The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2) (2 page)

“He was probably just being overly-theatrical,” Ryan said. “He’s a bit of a pompous douche.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile. But Ryan just stood there looking serious, like trouble weighed heavy on his mind. “You want something from me don’t you?”

“It’s simple really. I just want to teach you easy ways to be a better Messenger.”

“No-no,” I said. “I’m done with that time traveling Messenger stuff. Samuel’s alive in this lifetime and I need to find him.” I clomped down the “L” platform. “Do I wait for the next train? Of course I wait for the next train.” I slapped my forehead with my palm.
“I can’t think!
”

“You’ve been given the gift of time travel and you’re turning it down to follow a boy?” he asked.

“I’ve been given the
curse
of time travel and I’m turning it down to find someone I love,” I said. “Thanks so very much for looking out for me. Seriously.”

“Give me your phone,” he said.

I yanked it from my purse and tossed it to him.
 

“I think you should go home tonight,” he said and entered his details into it. “Go home, text your friends, try and get some rest, and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” He caught up with me and handed it back.
 

“Thanks,” I took it. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Which made me a big fat liar. Because I’d call him when I was dead.

~ two ~

I texted Chaka and Aaron but didn’t hear back. I emailed them—no response; they were probably still partying. Finally, I called them but they didn’t pick up. I left voicemails saying I had big news, no it wasn’t an emergency, but we needed to talk in the morning. And then I tried to sleep.
 

Ha-ha, not such good luck with that one.

I tossed and turned in my single bed and stared up at the iridescent glow stars that mama and dad had painted on my ceiling when I was young, before the car crash, before she disappeared. At night when my anxiety reared its ugly head and paralyzed me with fear, these stars were my map of the world, practically my portal to dream of visiting faraway lands and other places. I stared up at them now and wondered how it was possible Samuel was alive in present day.
 

My phone buzzed signaling a text had come in. I grabbed it.

“You get home okay? Ryan.”

I texted back, “Yes, thanks.”

I got up, grabbed my flashlight, switched it on, and pulled Mama’s handbook out from under my bed. I placed it on my desk and unwrapped the half dozen or so yards of jewel-toned, hand-painted raw silk fabrics that protected it, and revealed the massive leather book. I carefully opened it and turned the pages until I found the one with the remnants of my totem necklace that Samuel had made me in 1675. The original necklace had small colorful feathers, long coarse black horsehairs, tiny purple and white seashells, and it was exquisite.

I’d already collected the majority of the shells and what remained of the feathers and placed them in a silken pouch tucked away in my jewelry case on my dresser. But I left a few feathers stuck in the handbook’s binding just for the thrill I got every time I opened this book and saw them again. Each time I saw the evidence that Samuel and I had really been together in 1675, the evidence that he loved me dearly made goosebumps sprout on my arms and my heart catch in my throat.

I turned the next page of the handbook half expecting to find some new information posted or scrap of a clue tucked onto the page. But no, it was blank just like my life had been since I returned home. I sighed, wrapped the handbook back in its exotic coverings, padded to my bed, and slipped it underneath.

“It was him,” I whispered. “
I know it was him.”

~ ~ ~

“How was the gig last night at Chaka’s parents’ club?” Dad asked as he flipped bacon sizzling in the frying pan and hummed while he scrambled the eggs.

“Uneventful,” I said, downed a glass of orange juice, and glanced up at him. He was decent-looking for a forty-something-year-old father, still a bit of a hippie with his longish dark hair and “Give Peace a Chance” John Lennon T-shirt.

 
“Thanks for getting home relatively early,” he said. “You saved your old man a few more gray hairs.”
 

My stepmom Sophie, pregnant and showing more every day, walked into the kitchen wearing her comfy robe and slippers. “I think you’re sexier, Ray, with some silver in your hair.” She winked at him, padded over toward me, kissed me on my head, and whispered. “You were up half the night, Madeline? Is your leg bothering you?”

I shook my head. “No. I just hate this cast; it’s so uncomfortable.”

“Thank God it’s coming off next week.” She walked to my dad and he leaned down, smiled, and kissed her quickly and sweetly.

“Enough with the PDAs!” My younger sister Jane screeched into the kitchen and plopped down next to me at the table. “I’m starving!”

“I’ll show you PDAs.” Dad dropped his cooking utensils, ran over and smooched Jane loudly all over her face.

“Ew!” she squirmed. “Gross! Leave me alone!”

I couldn’t help but giggle and he winked at me. “You’re next!”

“And I’m out of here.” I stood up and pushed back my chair. “I’ll be at Chaka’s today. Don’t count on me for dinner. Big history test next week.”

“I thought the big history test was last week.” He walked the few steps to the stove, turned off the burner, lifted the bacon with tongs and dropped the slices onto a paper towel. “We need to add non-toxic paper towels to the grocery list, Sophie. These white ones release carcinogenic dioxins.”

“Putting it on the list, Ray,” Sophie said.

“I meant my Government test.” I made my way to the coat tree and grabbed my jacket.

“Park it, Madeline.” Dad dished the eggs onto a couple of plates and placed two strips of bacon on the side. “Tofurkey bacon; much better for you than the processed stuff that comes from those poor pigs. Sit. Eat.”

~ ~ ~

Like always when I had a dilemma, I met up with my BFFs Aaron and Chaka. We hung out in the family room at Chaka’s place: a pricey, modern high-rise condo with sweeping views of the city. Shiny vinyl records encased in Plexiglas hung on one wall. Gold records and various music awards hung on the opposite. The furniture was modern and cost more than dad’s car.
 

Aaron wore his Saturday casual attire, that was more put together than my Sunday dressy attire, and sprawled with his laptop flipped open on the gigantic dark chocolate colored leather couch.
 

“I can’t believe Samuel’s alive during our lifetime. You must be freaking out!” Chaka hobbled to a chair, sat down, leaned forward, her multi-hued braids brushed against her thighs, and she peered at her feet and the foam pedicure separators that spread her toes apart. “I like this shade of pink. It’s in the new Rock Starz beauty line Mom’s helping design.”

“Super cute,” I said. “And yes I am totally freaking out!” My phone buzzed with another text from Ryan. “Can’t talk today. Busy with friends.” I hit send and dropped my phone on the coffee table.
 

“That’s Ryan again, isn’t it?” Chaka asked. “Why don’t you talk with him?”

“Not interested in what he’s offering,” I said. “This town’s not that big. I know we can find Samuel.”

“Sanity check, Madeline,” Aaron said. “Almost three million people live in Chicago. Do you know his last name?”

I frowned. “I don’t think he had one in 1675.”
 

“Lavonne’s still here doing Mom’s acrylics,” Chaka said. “You want a mani-pedi so you’re all beautified up when you meet this guy for real? My treat.”

“Thanks but I’ve already met this guy for real,” I said. “I just haven’t met him in present day.” I tapped my foot on the floor like a nervous Chihuahua with a mild case of fleas. “Aaron, how’s that search coming along?”

He pointed out the floor to ceiling windows. “I think I spotted him. He’s right there.”

I spun around, but Mr. Smartypants was pointing at Lake Michigan.
 

“Ha-ha!” I said. “Something’s got to be on the Internet.”

“What should I Google?” Aaron asked. “Hot Guys who have been re-incarnated?”

“Instagram?” I asked. “Tumblr?”

“Go with the obvious. I had my first tongue kiss in sixth grade summer camp and I found the guy years later on Facebook,” Chaka said.

“Yeah,” Aaron said, “but you knew his last name.”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I knew his first name and the year he went to Camp LaBelle. It can’t be that difficult. Where’s my iPad?”

~ ~ ~

Three hours later, a few espressos, one delivery order of Chinese from Hop Li, and we were ready to pull out each other’s hair. I paced in front of the windows. While I still didn’t enjoy the panoramic city views, I was apparently over my fear of heights.
Weird.

“If I look at one more high school’s official Facebook page, I’ll put a fork in someone’s eye,” Chaka said.
 

“Glen Ellyn High School is having a festive Winter Carnival next weekend,” Aaron said. “Looks like fun!”

“Probably
your
eye,” Chaka said.

“Samuel can’t be completely absent from social media.” I wrung my hands. “That would mean he’s one of those back woods guys or he’s in a cult.”

“Not everyone’s on social media,” Aaron said. “Maybe he’s a brilliant scientist or an amazing athlete and doesn’t have time for the Internet.”

“Maybe his name’s not Samuel in this lifetime,” Chaka said.

“Then why did he turn around when I shouted his name?” I hollered.

“Don’t shout at me!” Chaka said.

“I’m not shouting!” I shouted. “And why did Ryan say that Samuel was a Healer in this lifetime?” My phone buzzed.

“Ryan’s texting you again. When do we get to meet him?” Chaka asked. “I remember when he rescued you when you fell in front of the train. He was super cute.”

“I nearly died and you were checking out a guy?” I asked. “Oh, God, what if we can’t find Samuel? What if I just get to see him only once in this lifetime and that’s it?” I started tearing up.

“Hold up on the waterworks,” Aaron said. “You were on the “L” platform at The Merchandise Mart headed south last night, right?”

“Right.”

“And he hopped on a train headed north?”

“Yes.”

“What was he wearing?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Guy clothes.”
 

“What kind of ‘guy clothes?’” Aaron asked and scrolled furiously on his laptop.

“It was night out. He had on a dark jacket, I think it was black, and he carried a backpack.”

“He wore his backpack on one shoulder like normal people do?”

“My dad’s a chiropractor and he says wearing your backpack on one shoulder is terrible for your spine,” I said. “Yes.”

“Anything you remember about his jacket?”
 

“Some kind of blue lettering on the back,” I said. “Why?”

“Blue, blue, blue,” Aaron said and scrolled through pages on his computer even faster. “Black and Blue. I saw something like that here. I just skipped past it.”

“
Black and Blue
was the thirteenth album by the Rolling Stones,” Chaka said. “Mom did a guest backup gig with them twenty years ago when they went on tour.”

“Hang on, hang on… Found it! New Roads High School has blue and black as their school colors.” Aaron enlarged a picture with a flick of his fingers, swiveled his laptop around and pointed to the screen. “Is this your Samuel?”

I leaned in, gazed at the photo, and my knees went weak. “Oh my God, yes!”
 

“I want to see, I want to see!” Chaka grabbed the laptop from Aaron and held it in front of her. “Holy smokes, he’s hot!”

“Yes!” Aaron thrust one fist in the air. “I’m like your own personal private investigator. You owe me a latte!”

I tackled him on the couch and kissed him. “I love you!”

“I love you back,” he squeaked, “but your knee is dangerously close to my manly parts.”

I moved my knee. “What do we do next?”

“It’s Saturday. They’re having a football game this afternoon,” Chaka said. “Let’s go.”

“He was wearing a school jacket,” Aaron said. “There’s a good chance he’ll be there.”

“But I have nothing to wear!” I said.

“I have everything to wear,” Chaka said. “Therefore you have nothing to worry about.”

~ ~ ~

This time I didn’t let Chaka give me a trampy makeover. This time she transformed me into the prettiest, most casual version of me that was possible. She styled my long hair into soft waves that framed my face and loose curls that bounced down my back. She applied subtle makeup that defined my eyes, gave my cheeks a bit of a blush, and made my lips look like they were soft and full.

“Who is this person?” I gazed into the enormous mirror in her bathroom.

“You, goofy,” Aaron said.
 

“Chaka, you are beyond talented,” I said. “I look more than presentable.”

“Oh honey, wait ’till I’m through dressing you. Samuel doesn’t stand a chance—at least not in this lifetime.” She grinned.

~ three ~

New Roads football game wasn’t held on their campus today, but at an athletic field at Lakeside Park; a large historic recreational area just a few miles north of Chicago. Majestic pines and firs and spruces dotted the property and made the air smell magical, like Christmas. Other trees had shed their leaves and their highest skinny branches curved toward each other resembling skeletal arches.
 

Clusters of picnic tables were arranged throughout the park. A sign boasted that the Mary Palmer House, an old brick two-story structure at the deep end of the park, was a historic landmark part of Chicago’s Underground Slave Railroad. A narrow sandy beach led to Lake Michigan, its waves dark and choppy.

“We’re late!” I walked across the parking lot wearing my cast and clothes I’d borrowed from Chaka: a pretty black skirt and a matching thin turtleneck sweater, one low-heeled, fleece-lined Italian boot and a styling long warm coat.

“These football games run on forever,” Chaka maneuvered behind me on high-heeled boots. “Besides, beautification doesn’t happen in seconds you know. It’ll be worth your effort. You’ll see.”