Love Reborn (A Dead Beautiful Novel) (28 page)

I saw their features in Dustin’s, and suddenly remembered who he was. I remembered him carrying my luggage to the car and holding the door open for me when I first left for Gottfried Academy. I remembered him standing in the dining room behind me, listening as my grandfather lectured me about school. I remembered when he took me duck hunting in the woods out back; when he told me about my mother and what she was like when she was my age. All along, it had been him.

“You’re the descendent of Ophelia Hart, the ninth sister,” I said in awe. “That’s why there were canaries in each of the houses. That’s how you found me. You always knew where I was going. You’re the protector of the Netherworld.”

Dustin pursed his lips and nodded. “Yes.” His eyes twinkled as he studied me. “We protect it, but never use it. We’ve never had to. We believe that its powers should be reserved for those whose lives are cut off far too soon. Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a long, wonderful life, as have my daughters and granddaughters. And that’s more than enough for us,” he said. “I wanted to show you the way, though I first had to make sure that you didn’t merely want a second life, but that you were choosing it. Through every point, you had to make the decision. I couldn’t make it for you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled at me, crinkling the creases by his eyes. “You’re welcome.” He clasped his hands together. “Well,” he said. “It’s your birthday. What would you like to do? We can do anything.”

“I’d like to go for a drive,” I said.

“A drive?” Dustin clasped his hands together. “Wonderful. I’ll get my coat.”

“Alone,” I said softly. “If that’s okay.” I don’t know what made me say it, though once it came out, I knew it was the right thing to do.

Dustin paused. “Are you sure?” he said.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

Dustin clasped his hands together. “Very well. I’ll fetch you the keys.”

After eating breakfast, I picked up the white canvas bag and slung it over my shoulder. It felt so natural, as if I’d been naked without it.

Dustin led me downstairs to the driveway, where my grandfather’s Aston Martin was still parked. He held open the front door and handed me the keys. “It’s yours now.”

I paused on the front step and shielded my eyes. Everything outside looked so vibrant and bright, the grass a lush summer green, the sky an almost electric shade of blue. I was eighteen years old. I had looked up at that same sky for years, and yet it felt like I was seeing in color for the first time.

“Is everything all right?” Dustin said.

I wasn’t sure. I walked to the car and threw my bag in the passenger’s seat. “I’ll find out soon,” I said, and shut the door.

I drove down the winding driveway lined with trees until I reached the main road, where I took a left. I didn’t know why I chose that direction or where I was going, only that I would know which way to go when I saw it.

I drove for hours. The road meandered in and out of the countryside. Trees arched over the pavement, forming a canopy of green. Sunlight flickered through it. I opened my window and let the warm summer hair blow in my face. The ends of my hair flitted in the wind. I ran my hand through it, surprised by its length. Had I always worn my hair this long? I couldn’t remember.

I caught a glimpse of a clear gray eye in the rearview mirror. I gasped, only to realize it was my own. It was pale in color, with hints of blue like the sky on an overcast day. Why had it startled me so much? I gazed at my reflection, trying to grow accustomed to my nose, my cheeks, my mouth.

I turned on the radio to fill the emptiness of the car. An announcer spoke about the weather, about September approaching. My gaze drifted to the seat beside me. I half expected to see someone sitting beside me, but all I saw was the white canvas of my bag. Who had I been looking for? I didn’t know when I started crying, only that it felt like the tears had been building up inside me for years. The past was gone.

A road sign approached. What did it say? I wiped my eyes, but I was too late. It had already passed. And yet when I saw the road it led to, I knew it was the right way. I swerved, and pulled onto a bumpy street that led toward a small town perched by the side of the ocean. The road was lined with restaurants and shops. Families gathered on the streets, chatting and laughing and licking cones of ice cream. I parked and stepped out into the crowd.

I kept my head down as I slipped through them. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was crying. I walked along the marina to the far end of the street. Seagulls circled above. My gait was light and quick without the weight of the bag on my shoulder. The afternoon sun streamed down over the ocean, making the ripples in the water shimmer. I slowed. I was standing in front of an old house, a sign creaking over the door.
THE OLD SOUL
. I peered through the windows. An old man was wiping down the bar inside. I cupped my hands over the glass. Did I know him?

Sensing my presence, he turned around. I ducked out of the way and turned back toward the road when I saw the outline of a boy in the distance. He stood by the curb and stared out at the ocean, the hazy light glowing around his silhouette. There must have been dozens of other boys in the marina, and yet the sight of him seemed to paralyze me. He must have seen me, too, for he turned, his head tilted as if he were studying me. He ventured closer.

As he approached, I could just make out the short brown locks of his hair, his broad shoulders and the smooth contours of his arms. The sunlight blinked around him. Did I know him?

He inched closer. He said nothing as he studied me, his eyes curious, searching, as if he were trying to relearn my face. I had never seen him before. None of his features looked familiar, and yet when put together, they formed an expression that I knew from a lifetime ago.

A thin white scar cut through his upper lip, the same exact mark I had, though his was on the opposite side. Without realizing what I was doing, I lifted my hand to his face and traced the scar over his lip. His skin was so warm. When we touched, the flash of a memory barely registered in my mind.
A cave. A swirl of dust. A kiss.
I closed my eyes, trying to fill in the spaces, but the memories kept slipping away.

I let my hand slide down his arm, where it rested at his wrist. Gently, I pressed my thumb into his skin until I felt the steady
thud, thud, thud
of his pulse. He was alive.

He laced his fingers through mine. The world around me came into focus. I gasped, realizing now that I knew him, that I had always known him.

His lips parted, as if he were just as startled as I was. “You,” he said.

My chest swelled. I felt my heart. “You.”