Knowledge Revealed (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 1)

by D. S. Williams

  “Charlotte? Charlotte! Can you hear me?”

  The world remained dark, an inky blackness I couldn't fathom, the pain in my head excruciating. The voice was deep, with a husky tone which made me think of whisky and cigarettes. Cool hands touched my skin, brushing across my fingers and cheeks in the gentlest of caresses. And the smell… well, I didn't rightly know what it was, but the scent was… divine. A potent mix of my favorite aromas enveloped me; the tang of salt on an ocean breeze, the sweetness of peppermint candy, the scent of evergreen trees in the forest – all wrapped up together. With considerable effort, I opened my eyes and discovered a face hovering inches from mine. He looked like an angel, or at least, how I imagined one might look. Extremely pale skin caught my attention initially, his brown hair exceptionally dark in comparison. His jaw was strong and square and he possessed cheekbones that could make a girl cry for what she craved, but didn't have. His nose was perfect, neither too small nor too large in a face that was classically handsome and charmingly rugged. He frowned as I watched and the dark slashes of his eyebrows almost met, his eyes filling with concern and— I'd never seen anything like them before. Too dark to be called truly blue, they were nearly navy in color with radiating swirls of silver, which reflected my ghostly face back at me.

  As much as I wanted to try to understand why this fallen angel was beside me, I lost the battle and drifted back into a soothing nothingness.

  Chapter 2: Questions

  The first thing I became aware of was the acute pain in my head; a pounding that gave me the impression there was an ice pick wedged in the back of my skull. I groaned, trying to forge a pathway through thought patterns that seemed padded by copious amounts of cotton wool. I'd assumed being dead would be far less painful. I'd seen a vision of an angel; surely, that meant I had finally succeeded and left the mortal world? Raising a shaky hand to my head, I discovered a huge lump on the back of my skull. Rubbing my fingers across it thoughtfully, I considered why it was there in the afterlife. I'd always believed life after death existed, but I figured I would arrive without any injuries. Something didn't seem quite right here. A tiny moan escaped my lips as my skull pulsated with another burst of throbbing pain.

  “Charlotte? Can you hear me?” The deep voice was composed and gravelly and I recognized it. This was the angel, who'd leaned over me after I was hit by the car. Opening one eye hesitantly, followed by the other, I flinched at the brightness of the fluorescent lights overhead, until my sight adjusted in slow increments.

  My breath caught in my throat – it was the angel. He stood a few feet from the bed, his stance relaxed as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes focused on mine. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen, although clearly not a real angel, as I assumed they didn't wear snug black jeans and casual grey sweaters, which stretched across nicely muscular chests. I didn't know whether I was disappointed over this sudden comprehension of his humanity. His eyes were still mesmerizing, even from a distance I could see those unique silver streaks, flashing like lightning in a darkened sky.

  “Charlotte?” He repeated my name patiently, and I heard a hint of some emotion in his tone. Concern?

  “Am I dead?”

  He raised an eyebrow in question as his full lips curled into an easy smile, and my heart skipped a beat, something I'd thought it was well beyond doing. “No, of course not. You're very much alive.”

  “Oh.” Shutting my eyes, I ran my fingers over the bump on my head as I considered this revelation. Obviously, the pain was explained. I'd failed – again.

  “You sound disappointed.” While his voice remained composed, I heard the curiosity in his tone. His gaze was piercing as he appraised me thoughtfully.

  I shook my head, attempting to gather my thoughts. “Where am I?” I queried.

  “Puckhaber Hospital.”

  I struggled to sit up, trying to get out of the bed. “What? I've got to get out of here.” The last thing I needed was a massive medical bill, when I had no insurance. My head pounded when I moved and a firm hand pushed me back against the pillows, despite my best efforts to fight against it.

  “You are not capable of going anywhere. You have a nasty concussion.”

  “You don't understand! I can't afford to stay here! I don't have insurance.”

  He shook his head, clearly bemused. “You cannot possibly think that's important right now. Besides, I ran you over. The very least I can do is cover your medical expenses.”

  I slumped against the pillows, staring at him in open confusion. “You were driving the car?” Somewhere in my befuddled mind, the man and the angel were still hopelessly intermingled.

  An amused smile curled the corners of his lips. “Yes, I was. It seems an introduction would be in order. My name is Lucas Tine.”

  “Charlotte Duncan…” Comprehension dawned, and I eyed him suspiciously, wondering who this man really was and what he was doing here. Living alone for so long, fending for myself, made me naturally cautious with strangers. Particularly strange men – even extremely handsome ones like this guy. “Wait a second. You already knew my name.”

  Those sparkling navy blue eyes narrowed and he glanced away for a split-second before he regained his composure. “Of course,” he responded smoothly, “you told me after the accident.”

  I shook my head firmly, the painful pounding amplified by the small motion. “I know I didn't.”

  “Of course you told me your name, Charlotte. You have concussion, you're confused right now.” Lucas's voice was gently reassuring, but I didn't believe him. I was positive I hadn't told him anything. I stared at him suspiciously, and he returned the stare, his expression impassive and giving nothing away. I finally blinked, wondering whether the concussion could have confused me to such an extent. I was stubborn enough to think it hadn't, but my head hurt so badly, I wasn't capable of putting up much of an argument.

  “Where's my car?” I demanded, changing the subject. I'd left it parked in Main Street and whilst Puckhaber Falls was hardly the car-jacking capital of the world, I didn't like the idea of the car being left out there. I loved my Volkswagen dearly, and it was my only form of transport, as tragic as it was. The last thing I needed was for it to be stolen, even if the possibility was remote.

  “Relax. Hank from the art store heard about the accident and recognized your… vehicle in the street.” I detected a trace of derision in his voice as he spoke, caught the tiny hesitation. “He arranged to bring it to the hospital, it is parked right outside, and the keys are in the drawer beside you.”

  “What's wrong with my car?” I demanded irritably, annoyed by his tone. To an outsider, my car probably looked like crap with the faded red paint, the splits in the upholstery, the rust in the hood. But it was mine, and I loved it.

  “Nothing. It does look a little worn out though.”

  “That car has gotten me halfway around the country,” I replied curtly. “They built them to last in the sixties.”

  He had the audacity to look amused and his eyes twinkled. “If I have offended you, I apologize sincerely.”

  My heart did a little flip-flop in my chest, even as I glared at him. It was a peculiar feeling, given that my heart had been lying lifeless for two years. He was clearly the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. No – more than handsome – he was striking. Impossibly gorgeous. Perfect pale skin, immaculate dark brown hair, a body suited to a model – everything about him was incredibly attractive. And even from across the room, I could smell that aroma, which was reminiscent of every favorite scent I'd ever savored—

  He glanced at the door. “You have visitors,” he announced quietly. “I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. Goodbye.”

  He vanished through the door and I stared after his retreating back, stunned by his sudden declaration and rapid departure. The lingering scent was the only sign he'd been here, and in my pain-induced confusion, the question of whether he was an angel crossed my mind again.

  Th
e door opened again, seconds after Lucas's departure and I struggled to reclaim my composure as visitors arrived. Lonnie Stewart, Maude Yeardley, and Hank Lucas from the art store trooped in, Maude carrying a bouquet of bright flowers, which she deposited on the bedside cabinet. She leaned over and kissed my cheek, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she straightened up. “You gave us quite a scare, honey.”

  “Was that Lucas Tine I saw in the corridor?” Lonnie queried cheerfully. Her eyes were filled with curiosity – and shining admiration. “Wow, I wish he'd hit me with his car, if that's what it takes to get his attention.” Away from the Quikmart, Lonnie was wearing black jeans and a snug blue t-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders and held back from her face by a delicate silver headband.

  “Now, Lonnie, Lucas feels just terrible about what happened,” Hank scolded her gruffly. His brown eyes were intense as he carefully studied my head, before giving my arm an awkward pat. “The girls in this town are all crazy about that young man, and they all get 'ornery because he doesn't show the slightest interest in 'em.”

  “Mike reckons he's gay,” Lonnie muttered, pouting at Hank's gentle rebuke.

  “Mike Young ought to keep his opinions to himself,” Maude responded tartly. “For goodness sake, the rumors I hear about that young man, and he's never anything but respectful to everyone. Keeps to himself, too. Not like some of the other young men around here, drinking and getting wild, causing trouble for Sheriff Davis and his men.”

  “So, how're you feeling?” Lonnie asked, hastily changing the subject. “You know, if you didn't want to come to the cookout, you could have just said so. You didn't need to go get yourself run over, to get out of it.” Her eyes sparkled with humor, her smile friendly.

  “I'm okay.” I smiled bashfully, aware that Lonnie didn't know how close to the truth she was. “A bit of a headache, but I'm fine.”

  “It's a good thing Lucas was driving so slow, reckons he was only doing about twenty miles an hour. Even at that speed, you're lucky he's such an excellent driver and can stop that fancy car of his on a dime,” Hank announced. He leaned against the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Shutting my eyes briefly, I replayed the accident in my mind. There was no doubt Lucas Tine had been driving much faster than twenty miles an hour, probably closer to fifty. Why did he lie about it, and how had he stopped so quickly? I should definitely be dead, or at the very least, badly maimed. Yet I only had a bump on my head. It didn't make sense.

  “You should come to my house and stay a few days when you get out of hospital, honey. I saw Doctor Harding when you were admitted; he says you'll have a headache for a few days yet. I'm not working over the weekend, and I'd love you to stay with me,” Maude suggested, settling on the chair beside the bed. She was dressed informally, in black trousers and a dark red cowl-necked sweater, a heavy gold pendant around her throat. She looked youthful without the realtor uniform and I mentally adjusted my perception of her age. When we first met, I'd thought she was in her late fifties, but with her hair loose around her face and the less structured clothing, I estimated she was a decade younger.

  Struggling with still-fuzzy thoughts, I took a moment to compose a response, which would be polite, but still firmly decline her offer. This was another complication, which I didn't need. “Um, thanks, Maude. I'll think about it, see how I'm feeling when I'm released,” I mumbled. The last thing I wanted, was to stay at Maude's home and get to know her any better than I already did. “Thank you for the offer though,” I added, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

  “I've got good news for you, Lott – your painting sold yesterday.” Hank handed me an envelope, with my name scrawled across the flap. He was grinning, the skin around his blue eyes crinkled. “Got the full asking price, two hundred dollars. The guy who bought it was very keen, thought it was a wonderful piece. He was blown away by your talent. I've put the landscape on display in the window, and we'll see how that goes.”

  I peeked into the envelope, both relieved and happy to have some cash flowing in. Two hundred dollars would be a good start towards getting an armchair and snow chains. I smiled at Hank, still clenching the envelope in my hand. “Thank you.”

  “No – thank you. You really are a talented artist, Lottie. I was talking to Lonnie on the way in tonight, and she says you aren't planning to attend college. Maybe you should though, they have an excellent arts program up there,” Hank urged.

  I was saved from composing another awkward reply when a nurse walked in, her voice crisp and business-like. “Sorry folks, but visiting hours are just about over for tonight.”

  My new friends said their goodbyes, and when they'd left the room, the nurse checked my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. She was a few years older than me, with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a bright smile. “How's the head?”

  “Aching,” I admitted, which was somewhat of an understatement, as it was currently pounding.

  “You sustained a very hard knock. Split the back of your head open, there's a dozen stitches in there.” She poured a glass of water and handed it over, along with a small paper cup. “I have painkillers and sleeping tablets. A good night's rest and you should feel much better. Doctor Harding will be in to see you in the morning.” She adjusted the covers, pulling them up and tucking them in before she left the room, flicking off the overhead lights and leaving me in the relatively soft glow of a night light over the back of the bed.

  I lay awake for a long time, replaying the accident repeatedly. I was drifting towards sleep when I opened my eyes, staring into the darkened room in sheer disbelief. Lucas Tine had announced I had visitors, even before they came into the room. How had he known they were there? I thought over the conversation with him, trying to find any clue to suggest he could have heard them out in the hallway, but there was nothing. It didn't make any sense.

  When sleep eventually overwhelmed me, my dreams were filled with a pale, breathtaking man with unusually dark blue eyes.

  Chapter 3: The Falls

  The forest was green and lush, with a canopy of massive old trees overhead, and thick moss underfoot; it gave the illusion that I was the only person on earth. I'd been wandering through the woods for an hour or so, enjoying the peace and solitude the surroundings provided. The area encircling Puckhaber Falls was magnificent, with old growth forests that had covered this area of the country for hundreds of years.

  Over the past three weeks, I'd spent a little time each day enjoying the wilderness. Since being released from hospital, I was going from strength to strength in gathering friends I'd had no intention of making. The thought had initially filled me with horror, and I'd considered packing up and moving on at the end of the month's lease, returning to anonymity somewhere else. Only one thing had stopped me.

  Lucas Tine.

  The crazy thing being, he was the one person I hadn't seen in the past three weeks. I'd naively thought he might come and visit again, but I'd been discharged the following morning. I'd managed to drive home, despite the throbbing headache, determined to remain self-sufficient. I would rather deal with the headache than consider staying at Maude's – the idea of accepting her offer was more than I could tolerate. Although she meant well and wanted to lend a hand, I didn't want to be helped.

  True to his word, Lucas had paid the medical bills – when I checked out of hospital, the receptionist told me there was nothing to pay and I was grateful for his generosity. I'd wanted to thank him personally, but he'd disappeared off the face of the planet.

  Casual enquiries with Lonnie yielded some information. Lucas Tine was about twenty-eight years old and she thought he worked in Billings. Rumors suggested he was a lawyer, but like most things with Lucas Tine, details were remarkably sketchy. Lonnie wasn't aware of any family; he lived outside of town and only came in to pick up supplies. He didn't socialize, wasn't married, but apparently he didn't date. According to Lonnie, every woman in town thought he was hot and had tried unsuccessfully at one sta
ge or another, to get him to go out on a date. He steadfastly and politely refused every single offer.

  I repeatedly questioned myself as to why I was interested in knowing anything about him. My plans had been prepared, and didn't include a time beyond the next month or two, yet he invaded my thoughts, day and night. Whilst painting, I would catch myself musing over our brief conversations, replaying every millisecond as I attempted to solve the puzzle of how he'd known my name, what clue he'd had to my visitors' arrival. Strolling through the woods, I found myself remembering the addictive aroma he'd exuded. It was nothing I'd ever smelt before; heady, intoxicating and I couldn't recall anything which compared. During brief snatches of sleep, he invaded my mind and the dreams were so vivid, so breathtakingly realistic that I woke from them disorientated and unsettled by his complete invasion of my thoughts. Where my sleep was normally troubled by nightmares, it was now filled with a man who completely overwhelmed my senses and occupied more of my thoughts than should be feasible, after only two brief meetings. I resented his intrusion on my thoughts, willed myself daily to discontinue what was bordering on an unhealthy obsession. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I continued my silent trek through the woods, enmeshed in deep thought. I heard water crashing down onto rocks somewhere nearby, and altered my route impulsively towards the sound.

  I knew I hadn't told him my name. I knew he'd been driving much faster than twenty miles an hour. How had he stopped the car so quickly, if he had been driving faster? How had he known my visitors were coming, before there'd been any evidence of them? The questions had gone around and around in my head and I still didn't have any answers. I'd mentioned my concerns to Lonnie, hoping for some insight, but she'd grinned like a fool and said the only thing she concentrated on when she saw Lucas, was keeping her legs from turning to jelly. Which I could understand. I'd only met him twice and both times, I'd been suffering from a reasonably severe head injury. Yet I could clearly visualize him, remembering the pale skin, the strong jaw line, and chestnut brown hair that only served to accentuate the amazing color of his eyes. His face, his sculpted body – everything about him was ideal.