Juliet Immortal

me. It sounds like a place I’d like to be.
    “Juliet, please, this isn’t the time for—”
    “Go away,” I say, at the same moment the whisper threads its way through the darkness.
“Come. Come.”
I can see her now, a silhouette gliding across the damp grass, her long hair blowingin the wind. It catches the moonlight and flashes in the dark, curled fingers urging me to find my way.
    I pull my hand from Nurse’s and hold it out toward her. I can’t go to my other self, but I know she’ll come for me.
    “What if I grant you and Ben another chance? Would your answer still be the same?”
    My hand trembles, dips lower in the air. Is such a thing possible?
    “If you renew your vows, I can send you back to the moment you entered Ariel’s body, just before you met Ben,” she says. “You’ll be able to keep him safe in another reality, while doing more good work for the Ambassador cause.”
    “Another reality?”
    “There are hundreds of realms where events play out differently than they have here. It is the greatest secret of Ambassador magic, so great that not even the Mercenaries know we possess it. But we have power over time and space that they do not.”
    “So … I could really go back? And he’d be alive?”
    “He would. And you can keep him safe. All you have to do is make sure he doesn’t fall in love.”
    The thought gives me pause. The connection between us was so immediate, so undeniable. I would fall in love with Ben again in a hundred versions of reality. I can’t help but think it will be the same for him. And if so, Nurse’s offer doesn’t necessarily ensure that he won’t die again.
    “You can bring Gemma and Mike together again, help Ariel find the peace she so desperately needs, and it will be as if this mistake never happened,” she says. “At least in one version of the world.”
    As if this mistake never happened. Ben and I were not a
mistake
. Love is never a mistake. The fact that she can speak those words proves she was never the person I thought she was. I don’t trust her, and I won’t let her steal Ben from me. I’d rather go to hell than be her puppet for another day. “No.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    “But you could do good work for the cause,” she says. “Ariel needs you. I see darkness in her future without Ambassador intervention.”
    “I see death in her future,” I whisper, knowing it’s true, knowing that there are worse things that could happen.
    Nurse’s eyes grow cold. “Yes. So do I. In this reality, at least. And perhaps that’s best.”
    “You … are … a monster.” I barely have the strength to force out the words. The end is nearly here. I can feel it.
    “I am a god. There’s a difference.” If I could laugh, I would. Instead, I turn my face to the whisper on the wind. “Gemma will rise soon. I cannot hold her. This is your last chance. If you do this, you will never be one of us again,” Nurse says, voice tight. “Never. There are no second chances for people like you, Juliet.”
    People like me. People who question? People who disobey? Disagree? Discuss? Distrust? People who make mistakes? People who love so hard it hurts and heals and then hurts all over again?
    I don’t ask her what she means. I don’t care anymore. I only know that I am grateful when she pulls in a sharp breath and the real Gemma cries out my name. “Ariel? Oh my god. Oh my god! Is that Ben? Who did this? Oh my god!”
    “Help,” I whisper, hoping she knows what to do.
    “Oh god. You’re alive. Hold on. My phone’s dead, but Ican call nine-one-one from the car,” she says, smoothing a trembling hand over my hair. “Hang on. Don’t you dare die. I love you, and I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make everything better if you’ll just live.” She sobs, a sound of such grief I know that her profession of love is true, and I wonder if maybe I’ve been seeing Gemma through warped glass as well. If maybe she isn’t as awful as I wanted to believe, as I needed to believe to make it okay for me to love the boy I assumed was hers.
    “I’ll be right back.” I hear her footsteps hurry through the squishing grass and then, a few moments later, the voice of the specter comes again.
    “Come. Now,”
she says, and I smile. Because I’m ready. And I’m not afraid.
    I can see the change in her as she crosses the last few feet between us. Her dress is no longer torn, the hole in her chest has been replaced by smooth skin, and a scrap of lace is