Found in Amber
Book #2 of
An Out Of This World Paranormal Romance
saga
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, places, incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, facts or events is purely coincidental. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
Copyright © 2019 Esther Rabbit
Cover illustration front, spine and back © 2019 Damonza
Author logo illustration © 2018 Ana Grigoriu
Editing/Proofreading services, jenniereads.com
Book Cover Model @hopebleakman/Instagram
Photographer @laraturpin/Instagram
The right of Esther Rabbit to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording without prior written permission from the author herself.
To Armine
A Schrödinger’s cat case
“Schrödinger stated that if you place a cat and something that could kill the cat in a box and sealed it, you would not know if the cat was dead or alive until you opened the box; so that until the box was opened, the cat was (in a sense) both dead and alive”
Aheap of ginger curls came blasting out of St. Andrew’s sturdy wooden front doors, fingers tight around the plastic box holding her belongings and two years worth of handcrafted cards from her students.
Zoey stormed off in her red tartan dress and dark tights, sprinting cardiganless on the street that led home. No one could possibly feel the February cold, not in her shoes, not when Jasper was still alive. Her nostrils were getting red around the edges as she panted her way from one sidewalk to the other, holding that big plastic box as if her life depended on it. All the love was there, in every single doodled card, in every cardboard stuck to glue stuck to glitter, in every book she’d ever read her students. She wasn’t done with teaching, it was her life and she’d get back to it once she sorted out everything else.
Jasper. The thought of him accelerated her pace and winter breath. She saw him disintegrating before her eyes at James’s hand, all before waking up to a reality that made no sense.
Jasper is still alive. Book the midnight flight to Pamplona with a connection flight in Barcelona. I’ll be at the airport. Lilou
The memory of Lilou’s handwriting pierced every corner of her mind; all she wanted to do was get home and open that card again, touch the calligraphy as proof that she hadn’t made it all up, that Lilou was not a figment of her imagination, that Jasper was somehow still there and that she could do something, anything to reach him. The rush of emotion nearly collapsed her already wobbly legs from underneath, but she had to push through.
The box was getting heavier, her arms cold and stiff against the plastic when she finally reached her building and dug for the keys. Bolting up the stairs with a full box and half frozen limbs proved to be quite the challenge since her patience was not compatible with awaiting the descent of the elevator. Her breathing accelerated.
Reaching the same floor where she met Jasper for the first time, she threw a glimpse at the door that was no longer his, grabbed the handrail and set her first foot on the stairs where he had her frozen for the very first time. Impatience joined flutter in the depths of her stomach propelled by an inherent need to reach the door.
“Finally!” exhaling, Zoey’s legs collapsed against the wooden floor in a most unflattering descent. Even the box went thump, sending the lid straight for the coffee table, knocking that Hello Kitty mug senseless. So what if there was spatter all over the floor? Jasper was alive and she had all the feels swarming in her chest like restless beasts.
There was no time for dwelling on the insignificance of coffee stains. Zoey reached for the card and opened it again. It was like all the air left her lungs in relief. Lilou’s handwriting was still there and her fingers tingled with the new found warmth.
In a split second she was at the laptop, browsing flights and ignoring her phone buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.
Who dareth interrupt the flutter?
Sam. The only person other than Emma she wanted to share the news with had been texting relentlessly since 9 a.m. Telling the girls would only risk their wellbeing. The Alliance had probably gone through serious matters restoring their timelines and Zoey Mills was not about to ride the edge of a razor. She was not about to run out the back door either, so she picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s number.
On the second ring, the Kraken picked up. “Sam, I don’t want you to freak…”
“I’m already freaking, Zoey, you never call during school hours. Miguel, since when are we topping salmon with mango caviar?” multitasking was Sam’s superpower as she was perfectly able to hold multiple conversations at once at the expense of everyone’s sanity.
“… Since La Virgen gifted me with the power of sodium alginate and calcium chloride!” the chef’s voice came abruptly from the other end, causing Sam to snort and take the conversation with Zoey out of the kitchen.
“I see chef Miguel’s back to his old tricks!” Zoey carefully chose her words prior to giving Sam the news of her departure. “The reason I called is because I have an upcoming school trip I can’t say no to, so our Trash Valentine’s Day single fest is not going to happen this year…” she bit her cheek on the inside “I’m really sorry, Sam, I knew you were really looking forward to it!” And the cat was out of the bag.
“Damn, I guess you’ll try Grow a Pear some other time. Where are they sending you off to?” Of course this year’s cocktail names were going to sting.
“Pamplona.”
“What in the world are a bunch of kids going to do in Pamplona in February? Miguel, give Giuseppe the list, he’ll know what to do with it!” Besides being the hometown of her ex, Carlos, in Sam’s eyes, Pamplona was too small to host anything remotely attractive.
“Cheap accommodation and Art Museums for kids?” Zoey felt her nose growing by the end of the sentence. Knowing Sam, she’d start nitpicking her every word. That, or Zoey just slid down the rabbit hole to Paranoia Land. Lying made her feel too self-conscious. Sitting on a powder keg self-conscious.
“Don’t forget all the good Catholics!” Thankfully, Sam didn’t catch on her labored artificial chuckle. “The wine list, not the shopping list for crying out loud!” This was perfect—if Sam’s head was in two places at once, the chances of catching Zoey with the lie on her lip diminished considerably. Exasperated Sam was good news.
“St. Andrew’s is a catholic school, so it makes sense I guess. I’m leaving tonight… it’s a substitution thing, the assigned teacher got sick.” One thing was certain, she was not about to get the speech from Sam by telling her the exact thing she’d told her moms. Sam was never going to fall for ‘I’m going on a quest to find myself after the breakup’. Jane and Margaret were not coming back from their cruise till the end of February, so there was no way for Sam to cross paths with them and find out she had told two different stories to three different people.
“If by any chance you see a Tesla in Pamplona, give it a good scratch on my behalf. I’ll have to call you in a couple of hours, hon, the European equivalents of Tweetledum and Tweetledee are going to be the end of me!” Sam hung up the phone only to look at primadonnas Miguel and Giuseppe bickering over a w
ine list. Again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Watching a plump Spanish chef yell a list of foreign insults to an Italian host was fun to watch the first time around. And maybe the second. Today though, their feud had chased Sam’s manners away.
“La madre que lo parió!” Miguel tightened his passionate fists and spun on his heels, throwing a dramatic rag over his shoulder as he marched in the opposite direction.
“Look, Sam, it is impossible to work with him. Why is this beast allowed outside the kitchen perimeter?” Giuseppe, the house diva, spat from the tightness of his suit and matching scarf in a strong Italian accent. “I will not allow this brute to insult me any longer!”
That was enough to bring Miguel’s march to a halt. “La madre que lo parió means the mother that gave birth to you, how is this an insult?”
“Now he brings la mia mamma into the conversation, Samantha, I quit!” Giuseppe took out his scarf for equally dramatic effect.
Arms folded across her chest, Sam rolled her eyes for the millionth time and let out an agonized breath. “It’s the third time you’re saying you quit this week, Giuseppe. I’ll give you exactly twenty minutes to fill out your paperwork and be on your way through that perfectly polished glass door.”
“Por fin!” Miguel waltzed a proud nose in the air, taking a victorious first step in the direction of his headquarters, the kitchen.
“Not so fast there chef, I’ve had it with you too. I’ll see you both back in my office in ten minutes.” Time to pull out the big guns, Sam’s heels echoed on her way to the office. Many things were about to go down at The D.C. today and two of them had an accent.
γ
It was 1:30 pm and Zoey’s foot was tapping anxiously. She’d called her moms one last time to reassure them she was okay, showered and packed the biggest suitcase—the one Sam called ‘Vegetarian Travel Deluxe’ and Emma classified as having an ‘unfortunate color’. It was just green and it held everything she’d need for long distance travel. Secret pockets and all.
Anxiety and expectation were still waltzing in the pit of her stomach, making it impossible to concentrate, so she tried to keep busy by pulling the drapes in an attempt to rush nightfall.
Instinctively, she turned the light on the extractor hood on, just enough to spark another memory of Jasper along with the fear of thinking about him too much. Lilou said he was alive, but nothing else.
What if he’s not with Lilou? What if Etienne got him? Why didn’t she portal to school to get me and just portal me there? Maybe the Alliance has her hands tied, maybe she can’t really disclose information to me yet… The more she thought about it, the more it ate at her. Why in the world did she pack in the first place?!
Dismissing the thought, Zoey reached for her phone. She wasn’t expecting Emma’s voicemail, but heck, lying to voicemail was certainly better than lying to Emma.
γ
Uncomfortably seated next to each other, both Giuseppe and Miguel took to staring at opposite walls in Sam’s office. She soon strolled in holding two very slim blue folders. Miguel tensed, powerlessly resting his hands on his knees while Giuseppe assumed the side-legged position of British royalty.
“Sam, if you allow me” Giuseppe started in a honey coated voice “we are a passionate people both the Italians and the Spaniards. And with everything that’s been going on, the renovation upstairs…” He couldn’t help voicing ‘Spaniards’ like an insult, sensing Miguel watched him with the corner of his eye.
“If passionate’s a synonym of impossible, then yes, all the staff has felt the fever, cowboys.” Sam watched the two swallowing hard. It all went to hell once The D.C. had decided to turn the upstairs into a lush event room. With everything it entailed.
Miguel stiffened, his eyes suddenly pinned on a perfectly round Velouté sauce stain adorning his uniform like a scar.
The office felt rigid today and the chef self-consciously intertwined fingers in his lap. “I can’t lose my job, Sam.”
“Think about what you’ve done, think about what’s it like for all of us to work with the tension you create. I want you both out of the premises. Today!” Sam exhaled, caught between being a good boss and a good friend. Today she couldn’t be both. Not when thirty-six employees depended on her and well aware there was no way to avoid collateral damage.
“Sam…” They both echoed sheepishly.
“Sam needs a break from you two! So does Laura, who for the past two weeks can’t do her job right because you have her playing homing pigeon since you’re not speaking to each other.” She rested her hands on the edge of the desk, hiding behind a well-mastered poker face. “Class dismissed. The door is yours once you fill out your paperwork.”
A mere second later she was walking out of the office with the same poise as she walked in, her braided ponytail swinging gracefully to the sides. Looking for any kind of distraction her phone had to offer, she almost felt thankful for having to return Emma’s call.
“Sam’s Castle, what’s your hassle?” Six pairs of eyes were already following her from the bar.
Emma sunk in her office chair, muffling a laugh. “Is Sam’s Porno Palace going out of business?”
“That depends. What’s your pleasure?” And just like that, Sam’s devilish smile was back.
“I’m not falling for that one again! Listen, it’s just going to be us ‘ol hags for V-day, I just got Zoey’s voicemail.”
“You’re not bailing on me too, Emma!” Sam managed to step outside for a breath of fresh air. A little too fresh considering the instant goosebumps. She pulled on her blazer with both hands. The construction crew was bound to get there any second.
“No one’s bailing! I called to ask if you’re up for dinner for two at my place. I don’t feel like roaming the streets on Valentine’s Day just yet.” Instinctively doodling breaking hearts on an envelope, Emma swiftly lowered her voice by the end of her sentence.
“Scared you’ll bump into Frank?” Teasing was Sam’s second nature, but even she knew this could turn into a minefield with Emma.
“Are you kidding? It’s on a Wednesday! Frank’s going to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners at exactly 7:42 p.m. and head to his apartment for a date with Netflix, specifically Suits.” It almost bugged her she knew him that well. It bugged her even more that her heart ached for the exact same thing.
“Not if he’s on the prowl…” Sam warned in a sing-song voice.
“Zip it! I’ll call you later to confirm what’s on the menu.”
“Love ya.” Sam tried to pull on a hopeful smile and head back. There would be eyes on her all week. She stepped in and raised her brows at the staring crowd. “I’ll be upstairs.”
γ
Walking around the immensity of the airport like a lost goose while staring at that goddamned ticket—check. Waltzing the ‘Vegetarian Travel Deluxe’ left, right and center and giving its four wheels a run for their money—check.
Boarding her first-ever-international flight all alone—check. It was scary, exactly seven and a half hours of scary and no soul in sight she could mutter a word to. And people. So many people. She’d bet her left eyebrow none of them actually boarded this plane with a reason like hers, both hopeful and lame. Before her mind wandered a little too far, she bit her lip and settled into her seat.
Headphones in. Staind on.
By the time she landed in Barcelona, her whole body felt wobbly. It was lunchtime, and for Zoey, flights and sleep canceled each other out like poisonous villains, especially among those many loud shades of expectation from fellow passengers. She dragged her yoga pants and purple parka onto the moving walkway and wished she kept the same pace in real life. A tall latte and doughnut later, she was boarding her connection flight to Pamplona.
Her previous expectations had been replaced by a state of temporary trance and numbness of the brain. Autopilot. One foot in front of the other as half of her brain busied conjuring images of Jasper and Lilou. The other half was of course coming
up with dialogue based on the different scenarios the brain graciously blessed her with.
If sleep had been difficult on her first flight, it was downright impossible now. Her eyes felt puffy as she succumbed in her seat next to the curled frame of a sleeping passenger. Almost jealous but thankful for the empty seat between them, she found herself disturbed by the light. Any light. The silence was nice though.
One more hour to go. She closed her eyes during take-off and took a deep breath from her 14D seat. To her surprise, the plane wasn’t even half full and the soft hum of foreign voices almost made her sleepy.
“Zoey…” before she could turn her head, she found herself frozen. Just like the first time when Jasper had frozen her on the stairs leading to her apartment, she dreaded the feeling. Caught like a prisoner in her own skin, her eyes were now pinned on the seat ahead and her ears caught the one vice she never expected to hear... “You’re smart enough to know you’ll create chaos if you scream right now.” That voice was enough to turn her inside out. “There are fifty-two passengers aboard, three of whom with a heart condition. I won’t hurt you, I just want to talk.” This had been a trap, and she’d been as sharp as a sack of wet mice.
She’d taken the bait without hesitation. Humans did live on hope. Bleary eyed and sluggish as she was, she went through all stages of shock. She might have thrown up altogether if not for the paralysis she was under.
Nicely done, Zoey. Moron! She could’ve been smarter but no, she chose to see the truth she’d wanted most.
When James’s hold surrendered so did she, biting her lip on the inside and slumping in her seat, defeated. She wouldn’t look at him, not now when she felt her IQ was one point above brain death.
Agony followed as she tightened her fingers around the armrest, her eyes burning a hole in the seat ahead. Even her chest felt hollow. “I can’t believe how stupid I was!” Zoey’s voice came out choked. “They’re all dead, aren’t they?”
Found in Amber Page 1
