Inheritance: (A New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  When I died, it would be where I chose. Hopefully, Edie wouldn’t make me promise to live.

  Chapter Three

  Sam

  Christmas Day was quiet.

  I read a trashy romance novel for the first time in two years while RJ spear-fished for the first time. For lunch, Kiwi made her famous fried chicken, and I did the dishes—again—while simultaneously flipping RJ the bird. That evening, RJ and I went with Kiwi to a local village barbeque that actually showcased a pig roasting on a spit.

  “Oh, gross,” I said, turning away and instead focusing on the tables laden with potato salads and brownies.

  RJ edged closer to the meat currently swiveling on a stick. “Cool.”

  I shook my head and let him get called over by the robust older man who stood by the grill wearing a grease-covered apron. Bill, Kiwi had told me his name was. Another cousin. In Guam, everyone was a cousin. RJ asked him about the roasting process. I caught a few words about gutting the animal and then quickly walked out of earshot with a shudder.

  “Come with me. You have cousins to meet,” Aunt Kiwi said, whisking me toward a grouping of chairs where several women sat in a circle, talking.

  “More cousins?” I asked.

  Kiwi’s colorful skirts tickled my ankles as we walked but I didn’t mind. Being close to her again after everything I’d been through was comforting. In some ways, Kiwi felt even safer to me than my own parents. I knew it was because, unlike my mother, Kiwi had never shied away from the weird stuff.

  I breathed in the smell that I’d come to associate with my aunt: the oil she used in her long, brown hair—the scent reminding me of jasmine and coconuts.

  “Sam, this is Sue and Gloria,” Kiwi said when we got close. “Your cousins, twice removed.”

  Both women stood and smiled, offering a brown-skinned hand to me. I shook and nodded first at Sue and then Gloria. Both of them had long dark, hair and brown skin, their eyes almond-shaped like mine—a trait common among Chamorro people.

  “Hello,” I said, politely.

  “Sam, it’s so nice to meet you,” said Sue. “Come sit with us. Kiwi has told us so much about you.”

  She gestured to the chair in front of her and I took it, shooting a glare at Kiwi. I wasn’t sure what exactly my aunt had told them about me but I had a feeling it wasn’t bragging about my grades. If Kiwi was going to talk about anything, it was the unexplainable.

  And right now, magic was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I was just getting the hang of feeling normal again. Besides, how did I explain a growing anxiety over a still, small voice inside me whispering things about wolves I didn’t understand?

  That wasn’t magic. That was possible mental instability.

  Originally, I’d decided to come to here to spend time with Kiwi over Christmas break. To find out all I could about my ancestry and how it was possible I had a version of magic inside me that—judging from my regained memory—seemed to date back older than the Earth itself. But more than the information, three weeks of lazing around on a tropical beach had done wonders. I hadn’t had nightmares or a single panic attack since we’d arrived.

  And it helped that with the time difference, I’d barely spoken to my parents or even my roommate Brittany. I’d gotten a text she was visiting her family in Arizona for the holiday so at least I didn’t have to explain anything to her. Yet.

  Brittany was the nicest, nosiest girl I’d ever known. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to keep my supernatural side to myself for long once I went home. Because of that, the last thing I wanted was to answer a bunch of questions about what had happened to me.

  “Kiwi tells us you’ve connected with your inner goddess,” Sue said with a soft smile.

  “Um.” I blinked, totally at a loss.

  “You’ve tapped into the higher energies of Spirit,” Gloria put in, apparently trying to clarify.

  It wasn’t helping.

  “I used a weird-looking white stone to help ground me while my supernatural amnesia was reversed,” I said, hoping that was what they meant.

  Both women just stared at me.

  Shit.

  I had no idea how to speak witch.

  Kiwi smiled and leaned in, drawing their attention away. “Sam’s still figuring things out, I think. She has the Spirits on her side but she’s new to this. What’s happened so far is, well, let’s call it raw talent.”

  Sue chuckled and nodded. Gloria cocked her head at me, though. “But Kiwi says you draw the wolves to you,” she said, confusion etched into her features.

  A month ago, I would have thought it strange that these women knew about werewolves. But after everything, including the memories I now had of Kiwi’s friends back in Half moon Bay doing moon rituals and shifting in front of her, I wasn’t surprised at all.

  I shrugged. “Beginner’s luck?”

  Gloria didn’t respond.

  Kiwi jumped in and asked Sue about her blessing beads—whatever those were—and the discussion wandered away from me as all three women compared necklaces. Thank God. Goddess? Whomever.

  I stayed just long enough to seem polite and then I slipped away on my own, making my way to the food before finding a quiet place to eat and watch the other guests.

  Gloria had been right.

  Somehow, I attracted the wolves. But not just any wolves; sick and rabid werewolves who’d lost so much of their humanity, all they wanted to do was eat me for dinner. Bernard, Mason, and all the others before and since; every wolf I’d ever encountered had been that way. Mirabelle and aunt Kiwi insisted it was because I had the magic of the goddess inside me—powerful enough to heal and cure any illness done to or caused by a werewolf. But I hadn’t forgotten Mirabelle’s words about there being a price.

  In between attacks, I’d developed a sense of being watched. Movement or a sense of something out of the corner of my eye and then when I turned to look—nothing. I’d hoped it would all go away once my memories returned but it hadn’t.

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell RJ or Kiwi, but it was still happening. Even here, in Guam. Even though RJ said he hadn’t sensed a single werewolf anywhere on the island. Even though I felt better, more like me, I was still also…something else.

  I just didn’t know what.

  I also still got the occasional handful of fur in my palm, although that was less often. I suspected anxiety for that one. Remembering had helped me realize I wasn’t crazy. But it also meant realizing this hadn’t been the first time I’d come face to face with the supernatural.

  And it wouldn’t be the last.

  In fact, I was positive that I was meant for something big. Something … magical. Remembering that first night—just before Wes had wiped my memory, I’d come to a Knowing. And then just as quickly, I’d lost it again. But now, it was back and I couldn’t deny it: There was something inside me, asking to be free.

  I just wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was.

  “Hey, kiddo. I brought you some water.”

  I jumped, startled to find Kiwi crouching beside me. “Hey.”

  “Everything okay?” she asked, sitting beside me and scooting in close. She handed me a bottle of water.

  “Everything’s good,” I said but she only frowned, clearly unconvinced. I knew even in our dark corner of the yard, she could see me clearly enough. And I knew my expression wasn’t convincing.

  “When you came to visit, I really thought we’d spend more time together, but you’ve been distant. Everything okay between us?”

  I avoided her gaze, heart pounding. This was it. There wouldn’t be a better time than this. Besides, this was what I’d come for.

  “You know, when you’re ready to talk, I’m here,” she said when I hesitated.

  I sighed, rolling the unopened bottle of water back and forth in front of my crossed legs. “Did you know when I stayed with you in California that summer after high school, and you let me come out for one of your moon ceremonies, I saw Bernard turn into a were
wolf?”

  Kiwi’s mouth formed an “O” in surprise. “I thought you were asleep,” she said.

  “Well, his howl wasn’t exactly quiet.”

  She chuckled, fanning her skirt out as she shifted to get more comfortable. “No, I guess it wasn’t. How did you…?” Her smile faded and confusion clouded her expression. “You remembered?”

  I nodded and looked down, twisting my fingers together absently. “I’ve had several encounters like that. Seems that up until now, my memory created a blank spot where the supernatural was concerned.”

  “I’ve seen it happen a couple of times,” she said, her face scrunching as she thought back. “You would wake up the next morning and act like nothing had happened. It scared me the first time. But as you got older… it seemed to be the best way to let you recover. And when you came to live with me, Mirabelle insisted letting you remember them on your own was the best way. We didn’t want to make it worse somehow. So we let it be.”

  I blew out a breath.

  “Are you mad?” she asked softly.

  “No,” I answered honestly. “Just overwhelmed. But if I’m being honest, it’s nice to know you were aware of the problem,” I said. “Makes me feel less crazy for my weird behavior.”

  “Oh, kiddo.” She placed her hand on mine and squeezed. “I never thought you were crazy. I’m sorry that you did.” She reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “This is clearly a lot for you. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier.”

  “Just being here together has helped a lot,” I said. “But… there is something else.”

  “Anything, of course,” she said.

  “I need you to tell me what really happened,” I said slowly.

  This conversation was the real reason I’d come. It was also the very thing I’d kept putting off.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “That summer I came here with you. To Guam. I was around nine,” I said, slowly remembering because I needed to get everything right.

  Kiwi nodded and waited. “Yes?”

  “We took a lot of walks. Hikes up mountains and down to secret beaches and hidden waterfalls. I rode my first caribow at Chamorro Village.”

  Kiwi smiled. “It was a fun adventure that summer,” she agreed.

  “But there was one mountain. So tall. It must have taken us hours to climb it. There was a grotto halfway up or so… some sort of cave and I stepped down into the opening and… Something happened,” I finished quietly.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I needed to hear it from her.

  Kiwi’s amusement faded and she nodded somberly. When she looked down, I caught sight of the small scar on her forehead just inside her hair line. “Yes, we hiked Lamlam. It’s the tallest mountain in the world, you know.”

  “But most of it is underwater,” I recited—the words coming easily as I’d heard them from her all my life. Only this time, Kiwi didn’t smile.

  “Right. We stopped halfway at the grotto. There’s a small cave there and you have to step down to get inside. You went too far without me and I… I tried to grab you. To stop you. I jumped too quickly, though, and I missed. I lost my balance and fell.”

  “You hit your head,” I said, darting a nervous glance up to read her expression.

  She nodded and tears filled her eyes, the moonlight catching on them so that they sparkled at the edges of her lids. “Darling, I thought you’d forgotten.” I opened my mouth to point out that particular resolution but she waved me off. “No, I mean, you were young. It would have faded. I never talked about it to anyone. Your mother…”

  “Would have freaked out,” I agreed. “I think I healed a bird once. Accidentally. She about had a panic attack right there at the park. Grounded me for a week.”

  “She told me. It’s why she sent you to me that summer,” she admitted.

  I looked up sharply, eyes wide. “I didn’t know that.”

  She reached for my hand, her bangles making tiny chiming noises as they rustled on her wrist. “No, why would you? I tried to protect you. Even from yourself. What you could do scared you back then.”

  “So, you just … woke up and pretended you hadn’t almost died,” I said and grimaced as I remembered it all. The blood, the crack in Kiwi’s skull knitting itself together as I’d laid my hands on her face and cried—wailed—into the quiet jungle.

  “Yes,” she said, squeezing my hand in hers. “I didn’t want to frighten you. In fact, I carried you home and put you to bed. Threw my bloody clothes into the garbage. Forced myself to act like it was nothing so you wouldn’t be afraid. These last two years, I’ve seen your fear and it broke my heart.”

  “Fear of the magic?” I asked.

  She considered that. “No. I think it was more than that. You were scared of yourself. It’s why you back away from it. It’s why you don’t let it in.”

  I licked my lips, unsure what to say. She was right. My memory had returned but the fear had remained. Eleven years ago, I’d brought my aunt back from the brink of death.

  And then there was Alex. I’d healed him that night in my kitchen—whether he remembered it or not. What they all said was true: I was a healer. I’d already done it and that was scary as hell.

  It wasn’t the wolves or their mysterious sickness and attempts to hurt me that scared me. I was terrified of myself.

  “What am I?” I whispered.

  “You are of the blood,” she said and again, she looked ready to cry. But it wasn’t sadness reflected back in her dark brown eyes. It was joy. Excitement.

  That made one of us.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, leaning forward in earnest. She wasn’t the first one to say that, and every time I heard it, something inside me resonated. But I still didn’t know what it meant.

  “It’s complicated,” she said.

  Her vague answer pulled at the anger I’d been nursing. “Is that why you didn’t tell me that you’ve known what I am all this time?” I challenged. “Because it’s complicated?”

  Kiwi fell silent and her mouth thinned as she pressed her lips together tightly.

  There it was. The lie.

  “It’s true, I’ve known for a while what you are. And maybe I should have told you. But it was all wrapped up in your amnesia, Sam. I couldn’t tell you and really prove to you the truth of it without breaking down those mental walls you’d built for yourself. And I didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

  I bit my tongue against the irrational urge to bite back at her; to point out that being walked out on by the guy you’d fallen for and then attacked almost daily by feral werewolves was about as bad as it got.

  “Well, the walls are gone. I need the truth,” I said and for the first time in my life, I hardened my voice against my aunt. I couldn’t help it. I was done with lies.

  She nodded as if she understood and took a deep breath. I settled in against the cool grass, determined to hear her out, as long as it took. “Well, you know the story of the hunters and werewolves’ creation,” she began slowly.

  “No, I think you should start there,” I said, ignoring the music and the hum of voices several yards away.

  “Mirabelle didn’t tell you?” she asked, looking up in surprise.

  “Uh, no, I guess she left that part out.”

  She cleared her throat and gave a fleeting look of annoyance that I suspected was aimed at her stateside BFF—my boss, Mirabelle, who’d helped me get through the ceremony that had given my memory back. She was also a stoner and completely scatter-brained. I wasn’t surprised she’d left out something important.

  “Once, at the beginning of the world, an ocean god and a moon goddess fell in love. But the ocean god could not live in the sky and the moon goddess could not live underwater. As a compromise, they lived on Earth.

  “For many years, they were very happy and eventually, the moon goddess gave birth to a child. Soon, the ocean god grew jealous of the mother’s attention to the child and
he tried to kill it. To protect her son, the moon goddess turned him into a wolf. Using her magic, she gifted the wolf child with the ability to shift into either a man or a wolf—this would help him hide from his father. In gifting him a second skin, the goddess also gave the wolf a second soul. This meant it could not be killed by mere humans. Then she sent it out into the world to live hidden among the villagers. When she’d finished, she ran away and returned to the sky.

  “The ocean god was outraged. He blamed the wolf child for everything. He searched everywhere for the wolf child, unable to rest until he’d destroyed it, but his hate weakened him. He grew old and weak spending all his years on Earth, and before died, he gathered the strongest men he could find and used them to make hunters.

  “Upon his death, he sent the hunters out into the world to seek and kill the wolf child. When the god died, the goddess returned and used her magic to convince the hunters to show mercy: but the hunters would not give up the oath to kill. To maintain the balance, she made werewolf venom poisonous to the hunters and left them to their quest.

  “But the goddess could not resist coming to check on her child and so she too aged and grew weaker from her time on Earth. When she died, the goddess passed her magic to another. And that one to another and so forth. Each of her chosen ones possess the power to heal the wolves. Magic was the mother of both races. Magic still keeps the true balance.”

  I sat back, stunned and turning the story over in my mind. It struck me that I no longer doubted such a fantastic fairy tale as absolute truth. I’d already made progress. Mirabelle would have been impressed. Alex too.

  I shook his name out of my head and focused on Kiwi, trying to picture the goddess she spoke of and her evil husband.

  “So that’s why hunters and werewolves don’t like each other?” I asked. “Because of the original feud between the lovers?”

  “Yes. Their feud was passed down generation by generation. It is also why your magic is necessary. The moon goddess was, at her heart, a healer. A bringer of peace. The women who still hold the old magic were gifted a small piece of that power, handed down from the goddess before she died in order to maintain the balance between these age-old enemies.