Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Uh, no, thanks,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Sam, it was helping.”

  “It was trying to kill me,” I argued.

  “You felt something.” There was an air of smugness around her almost-smile.

  I brushed the hair out of my face and off my damp forehead. “You could try not looking so happy about it. I feel pretty gross. I think I’m allergic to whatever that is.”

  Mirabelle laughed. “I highly doubt it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because that, my dear, was magic.”

  I blinked at her, the idea that I’d actually just felt something that she deemed mystical or magical was too stunning for words. For over a year, I’d been denouncing its existence. And I’d been avoiding anything that might prove me wrong. Obviously, that ship had sailed.

  We both knew I couldn’t argue anymore.

  Instead, I blew out a heavy breath and shook out my hair. “Magic feels an awful lot like one too many shots of Fireball,” I said warily.

  Mirabelle cackled.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex

  Edie’s name flashed on my screen and I sucked in a determined breath. If I played this right, it didn’t have to get awkward. Probably. I shot RJ a look and he nodded as I got up and stepped onto the porch. He’d already put some things in motion to start looking for a connection that seemed to attract rabid werewolves to Half Moon Bay. More specifically, a connection to Sam. But even with him helping me, I couldn’t keep lying to Edie.

  “Hey. Edie,” I said, walking to the porch railing and scanning the yard out of habit. The day had been quiet and I’d spent most of it in bed recovering from last night. But I wouldn’t tell her that.

  Good thing I’d brought RJ on board. He’d split the day between his own assignment and keeping an eye on Sam for me.

  “Alex, I got your message. Are you all right?” Edie asked.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, hating the worry I heard in her voice. “Listen, I need to ask you about this woman. Mirabelle.”

  “The oracle. What about her?”

  “That’s what they say but… Listen, you were the one who suggested her. I know you said she was a good possibility from the rumors you’d heard, but I left her for last because …” I trailed off, guilt gnawing at me.

  “Because she’s old magic and you don’t believe in that,” Edie finished for me matter-of-factly.

  I winced but I couldn’t deny it. “Humans don’t have magic, Edie. Everyone knows that.”

  “Most of them don’t anymore,” she agreed. “But you’re forgetting history—”

  “I know, I know, the legend says magic came from humans.”

  “No, magic belonged to the humans,” she corrected and I decided to shut up and let her tell it.

  I hadn’t been open to it all the first time, but now, after coming here and meeting Mirabelle, seeing Sam—combined with my own desperation—I needed to understand. And I needed to admit to someone that the problem was not unbelief. It was denial, pure and simple.

  “Centuries ago, werewolves and hunters were created through magic in order to maintain a balance between the two.”

  “Right. The god and the goddess who fell in love,” I said because we’d all heard it a million times. Every hunter, and probably werewolf for that matter, grew up hearing the legend of how and why we were created.

  “Yes. When the god and the goddess died, magic was left in the hands of humans for safekeeping.”

  “For maintaining the balance,” I said, remembering Mirabelle’s words the day of my reading.

  “You already know the story. Why are you asking me about this now?” she asked.

  “Mirabelle, the oracle, says she is a student of the old magic. According to her, our modern versions of the legend left out an important piece. Ultimately, the magic is passed through the bloodline of the original humans gifted from the goddess. The blood line keeps magic alive on this plane.”

  “It makes sense. Can she heal you then?”

  “No.” I tried not to let my disappointment show as I explained, “she says it is not in her blood and she doesn’t have the power to do something that big. She says—”

  “What is it, Alex?” she pressed. And then on an impatient sigh, she added, “I can handle it. Just tell me.”

  “I know you can,” I said pointedly. It was me I was worried about. “Look, if I tell you this, you have to promise not to tell the others.”

  “I think I’ve proven I’m capable of keeping a damned secret,” she muttered.

  I took a deep breath and ran a hand over the back of my neck. “Samantha Knight is here.”

  “And that is…?”

  “Tara’s old friend from high school. The human,” I said.

  “The one whose memory we…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  The line went quiet as Edie was surprised into silence. I knew the feeling.

  “She works for Mirabelle now. I think her aunt is friends with the oracle. Anyway, she… something happened to her when Wes wiped her memory that night. She’s different than she was before. Quieter. Fragile.”

  I could practically hear her reading into every word I said now. I wasn’t stupid enough to think she wouldn’t pick up on my attraction to Sam. I’d known Edie way too long to think anything would get past her.

  “She doesn’t remember you then?” Edie asked quietly.

  I cleared my throat to cover the pang in my gut as I remembered our first encounter at Oracle. The recognition and caring in her expression when she’d almost placed me from that night so long ago. And even more painful, the way she’d looked at me two years ago as I stood in her kitchen. No one before or after had ever looked at me quite that way. And no one had done for me what Sam had. But I hadn’t exactly shared that part of the story with anyone. And I wasn’t going to now.

  “No,” I said finally.

  Edie was quiet. “You want to tell her?”

  “No, I don’t want to tell her, but I think I might have to in the end,” I snapped. God, I was grouchy. “Mirabelle says Sam is of the blood. Old magic. She says Sam doesn’t know but Mirabelle’s done research. Apparently Sam’s aunt can trace their family back to the goddess line. She thinks Sam is the answer for my cure.”

  “Well, only old magic had power over werewolf venom’s effect on hunters. Can Sam do it?”

  “Not until she gets past whatever’s blocking her. Mirabelle says she has to remember what she forgot first, and when she knows I helped…” I cleared my throat again, sinking into the rocking chair as the last of my energy left me. I needed to sleep. Again. Dammit, dying was a pain in my ass.

  “Let me see what I can do here,” Edie said. “Maybe there’s another way.”

  “You can’t tell Tara about this. She’ll know I’m—”

  “I’m not going to say anything. I promised you I’d keep your secret and I will. Just let me see what I can do,” she said.

  “Yeah, okay.” I ran a hand over my face. “In the meantime, some weird shit is going on here. Feral werewolves are all over this place, a higher concentration than anywhere I’ve seen. And they’re attracted to Sam somehow.”

  “You think there’s a connection?” she asked.

  “Maybe. RJ’s going to help me look into it. If there is, we’ll find it.”

  “If she is your cure, you need to keep her safe,” Edie said.

  “Nothing is going to hurt her,” I said and even I was shocked at the conviction in my harsh words.

  “I see.” Edie’s voice had changed and made me wonder exactly what she thought she saw in all this. Probably the truth.

  I dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Of course you do. You just don’t like it.”

  “Really? And what is it I know I have to do?” I asked.

  “You have to tell her the truth.”

  I sat back and groaned. “You say that like it’
s so easy.”

  “Did I? Well, then I misspoke. For you, this is the hardest thing there is. I love you like a son, Alex, so I say this with affection: You’re a liar and an ass and although it’s mostly self-preservation, and I know that deep down you have a good heart, it’s all finally catching up to you.”

  “She’s a human girl that I barely know, Edie. I hardly think it’s all catching up—”

  “You never had a problem lying to Tara.”

  My hands tightened into fists and I sucked in a breath through closed teeth. Heat washed over me. Possibly a fever but also I was furious. The worst part: she wasn’t wrong.

  “Do the job,” Edie said gently. “Find a cure. Help the girl.”

  “And when she blames me for the lie?” I asked, my voice rough with a depth of emotion that surprised me.

  “I can’t tell you what to do there. It’s a risk either way.” Her tone changed, aiming for humor as she added, “Maybe just live like you’re dying.”

  I snorted. “That won’t be difficult,” I said.

  “You’d be surprised, son. You’d be surprised.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam

  The doorknob turned too easily in my hand when I arrived at Oracle on Saturday afternoon. That might not have been unusual except that Saturdays were Mirabelle’s home visit days. She usually closed for the two-hour gap between her leaving and my arriving. Maybe today she forgot. And maybe my stalker from the other night was already here, waiting for me.

  I stopped short and slid my phone into my hand as I considered calling for help. Mason. 9-1-1. A shrink. But I didn’t dial any of those. Instead, I swiped up to activate the camera. If there really was a stalker—or some giant ball of dog fur—waiting for me inside, I wanted photogenic proof that I wasn’t as crazy as I felt.

  Then I’d call 9-1-1.

  I sucked in a breath, the memory of my stalker’s footsteps still fresh on my mind. It had only been three days. Three long days during which, aside from my session with Mirabelle, I’d basically just sat in my apartment, waiting for whoever it was to come back and finish the job. I’d skipped three calls from Mason and once, I thought I’d seen someone who looked like him walk by my front window. I pretended not to notice and had distracted Brittany and myself with a Ryan Gosling movie marathon.

  I’d told him I’d wanted to be friends and I did. I wanted a friend. But after holding that stone in my hand and almost fainting over the physical reaction of it, I wasn’t so sure a friend wanted me. My life was beyond complicated. Mason didn’t want that. By avoiding him, I was saving him from it.

  Beyond Mirabelle, I still hadn’t told anyone what had happened the other night. I also hadn’t picked up the stone Mirabelle had made me take home. She’d made me promise to try holding it again soon, but I was putting it off. Once had been enough for now. Although, after a nap and a meal, the whole experience had cured my hangover. I’d stuffed it into my bag earlier, wrapped in a sock for good measure.

  Now, I pushed Oracle’s door open, wincing when the bell overhead chimed my arrival. Sometimes that bell was the worst idea ever.

  I eased forward, not even breathing as I listened. A rustling sounded from the other side of the rack of incense. Footsteps. My chest constricted. A face rounded the corner and I swallowed a scream.

  “Oh, good, you’re here. Where does the Dragon’s Breath go?”

  “Dammit! You scared me to death.” I stared at Alex, willing the scene in front of me to make sense. Alex, standing in my store, alone. He held a broom in one hand, a dustpan in the other. A box of incense sat open at his feet.

  Alex’s brows knitted as he caught sight of my phone still clutched in my hand. “Are you going to take my picture?”

  “What? No.” I shoved the phone into my pocket.

  He wore the same cargo pants and sturdy boots as before. Today, thanks to the warm day, he’d switched out his long-sleeve for a green fitted tee that revealed more muscles and tan than my eyes knew what to do with.

  Mirabelle was nowhere to be found. Even Granny was absent. I was thoroughly confused. And attracted to top it off.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Working,” he said simply before bending to sweep a small pile of dust and cat hair into his pan. I tried not to see the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders as he knelt.

  “What are you talking about? And where’s Mirabelle?” I demanded, stalking toward the back office even though I knew she wasn’t here. Sure enough, her office was empty. Bottles and herb containers littered her desk along with scraps of fabric and yarn. She’d been making sachets. I’d helped her a couple of times even though I was doubtful they really warded against such real issues as insomnia and IBS. But that’s what Mirabelle claimed.

  Then again, after that damned stone I was feeling less and less skeptical.

  I huffed and returned to the front of the store.

  “She’s out,” Alex said as if I hadn’t stormed from the room to check for myself. I stood back, watching as he emptied his dust pan into the garbage. He set the broom aside. “Something about a home visit. Does she really scry in people’s toilets?”

  I glared, pissed at him for being here and pissed at Mirabelle for telling him something about herself. For connecting him to her—to us.

  “None of your business,” I said. “Not until you tell me what you’re really doing here.”

  “I told you, I’m working,” Alex said, more guarded this time.

  “You work here,” I repeated.

  “Yes. I needed some extra money while I figure out my next move. Mirabelle said you could use the help.”

  “I could … So you thought working together sounded like a plan?” He shrugged. “What the hell?” I demanded.

  “I don’t see what the problem—” he began.

  “Well, of course not. Why would there be a problem?” I said, voice rising. “When the last time you were here you were an even bigger jackass to me than the first time we met. When you’re rude and condescending and grumpy and you just show up to tell me you’ve taken my job like it’s no big deal. Why would there be any problem with that?”

  Alex blinked and his expression transformed slowly. Gone was his attempt at casual, at innocent. We both knew this was stupid and finally, his expression showed it. His mouth flattened into a thin line and he looked about as excited as I felt.

  “Look,” he said, running a hand over his short hair. “We got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we can start over. I’m sure you didn’t mean to be so rude to me before—”

  “Sweet baby Jesus. Me?” Furious heat washed over me at his words. Suddenly, any fear or anxiety I might have felt at being alone with a guy vanished. All that was left was hot, hot temper and it was overflowing out of me faster than I could hold on. “You have got a lot of nerve, you…” I took a step forward, sticking my finger in the center of his chest. “You arrogant, self-absorbed asshole. You want an apology from me for being rude to you? That is the richest thing I’ve heard all week. Tell you what, you hold your breath while you wait and we’ll call it even.”

  “Whoa there, tiger. Okay, message received. I was rude.” He held up his hands. Large, calloused. Rough hands. I hated that I even noticed and all but growled to prove it didn’t matter what kind of hands he had. “Mucho apologies. But you are not innocent and that should go on the official transcripts of this meeting.”

  “Me? When? You didn’t give me a chance to say anything last time—”

  His brow rose. Just one. And it was distractingly sexy. It wasn’t fair. “In the alley last week?” he said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I crossed my arms. “We ran into each other. I said hello and then was on my way. How is that rude?”

  Alex cocked his head and studied me in a way that made me seriously doubt my own words. Quickly, I thought back over our exchange, but my memory of it was still foggy.

  “Weird. Mirabelle was right,” A
lex muttered finally. Then he cleared his throat. “All right, politeness police. You win. I was rude and I’m very sorry. Can we start over?”

  I eyed him, my manners kicking in begrudgingly. He had apologized—even if it had come on the heels of my wrath. “Fine, yeah,” I muttered, dropping my arms and going to flip the open sign at the front window. Somewhere behind me, Granny meowed and she sounded like I felt.

  When I returned, Alex had propped himself against the wall behind the counter. “You’re a little terrifying, you know that?” he asked.

  My lips twitched. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He looked at me in a way that made it clear he hadn’t meant it as one.

  Ignoring him, I rounded the counter and knelt behind the register, stowing my bag. When I straightened, Alex was frowning at his phone. He typed in something quick and looked up, sliding it away again when he saw me watching.

  “So, fresh start,” he said, extending one hand. “I’m Alex Channing. And you are?”

  “Sam,” I said, slowly placing my hand in his.

  I found myself caught up in his stare, my hand suddenly warm—not the clammy, weird kind that plagued me but the enjoyable, delicious kind. The kind where I didn’t want to let go of him.

  Alex finally dropped his hand and I realized he’d had to pull it away when I failed to release it in a polite amount of time. Heat rose to my cheeks. Alex smiled—which made the whole thing worse.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, apparently going all the way with this fresh start business. “So how long have you worked here?”

  “Just over a year,” I said, recovering from embarrassment by pretending to be completely involved in getting the register online. Alex remained against the wall, watching. “Why?”

  “You seem to know all there is to know about Oracle. And Mirabelle clearly trusts you. Just curious,” he said.

  “What about you?” I shot back, trying to redirect. I wasn’t used to talking about me anymore. Hell, I wasn’t used to talking at all.