't get it either. But this woman is important. I think she helps people see into their past lives.”

“Is that possible?” Haven asked. “I've never heard of anyone who can do stuff like that.”

“Anything's
possible
,” Leah said. “But you should ask Iain. He knows the old lady. I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned her yet.”

“Iain knows the woman surrounded by smoke?”

“I can't say for sure, but I heard her mention him in my vision. She called him Mr. Morrow.”

“And you say this woman lives in New York?”

“Yep. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I'll be on the first flight I can get,” Haven said. Even if it took her very last cent, she'd be in Manhattan by morning.

“Good. Maybe I'll see you there soon,” Leah said. “I'm planning a little trip for spring break.”

“You're going to New York?” Leah Frizzell and New York didn't belong in the same sentence.

“I've been meaning to call you for the past few days. I keep having visions that seem to take place in New York. In most of them, I see a thin man with a stick walking through a garden. There are flowers and trees all around him. At first I figured he was in the woods. But then I spotted a round subway entrance in the distance. It's shaped like a little temple. Anyways, I'm pretty sure the man's somewhere in Manhattan, and I'm supposed to go find him. Any idea where I should start looking?”

“For a man with a stick . . .” Haven gasped. “Wait a second. What does he look like?”

“Don't worry, it's not him,” Leah assured her. “It's not Adam Rosier.”

“You're positive?” Haven asked.

“You told me that Adam's always the same age, right? That he doesn't get any older? Well, this man I'm looking for is probably sixty or so. And bald. But does the rest of it ring any bells? The flowers and trees and the round subway entrance shaped like a temple?”

“There are an awful lot of parks and subway entrances in New York,” Haven said. “You remember anything else?”

“There was a bird. Looked like some kind of hawk.”

“Well, that doesn't help much,” Haven said. It was the sort of weird detail that only Leah would recall. “But I'll keep an eye out for subway entrances when I get to the city. I'll ask Iain too. Maybe he'll know where your man is.”

“No, don't go talking to Iain about this,” Leah insisted. “Let's keep it between us for now, okay?”

“Why?”

“'Cause the future has a way of shifting. I'm only telling
you
because I have a feeling the man with the stick and the woman surrounded by smoke are connected somehow, which makes me wonder if you might be mixed up in this too. But the more people who know about my prophecy, the more chance there is that something will change and the man won't be there when I finally figure out where to find him.”

“What do you think he's going to tell you?” Haven asked.