Beyond the pane of glass, it was bright and sunny outside but the shadows off the dark brick on the building next door were long. I stared carefully, my heart pounding until I could feel it in my ears.
I held my breath, watching.
Nothing moved. No one was there.
I let the breath leak out of my lungs slowly. No sound came with it and when the oxygen was gone, I sucked in again and turned deliberately away from the window’s limited view of the empty street. This wasn’t the first time I’d sensed something out there only to find nothing when I turned my head. It wasn’t even the first time today.
I considered calling my aunt, Kiwi, but then chucked the idea when I remembered she was in Guam. Besides, even if she were here in California, it was Tuesday afternoon and that normally meant sister wailing.
Kiwi was a true California hippie who’d fully embraced our slightly diluted (She was half, I was one-fourth) Chamorro bloodlines.
Once a week, she got together with her Native American friends here in California and did this weird wailing meditation where they grieved for the pain of the world. I’d gone with her several times when I’d lived with her but it had been a little much for my sensitive emotional state. Aunt Kiwi loved it, though. Said it helped her stay happy the rest of the time. I’d smiled a lot and kept my mouth shut. Aunt Kiwi did some weird shit in her free time—and coming from me, that was saying something.
After the last two years, I wasn’t one to judge.
Thinking of it now, my chest ached at the reminder of all my life had become. Scared, quiet, and unsure—I was nothing like I’d once been. I just wish I knew why.
From the floor, a mewling broke me out of my darkening thoughts. I looked down and found a familiar black cat pawing at my feet and rubbing against my legs.
“Granny,” I said, acknowledging the only cat of the bunch that was a staple here at Oracle.
Granny meowed at me, acknowledging me back.
“I’m going to order pizza,” I said. “Do you want anything on it?”
Granny meowed again and then lifted her chin, stalking away and slipping between racks headed for the window seat Mirabelle had installed for her.
“Anchovies it is,” I said.
I watched Granny until she’d settled herself in her usual spot, and it slowly hit me I’d just had a full-on conversation with a feline about pizza toppings. And to think this wasn’t even my weirdest day at Oracle.
Chapter Four
Alex
A whirring sound pulled me toward consciousness. Sleep tugged at me, trying to draw me back under for another few hours. I had no idea how long I’d been out but it didn’t feel like enough. I sighed and sank further into the pillow, giving up. My eyelids were just too heavy…
My phone buzzed with an incoming call, sliding across the surface of the nightstand with the force of the vibration. Without opening my eyes, my hand shot out and I caught it just as it fell.
“Yeah,” I said, too groggy and heavy-lidded to look at the screen.
“Alex. It’s Edie.”
My eyes opened and I willed my thoughts to clear. “Edie. What’s up?”
“Just had a minute. Wanted to check in. What’s it looking like up there?”
I sat up and rubbed my face. “Not sure yet. Got in late and crashed. I texted you,” I said.
There was a brief silence and then, “Alex, it’s been over twenty-four hours since you sent that text.”
“What?” I yanked my phone away from my ear to check the date and time. But it didn’t help. I’d crossed so many time zones this past week, I barely knew where I was anymore. “Shit,” I muttered.
“Is it getting worse?” Edie asked and I could just hear the slight tremor in her voice. “I thought you said that witch doctor gave you some herbal thing?”
“He did. It’s just jet lag,” I assured her. And even if it wasn’t I would never admit it to her. The last thing I wanted was to worry her. I wasn’t positive the herbs were doing anything worthwhile, but I took them anyway so I could say I did. “I’ll head over after a shower,” I added, making a face as I looked down at myself. I would absolutely have to wash these sheets before I slept in them again. It already smelled like the damn Amazon in here.
“And RJ? Did you get set up with him?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s a real people person,” I muttered.
“He’s willing to stay off book,” she said sternly, and I sighed at the lecture I already knew was coming. Once Edie had a point to make, there was no stopping her from making it. Usually, I appreciated that about her. Except for when it was directed at me. “He could have reported you,” she added.
“I know.”
“It would have helped him get reimbursed for the extra cost of a house guest at the very least. He took you in without filing the paperwork and without mentioning it to his superiors. A serious offense especially while he’s on a solo assignment,” she reminded me.
“I know,” I said again.
“Not to mention he isn’t asking any questions about what you’re doing there—”
“I know, Edie.”
Edie went quiet.
I blew out a breath, hating how she could make me feel bad without saying a damned word.
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
Edie Godfrey was one of two people I’d ever actually apologized to. She was more like a mother or grandmother than a boss. She was also the only one in my life who actually knew how sick I was.
“Has anyone asked about me?” I asked, needing to change the subject before things got too touchy-feely.
“Kane asked why your LOA is stretching so long. Tara told him to mind his own business and then she asked me where you’re spending your time,” she said.
I frowned. Once upon a time, her name would have caused me to jump or at least ask “how high?” but these days, it slid right over me without causing a stir. That name—and the person it belonged to—had taught me a lot about myself. “Why does she care?” I asked.
“She knows you don’t have family. Or friends,” Edie said. “They all do. I think she’s confused about where you’d go and why you’d bother to take time off to go anywhere. You’ve never taken a vacation before,” she reminded me.
I tensed because she was right.
“Don’t worry,” she said when I didn’t respond. “I’m covering for you. I told them all you’re at my place in Hawaii.”
“Edie, that won’t work for very long,” I warned her.
“You let me worry about that. You just get the answers you need and get better. We need our best hunter for what we’re dealing with here.”
I knew she was only trying to relieve my stress and encourage me but the reminder that I’d bailed when the hunter community needed me most ate at me almost as much as my deteriorating physical state. “Thanks, Edie. For all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Alex. After everything we’ve been through, you’re my family. I do whatever it takes for family. You have the address I gave you?”
“Yeah, I’ll check it out today,” I said, staring numbly at the blanket.
“Good. Keep me posted. If you need any resources, I’ve spoken to RJ about the back channels to use.”
“Will do,” I said.
“And Alex? Be nice.”
I snorted and she hung up before I could reply. Just as well. We both knew I wouldn’t make any promises.
Chapter Five
Sam
My mother used to say that when something was easy, it was like a walk in the park. I wonder what she’d say if she knew walking through the park was literally one of the hardest things I did these days. I probably would have never kept coming here if it weren’t for Harold. Or Mirabelle. Or both. But Mirabelle had led me to Harold, and now, it was like a personal challenge: survive the park a couple of times a week and pretend that indicated improvement in my condition.
Ahead, the pedestrian sign turned to “walk” and I hurried across the
intersection and onto the sidewalk lined in landscaped hedges that marked the west entrance of the city park. Across the lawn, inside the fenced doggie park, a guy threw a Frisbee to his dog and I forced myself to ignore them just so I wouldn’t turn back.
This was what life had come to.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, drawing curious glances from a woman jogging by while her toddler ate Cheerios from her stroller. I glanced quickly at the number and then silenced it, feeling sick at the idea of talking to the person on the other end.
Mason Harding.
My ex.
I ducked my head as I passed by two gray-haired women with sweatbands on each wrist and ankle. They smiled as they power-walked past me on the wide sidewalk that wound around Half Moon Park. I sort of grimace-smiled back—even though I kept my eyes glued to the ground.
My phone buzzed again signaling a voice mail. I didn’t bother listening to it. I could practically hear Mason’s voice in my head anyway. Wondering what I was doing, why I hadn’t called him back. Again. You’d think after almost a year of almost no returned calls the guy would take the hint. But no. He kept calling. And I kept ignoring.
We’d spoken a handful of times and emailed a few more but Mason was a reminder from my past that haunted me. The old Samantha Knight had found his mysterious and ego-driven personality fun and intriguing. A playful challenge. The old Samantha Knight was all of those things herself.
But this new Sam just felt nervous and scared—and for some reason Mason set me off and just made it worse. So I tucked my phone back inside my jacket and made my way along the sidewalk to my usual bench. It was peeling green paint—a contrast to the others only because their paint was still impeccable. Like somehow this bench had seen more. And despite all it must have seen and heard, I felt almost normal when I sat on it and pulled my hood lower. Like just another park patron.
Half Moon Park was a quiet slice of outdoors on the corner of town. It didn’t have playgrounds which meant it also didn’t have noisy kids spoiling the tranquility. It was made up of manicured grass and trimmed hedges and retirees getting their daily intake of oxygen combined with a brisk walk. Flowers bloomed nine months out of the year up here, and if you were quiet enough, you could just hear the wind running through the redwoods farther up the mountain.
I sat here a lot. And I loved the sound of the wind.
The sound of a steadily approaching creaky-wheeled cart made my lips curve even before I spotted him rounding the bend.
“Busy today,” said a grouchy voice.
I smiled at the man approaching. “Hello, Harold,” I said.
He shoved his wheeled cart into the grass so it wouldn’t roll and looked over at me, tipping an imaginary hat as he sat. “How’s the world treating you this morning?” he asked, patting his pants which were paint-splattered and a little dirty at the knees.
“It’s treating me,” I said, relaxing.
He nodded like my answer was exactly right, and we lapsed into silence.
If I was forced to admit it, Harold was probably my best friend these days. Mostly because he didn’t talk too much or ask me things that I didn’t want to explain. But also because of the snacks.
“Here,” he said after several long moments of silence. “Try these.”
I held out my hand without even asking. After months of perfecting our routine, I knew better than to ask anymore. He wasn’t going to tell me until after I’d eaten whatever this was—sometimes not even then.
He dumped several small pieces of something onto my palm. I tried reading the box but it was written in another language. Russian, maybe?
I regarded the candy and then Harold with curiosity. He smiled back at me, brown eyes gleaming. You would think a badly dressed man in a park pushing a creaky cart that sold overpriced bottled water and sometimes pot would freak a girl out. Nope. Harold was the least scary thing in my life currently. Although his acquisitions for Mirabelle—and the unexplainable way he always knew where to find weird items—were sometimes unsettling. But I tried not to think about that.
I ate the candy in one bite.
The taste washed over my tongue and I tilted my head, concentrating on it before commenting. This was our routine. Like a park-side episode of Master Chef. “Hmm, tastes a little tangy and sweet,” I said around a mouthful of something gummy. “Like Swedish Fish.”
I swallowed.
Harold shook his head like I was some kind of prodigy genius. “How did you know?” he asked.
“Am I right?” I asked, my jaw falling open. Almost a year now of this and I’d never been right.
“Close. Russian sardines. Candied,” he explained and I was reminded yet again why I never asked before I ate the stuff.
My stomach rolled but I swallowed hard and forced a cheerful expression. “Mmmm,” I said, nodding.
Harold laughed evilly.
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him how weird his little hobby really was. Or demand to finally know how in the heck he came up with something different every time I saw him—it’s not like he’d had time to go to Russia and back since Tuesday. But before I could logic any of that out, something in the trees over his shoulder moved and my blood froze.
My hands balled into fists on my lap and I squeezed them tight out of nervous habit. Not here. Not today with the sun shining and this moment so normal-feeling.
Dammit.
I purposely dragged my gaze back to Harold but he’d turned his attention to his cart, probably looking for another gross candy choice to try on me. His tie-dyed shirt stretched as he twisted around and leaned over to fiddle with a loose handle.
I looked back at the woods, certain I’d see something this time. Certain there was something there seeing me. But there was nothing. Only trees. Hiking trails offered shade to the power walkers but today was breezy so no one was bothering. The trails—the trees—were empty. Unlike my imagination.
I sighed, irritated with my broken brain, and turned back to Harold. The feeling of being watched continued. But that was nothing new. “Have you ever actually been to Russia?” I asked for something to say.
“Do foxes have tails?” Harold shot back like this riddle was somehow key to his life story. And it probably was.
At least it distracted me from my invisible stalker. My brows crinkled. “Uh, yes?”
“Well then sure,” he said and I gave up trying to understand. Harold was a Rubik’s Cube. A psychedelic square with no corners.
My phone rang again, a vibrational buzzing coming from my pocket. I slid it free and rolled my eyes. No danger here. Only irritation. “Hello?” I asked dully.
“Sam, it’s Britt,” came the sing-song voice of my roommate.
“I know,” I said. “What do you need?”
A gasp. “I am offended you think I only call when I need something.”
“I only think that because you only call when you need something,” I said.
There was a pause and then, “Fine. Can I borrow your brown boots for tonight’s game?”
I shook my head, surprised she’d bothered to ask permission this time. “Don’t get them muddy,” I said.
She squealed a thank you that had me yanking the phone away from my eardrum followed by a half-assed promise to stay out of the mud and hung up.
Harold raised his left brow. “Caffeine addiction?” he asked gravely—as if it were somehow on par with heroine or meth.
“Worse. Cheerleader,” I said, grimacing because I knew all too well.
Harold grunted and then turned away to help a customer. He sold two bottles of water and a packet of trail mix to an old woman who promptly began feeding it all to the dog in her purse who was also, inexplicably, on a leash.
“Pumpkin pie here just loves sunflower seeds,” she said brightly.
Harold nodded and popped a sketchy looking brownie into his mouth. “Sunflower seeds sprout buds of truth in our tummies,” he said around the food and the woman sagely agreed.
I watched th
e whole thing fully convinced Harold and Mirabelle would make an excellent couple.
California was so weird.
Half an hour later, I waved goodbye to Harold who had already guaranteed to deliver Mirabelle’s requested order of coptis—whatever the hell that was—and hoofed it to Oracle. I had the late shift tonight, which always sucked to walk home from. I’d never been afraid of the dark as a kid but now…it made my chest tight just thinking about it.
Usually, I took a cab even though it was less than a mile back to my dorm. Aunt Kiwi had talked about buying something new and giving me her Beetle but it hadn’t happened yet. Mom probably would have bought me something if I’d asked but that would have required her coming here to do so. Or worse, Dad. Neither of them had any idea how bad things had gotten. Last time I’d seen them had been at Aunt Kiwi’s for New Year’s—and even then, surrounded by family and the familiar, I’d barely held it together. In the last ten months, things had gotten progressively worse—not better.
If they knew who I was now… well, I didn’t want that so I kept quiet and walked everywhere. Campus wasn’t huge and my apartment wasn’t far so it worked.
Traffic on the main strip was slow this late in the afternoon. Everyone who could go home had done so. Several cars were parallel parked curbside as I made my way up Skye Avenue, the main drag for shopping. Up ahead, Oracle came into view and I relaxed at seeing the finish line.
God, even in daylight I was a hot mess. Get your shit together, Sam.
When I’d almost reached Oracle’s building strip, leaves rustled and it took me a moment to realize there weren’t enough leaves to rustle here. My head whipped toward it. The hill sloped upward until it leveled off again with just enough room for Walnut Grove Lane to wind like a ribbon along the terraced terrain. Trees lined the narrow road that led to redwood country. Not many but enough. And inside them—shadows moved.
My breath caught.
After literally years’ worth of feeling watched, of catching a shape in my peripheral only to turn and see nothing, this was the closest I’d come to actually seeing something out there watching me. I squinted, trying to make out a shape. My heart thudded. My ears roared with the adrenaline coursing through my blood. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.
Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1) Page 3
