The Genesis of Evangeline (The Lost Royals Saga Book 1)

by Rachel Jonas

  Dormant ‘open’ signs lacked their usual neon glow and shops with darkened windows lined the streets. There weren’t many places with people inside at this hour. The pharmacy was still lit like the north star, of course, but other than that, besides a tattoo parlor I passed when first emerging from the woods, it was only restaurants and pubs.

  I counted down the numbers on building faces, feeling my heart race as I got closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Stop.

  I double-checked the numbers on the paper and then glanced up again: 3748 Handler St.

  This… this was the place.

  It existed.

  Inside, warm, yellow light burned from beneath the door. A cacophony of voices and acoustic guitar spilled out onto the sidewalk and I held my breath, wondering how I got here, how it was possible the addresses matched. Sure, this could have all been a coincidence. I mean, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen the street name before. And there didn’t have to be anything spooky or cosmic about the numbers matching… or the fact that this place was one of few still open.

  Coincidence.

  I gripped the bronze handle and pulled, letting the light flood outside as I peered in. Smiling faces, waitresses moving around the room with pitchers of amber-colored liquid sloshing around inside them. It was more restaurant than bar, but, at this hour, it looked like most of the respectable people had retreated to their homes, leaving behind this boisterous brood.

  I stepped in, keeping my hands in my hoodie as I scanned the room for… for him… because maybe….

  This is stupid.

  It’s stupid and it’s insane.

  As soon as a hostess started toward me, I hightailed it out of there, not bothering to exhaust the possibilities of one of the men inside being Liam. I just wanted to go home. It hit me that I only wanted to run because I asked myself the question: ‘What if this is real?’ The answer that came was: ‘Then there’s something terribly wrong with you.’

  And I couldn’t afford to have more issues. I was already carrying enough.

  My feet moved swiftly over the sidewalk and I didn’t even bother aiming them toward the woods. I’d walk the streets like a normal person, go back to bed like a normal person, and forget any of this ever—

  …A wall. That’s what it felt like I ran into. Like I’d turned the corner and some genius had decided to abruptly end the sidewalk by placing a brick barrier there. Only, this wall had heat and arms and smelled nice and just… had things walls don’t have.

  I was breathing so hard my lungs burned, so lost in thought I didn’t even notice anyone was…

  The sight of ink stole the words right out my brain, stifling the apology I was more than ready to give a moment ago.

  Colorful patterns stretched the length of solid arms, patterns I’d seen but had never really seen. Like I wasn’t allowed to before now; like I hadn’t really seen anything in my entire seventeen years of life… until now, until my gaze lifted several inches above to meet… his.

  I took a step back, accidentally memorizing his features, things about him I wished I could forget, but knew I never would.

  A hazel stare that burned through me like headlights through fog.

  The way his sleepy lids shrouded his eyes.

  A thick brow that arched in a way that made him seem devious and dangerous and mysterious and good in all the bad ways… all at the same time.

  Dark hair that had me guessing it’s length because he’d bundled it behind his head in a careless knot. With it out of his face, the low-shaven sides and back were clearly visible.

  My heart raced, no longer because of how running into someone surprised me, but because… his half-parted lips I… I could’ve sworn I’d… we—

  “Get away from me.” Stumbling over my own feet, I took another wobbly step back.

  His hands were outstretched in front of him. Similar to how someone might approach a person on a ledge, careful not to startle them to jump. I suddenly wished I’d brought some sort of weapon with me—a knife from the kitchen, Mom’s taser, her mace. Something. But here I was, on the dark streets of Seaton Falls, in the middle of the night, with nothing.

  He was so big, I wouldn’t have stood a chance if he did try something. Probably not even if I was armed. I looked him over again, sizing him up just in case I had to defend myself. I upgraded him from big to huge with one sweep of my eyes. It was mostly his height, but, beneath his smooth, tight skin, were boulders posing as body parts—chest, shoulders, biceps. All muscle, everywhere. He could squash me like a bug beneath one of his colossal, boot-clad feet if he wanted to.

  Dark jeans covered his legs—more boulders for thighs. With his height reaching what I guessed to be near 6’6”, he was probably as heavy as the brick wall he resembled.

  I remembered once comparing his skin tone to desert sand and seeing him in the flesh only confirmed that. With a hint of red so subtle I missed it in the visions, I wondered where he came from.

  Listen to me… ‘seeing him in the flesh’.

  There was no way this guy and the one I dreamed about were one in the same.

  No way.

  I felt confused, like I was dreaming still. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a deep breath. This couldn’t be real. None of it.

  “Evangeline, I—”

  “How do you know my name?” The question left my mouth with a hiss.

  He put his hands chest-level again, as if that made someone who looked like him seem less dangerous.

  “Relax,” he breathed, taking a step closer. There was a cautiousness I didn’t miss. It would have been funny if I wasn’t scared out of my head right now. The idea of him being careful of me.

  “Who are you?” I hated that I asked, because I knew he’d give the one answer I wouldn’t accept.

  “Liam.” He paused, waiting for me to let that settle. “Evangeline… you know me.” He sounded so sure. To the point that I nearly believed it.

  I took another step back, undoing the gap he’d closed with his advances.

  “You know me,” he repeated, but he was wrong about that. In fact, I didn’t even believe this was real.

  “Stop talking.”

  “I don’t just mean what you’ve seen when you dream,” he went on, ignoring my plea. “You’ve always known me.”

  Always… that word fell gently on me like a blanket drifting off a cliff. Falling, falling, until it rested easy on my heart. My eyes slammed shut at the feel of it.

  “Don’t say anything else.” This time my plea had been diluted to a whisper I couldn’t even confirm he heard.

  My hands shook when he came closer and, this time, I didn’t have the strength to move away.

  “I just… I only want to talk.”

  He may have, but I didn’t. I wanted to forget this moment. All of it. Immediately. However, the sound of his voice, the sound of my name rolling off his tongue… it already embedded itself in my brain, taking root.

  “I don’t want this.” My words were soft, but there was depth to them this time.

  Liam’s eyes lowered, staying trained on the sidewalk as he stood there—silent, contemplating. A deeply spoken, “When you’re ready,” made a breath hitch in my throat, but I didn’t dare answer.

  Now it was him who backed off, raising his eyes toward me again as he neared the corner where we collided. My entire face was numb as thoughts and emotions flowed through like water.

  Part of me wanted to run the other way, still thinking I might be unsafe in the presence of such a formidable stranger.

  And then, there was the other part of me—the part that laughed at the idea of ever being in danger around him.

  There was this unshakable feeling of warmth and protection that surpassed all earthly understanding, but it was there, and it left with each step he took away from me. A strange tugging in my stomach made me swallow the word ‘Wait!’ when it crept up my throat. No, I wouldn’t call out to him. We didn’t know each other no
matter how loudly something on the inside of me said otherwise.

  He disappeared around the corner and I breathed deep, ragged breaths. Flashes of the Liam I dreamed about came crashing down on me, seeming to align all at once, as I stood alone on the empty street.

  ‘None of this was possible’, I kept repeating to myself.

  If only I still believed that.

  I now had more questions than ever. And I feared that, being irrational and too afraid to face this while I had the chance, I’d just let the one person who could answer them walk away. But then, just as swiftly as the anxiety came over me, a comforting thought followed. I was reminded that, if this was all real, if the stranger I just met and the man in my head were one in the same, then all wasn’t lost.

  Somehow, we had a direct line of communication unlike anything I’d ever experienced or heard of before and, like he said, when I was ready…

  I knew exactly how to reach him.

  —

  Chapter Twelve —

  Evie

  There wasn’t much I could do about the dark circles under my eyes, but stopping for coffee before hitting the grocery store helped. And so did dark sunglasses.

  I combed the aisles with my mom, listening as ingredients were being rattled off. She was excited to try a new dish she found online and was talking my ear off. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was exhausted. After my late-night adventure, I made myself finish the history assignment and did some research. So, yeah. Tired didn’t even begin to explain how I felt.

  I fought the notion that, whatever this was with Liam, was actually happening and not just inside my head. I searched for a logical means of explaining it away, but, after seeing him, feeling that he’s flesh and blood just like me, my mind started to settle on the idea of him being real.

  Or at least he was to me.

  After homework, I scoured one site after another. The explanation that made the most sense was astral projection. I’d never heard of it before now, but there were several people who had, and believed it to be a real thing. And, I don’t know, maybe I was starting to believe in it, too.

  If I was, in fact, visiting Liam in some way while I slept, this was the only explanation that didn’t make me want to claw my eyes out. The new question was: Why him? Of all the souls walking the planet, why was I visiting this one person I’d never met before last night?

  And how was all of this possible anyway? My thoughts kept taking me back to the fact that I was adopted, that there were things about my family, my life before, that could maybe help. Like… maybe this was something that had been passed down to me. A gift.

  Or maybe it was mental illness; still something that had been inherited, but more curse than gift. So, because this was not my first time considering that a possibility… I researched something else last night, too.

  Schizophrenia.

  My thoughts lingered there. Mostly because, if this was the case, it was no wonder the delusions felt so authentic. To me, they were. Even if no one else could see, hear, or feel what I did. More and more, it seemed I was losing touch with reality, drifting along in this dream-like state as the lines between reality and fiction blurred somewhere in the middle. What I would give to know who I really am. So many things would be explained.

  I gathered the chips, cheese curls, and pretzel sticks I planned to take to the falls, going through the motions in a daze. I placed them, and a few candy bars for my personal stash, on the conveyer belt while Mom searched for her savings club card. I swear she had one of those things for every store we visited.

  The constant beep, beep, beep of the scanner had me thinking it might be a good idea to grab some aspirin, too.

  “Nervous about today?” Mom asked, giving me a cheeky side-eye.

  I was beginning to think she was looking forward to this as much as I was. She wanted me to get out and make friends and dig my heels in here like I’d done in Chicago. I got it. However, in light of recent events, I thought of cancelling altogether and just… I don’t know… trying to figure things out.

  I nodded, but was too drained to fake a smile.

  “I think he’ll like the gift you got him,” she added. “Especially if he’s into that kind of thing. What time should we expect you home?” That question never came up when I was going out in the middle of the day. It clearly had something to do with the fact that, this time, I’d be with a guy.

  I didn’t answer right away and now she was watching me as the scanner continued to grate my nerves in the background. She could know nothing about last night, but I did let her in on at least some of what I was feeling.

  “Not sure I’m even going.”

  Her eyes widened. I know, to her, it must have seemed strange to hear me reneging on something I was so excited about yesterday. I just couldn’t see being around Nick or his friends right now with my head so cloudy.

  Wondering if I was insane and made Liam up.

  Wondering if I wasn’t insane, which was surprisingly of no comfort. Not even a little.

  Remembering what I felt when I was near him. Not even so much when he touched me, but… just being close. It was like something fit together—something I hadn’t realized was out of place before that moment.

  “What are you talking about?” Mom’s voice took on this shrill quality when she was really out of sorts. I heard it now. I know she was worried I’d revert back to being a recluse like I was in weeks past, but…

  “Is something wrong? Did this boy do something your father and I should know about? I don’t understand, Evie. You were so excited about this just yesterday.”

  And she was right. I was. But that was before I ran into a brick wall on the corner of Handler Street and Seaton River Road. That was before I was fifty-percent sure I needed to be medicated.

  That was before Liam made me… feel.

  She didn’t say a word, just watched my expressions shift from worried to sad to downright fearful in a matter of seconds. Her attention went to the cashier when she gave us our total and I loaded the few bags we had into the cart. Needing a little space, I wheeled it with slow steps toward the exit. Across the street was the shop she and I grabbed our coffee from a little while ago and, a couple blocks over—Handler Street.

  I could still see his face—Liam’s. Plain as day. I hadn’t forgotten a single feature, a single detail. He was handsome. Like… really handsome. But, above all else, he was a stranger, he was scary, and he was a mystery to me.

  My mom approached from my right. “Ready?” she asked. Her tone was somber and I knew it wasn’t sitting well with her that my mind seemed to change overnight. Although, I suppose that’s exactly what happened.

  I nodded, glancing at the time on the wall clock above the door as we left the store. I had about an hour before Nick would be expecting me to be ready, which meant I needed to make up my mind soon. Should I go and pretend nothing had changed? Or should I stay home and try to figure things out?

  The last option probably would’ve been the wiser choice if I thought I’d actually accomplish something; however, I knew I’d simply run into one dead end after another. There was no record of how I ended up on that church step. No record of who or where I came from. Just one empty corridor after another.

  With that thought, and knowing I’d only frustrate myself if I tried to look for answers, I decided to go. In fact, as soon as Mom and I got into the car after loading up, I told her just that. The excuse I gave for wavering back and forth was that I’d been up all night trying to finish that assignment, per our agreement. She didn’t seem to think anything of it, completely unaware of the meltdown that had just gone on inside me.

  I had just enough time to get home and shower off the layer of sweat I worked up, all thanks to the sweltering heat today. It felt like the temp had climbed well above the forecasted mid-eighties report I read on Monday.

  This was less like living in a scenic, Michigan town nestled beside a river, and more like living in the very armpit of hell. Fa
ct.

  The second the engine turned over, I rolled my window down, listening the wind as it whipped through Mom’s SUV, rustling the plastic grocery bags in the back. With closed eyes, I hung my head outside, letting the breeze cool my skin; it cleared my thoughts some.

  We made it home in ten minutes, leaving fifty minutes on the countdown to the falls. A twinge of excitement bellowed from my stomach and, despite everything else, I couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss was about. Beth would be there and Roz, too. Beth, I was already sure I liked, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to read Roz yet.

  I hopped in the shower, left my hair in a bun after, and put gloss on my lips. Beneath my cut-off jean shorts and loose-fitting, white tank, was my bathing suit. I slipped my feet into my white flip-flops just before the doorbell rang and I scolded myself for not beating my parents to the door.

  “Well, hello there, Nick,” my mother chirped. Her voice fluttered all the way up the stairs, echoing in this monstrous house we still hadn’t filled yet. I half expected her to slip and call him by the nickname she and I coined—Tall, Dark, and Smexy. Thankfully, she didn’t.

  Nick responded with a sweetly spoken, “Hi, Mrs. Callahan.”

  I reached the banister overlooking the foyer and stopped, feeling kind of dumb for ever letting the thought enter my mind that I should cancel today. Not only would it solve nothing moping around my room, I’d also miss out on getting to spend the day with the one bright spot I found living here. He was sweet and charming and all the things a girl likes in a boy. He was even kind of an undercover nerd, which I liked. It added layers to him, made him more than just a body and a nice smile. He was the embodiment of ‘the boy next door’—handsome, fun, exciting, a little too polite around adults… and maybe even trouble on two feet.

  I made it to the bottom of the stairs and my eyes met Nick’s just as my dad finally pried himself away from ESPN. No chance he’d miss the opportunity to meet the guy taking his daughter out today. His face was notably less friendly than usual, which was always the case on the few occasions boys showed up on our doorstep. I think the look was meant to put the fear of God in them, but it did nothing but make me laugh. If they had any idea how soft my dad was, they’d probably laugh, too.