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

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Mason. He was someone from before… and that always made me feel strange.

  He took a step toward me. Then another. I rounded the corner, meeting him halfway. The shadows coalesced into a face I knew well. The sight of him brought a longing; nostalgia was a taste in the back of my mouth. And then tension. Fear—of whatever had happened to me two years ago and the weight of trying to hide it from everyone I knew for so long.

  He grabbed me up before I saw it coming, enveloping me in a warm hug that should have felt good after so long without being touched. But my muscles tensed and my fingers dug into his jacket out of fear rather than comfort.

  If he noticed, he didn’t let on. Instead, I felt him breathe me in where his cheek pressed to my damp hair. It reminded me of every other embrace we’d had like this. Not that we’d had many but the few we’d shared all hit me again. The spring dance. A goodbye on my porch steps. An awkward date I’d let him talk me into even after I’d broken things off with him. After…

  It had all felt like this. With Mason leaning in and me leaning out. His smile wide and welcoming. Mine forced and full of fear and distrust for reasons I couldn’t name. He’d always been the perfect gentleman. Much nicer than some of the other boys I’d dated. It wasn’t him. It was me. I’d told him that two years ago. I guess he’d taken it to heart.

  Now, he smelled like too much cologne and a spicy aftershave one of Brittany’s football-player dates had left behind a couple months back. It fit him. I didn’t like it.

  “God, it’s good to see you,” he murmured in my ear like we were still sweethearts. Like we’d ever been sweethearts. I didn’t answer and he finally pulled away, still standing too close. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” he added. “You look amazing.”

  “It’s me,” I confirmed feeling like an idiot even as I said it.

  “I ran into your roommate on campus earlier. Brittany,” he explained. “She told me where you lived so I thought I’d surprise you.” He hooked a thumb at the building beside us. “You’re off campus. Sweet.”

  I nodded, a little dazed. Mason Harding, the boy I dated in high school clear across the country, was here. Now. No, not the boy. A boy. He was just a boy. And he was here. Now.

  “Uh, how are you?” I asked, trying my best to summon the old Sam. The one who knew how to treat Mason like just another boy.

  My hands, still clammy, had begun shaking. I slipped them into my jeans. I hated people who stuck their fingers in their jeans because their whole hand wouldn’t fit into the tight fabric.

  “I’m good. Great now. You look amazing. Damn, I think I already said that. But you do,” Mason said—way too enthusiastic.

  Old Sam would purse her lips in a challenging smirk. I pursed my lips. Then I stopped in case he thought I was trying to kiss him. Or flirt.

  “How are you?” he asked. “Did I catch you at an okay time?” His gaze slid meaningfully toward my apartment door. I cringed. I could not invite him in. I just couldn’t.

  “I’m getting off work and actually… I have a study date so I need to get going,” I said, edging away to put some distance between us. Why was he standing so damn close anyway?

  “Oh. Right. Of course. I didn’t really think this through… I mean, I was hoping…” He rubbed the back of his neck and trailed off. I read the hint. He wanted me to cancel. To choose him. Not happening.

  “Yeah, bad timing,” I commiserated. “If I’d known you were coming…” Now, I trailed off. Different hint.

  Mason exhaled. “Yeah. Well. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “How long are you in town for?”

  “Uh.” Mason laughed but it was full of nervous energy. Something was different now. I resisted the urge to step back again. Whatever this was, I didn’t like it. “I’m in town for a while,” he said in a weird voice.

  “How long is a while?” I asked.

  “Uh, until May,” he said like it was a question.

  “What?! Why?” I couldn’t even begin to play that one cool.

  “I tried calling you to talk about it. More than once. I know this is weird but … they offered me a better deal and things weren’t working out for me at MWC so…” He shrugged as if that alone was more than enough information.

  I was so lost. “Who offered you a better deal?” I asked.

  “CCU.” He gestured at the street and beyond that, campus. “I’ve been trying to call to tell you …. I go to school here now.”

  Brittany was waiting for me when I went inside, loitering in the space where the kitchen met the living area. Which was only about five feet away from the front entry where I stood kicking my boots off. Mason was probably outside also still loitering. I couldn’t think about that now.

  “Girrrrrl,” Brittany drawled, shooting toward me like a balloon full of air that someone hadn’t tied off. “What happened?”

  “With what?” I asked, straightening and eyeing her cup of Franzia. I’d never met anyone else who could drink a box of wine in one night and still stand—other than old Sam of course. But Brittany Durham sure could. She was about halfway in from what I could tell. Her mouth slack and her usually perfect-blond hair slightly askew. But her leggings still clung to perfect cheerleader legs that carried her into all sorts of social situations I could no longer stomach so I still kind of resented her.

  “With that fine ass guy waiting for you outside?” she hissed, lurching toward me.

  “Nothing happened,” I said, backing away and angling around her toward my room. Brittany followed.

  “Sam-I-Am, you cannot just leave me with a ‘nothing happened.’ I’ve lived with you for over a year now and in all that time I have never seen you speak to or interact with the male species willingly. Until tonight. He must be special. Spill it,” she demanded.

  I reached my room and grabbed the knob, stopping short and whirling on Brittany. “Britt, I know you’re just trying to have girl talk or whatever, but I really don’t want to talk about this,” I said, enunciating my words slowly so she’d get it.

  Please, please get it. I blinked.

  Brittany’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head into a whole body pout. “Oh, come on. I’m dateless tonight with no action of my own. Just one tiny little detail.”

  I exhaled, weighing my options. If I refused, she might never leave me alone. “Fine. His name is Mason. We went to high school together.”

  “Awww, that is so cute! High school sweethearts,” she crooned. “I thought I saw him kiss you. Are ya’ll getting back together?”

  “No. We were not sweethearts. And he did not kiss me. We hugged. That’s it.”

  Brittany squealed and spilled Franzia on the carpet.

  I walked into my room and shut the door.

  “I know you think the male species is the worst thing to happen to human existence,” she called from the other side of my door. “But mark my words, there is hetero hope for you yet!”

  I turned on my music and drowned her out, thinking not about Mason but instead about Alex Channing and hoping like hell that she was wrong.

  Chapter Nine

  Alex

  RJ’s liquor cabinet was sorely lacking in the choices department. I scowled at the scarce stock, grabbed the cheap whiskey rather than the pomegranate schnapps, and set it on the kitchen counter along with an empty glass.

  Outside, the mailman’s truck squeaked to a stop in front of the house and I glared at it through the kitchen window like it was a threat to my safety. RJ walked into the room, a basket full of clean laundry propped on his hip as he passed through on his way upstairs.

  “What are we drinking to?” he asked, setting the laundry aside and grabbing a glass.

  I stopped evil-eyeing the postal worker and poured us each a double-shot. “To the art of dying well,” I said and knocked it back underneath RJ’s curious perusal. I watched as he spotted the fresh cuts on my chest and arms courtesy of the witch doctor.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked, still
holding his glass.

  “Are you going to take the shot or not?”

  Without looking away, RJ tipped it back and emptied his glass. When he’d finished, he set it on the counter and I picked up the bottle. He snatched his cup away before I could refill. “Bro. It’s two in the afternoon.”

  I refilled my own, this time with a little extra. “It’s Halloween,” I said.

  His brows rose. “My point exactly.”

  I sighed. “Buzz kill,” I muttered but there wasn’t any feeling behind it. Mostly because he was right. Halloween was prime time for idiot werewolves to decide taking a walk in public would be fun. It was also the worst night for a hunter to lose his edge. Too bad I’d already lost mine.

  RJ eyed me. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask any questions—”

  “Then don’t.”

  His expression hardened. It was the closest to pissed I’d seen him get. Good to know he was capable of it. This eternally cheerful shit was on my nerves. I waited, expecting him to blast me for my dark mood, but he surprised me.

  “There’s more whiskey in the basement,” he said. “Good stuff too. That cheap shit was here when I moved in.” Without waiting for an answer, he picked up his laundry and headed up the stairs.

  I went back to my drink, swirling it thoughtfully. When it was all said and done, I preferred the cheap shit. Self-flagellation, Edie would probably call it. Shit. Edie. I owed her a check-in.

  Not today, though.

  Tomorrow. I’d think clearly and get my story straight tomorrow. Today, all I could think about was Samantha Knight and her piercing hazel eyes. About how even if I wasn’t dying, I could never, ever satisfy an itch with that girl. Not if I knew what was good for me. But even knowing it, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from thinking about her. From wondering where she’d been and what she’d been up to all this time. Who she really was now. And what had happened to her as a result of that night.

  None of that needed repeating to Edie. And none of it was productive.

  I went out to the porch and sat in the rocking chair, sipping the whiskey as I stared out at the quiet little neighborhood. Three doors down, a neighbor sprayed the hose over his soapy Volvo. A car pulled into the house next door and an older man got out dressed in a cheap suit and tie. He waved with the same hand that still clutched his Bible. The woman with him smiled. I pretended not to see either of them and looked the other way.

  My eyes narrowed as I spotted a black cat at the edge of the pavement where the cul-de-sac ended and the woods took over. Its yellow eyes were locked on me—that much I knew even from this far. It tilted its head as it watched me and after a long moment of complete stillness, its tail twitched hard once before it got up and disappeared into the woods, tail flicking back and forth as it left.

  I took another swig and jumped when my phone beeped with a text: Meet me at the fish store on Crepe Myrtle. Eight o’clock. The number was unknown.

  I typed a quick response demanding to know who it was.

  A second later, the front door opened and closed as RJ stepped out, this time fully dressed in running gear. “The text is from me,” he said, bending low to double-knot his running shoe.

  “How did you get my number?” I asked and then before he could answer, I realized. “Edie.”

  “She said you need to get out.” He flicked the bottom of his shirt up to adjust a hidden weapon holster.

  I scowled at that but decided not to argue. If I refused to go, I’d only have Edie to contend with later.

  “You didn’t have to text me if you were coming outside,” I said.

  “Now you have my number too,” he pointed out. “Just in case.”

  I sighed. Right. It was Halloween.

  RJ stepped off the porch and into the small yard, stretching his legs. I hadn’t asked why he ran every day and at odd hours but I suspected it had to do with his undercover work.

  “Tonight. Is it business or pleasure?” I asked finally.

  He straightened and shrugged. “Depends on how sober you are when you get there.”

  “I’ll be sober,” I muttered, glaring at my glass.

  “Dude,” he said as he started for the woods. “Do yourself a favor and don’t wear that.”

  I looked down at my ratty shirt that boasted two dull streaks of brown-red near the hem that might have been blood. Below that, I wore a pair of old flannel pajama bottoms that Edie had given me for Christmas a couple of years ago. Bare feet and arms still bruised with the evidence of all my crazy rituals in South America. And on top of it all, I was day drinking on the porch of a stranger.

  For a split second, I saw myself as RJ probably did, and it wasn’t pretty.

  I rose and stalked back inside, tossing the empty glass into the sink and the bottle back into the cabinet. I needed a nap, a shower—maybe a run of my own to clear my mind. And then I’d show up at the address RJ had given me. If I was going to spend the time I had left in a place like this, I’d make the most of it. It had been too long already; I needed to find something to kill.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam

  My brown, leather moccasins were soft and soundless against the pavement as I hopped off Rhonda, now fixed, and leaned her against the bricks at the mouth of the alley. I’d taken to wearing the soft shoes again after my run-in with Mason. I didn’t want him sneaking up on me. The quieter I was, the louder he’d be in contrast.

  I hadn’t seen him in four days. Not since he’d stood on my doorstep and announced he lived here now. Even without the sight of his face to remind me, the old fears had gotten worse. And I still had yet to explain the fur-ball that had spilled from my fist. I hadn’t told anyone about that yet due to the fact that it wasn’t actually possible and therefor took me to a whole new level of crazy.

  At my insistence, Mirabelle had assured me she had some new theories that might uncover some answers, but first, I had to do her a favor. For once, I was picking something up rather than delivering it to a resident of the alley. Of course, it had to be tonight.

  On my left, orange string lights burned from the inside of Jane’s Christmas shop—looking strangely mismatched against the balsam and hand-painted wooden snowman in the window display.

  Behind me, kids in costumes were being chased down by parents fussing at them to look both ways before crossing into the neighborhood at the end of the street. It didn’t matter. Cars were prohibited in town on this particular night. Safety first, the council had claimed. Except, it wasn’t vehicles that made me feel itchy at being out this evening.

  Even if I didn’t believe in magic or mystic energy or any of it, Halloween was not my favorite night to venture out for any reason. I sucked in a deep breath, positioned my finger over the emergency call button on my phone, and headed for my destination.

  The darkness of the foggy evening lightened the closer I got. Halfway down the narrow street, Creeper Alley was lit up like midday. Dave’s pet store practically radiated with the thump of music and the hum of energy. Bad karaoke and neon lights spilled out the front door. I reluctantly stepped inside, hoping to get in and out with minimal interaction. From the looks of it, the place had been cleared out. No fish tanks in the front window. No cages full of hamsters in back.

  Instead, it was packed with people, most of whom I didn’t recognize thanks to the various masks and make-up that complemented intricate and extravagant costumes.

  A goddess with a white mask trimmed in glitter slid up to me. Only her mouth was visible and she smiled wide at me, her dark eyes familiar as she spoke my name. “Sam.”

  I sighed in relief. “Indra. Hi.”

  “You’re not dressing up tonight?” she asked, her gaze sliding down to take in my jeans and flannel button-up.

  “No. I missed that memo, I guess.” I did a quick scan of the room but it was impossible to identify anyone here. “I’m looking for Dave. Have you seen him?”

  “No, I’m just passing through myself. Stopped to say hello to a friend before headi
ng to a party of my own.” Indra slid toward the exit, her hand tugging mine lightly before letting go. “You want to join me?”

  “An awkwardly underdressed plus one?” I shook my head. “No, thanks.” I could only imagine what sort of party Indra would attend on Halloween. Some sort of sexy and terrifying Eyes Wide Shut scenario flashed in my mind and I backed away. “Have fun. I’m going to find Dave and then get home. Lots of studying to do.”

  Indra said something that was lost under the music and then she was gone, floating away in a sea of the upper middle class of Half Moon Bay, here to pretend they could perform magic above and beyond the perfect eyeliner application.

  “Great party, huh?”

  I whirled, relaxing as I identified the Gladiator replete in battle armor and a faux sword gripped in one hand. Dave wasn’t exactly the most fit guy. A dad of two who worked fifty plus hours a week at a pet store and did moon circles and soccer practice on the weekend. I’d never seen him do anything particularly magical but Mirabelle swore he was some sort of animal whisperer back in the day.

  “A real rager,” I agreed, practically yelling over the music. “You have a minute?”

  He nodded, clearly not surprised to see me. “Come on,” he said, leading me through the throng of people crowding a makeshift stage where his wife, Lila, sang Beyoncé karaoke. I waved and she gave me a hip-shake, dressed as Athena, of course.

  Then, the crowd disappeared and the noise was muted as Dave closed us both inside his office at the back of the store. He opened a book that was apparently not a book but a hollowed out hiding place and took out a small vial, handing it to me.

  “Here. Sorry for the chaos out there. Mirabelle said I shouldn’t tell anyone else about this, but if I didn’t follow through with the party, people would know something was up—”

  “Tell anyone else about what?” I asked, slipping the vial into my bag.

  “Mirabelle didn’t tell you?” Dave faltered and his demeanor changed, collapsing into scrunched shoulders and jerky movements. He ran a hand over the faux metal head piece and then picked at the stubble on his chin. “Bernard hasn’t been himself all week. I just figured it was Mercury, you know, but then last night, he collapsed and the images on his—”