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

  Contents

  Dedication

  The Assassin (Mortal Beloved, Book Two)

  Copyright

  Also by the Author

  Description

  Before

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Time-Saving Book Descriptions and Links

  Links

  For

  Cheyenne Mason

  (Because you rock.)

  The Assassin

  (Mortal Beloved, Book Two)

  Pamela DuMond

  The Assassin

  (Mortal Beloved, Book Two)

  by

  Pamela DuMond

  Copyright © 2015 Pamela DuMond

  All rights reserved.

  Photography and Cover Art Design: Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any other means, without written permission of the author, except in the use of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. You can contact the author at her website.

  Also by the Author

  The Messenger (Mortal Beloved, Book One)

  The Story of You and Me (Driven, #1)

  Part-time Princess (Ladies-in-Waiting, #1)

  Cupcakes, Lies, and Dead Guys (An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery, #1)

  Cupcakes, Sales, and Cocktails – A Novella (AG, #2)

  Cupcakes, Pies, and Hot Guys (AG, #3)

  Cupcakes, Paws, and Bad Santa Claus (AG #4)

  Cupcakes, Diaries, and Rotten Inquiries (AG, #5)

  The Annie Graceland Cupcakes Mystery Series: Box Set, Books #1 – 4

  Staying Young: Simple Techniques to Look and Feel Young

  Coming soon…

  The Seeker (Mortal Beloved, Book Three)

  The Huntress (Mortal Beloved, Book Four)

  Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats (AG, #6)

  Cupcakes, Bars, and Rock Stars (AG, #7)

  The Assassin

  (Mortal Beloved, Book Two)

  "I was a Messenger: I kept the memory of all our encounters, our lives, like a locket that brushes the skin and bones covering my heart. But Samuel was a Healer: he didn't time travel. His kind lived, died, re-incarnated, and he didn't retain memories from his past lives. Every year I landed in required starting our relationship over: from ashes, from scrap... Every place I journeyed had beauty as well as darkness; all my time-travels were bittersweet." ~~~Madeline.

  ~ ~ ~

  Madeline’s a Messenger: time traveling across lifetimes and delivering messages that could change one life or many. When she discovers that her true love, Samuel, is alive in present day, but doesn’t remember her from their past, she journeys to a deadly royal conflict in medieval Portugal hoping to rekindle his memory. Mortal assassins as well as dark-souled time travelers seek to kill her. Will Madeline and Samuel be together again in life—or only in death?

  ~ ~ ~

  The Messenger (Mortal Beloved, Book One) is optioned for Film/TV.

  Watch the trailer for THE MESSENGER (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Series) here:

  http://bit.ly/1JxdSos

  ~ before ~

  Every place I journeyed had beauty as well as darkness; all my time-travels were bittersweet.

  No matter the year, I met people with kind hearts who fed, sheltered, and even protected me from those who would harm me. But not everyone was kind.

  Cunning folks sought to use me, paid me to spy for them, uncover their enemies’ secrets; even deliver their very lives on a platter. And then there were the Hunters who tried to seduce me to their side or kill me because I was a Messenger: a breed of human who could slip through time’s fabric into the past and deliver messages that could change one life or many.

  Catapulting into the past was filled with unknowns and felt terrifying. Yet in this sea of chaos, there was a beacon of hope, an unwavering presence, one constant that made me fight to be a better Messenger, stay alive, and time travel yet again.

  His name was Samuel.

  I found him in almost every year to which I journeyed. I knew him no matter what style of clothes he wore, the length of his hair, or the tone of his skin. Whether he was rich or poor, from a favored class or a servant, I recognized his eyes, his smile, the sweetness in his soul; but he never remembered me.

  I was a Messenger: I kept the memory of all our encounters, our lives, like a locket that rests on the skin and bones covering my heart. But Samuel was a Healer: he didn’t time travel. His kind lived, died, re-incarnated and he didn’t retain memories from his past lives. Every year I landed in required starting our relationship over: from ashes, from scrap.

  “Oh, hello,” he’d say. I’d glance around and find him. His eyes lingered on me and he’d be happy, or frustrated, or whatever the emotion was in our ‘cute meet’ during the year and drama selected by the gods and/or the fates to play out.

  At first I thought our relationship was a dream. But our longing, love, and all the insanity that kept happening around us, between us—I felt in my bones like it was meant to be forever.

  Every glance we shared, every adventure, each time we fought or kissed, and even the times we fell in love, were like facing the sky during the winter’s first storm. You’d tilt your head back, catch a snowflake on your lips, and hope that this time it wouldn’t melt, but melt it always did.

  But I would not give up hope.

  One day I’d travel to a lifetime where Samuel would remember me. He’d utter the very same words he said in the year 1675 when he pulled me to him and cradled my face in his rough palms. “Madeline. I do not care where you are from—the future, the past, a star in the sky. I will love you here, now. I do not care what people think. I will love you in the past. I will love you in the future. I will love you forever.”

  And maybe? Maybe if I worked very hard and learned how to be a better and stronger Messenger? Maybe someday Samuel and I could be together, for real, for good.

  ~ one ~

  I stood on top of the “L” platform, the cold rain drenching me as the train carrying Samuel sped away from the station. “Samuel!” I screamed.

  He gazed at me from the inside of the subway car and pounded on its yellowed window.

  I’d come here to let go of the boy that I’d fell in love with hundreds of years in the past. I returned to the place where I’d been pushed in front of an oncoming train to release heartbreak and set both of our souls free. But Samuel lived and breathed just like he did when I first fell in love with him in the year 1675. He still had black hair, high cheekbones, and full lips. My mind flipped back and forth between awe and disbelief that
he was alive, not just hundreds of years in the past; he was alive here and now.

  “It doesn’t matter what year you’ve traveled to, the clothes you wear, or who you pretend to be. I know you, Madeline. I’d recognize you anywhere,” a man said.

  I looked up and spotted Malachi standing across the tracks on the opposite platform. “Unfortunately, I can say the same about you,” I said. Malachi was the fierce Hunter who tried to kill me in several lifetimes. He pulled a knife from his jacket and it appeared like he was going to try again.

  Just when I thought the most dangerous part of my journey was over.

  The few commuters that exited the train scurried off like rats abandoning a sinking ship. One woman punched 911 on her cell. “There’s a guy threatening a teenage girl on the “L” platform at The Merchandise Mart.” She looked back at me somewhat regretfully before she hurried down the stairwell. “I think he has a knife. Yes I can describe him. He’s mid forties…”

  “You’re going to kill me, Malachi?” I asked. “A powerful Hunter is going to take out a teenage girl when she’s alone at night. How courageous.”

  “You mock me, Messenger?” He asked. “I have bent over backwards to be patient with you.”

  “‘Patient’ like when you slaughtered the warrior who guarded me? Or ‘patient’ like when you launched a dozen arrows at me on the cliff overlooking the ocean?”

  “You’re sixteen now, Madeline. You’ve come of age, you’re officially a Messenger, and you’re fair game. Besides, do you really think anyone cares about your silly fantasies besides you?”

  “My fantasies?” I hissed. “I know what happened was real. I have proof. How dare you even approach me on my home turf? You had your chance when I was six years old, you tried again in 1675, and you failed. If you kill me now you’ll become a party joke, Malachi, an embarrassment to your kind. Other Hunters will laugh and gossip about you for hundreds of years. No—make that thousands.”

  “You killed my son,” he said. “You killed Tobias.”

  “Tobias tried to murder me more than once. I cried real tears for him when he died,” I said. “We didn’t kill him on purpose; I would never hurt anyone on purpose.”

  The rain lessened, but for a bustling city, the night was too quiet. There were no oncoming trains, no commuters huffing their way up the steps to create a distraction. I gritted my teeth. “I’m leaving. I don’t have time for your ridiculous behavior.” I turned and limped down the “L” platform, my foot encased in the walking boot making embarrassing clomping sounds with every step.

  I heard the whistle of Malachi’s knife as it flew through the air. I threw one arm over my head and ducked when strong hands seized my waist, pulled me tight to him as we tumbled onto the ground. The knife flew high in the air, missed us by miles, skimmed the tall metal fence, and clattered onto the street below.

  “You’re not killing Madeline today, Malachi,” A strange man said as he held me in his arms. “And you cannot kill her unless she breaks the rules or crosses the treaties. That will not be happening for quite some time, and trust me, it won’t be on my watch.”

  My leg encased in the cast lay twisted underneath me. I winced and peered up at my rescuer: he appeared a few years older than me. “Who are you?” I whispered as he helped me to standing.

  “Ryan! I’m happy to see you again,” Malachi said. “I’m a little surprised to see you protecting the girl, but you are a worthy adversary. Like always, I expect this will be a delightful adventure.”

  “Go back to your hole in time, Malachi!” I said. “Where I hope you suffocate and die!”

  “Where are your manners?” Malachi laughed. “I’ll see you soon, Madeline. I, for one, am looking forward to it.” He scaled the metal fence, hurtled over the barbed wire on the top, and leapt off into the city’s darkness below.

  “Holy crap!” I said.

  “Are you all right?” Ryan asked.

  He was dirty blonde, blue-eyed, and handsome without being pretty. “No. I’m definitely not all right. Thanks for helping me. Wow. But…” I glanced down the tracks as the train that Samuel was on disappeared from sight. “He’s alive. Samuel’s alive in this lifetime! I’m sorry. Malachi’s right—I have no manners. Your name is Ryan. What are you, I mean, who are you?”

  “Yes, Samuel’s alive, Madeline,” he said. “Samuel’s a Healer. It’s part of the pact between the Maker and the original tribes. Healers don’t travel. They re-incarnate.”

  “What pact? What tribes? How do you know this stuff? Don’t tell me you’re a Messenger.”

  “I’m a Messenger,” Ryan said. “And I’ve been sent here to, well, mentor you for a bit.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re the guy who pulled me from the train tracks after I was pushed in front of the train. You’re my ‘Good Samaritan.’”

  “Guilty,” Ryan said.

  “You saved my life,” I said.

  “Only once,” he said.

  “Twice if you count the thing with Malachi tonight,” I said.

  “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?”