Unforgotten Family (An Ariel Kimber Novel Book 6)

by Mary Martel

  Oh goody.

  None of that sounded like a good reason for the two of us to be here. And I was really, really glad Quinton's father was dead. Everything I'd heard about him made him sound like an absolute pile of garbage in need of being disposed of permanently.

  I never asked Quinton about his father or Tyson about his grandfather. There were some things I knew from personal experience that no one should be forced to share if they did not want to. So, in that regard, I let them both be and would continue to do so until they brought it up first. I would force nothing on either of them, even when I damn well knew things would be different were the situations reversed. Neither of them were known for their patience or reservations.

  Good thing I was different from them and not stupid.

  Tyson and I kept walking the trail hand in hand, those clasped hands swinging playfully between our bodies. We barely fit side by side as we strolled down the uneven dirt path. It didn't take us long to make it to the opening before the church, and neither of us talked the remainder of the way. We were both too lost in our own thoughts to share a conversation with each other.

  We cleared the trail and finally the sun shone down upon us once more. I looked around in surprise as my feet stuttered to a stop. Tyson kept moving and he pulled on my hand when my arm could stretch no further. Finally, he halted and turned inquiring eyes back my way.

  His head cocked to the side as he studied me. He gave a gentle tug on my hand. I didn't move an inch.

  "Why are you stopping, girl?" he asked, sounding curious. "We aren't quite there yet."

  I frowned at him, thinking we were exactly where he said we were going. What else did he want to show me? Whatever it was, I hoped the walk wasn't far, because we were losing daylight and fast.

  My curious eyes moved from Tyson to the church. It was bigger than I was expecting it to be, but looked like it belonged in an olden day village and even had its own jumbo-sized bell.

  I could see someone getting married here. It looked magical, peaceful even. The grass surrounding the church was cut short and was a healthy, lush green, and I wondered who took care of it. Not just the grass, but the flower boxes on the windows and the rose bushes on either side of the front porch.

  A wicker basket sat on the bottom step of the porch, and Tyson pulled on my hand, guiding me toward it. "Come on, girl. Don't just stand there with your mouth hanging open."

  I kicked him in the shin. Not very hard though. What a brat.

  He laughed at me as we approached the basket. It was clear to me he'd set this up before he'd made his approach in my closet to ask me to go somewhere with him. He must have figured me for a sure thing and knew I'd never tell him no.

  He picked up the basket by the handle and I noticed the blanket beneath. It looked thick and warm, striped with various shades of brown and orange, and on two sides had a fringe of white strings.

  I ignored the gray building off to the side completely. I had no desire to be anywhere near a crypt that housed the body of Quinton's dead, asshole father. No thank you, I'd pass on that one.

  With the blanket tucked up under his arm and a hold on the basket handle, he pulled me along past the gray building. It gave off a cold, nasty vibe that made me shiver and put a damper on the magical, sweet feeling the church gave the rest of the clearing. Thankfully, when we cleared the building warmth from the slowly setting sun seeped into my skin and warmed me from the inside out.

  "Um, Ty," I mumbled uncertainly when I caught sight of where we'd stopped. "This is a little, umm..."

  Don't say creepy out loud, Ariel Kimber. Don't insult him that way.

  But it was just a tad bit creepy. Tyson didn't seem to think so. He dropped my hand and sat the basket down on the grass. He spread the blanket out wide and allowed it to drop down to the grass beside a dainty, low white fence. The fence ran around in a complete square. Inside were the ornate tombstones of what I rightfully assumed to be members of the Alexander clan. None of these weren't in perfect condition and I assumed magic had to be involved somehow.

  Tyson sat down on the blanket and sprawled out, getting comfortable. He patted the space beside him with the palm of his hand. "Come here."

  I shook my head, my lips twitching in puzzled amusement. My life was just one bizarre thing after the next. How could he be so relaxed and not think this was weird?

  Gingerly, I stepped over him and sunk down on to the blanket. I stretched my legs out in front of me and crossed my feet at the ankles. I sat back with my elbows to the blanket and looked over at Ty to see he'd dragged the basket closer and was digging through it.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help but ask, "What do you got in there?" I really, really wanted to know.

  He pulled out a Tupperware container and placed it on the blanket between us. Next came a box of crackers. "Cheese, meat, and crackers," he explained.

  Next, he pulled out a thick black book with no markings on it. "This is a journal that used to belong to my mother. She wrote in it every day for as long as I can remember. I like to come here when I miss her. I bring her journal with me and I read. It makes me feel close to her."

  That was both sweet and also made me incredibly sad for him.

  "I thought maybe I could read some of it to you and maybe you might remember something about your own mother. Maybe you've got memories locked away in your mind that you don't even know are there. All it's gonna take is one little thing to push them to the surface. Maybe this will be the thing that does it, maybe it won't. Either way I thought it would be nice to share it with you."

  I sat up straight and leaned over the Tupperware and the book. I brushed my lips across his cheek and sat back.

  "If you had told me on the day I first met you that you could be one of the sweetest people I'd ever meet in my life, I'd have called you a liar right to your face."

  He grinned at me, all big, bright, and blindingly beautiful. I wished he'd take his hair down from the man bun he sported at the back of his head so I could run my fingers through its soft silkiness. Maybe I'd get to after. If I asked him to take it down now, I figured things would go in a different direction and I'd miss out on hearing his mother's voice through her words written years ago on paper.

  "I've apologized for that already," he reminded me. "Several times, in fact. I can be a dick, we both know that. Though, I think it's sweet that you think I'm sweet."

  I rolled my eyes and reached for the Tupperware. I popped the lid, picked up a small cube of cheese, and tossed it into my mouth. It was extra sharp cheddar, and I knew he'd had to buy a block of it and cube it himself. It was my favorite. Cheese and crackers never got old. I could eat it once every day for the rest of my life. Though, I'd probably switch up what kind of crackers I ate every now and then, just to keep things interesting.

  It was also our go-to snack every time we watched one of our shows together. He'd switch things up and add cashews or grapes to the mix. This time he'd skipped the extras and stuck to the basics.

  I laid back on the blanket, munched on the goodies, and watched the light fade from the sky. All the while Tyson read to me about a woman that seemed incredibly shy, all kinds of sweet—like her son—and extremely nosy. People, it seemed, overlooked her because she was quiet and that was her opening. Being overlooked made it easy for her to watch and listen. She paid attention to everything, and in doing so learned all kinds of juicy secrets. All of which she wrote down in her journal. And they were damn good secrets.

  Tyson also read me a passage she wrote about Quinton. She didn't refer to him as her brother-in-law or even Tyson's uncle. No, to her the two were brothers and she wished she could have kept him in her house with her always so she could raise him right alongside his brother.

  She seemed like a lovely but interesting woman, and it made me very heartbroken to know I'd never get to meet her.

  Before I knew it, the sound of Tyson's gentle voice had lulled me to sleep.

  I stretched, rolled over on
to my side, and opened my bleary eyes.

  The first thing I noticed was that it was dark, and dark in a way where I knew I was outside and it was not a starry night. The second thing I noticed was that it was cold and my body had started to shiver, which is probably what woke me. Or so I hoped that was all that woke me.

  The third thing I noticed? I was all alone on the blanket and Tyson was nowhere to be seen. I was going to wring his neck when I found him for leaving me alone out here. That is, if he hadn't been dragged into the woods by some deranged man with an axe who wanted to chop up his body and drink his blood like some kind of serial killer/vampire.

  I sat up in a rush and quickly looked around to make sure I was alone and that axe man wasn't sneaking up on me too. Thankfully—depending on how you looked at it—I was still all alone.

  I grabbed my purse and dragged it into my lap. I rooted around inside until I found my cell phone and pulled it out. The bar had turned from green to red, meaning my battery was low. I didn't want to be out here alone and with no phone.

  Yup, I was totally going to kill Tyson when I found him. Even if he was in pieces. I'd just have to glue him back together again just so I could rip him apart. I'd do it.

  I ignored the twenty-five unread text messages and the thirteen—oh boy!—missed phone calls. It was one of the things that went along with having so many men in my life and an outrageously overprotective father that I now had to deal with.

  I pulled up Tyson's contact information and pressed call. The phone didn't even ring but went straight to voicemail. What a lovely time for his phone to be off. Also, and more importantly, what an asshole.

  I pulled up the group chat, ignored all the rest, and scanned through the latest. We had two different group chats. One for just the coven. Meaning me and the guys. And the other one included all the stragglers we'd picked up along the way.

  Quinton, who was also an asshole much like his nephew, I must note, had chosen not to text the private coven chat, but instead had gone ahead and texted the big group chat hours and hours ago to let freaking everybody know about my taking off on a motorcycle with one Tyson Alexander.

  He was a damn traitor.

  And, going by the text messages, Rain had gone into a bit of a rage.

  I couldn't even blame Rain for getting a little upset. Like I said, he was overprotective when it came to me and he had a good reason to be that way. I had no desire to have children, so I couldn't imagine having one and then having it stolen away from me. Then losing the rest of my family and spending years searching for my missing daughter. But I knew it had marked Rain in a way where the person he was before was dead, and he was this new person now who freaked right the fuck out when his beloved daughter took off on the back of a motorcycle when he felt like she was already under threat.

  Score one for Quinton for bringing my dad into the mix and making me feel incredibly guilty. I'm sure that was the plan all along. It also didn't hurt Quinton's cause that Trenton and Simon had taken his side and were more than happy to try and guilt me into coming home.

  Me: I'm fine. I'm with Ty and I'm not sure when we'll be home.

  I sent the text to the group chat, and I didn't even feel bad about leaving out the details. Sometimes I needed room to breathe, and Quinton usually hated it because he always wanted to smother me. Even when things were right as rain, he wanted to smother me to death with love and all things alpha male.

  If I thought for one second after my phone conversation with Adrian that I was still in danger of the Council showing up to nab me when no one else was looking, then I wouldn't have taken off with Tyson in the first place. I could be reckless with myself, but I wouldn't put Tyson in danger. Not ever. Not unless he knew we were walking into danger beforehand and wanted to go in anyways.

  I pulled up Tyson's contact information again and called him one more time. Straight to voicemail yet again.

  My phone started vibrating as the texts started pouring in. I didn't bother checking them because it would just be more people trying to boss me around, telling me to come home. I simply powered off my phone to save the battery in case I really needed it later, and stuffed the thing back inside my purse where it belonged.

  I flung the strap over my head and shoved my arm through. If Tyson was missing, then I couldn't sit here on my ass doing nothing while I waited for him to return. I needed to go looking for him. Even though I really, really did not want to. Don't ever tell him that, though, I didn't want him to think I was a shitty friend or girlfriend.

  I stood up and edged my way toward the corner of the blanket. I lifted my foot, ready to step off the blanket, but something caught my eye and my boot came back down to rest on the blanket. I crouched down and reached out with my hand. My fingers brushed gently across the white surface that, at a glance, I noticed circled all around the edge of the entire blanket.

  "What the?" I whispered. I raised my fingers to my nose and sniffed. "Salt."

  Most curious.

  Why was there a ring of salt all around the blanket where I slept? And where the fuck was Tyson?

  The front door to the church swung open and I screamed a little as I jumped.

  Run, the voice inside my head screamed viciously at me. Run.

  I wanted to. Really, I did. But my legs were locked in place and my body felt like a statue. One move and my brittle bones would break, the skin would slide right off my face. My breath became labored and I freaked that I might pass out.

  Was this what true terror felt like?

  Tyson stepped out and the door closed behind him without making a sound.

  Finally, I was able to move. I sank down to my knees on the blanket and clutched at my chest. I needed Tyson to stop doing these things to me, he was going to give me a heart attack if he didn't. I pulled the strap of my purse up over my head and tossed it to the side.

  "Where have you been?" I quietly demanded to know. There was something about being out here in the dark that commanded I not raise my voice for fear of waking the dead. That was, if my scream from earlier hadn't already done it.

  Tyson held up the blanket in his hands like a peace offering. "It got cold out here so I went in to get us an extra blanket. I had hoped you'd stay sleeping until I got back. Sorry about that."

  An acceptable answer if it were normal behavior for us to be sleeping outside beside a graveyard and not far away from where more dead bodies lay permanently in slumber.

  I cocked my head to the side and pointed at the salt ring. "And the salt?" I asked in a hushed voice.

  He shrugged as he carefully stepped over the salt and sat down beside me on the blanket. "You don't like ghosts so... well... maybe it's not even that you don't like them, but it's that you're deathly afraid of them." He smirked at me. "I didn't want anything to eat you while I was gone. Hence the salt."

  Good fucking God.

  My eyes rounded in horror as I frantically searched the clearing for ghosts. The clearing was entirely empty and appeared to be a ghost free zone. That didn't mean they weren't out there lurking, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

  Tyson wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. He was much warmer than I was. He had more body than I did, and therefore gave off more body heat. It was also a witch thing.

  He spread the blanket out over top of us, this one a thick, flannel sleeping bag, and we lay back on the blanket beneath us. Tyson pulled the sleeping bag up to our chests and I turned on my side, snuggling into him. My head rested on his shoulder and I slid my arm around his middle. Ty's arms slid down. One wrapped around my back and his palm rested over my ribs, just below my breasts. His other crossed over his body to rest on my hip.

  Looked like we were camping out here for the night. It was a lot less scary when I wasn't all alone.

  "Have you ever seen a ghost before?" I asked him in a quiet voice. I wasn't so sure I really wanted him to answer, because I feared it would only be further proof that ghosts were, in fact, very real.r />
  I could live without that. Ignorance was bliss and all that jazz.

  He put pressure on his arms and my body molded to his, leaving no space between us. I lifted my leg and wrapped it around his thigh, sliding my leg between his.

  "Yes," he whispered, and rested his forehead against the top of my head, pressing his cheek into my hair. "I've seen ghosts before. After the twins' parents died, they got me drunk and convinced me to participate in a séance with them." He sucked in a sharp breath and his body shuddered beneath me.

  "It was awful, Ariel. I don't remember much from that night, but I remember that. What we saw wasn’t the twins' parents, but someone else entirely. And that wasn't the first time I'd seen a ghost but just the most recent one."

  That must have been awful for the twins, even if they didn't get to see their parents. And just maybe I could convince them to try it with me, and we could try and contact my mother. Even dead I'd like to just have one conversation with her.

  Tyson gave me a squeeze. "I know what you're thinking, and I want you to stop thinking it right now. You don't mess with the dead. You leave them be. The ones that haven't moved on, they aren't good people and stuck around for a reason. And not a good reason either. Please, stay away from any thoughts of contacting the dead, and please don't think about dragging the twins into it. They can't get involved in anything like that, it'll do more damage than good. They were practically comatose for a fucking month after the first time around."

  My poor boys.

  They'd gone through so many horrible things and they didn't often share the stories with me. I thought because they knew about all the trauma I'd already lived through in my life they didn't want to burden me with stories of their own. They didn't need to bother. My pain had only served to make me stronger. Yes, sometimes I could be quite the coward and I openly admitted to often being afraid of the dark, but taking someone else's emotional baggage was something I could take on with no problem. Especially when that someone was someone I cared about.