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

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Love you too, darling. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more…”

  “It’s fine, Mom. You’ve done a lot,” I assured her. And I meant it. Whatever hurt I felt at my mom’s inability to face the unexplainable—the mystical—wasn’t her fault. She was doing her best. And aside from that, she’d been a great mom to me. She’d sent me to California, to aunt Kiwi, when I’d needed it most.

  I ended the call at the same moment the bathroom pipes went quiet. Brittany was out of the shower. I thought of Britt’s words about starting on a fresh canvas, and it made me consider Mom’s advice. I was fairly certain to find my Remembrance, I’d have to do the exact opposite.

  I’d have to face the thing that scared me more than werewolf attacks by my ex-boyfriend, the Death card reinventing itself in a Tarot reading, and my attraction to Alex Channing all rolled into one.

  To go forward, first, I had to go back.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam

  Old Sam had a particular fondness for badly written romance novels. In fact, her biggest pet peeve was when the build-up and angst led to nothing. A promise made to the reader through tension and sultry looks and then boom. The heroine swooned and then … never came. Or if she did, it just wasn’t believable. It wasn’t true to life. Old Sam considered that a big letdown. She’d even left a few reviews on book sites to let the author know her mistake.

  New Sam didn’t read much and when I did, it was non-fiction stuff like How To Get Over Your Fear of People or Becoming Your Best Version. Even without the bad sex scenes, I still felt let down. Every one of them promised something they never delivered.

  That’s how I felt now.

  Tara hadn’t answered when I’d called her, and now, three days later, she still hadn’t called me back. Apparently, lobbying was a busy job.

  Alex, however, had called daily just to check on me. He’d made me promise to let him drive me to and from work or anywhere else farther than the campus across the street. Even Brittany walked me to and from every class.

  Mason called almost as often.

  According to the one voice mail I’d actually listened to, he felt bad for what happened. I wasn’t sure whether he meant the trying to kill me part or the part where he’d cornered and lied to my roommate in an attempt to get information. According to the message, he was very sorry. I didn’t want to hear it. I was very busy ignoring him and trying to figure out what one did after discovering one was a witch.

  Brittany had kicked me out of the apartment an hour ago so she could “study” with one of the football players. At least I’d gotten use of her car as a consolation. I’d offered to do an extra shift at Oracle but Mirabelle had waved me off. I was pretty sure she thought if she gave me time off, I’d go out questing for my Remembrance.

  I absolutely would—if I had any idea where or how to quest.

  I kept coming back to Alex’s comment about my blood line. Had even run a search on my own ancestry, using the few great-relatives’ names I knew, but nothing interesting popped up. I suspected for that theory to yield anything, I needed aunt Kiwi’s insight. She was due back in a couple of months. Until then, I had to concentrate on unblocking these memories that were apparently stopping up everything else.

  I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, trying to figure out where to go. What to do that might get me a step closer to my goal.

  Remember.

  No matter how many times I ordered myself to do it, nothing had happened. It wasn’t enough, simply spouting the command to myself. Walking around—even coming back to the scene of the crime. None of it was enough.

  I wasn’t doing shit to help myself. Or Alex.

  Without consciously making the decision, I put the car into gear and drove the short distance to Alex’s house. I parked behind his truck and got out, not even sure what I was doing here. Alex had been all business since that day at Mirabelle’s. No more trying to hang out beyond trying to babysit me on my way to and from work.

  But here I was.

  RJ answered the door, his white t-shirt plastered to his skin. Were all werewolf hunters secretly male models? Was it a pre-requisite? And why was I apparently only attracted to men who killed things for a living?

  “I thought you were in class,” RJ said, giving me a once-over before glancing behind him into the house.

  “Class ended. Uh. Sorry, did I interrupt your … workout?” I asked, uncertainly, noting how his pant leg was also soaked near the ankle.

  “Broken pipe in the bathroom,” he said and with a grunt that seemed to suggest I follow, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the front door hanging open.

  I stepped inside and shut the door with a soft click behind me.

  There was a moment of silence as RJ’s footsteps faded and then a loud clink as metal clanged against metal. I jumped.

  Voices followed.

  “You’re not doing it right. Here, give it to me.” Alex sounded almost as irritated as he did tired. I headed for the sound, listening to them argue.

  “Dude, the threads on that one are stripped,” RJ said.

  “So, you decided to just start banging on it? How does that help?” Alex demanded.

  “Decided to bang your mom,” RJ muttered.

  Alex glared. “I’m about three seconds from drowning your ass in this standing inch of water.”

  I rounded the corner of the open bathroom doorway and found Alex and RJ both soaking wet and glaring at each other. Behind them, the vanity’s cabinet doors were wide open. A steady stream of water leaked from the seam of the pipe underneath the sink.

  RJ held a large wrench.

  Alex’s hands were fisted and the violent expression he wore might have been funny if it weren’t so intimidating. I watched as a vein bulged in his forehead and wondered if RJ was holding the pipe for the leak or for self-preservation.

  “Boys,” I said. Both sets of eyes swung toward me.

  “I thought you were in class,” Alex said and my eyes narrowed.

  “Are you keeping tabs on me now?” I asked.

  “Well… yeah.” Alex shrugged.

  I decided not to dignify that with an answer. “Ugh. The water,” I said, nodding.

  “Yes, it’s leaking,” Alex snapped sarcastically.

  My eyes narrowed. “That’s my point,” I said, temper flaring instantly. I huffed and instead of waiting for an apology or any similar miracle, I marched out and headed for the laundry room across the hall.

  RJ followed and Alex shoved past him into the small room just as I reached the fuse box on the far wall.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I reached over and flipped the big red switch beside the breaker box and whirled, pinning him with a look. The sound of trickling water stopped.

  “This is the main water shut-off valve for the house,” I said. “You’re welcome.” I shoved past Alex, hitting his shoulder hard with mine as I passed. He didn’t utter a word.

  RJ jumped out of my way, a smile playing on his lips as I passed. Behind me, I heard Alex ask, “How did she know where it was?”

  “Dude, you made her do her own laundry the other day, remember?”

  Alex didn’t answer and I could almost picture RJ shaking his head. “Man, let’s just call a plumber,” RJ said.

  I drowned out Alex’s response with the slamming of the front door. It was mildly satisfying up until the moment I realized leaving wasn’t the best play. Not when I had nowhere else to go.

  I stopped, squeezed my eyes shut, and counted to ten. My temper slowly dialed back. Not enough to walk inside again. Instead, I sank to the top porch step and waited.

  Two minutes later, the front door opened and someone stepped out. I didn’t turn to see which of them had come. Bare feet and a soaked pant leg came into view as someone settled beside me.

  “He’s got trust issues,” RJ said.

  “He’s a jackass,” I shot back.

  RJ snorted. “Look, I don’t disagree but…” />
  “But what?” I prompted.

  He didn’t answer. More secrets.

  “He’s got a lot on his shoulders,” RJ said finally.

  “Yeah, like a giant chip.” I caught a half-smile before RJ blinked and his expression turned serious.

  “Is everything okay, Sam? You looked…upset when you got here.”

  I stared at my inter-twined fingers, twisting them nervously as I tried not to let it get to me that Alex hadn’t noticed something RJ had.

  “Everything is weird,” I admitted. “I wanted an outside perspective.” I glanced at him, gauging whether I could trust him not to burst out laughing at me if I told him.

  He stared back at me with an open expression and I took a deep breath, then quickly told him about the Death card magically changing into Mirabelle’s version of deity. I didn’t mention Bernard—just in case. But I did tell him about the strange feeling I’d had when I’d touched Mirabelle and also the rock she’d given me that day at the store. The epidote still currently acting as a sock-weight in my drawer at home.

  “So, basically, I’m either crazy—which has been the running hypothesis for years now—or magic actually exists. Inside my body,” I added.

  “You want to know if magic—the kind you experienced with that card—is real,” RJ said.

  I nodded. “I figured if anyone could make sense of it all, it would be you guys. You see magical stuff all the time and somehow just roll with it.”

  RJ didn’t answer right away and I bit my lip, trying to brace myself. RJ’s silence only added to the dread building inside me like a wall of butterflies invading my organs.

  “The simple answer is yes,” he said finally and I released the breath I was holding in a loud whoosh that left me dizzy.

  “Thank God.”

  RJ chuckled and shook his head. “Did you really think you were crazy this whole time?”

  I shot him a look and he held up his hands. “No judgment,” he assured me. “But if you’re looking for more of an interpretation or explanation about your specific experience, I can’t help you. Being a hunter is different. Our magic is more subtle, I guess. Super strength. Speed. Just enough to make us a fair match in a fight against anything feral and furry. But visions… not very many of us have those. I mean, some. I’ve heard of them, although I’ve never met one personally. The most powerful was this woman named Vera who worked for The Cause.”

  “What’s the cause?”

  “Oh, right, I forget you don’t know all of this,” he said. “They were a group of hunters and werewolves who wanted peace during a time CHAS wanted war and conflict.”

  “CHAS. I’ve heard that word before,” I said, struggling to remember. “Alex used it once.”

  RJ nodded. “Council for Hunter Affairs and Security. It still exists although under much different leadership, thank goodness. They’re basically our corporate office and our government rolled into one. They keep the supernatural community in check. Balanced, I guess.”

  “So, they’re like your boss.”

  RJ shrugged. “More or less. Although, they operate as much more of a democracy than the old administration. Anyway, Vera was one of the few hunters who could do energy work, or magic, as you call it, but—”

  He broke off suddenly and stared at his hands.

  “But what?” I pressed.

  RJ cleared his throat, not quite meeting my eyes. “She died.”

  The way he said it, I didn’t even have to ask. “The magic killed her.”

  “There was no official diagnosis,” he said.

  The dread worked its way back through me. I squeezed my fingers together until they turned white. RJ laid his hand over mine and I forced myself to relax. I met his eyes and found them reassuring. Calming. “You’re not going to die, Sam.”

  “I know,” I said, nodding as if to assuage his worries with my lie. I swallowed, hard and then asked the question I’d been toying with all along. “RJ, do you think— I mean, is there any way I’m…like you?”

  RJ withdrew his hand and blinked twice, obviously needing a minute to understand the question. “Do you mean a hunter?”

  I held my breath.

  “No,” he said and although he sounded almost sad, the conviction in his voice was final. “I would know if you were. We have this sort of…radar. I would sense it. You’re something else, Sam.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I muttered but he took my hand again and this time he squeezed reassuringly.

  “That’s a good thing. I’ve heard stories about women who could do things. Earth magic that dates back centuries and centuries. The beginning of creation, they say, or at least the creation of werewolves. Legend says they were powerful. Healers, caregivers. They kept the balance in all of nature’s creations including hunters and werewolves.”

  “You mean a witch,” I said, my mouth going dry at using the term aloud.

  RJ nodded. “The word has a different meaning now, but yes. Once, long ago, they say these women were the keepers of all the magic. The same magic used to create the first hunter and the first wolf.”

  “What happened? To all the witches, I mean?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe the Earth decided it didn’t need them anymore.”

  Something loud clanged from inside the house. RJ and I exchanged a look. He sighed. “I should check on that. He refuses to let me call a plumber.”

  He rose and waited but I stayed where I was.

  “I’m just going to sit here for a while if that’s okay,” I said.

  “As long as you like,” he said. “And Sam?” I twisted around to look up at him. “My mom always told me to think of it as a beginning, not an end. It’s going to be okay.”

  I forced a smile and nodded as he disappeared inside.

  When I was alone, my fingers went right back to twisting themselves up in my lap as I thought over what he’d said about the first witches. But they were gone now. Which made me think of that Death card all over again; the one I’d somehow changed. The one Mirabelle said represented death and life at the same time. RJ had called it a beginning. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Alex

  I found Mirabelle at Oracle—for once. She was re-stocking a shelf of tinctures and muttering to herself. I cleared my throat to get her attention and when she looked up, I earned myself a clear reproach from both her and the black cat at her feet.

  “Where’s Sam?” I asked.

  “I sent her home,” she said.

  I nodded. “Good. I need to talk to you,” I said, trying my best to ignore what felt like a glare from the damned cat.

  “How’s the medicine I gave you?” she asked.

  “Better,” I said. “Thanks for that.”

  “And your fatigue?”

  “It still comes on,” I admitted. “But the pain is better.”

  She eyed me. “You overdo it,” she said, looking down her nose at me like a mom might.

  I grinned crookedly, thinking about how RJ and I had wrestled it out in the bathroom flood earlier. If that was overdoing it, I wasn’t sorry. I’d still managed to kick his ass. “Of course.”

  “And your strength? In a fight with a werewolf?” she added, one brow cocked as if she thought I might lie.

  But I wouldn’t. Not about this. My shoulders slumped. “Not great. Not worse.”

  She came over and patted my arm. “I’ll tweak the next batch,” she said. “Here, take this one for now.” She pressed one of the tincture bottles into my hand.

  “Thanks, Mirabelle. I appreciate it. It’s already a million times better than the last stuff you tried on me,” I said, opening the bottle and dispensing a couple of drops onto my tongue. “I’m more relaxed with this batch.”

  Her mouth quirked. “I mixed in some of my tea.”

  My jaw fell open. “You mean, I’m high?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “You said you wanted pain relief.”

  I shook my head. “Well,
I was going to talk to you about all of this before but apparently it’ll be easier to say now.”

  She looked up sharply as if just realizing I hadn’t come only for the medicine. “Let’s go to my office,” she said.

  I nodded and let her lead us back.

  “What is it?” she asked when we were settled across from each other.

  The medicine was already working its magic, relaxing me. And I was glad. This wasn’t easy but it had to be done. Someone else needed to know what I’d done. Someone Sam might actually trust in the end.

  Slowly, I told her about Sam’s memory wipe two years ago. My words were halting, my voice rough. Twice I almost stopped and walked out. But I didn’t. It was too late for that anyway. Things were already in motion.

  Mirabelle’s frown deepened as I spoke and by the end, she was glaring at me. I didn’t blame her. I was just glad she’d given me the medicine first because the way she was looking at me now… she might have decided to just let me suffer.

  “You’ve been lying all this time,” she said. “While Sam searched and searched…”

  It wasn’t a question so I didn’t bother answering. There would be no more defending myself. “I was hoping for another way,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But I found your journal entry.” I pulled the papers out of my pocket that I’d swiped the night I’d come in here to feed Rafiki. The papers that outlined exactly what Mirabelle’s unspoken suspicions were. “There’s always a price,” I said, quoting her own handwriting.

  She glanced down at the papers but didn’t move to take them. I set them on the desk and waited for more judgment; I had stolen from her after all. She nodded like she understood but her expression made it clear nothing justified my actions. “When will they be here?” she asked.

  My hand went absently to my shirt and found the raised skin of the small scar I knew was there. “Soon. Their flight lands in a couple of hours.” I cleared my throat. “Will you help us?”

  “I’ll help Sam,” she said and I let my shoulders sag in relief.

  “Thank you.”

  “She might not forgive you,” she said, looking down her nose at me.