The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2) (3 page)

“If I find him,” I said.

“He’s right there,” Aaron said. “On the sidelines, wearing the jacket. He’s not playing. He’s helping. He’s like an assistant coach or a trainer.”

Samuel wore the same black jacket today with the blue letters, but he wasn’t outfitted in football attire. He helped the athletes stretch out next to the field and hung out with the coaches on the sidelines. He didn’t call the plays but on occasion he’d lean in and comment to one of the coaches.
 

I stood behind a large grove of trees with Chaka and Aaron as I watched him, just breathed him in, and willed my hands not to shake.
 

“I think we should move in a little closer,” Aaron said. “Blend in with the crowd so we don’t look like creepsters who hide behind shrubbery.”
 

We walked toward the playing field and the crowd filled with fans cheering on the game.

Chaka glanced around the bleachers. “There’s some halfway decent looking guys at this game. I might have to break my rule about not dating boys that live in the suburbs.”

“Take a look at that wide receiver on New Roads team,” Aaron said as the crowd roared.

“Who?” Chaka asked.

“The beautiful man who just caught the pass and made the first down,” Aaron said.

“The hot African-American guy?” Chaka said.

“Yes!”

“Go for it!” She said.

I tried not to stare at Samuel. Really, I tried. I pretended to watch the game. It registered that New Roads lost when Downers Grove North scored a field goal with only seconds left on the clock. The fans cheered and booed as the players shook hands with the other team, left the field, and talked with their coaches. Samuel gathered equipment, stashing gear in satchels and bins, and the crowd started thinning out.

“I’m going to introduce myself,” Aaron said and headed toward the cute player.

“Well that was fun.” I turned and started walking back to the parking lot.

“Oh no you don’t.” Chaka grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “This is it. We didn’t spend all that time straining our eyeballs for you to wuss out. Now’s your time. Go.” She literally pushed me in his direction and I willed my legs to walk until I stood in front of Samuel.

“Hi,” I said.

His eyes searched my face. “Hi,” he said. “Wow, it’s you!”
 

“Madeline,” I held out my hand and he shook it. “Madeline Blackford.”

“Samuel Delacroix,” he said.

“I saw you last night on the “L” platform. The one at the Merchandise Mart,” I said. “I haven’t seen you in… a while. I called out your name and you turned around.”

“Right,” he said. “I remember it well. You seemed upset. Are you okay?” he asked and looked at the cast on my leg. “I was worried about you. I got off at the next stop and caught the train back, but you were gone.”

He came back for me…

“I’m fine. That was so nice of you. Thanks. This stupid thing.” I rapped my knuckles on my cast. “It’s coming off in the next couple of days.” I reminded myself to act cool: not break out into a sweat, or fall onto the ground, or pass out.

“Good,” he said. “What happened to your leg?”

“Fracture,” I said. “An accident.”

“Trip and fall? Sorry, too many questions. I’m at Loyola in pre-med. I volunteer at my old high school as strength and conditioning trainer and offer the occasional insight to the coaches.”

“Loyola. Great school. Pre-med. That’s tough!” I said. “Actually my accident was more like a push and fall, but the outcome was the same. So… how are you?” I asked.

“I’m good,” he said. “Everything’s good. I wish the game had gone better, but there’s nothing I can do about that crazy outcome.” He shrugged and smiled. “You must be happy your team won.”

“Oh, I don’t go to Downers Grove North,” I said. “I’m at Preston.”

“Huh. Funny that you ended up here at the game, but nice to see you. Really glad that you’re okay,” He said. “I’ve got to get back to my girlfriend. She’s waiting for me somewhere in that sea of black and blue clad people.”

“Right.” My stomach sunk.

Of course he had a girlfriend. What was I thinking?

“Take care.” He smiled and walked away.
 

Something poked my brain and told me that if I didn’t ask him now, I probably never would. “Hey, Samuel.”

He stopped and turned toward me.
 

“I feel like I know you. Not just from the train tracks the other day. Like maybe we’ve met before, or hung out. Do you ever get that feeling?” I stared up into his hazel eyes and hoped.

He shrugged. “Honestly, no. I’m sure I would have remembered. I’ve never seen you before last night on the train platform. Sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

~ ~ ~

“I’m going to be sick,” I said stumbling past the historic landmark sign and the skeletal trees.
 

“You are not.” Chaka pinched my arm and steered me toward the parking lot. “You are going to keep your head up like nothing happened. We are leaving here with pride and dignity.”

“I’m going to curl up and die,” I said.

“Keep walking, Madeline.” Aaron put his arm around me, proprietary, and propelled me forward.
 

“He’s looking at me isn’t he?” My hands were shaking and my breath turned raspy, and I just prayed I wasn’t going to have a stupid panic attack.

“Who cares what he’s doing.” Chaka sniffed. “I for one don’t care what that loser is doing and you shouldn’t either.”

“I know he’s looking at me. I can feel him looking at me,” I said. “Just tell me!”

“You are not allowed to lose your shit.” She held her phone up in the air like we were having so much fun we needed to memorialize the moment with a selfie. “Smile!” She took the photo. “Yes, he’s looking at you.”

Aaron grabbed the phone from her. “He’s looking at you like he just did the dumbest thing in the world,” he said. “I know that look. I perfected that look.”

“Oh, God.” I said. “He has no idea who I am. None whatsoever. What do I do now?”

Chaka grabbed my phone from my purse and keyed in a message. “You’re texting Ryan back.”

~ ~ ~

Mí Cucina was a greasy little hole in the wall with the best garlic rolls and fettuccine alfredo I’d tasted in my entire life. Stained posters hung on the wall depicting some of Italy’s more famous tourist attractions: the Coliseum, the leaning tower of Pisa, and a few candy-colored towns that clung to cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The Amalfi Coast looked amazing and I swore I’d get there as well as Sicily one day if it killed me.

But I think today might have already done that.

Aaron, Chaka, Ryan, and I sat at a four top in the back of the restaurant on the way to the kitchen. Chaka was seated next to Ryan on the inside corner and munched on her insalata caprese. Aaron dug into his spaghetti and meatballs. I toyed with my fettuccine, swirling it around and around on the plate, making little pasta art groupings with my fork.

“Since I’m buying tonight,” Ryan speared a shrimp in his risotto, “I’d appreciate it if you’d actually eat some of that.”

“I’m not all that hungry,” I said.
 

“Look, Madeline.” He leaned forward. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I truly am. But what did you expect? This isn’t the same Samuel you met in 1675. Like I told you, Healers don’t time travel like Messengers or Hunters; they re-incarnate.”

Aaron and Chaka stopped mid bite and stared at him.

Ryan blinked. “They know all this, right? You assured me that they know.”
 

I nodded. “Most of it.”

Aaron coughed. “We’ve known since the day after Madeline came out of her coma. And might I add, thank you for rescuing her on the “L” platform. That train was bearing down and I thought she was hamburger. That was very heroic of you.”

“Super heroic,” Chaka batted her eyes at Ryan.
 

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do I do now?” I asked. “I’m not sure I want to be a Messenger. Frankly, I’m not all that keen on traveling considering how many times folks have tried to kill me, let alone the unsanitary conditions of the places I land in. And have you seen my stupid leg?” I thrust my casted leg out into the aisle and nearly tripped a busboy. “Oops, sorry!”

“Your leg is getting better,” Ryan said.

“Have you seen this?” I swept the hair off my forehead with one hand and pointed to my scar with the other.

“All Messengers have a mark,” Ryan said. “Otherwise how would other Messengers recognize them?” He rolled up his sleeve and held out his forearm. A pale, jagged scar snaked from the inside of his wrist to the outside of his elbow.

“Ouch!” Aaron said as Chaka cringed.

“My first journey as a Messenger was to the year 370 BC. I was supposed to send word to Alexander III, King of Macedonia.”

Aaron coughed. “Alexander the Great?”

“Yeah—like, no pressure, right?” Ryan smiled. “A Hunter tried to slit my throat in my sleep, but I turned at the last second and he sliced my arm. A Healer woman saved me.”

“Jesus,” Aaron mumbled and grabbed another garlic roll from the breadbasket.

“Look, I get that you’re heroic and fierce and love being a Messenger,” I said. “But maybe I’m more suited for spending hours at the library and going to college in a few years. Maybe someday I’ll forget Samuel and meet a nice enough guy. And we’ll get married, or not, and have a kid, or not, but we’ll definitely have a dog.
Because I’ve always wanted a dog.
And then when we’ve been together for sixty years, and this nice enough guy has a slight case of dementia, I can tell him about my wild youth and how for this brief sparkly moment, I was a time traveler who delivered messages to people and hopefully helped them. But then I gave it all up. I turned it down for a normal life.” I jabbed a huge spiral of fettuccine, stuck it in my mouth, and chewed vigorously.

“That’s your final decision?” Ryan asked.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Yes.”

“That’s too bad.” Ryan signed the check, pushed back his chair, and stood up. “Because there’s a possibility that you could be with Samuel in this life. There’s a way that could help him remember you. But, no worries, you’re not interested.” He stood up and grabbed his coat. “I wish you a safe and bland life with your nice enough guy.” He headed toward the door.

“Wait a minute!” I jumped up and grabbed my coat and purse. “Come back here!”

“Sorry. There’s people waiting,” he said. “They need the table.” He left the restaurant and a chilly wind gusted into the restaurant behind him.

I raced after him, Chaka and Aaron on my heels.

~ ~ ~

I sat in the passenger seat of Ryan’s Jeep as he maneuvered around traffic going south on Lake Shore Drive. The skies had opened and were giving Chicago its first decent snowfall. Fat, wet flakes landed on the windshield as the rubbery swipes of the wipers pushed them to the sides.

“Time isn’t linear, Madeline. It never has been,” Ryan said. “That’s simply a readily accepted illusion to keep people feeling a bit safer about their lives. Kind of like believing in Santa Claus when you were a child.”

“Who said I still don’t believe in Santa Claus?” I asked.

We cracked smiles.

“Seriously, how is it possible we are able to time travel?” I asked.

“Messengers and Hunters have a gift for finding the thinly woven patches in time’s fabric and seizing those opportunities to slip through a gap, a crevice into a different moment or year.”

“You make it sound easy,” I said. “If it’s so easy, why doesn’t everyone do it?”

“Some people can crunch numbers and figure out the odds; they’re mathematically inclined. Others know chords and melodies and can put them together to create a song. They have an ear for music. Time traveling really isn’t all that different; just not as common. Hunters and Messengers are born with that raw aptitude and come into their gift when they turn sixteen; whether they can control that skill is another story.”

“We can discuss more details later,” I said. “Let’s talk about the important stuff. You’re saying that the more places I travel to in time, the more frequently I run into Samuel, that his soul could build a memory of that in his future lives.
His soul could build a memory of me.
”
 

“Yes.” Ryan looked at me fondly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a car hydroplaning on the freshly fallen snow headed straight toward us and I screamed.

Ryan swerved and avoided the oncoming vehicle by a few hairs.

I heard a screech, then a crunch, and my shoulders jolted toward my ears as my heart started pounding and my breathing sped up.

“Relax, it’s not you this time,” he said and gripped the wheel tighter.

“What do you mean it’s not me… wait a minute…
you know
,” I said. “You know about the accident—”

“—That you and your mama were in. Yes,” he said. “A lot of people are familiar with the story. Word got around in the circles we frequent.”

“Oh,” I said, not knowing what to think, not knowing what to feel. I swiveled and looked at the two cars that limped to the side of the Drive. “They got lucky. Just a fender bender.”

“That’s the majority of damage that happens to us when we travel,” he said. “It’s not always life and death. It’s not always a scar on the arm, or forehead, or your mother being forced to abandon you.”

“I miss her,” I said. “It’s been over ten years and I still miss her.”

“There is no statute of limitations on missing someone,” Ryan said. “Besides, I’m sure she misses you, too. And yes, the more you travel, the more Samuel can remember your encounters. To the point that one day in this life, he could remember you.” He pulled up across the street from my house and put the Jeep in park. “And you could be together.”

“Sign me up,” I said. “You talked about mentoring me. What do I need to do?”
 

“Simple training exercises,” Ryan said.
 

My dad stepped outside the house, his arms crossed. He glared at Ryan’s jeep and started walking toward us.
 

“You don’t know my dad,” I said. “He’s not going to let me,” I air quoted, “‘train’ with some stranger. And no, he’s not in on the whole time traveling thing. So I have no idea how we’ll pull this off.”