Tethered

By Jenn Marie

Elizabeth and Adam survived the century old curse that nearly claimed the lives of their counterparts, Josephine and Braden, but at what cost?

As the veil between timelines continues to diminish, they yet again find themselves in a race against time to cheat death in the past in order to salvage their futures. But with the curse given form, everything is changing, leaving them vulnerable to new threats. No longer are the dangers of their former lifetime contained to the Jefferson Plantation—a land fraught with peril and where horror reigns every summer between July 20 and August 13.

Until now ...

Having changed the past, history has rewritten itself, extending the last day of the haunting to August 31—their new expiration date. Without the aid of visions, though, Elizabeth and Adam must find a new way to uncover their past, leaving Adam to scour the plantation for clues, while Elizabeth learns how to access Josephine's subconscious.

Meanwhile, the Callahans—a vengeful family intent on keeping Elizabeth and Adam apart—will stop at nothing to preserve their bloodline and keep the curse from destroying their family. Will their ruthless antics prove tragic once more?

Now more than ever, their love will be tested as Elizabeth and Adam contend with the forces of the curse and fight to save their counterparts in 1905.

Will they overcome the odds stacked against them? Or will the curse claim them for good?

Warning: Occasional coarse language. Intended for Mature Young Adult audience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenn Marie
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781311361707

Jenn Marie

Jenn is a full-time author who loves reading, writing, journaling and all things books! Currently, Jenn is working on the third and final installment in her Young Adult Paranormal Romance series and aims to publish it by the end of the year so she can take a break and travel with her husband before diving into her next series. Traveling has been a huge source of inspiration for her books. She feels there’s no better way to expand your horizons. Getting out there and seeking your next adventure is what it’s all about. She urges everyone to take risks and pursue what they love. It’s the best way to live!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1—ADAM

A six-inch blade gleamed in the trick of light, the hilt carved in the shape of two snakes wrapped around each other so that their heads formed an S on either side of the serrated steel.

A deadly weapon for more reasons than one.

First—this blade wasn’t just any blade. This was the very dagger Josephine had plunged into her chest back in 1905. The very blade that had ripped her delicate flesh apart and taken the life that Braden—I—hadn’t been able to save. The very dagger Josephine had wielded in order to seal the curse that would resurrect us. Save us.

Save me.

Second—this blade was no longer where it should be. It wasn’t in the depths of an underground tunnel like it had been this morning. It was no longer lodged inside Josephine’s chest like it had been for the past century. The dagger was free—to be wielded, to be taken, to be used against her, but worst of all, to destroy her. Josephine would never forgive herself. She was giving the dagger too much power. Power to strip away the woman Braden had only just begun to reignite. If she did this, he would lose whatever remnants of her fragile spirit he’d managed to stitch back together again. And yet, for all she had sacrificed, he was still powerless to save her. He’d tried. I’d tried. But it hadn’t been enough. Whatever Braden had done to rescue Josephine from that tunnel had still led to their separation. And now here she was, faced with the only option at her disposal.

Murder.

I felt it in my fingertips, in the uncontrollable sweep of my hand as I swept the paintbrush over the papered wall of my bedroom. The viper within shivered and undulated, my skin expanding, stretching over my forearm. It sensed everything Josephine was feeling and pushed those thoughts straight to my fingertips where my only choices were to resist—and suffer immense pain as a result—or surrender to the creature within and become one with Josephine’s mind, heart, and soul. Even separated by a lifetime, I felt her inner turmoil like a knife to the gut. She was hurting. She was scared. She was desperate. But as the image before me unraveled, I could see that she was icing over. Becoming numb. Fuck, Josephine, don’t do this.

Sweat dribbled down my forehead, stinging my eyes.

My blood was hot, my body trembling with the effort to stay upright. The viper released me, collapsing me to my knees. I hung my head. I didn’t want to see what I already knew she was thinking. Breathing hard, I lifted my gaze to the wall—to the painting of Josephine.

She sat on the window ledge of her bedroom, her long, wavy hair wild around her shoulders. She was still in her wedding dress. Soaked. Tattered. Her eyes stared straight ahead, which I knew from this angle meant she was either staring at a closed door or at someone standing in it. One knee was drawn to her chest, the dagger’s tip poised upon it, the hilt held loosely between her thumb and forefinger. A calculated movement that promised bloodshed. She was the definition of fierce. The epitome of destruction. She would harm anyone who stood between her and saving Braden. The man she loved. The man I used to be.

In 1905.

Black paint ran in swerving rivulets to the floor. I clenched my fists, breathing hard, my shirt drenched against my feverish skin. It was my fault. If I hadn’t hesitated, if I hadn’t second-guessed—I released a sharp breath, furious with myself. Had I listened, none of this would’ve happened. Josephine wouldn’t be in this position now, and Braden wouldn’t be imprisoned.

Again. I had to fix this.

The rickety drone of the floor fan filled the empty silence that threatened to consume me. It blew the papers at my knees, making me look down. Charcoaled eyes stared up at me. Sad. Volatile. Beautiful as hell. My body shook with the urge to find Elizabeth—Josephine’s current incarnation—here, now, in 2014. If Josephine planned to do what I suspected, what I sensed, then Elizabeth would be prone to do the same. But maybe that wasn’t true anymore. Elizabeth wasn’t as susceptible to Josephine as she’d once been. Not after today. Not after what she’d done to save us. She was stronger now. But was she stronger than Josephine?

I glanced out the window, at the rippling creek that led to Elizabeth’s home only five doors down. I took an involuntary step toward the door.

Yes.

I believed in her, goddamn it.

If anyone could stop Josephine, it was Elizabeth.

CHAPTER 2—ELIZABETH

Tears welled in my eyes. I was so not prepared for this. Not now. Not after everything that had happened today. A bullet to the back was trauma enough. Not that I still felt it. According to my cousin April, the bullet wound had vanished the second Adam had carried me into the hospital this morning. Right after Jack Callahan had shot me in the back. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, Adam standing in the middle of a crowded emergency room—bruised, battered—eyes locked on mine like there hadn’t been a sea of people dividing him from me. All day my thoughts had scrambled for something else, anything but the crushing desperation to find him. I had to see him.

After the nurse kicked him out, Adam fled the hospital. I knew why. The snake had overtaken him. Flying into a manic pursuit for a pen and paper would’ve caused a major scene. He had to leave. Plus, Aunt Millie returned seconds later, having spoken with my parents on the phone. They’d taken the first flight out from New York, but with the layover in Atlanta, it’d taken them nearly half the day to reach Wilmington, North Carolina, where I was staying for the summer. With Aunt Mills and April.

By the time they arrived, I’d already been discharged. I’ll never forget the look on their faces when they’d come flying through the front door of Millie’s house, pawing at my face like I’d just risen from the dead, which technically, hadn’t been far from the truth. But they didn’t know that. Neither did Aunt Millie. They had no idea that the girl in front of them was not one, but two girls. Elizabeth and Josephine. Present-day me and 1905 me. This coupled with the fact that they had no idea I was aware of my adoption was making this day unbearable.

It hurt to look at them.

My mom looked nothing like me. Neither did my dad. They were both brunette, but where Mom’s hair was chocolatey, Dad’s hair was lighter with a smattering of distinguished gray along the sides. My hair was coppery with hints of blond that no one in my family had. Mom had high cheekbones, dark blue eyes, and full, pretty lips while Dad had golden brown eyes and a grin that could charm the hell out of anyone. My features were daintier; I had a delicate nose, thin brows, and deep, forest green eyes, my skin so porcelain I had to wear double the sunscreen, even in moderate weather. While my parents’ complexions weren’t exactly tanned, they both had darker undertones that could easily absorb the sun without burning.

How had I never noticed before?

How could I look at them every day and never suspect that I was adopted? And it wasn’t just our lack of resemblance. It was our personalities. Mom was always so sure of herself, so poised and determined. And my dad? He could make anyone feel at ease with a simple smile. I’d always loved that about him, his charisma and easygoing nature. But me? I wished I had a tenth of what they had. Riddled with anxiety, insecure, withdrawn, I was everything my parents weren’t.

Sweetie, talk to us, Mom pleaded. She sat beside me on the edge of the bed, Dad on my other side, giving me his best disciplinarian look. He wasn’t pulling it off very well. I know you’re tired, she said. It’s been a long day, but your father and I are worried about you. Millie says you’ve been acting, she paused as if searching for the right word, not yourself lately. And now this with—what’s his name? Adam?

I swallowed my tears and nodded.

We just want to know you’re okay, honey. That this boy—Adam—isn’t pressuring you into doing things you wouldn’t normally do.

Pah. If they only knew how backward they had it. Mom, no, I insisted vehemently. "This isn’t Adam’s fault. This was all me. I snuck over to his house last night. He tried to talk me out of it, but I didn’t listen. I swear." Half true. He had tried to talk me out of it, but not about the sneaking-over part. That never happened.

What about his parents? Weren’t they home? Dad asked sternly.

I bit my lip. His parents live in Raleigh. Adam lives with his grandmother. But she’s … not well. She has a twenty-four-hour caretaker.

Dad’s brows drew together, but it was Mom who spoke. His parents allow that? For him to live alone with—

He’s eighteen, I interrupted. And he pays for the caretaker himself. My parents fell silent. Good. Maybe they’d change their preconceived opinion of him. At his age, he was the most hardworking, responsible person I knew.

Well, that’s … admirable, Dad offered. But that doesn’t change what happened this morning. You really scared us, kiddo.

I know, but I told you. It wasn’t his fault.

It happened under his watch, Dad disagreed.

I clamped my lips shut. I had no argument for that. Not without admitting the truth, which was that I hadn’t actually slipped on the dock—nearly cracking my head open—on my way back from Adam’s. That was all just a story April and Adam had spun at the hospital when I hadn’t awoken from my supposed head injury.

What had actually happened was far more horrific.

What was I supposed to tell them? That the Callahans—the most renowned family in Wilmington—had abducted me last night in order to neutralize the curse on their family? That this same family had kidnapped me almost four weeks ago, intent on collecting the items that, if burned, would prevent the curse from destroying their entire bloodline?

Not likely.

Sweetie, we’re not trying to disregard your feelings for Adam, Mom said. "I’m sure he’s a nice boy. But this isn’t like you. You’ve always been levelheaded and responsible. Though, to be honest, I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to screw up. Sometimes I think you put too much pressure on yourself to be so good all the time."

Strongly disagree. Dad swiped his hand through the air. You are to remain the perfect, wonderful daughter that we raised you to be. No boys. No sneaking out. No drugs. And no boys. Ever. I laughed. Or at least tried to. It sounded more like a strangled sob. God, I loved my parents. But they weren’t mine. Not really. The tears overflowed, rushing down my cheeks.

Sweetie, what’s wrong? Mom wrapped me in her arms at the same moment Dad said, Aw, baby girl, you know I hate it when you cry.

I tried to answer, but each time I did, my words came out garbled and croaky. It was brutal, pretending I didn’t know. I loved my parents with all my heart, and my being adopted didn’t change the fact that I was loved just as much in return. But I wanted so badly for them to be my real parents. The alternative meant that somewhere out there, I had a father who’d abused me in a different lifetime. I tamped down the hysteria that threatened to rise. This was so not the time to lose control. Sniffling, I pulled away from their embrace. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe I’m getting my—

Dad shot off the bed. And that’s my cue to ask if I can get you anything, baby girl.

I smiled. Green tea, please.

Babe?

I’ll have one too. Thanks.

Two green teas coming up. He strode off with a wink and closed the door behind him. Mom turned back to me with a strange expression on her face.

What? I prodded.

You care about him, she said with a knowing smile. Adam—you really like him, don’t you? Like him? I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Is it that obvious?

To me it is.

And Dad?

Are you kidding? He’s completely clueless. He thinks this is just an infatuation that will blow over by the end of summer. I sagged against the headboard. Thank God. An overprotective dad was not what I needed right now. But it’s not, Mom said intently. I can tell. You’re worried about him. Biggest understatement of the century.

I haven’t spoken to him since this morning, I said. I saw him at the hospital, but the nurse kicked him out. Half true. Adam had allowed the nurse to kick him out at the exact moment the ebony snake had slithered under his shirt, reclaiming its place inside him. No one had seen it. Only me. The viper—the white one—had undulated under my hospital gown, as if sensing Adam’s presence. I’d known right then that Josephine and Braden had survived their deaths in 1905. Adam and I had saved them. We’d changed the past. But it wasn’t over. Josephine hadn’t finished the chant when casting the curse in 1905.

Now the past was uncertain. Or was it?

I had no idea what to expect at this point. I’d lost my cellphone last night, so I couldn’t call Adam. And with my parents breathing down my neck, surfing the web for articles on what had happened at the Jefferson Plantation in 1905, for any changes that might’ve occurred since this morning, was next to impossible.

At the moment, my only link was Josephine. All day, I’d felt her—or rather the scary emptiness inside me that only she could be responsible for. Why? What had happened? Had she escaped the underground tunnel she’d been trapped in? Had Braden freed her? Had they been recaptured? Whatever had happened must’ve happened while I’d been unconscious in the hospital. Otherwise, I would’ve sensed the reason for Josephine’s change in behavior. Right?

You can call him in the morning, Mom said with a gentle smile, tucking the covers around me like she’d done when I was a child. "Right now, I want to know more about this boy you just had to see last night. Where’d you meet him?"

In a haunted house. In the middle of the night. On an abandoned plantation. Solomon’s, I answered. He’s Ben’s nephew.

Mom nodded like she knew that already, which she no doubt did. She and her sister, Millie, told each other everything. And did you talk to him first? Or did he talk to you?

He talked to me first. But only because my lips were taped shut.

He’s not much of a talker, I said with a halfhearted smile. It wasn’t until we started working together that we … connected, I guess. I almost choked on the word. Connected was such a tame word for what we were to each other.

Has he kissed you yet?

God, yes. Mom!

What drew you to him?

I threw a hand over my face.

A century’s worth of finding him again.

Do you have anything in common?

Like another lifetime? Sure. You could say that.

What do you talk about?

Josephine. Braden. How to stop this stupid curse from ruining our past and present.

Is he cute?

Cute? Teddy bears are cute. Adam … he’s something else entirely.

I’d like to meet him.

You would?

The door swung open. Dad frowned, looking back and forth between us. Have you grounded her yet?

Mom rolled her eyes. Very tactful, babe.

Wait, grounded? Were they serious? I’d never been grounded in my life. I’d always been the model child. Surely they wouldn’t—

Sorry, kiddo, Dad said, handing me my tea. You can’t pull a stunt like you did last night and not expect there to be consequences. You’re still our kid no matter how old you are.

Kid? Kid? I was almost eighteen. Technically, I was eighteen. At least according to the filing date on my amended birth certificate, which had been altered at the time of my adoption. But my parents didn’t know that. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t confront them. Not tonight.

We’ll talk it about tomorrow. Leaning down to kiss my cheek, Mom added in a whisper, I’ll talk to your dad. She pulled away and stood from the bed. Night, sweetie.

Night, Mom. Love you.

Love you too.

Dad leaned in next. Night, baby girl. Love ya. Get some rest.

Love you too, Dad. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you guys.

We know you didn’t, kiddo. He kissed my forehead and then followed Mom out. The moment I was alone, my spine shuddered, the muscles in my back contracting as the viper within slithered up and over my shoulder. Josephine. Her presence inside me was my only connection to Braden, as attuned to his suffering as the black viper was with Josephine’s. I shut my eyes, bracing for the agony that would follow as the viper quivered down my forearm—

Pain shot through my fingers.

I rolled, muffling my cry in my pillow.

Braden.

Something was happening to him.

Fire raced under my skin, coalescing in my fingertips. I fumbled out of bed, grabbing the nearest pen and notepad from the desk. Forcing my muscles to relax and surrender to the creature within, my fingers sketched with a fierceness that frightened me.

What was happening to him? What was—

I collapsed on my side. The room spun. Everything blurred. I propped myself up, struggling to focus as I looked at the sketch. Braden was on his side with his hands bound behind his back. Unconscious? He was gagged, his eyes covered with a strip of fabric. Where was he? In a boat? I peered harder. There—by his head—it looked like an oar. Dread swept over me. He was floating down the Cape Fear River. Going where? Where were they taking him?

I had to see Adam.

This couldn’t wait until morning.

I was going to have to sneak out again.

CHAPTER 3—ELIZABETH

Lizzie, my cousin whisper-snapped, her fingers fisted around the back of my shirt in a stranglehold. "Do not—I repeat—do not climb out this window. Do you hear me? You’re in enough trouble as it is. Your parents will freak the hell out—Lizzie!" It was just past eleven. Millie and my parents had gone to bed. Normally, I’d sneak downstairs and creep out the backdoor, but with my parents staying in the guest bedroom by the kitchen …

Lattice it is.

Fine, April whispered after me, "but you’re on your own tonight. I’m not covering for you anymore. I’m done. You hear me? Done."

Guilt suffused me. I knew my cousin well enough to know when she was truly angry, and when she was masking her hurt with anger. Right now? Definitely more hurt than angry. I took advantage of her trust last night when I’d asked her to cover for me, claiming I’d be with Adam, savoring the last of our time together before the haunting had ended and everything between us fell away, never to be rekindled again when, in fact, I’d ambushed Adam with the choice he should’ve made from the beginning—to fight for us, to save Braden and Josephine from the outcome that had set us down this path to begin with. I’d lied to everyone I was closest to, including Adam. But it’d been the only way.

The only way that I could save them … save us.

April, I swear I’ll make it up to you, I whispered as I lowered myself to the nearest foothold. Even now, after she’d plowed into my bedroom only to find me in a heap on the floor, staring down at that horrific sketch of Braden, she hadn’t tried to stop me from seeing Adam. Not really. Because if she had, she would’ve ratted me out to my parents. And she hadn’t.

She glowered at me from the window ledge. I’m sicking my tarantula on you.

Reaching the ground, I flashed her a wave and darted across the lawn onto the twenty-foot dock that traversed Hewlett’s Creek. Unmooring the rowboat, I hopped in, grabbed the oars, and quickly rowed toward Adam’s house. It was a path I knew well. Fringed with thick marsh and the lively sound of locusts, the creek was eerily lit with tall lampposts positioned along the docks, the moon a silver disk against the clear, midnight sky. Stately Victorian homes loomed on my left, flashes of light from their televisions filtering out through the blinds. The night was still, the air so warm and humid I could almost feel my hair expanding outward from my skull.

As I drove one oar into the water, the sound echoing with unnerving loudness, I caught a flicker out of the corner of my eye. My head whipped. I searched the night, the rowboats along the docks. Nothing. My eyes darted to the nearest lamppost where mosquitos swarmed in a flurry. I felt it before it happened—a slow prickling along the ridges of my spine. Oh, no. No sooner had I thought it than the light winked out, plunging me in semidarkness. I drifted to a coast. A familiar draft of ice-cold air hit me in the face, and I dropped the oars with a gasping shriek.

Rey sat before me, perched on the opposite side of the rowboat, eyes narrowed into slits. Unlike the one and only time I’d seen him before, he was visible from head to toe, his long, spidery legs covered in black slacks. His blue-black hair stuck up in all directions, revealing slightly pointed ears. And that nose—God, it was disturbing. It started wide between his slitted eyes, tapered down toward a lipless mouth, and vanished seamlessly into his skin. Until this moment, I had no memory of what he looked like. But now, with him leering at me from less than two feet away, the memory of when I’d encountered him in the break room of Tiana’s Boutique resurfaced with blinding clarity.

Hello, my sweet, Rey greeted in that shuddery baritone, his face garish in the moonlight. Have you missed me? The fact that he was here confirmed it. Adam and I hadn’t stopped the curse. It wasn’t over. Josephine hadn’t finished the chant. Because if she had, Rey wouldn’t be here. Rey was the curse. Defeat the curse—defeat Rey.

Are you not pleased to see me? His hands were clasped in his lap, black talons glinting in the pale moon. He sat with one ankle resting on his knee—such a human stance. I wondered if it was intentional, to put me at ease as he’d attempted to do when he’d given himself a name—a very bland, ordinary name for the terrifying creature that he was. It hadn’t worked. He’d only frightened me more by refusing to break contact with me.

He made no move to touch me now. Why?

Or are you that flummoxed by my reappearance that you’ve forgotten how to speak? He flashed a toothless grin. I shuddered. His grin was a black hole. No teeth. No tongue. Nothing as far as I could see. And yet he spoke with perfect enunciation.

Why are you here? I demanded.

You know why.

Josephine, I said. She didn’t finish the chant. Which, in effect, hadn’t properly sealed the curse. Rey cocked his head, a predatory tilt that made my hands tremble harder. I wished I hadn’t dropped the oars, if only to have something to whack him with.

Is that what you think? That Josephine is to blame?

My insides ran cold.

Sweet Elizabeth, his heady scent washed over me, bitter, yet floral, like dead roses, I’m afraid you’re in for a rude awakening. And with a suddenness that shocked me, Rey clamped his fingers around my wrist, yanking me into nothingness. I no longer felt the boat beneath my feet nor heard the sprightly sound of locusts. Suddenly, the world careened into view and I was standing in the very spot I’d last seen Adam before a bullet had ripped through my back. I blinked, momentarily stunned by the scene before me. I was back at the Jefferson Plantation. Rain hung in frozen droplets all around, millions of tear-shaped beads suspended in midair. In fact, everything was frozen. The trees. The wind. The water. Not a sound. Not a peep of thunder. The hurricane was in full effect. I could tell by the slanted rain, the wildness of the trees, the heaving river beyond, the waves half crested in a violent spray, the clouds above lit with lightning. And yet it was as if someone had hit the pause button on the single most frightening moment of my life. Because twenty feet ahead of me was Adam.

With a gun pointed to his head.

My mouth went dry. My heart threatened to pound out of my chest.

No. This isn’t happening. Not again. I saved him. I stopped it.

Don’t worry, Rey purred. This moment cannot be altered. What’s done is done. He smiled down at me, cold, predatory. Being back in this moment was the last place I wanted to be. It was too fresh. Too raw. It was just this morning that I’d managed to free myself from the underground tunnel beneath the chapel and step in front of the bullet that would’ve taken Adam’s life. I’d felt the bullet tear through my back. I’d felt the blood gushing out of me. But after that, it’d been a blur. I’d woken in the hospital completely healed from my injuries.

No bullet. No pain.

My attention flew to the man holding the gun—Jack Callahan. The man responsible for this moment. The man Josephine—my other self—had married in 1905. Only his name hadn’t been Jack then. It’d been Collin. Collin Callahan. It was his fault. His actions had led to this moment. If he hadn’t forced Josephine into marrying him in exchange for Braden’s freedom, she never would’ve cast the curse.

Rey inclined his head beyond my shoulder, and I whirled, nearly losing my footing at the sight of—me, half frozen on the church steps, my hands gripping the wobbly rail in my fight to stay upright. This was after I’d freed myself from the tunnel, when I’d found Adam and Jack tearing each other to shreds. My dress, caught in the raging gust, barely clung to my body. Like everything else, it was freeze-framed, but in two different patterns: the black-and white-checkered print of my tube dress and the ivory beaded lace of Josephine’s wedding gown. My eyes widened on the creature behind me. Rey. Not the Rey beside me—the Rey frozen in this moment. The Rey who towered over my wind-whipped form, not a lick of rain on his skin, his head bent close to my ear, his lipless mouth open in a sneer as he stared straight ahead at Adam in what could only be described as a look of triumph.

My focus shot to Adam. Shocked as I was, I hadn’t noticed his attire—it too was frozen in a collective print of what he’d worn this morning and what Braden had worn on this very day in 1905: jeans, combat boots, charcoal-gray T-shirt mixed with a single black suspender strap, and a brown trouser-covered leg. His eyes were wild with alarm, his mouth half open in a yell. I remembered this moment. At the time, I’d thought he’d been telling me to stay back, but now, looking at Rey who stood behind my motionless form, I understood Adam’s alarm. He’d seen Rey behind me. You were there, I choked.

Rey sounded pleased by the horror in my voice. I was.

I dragged my attention back to him. What did you do?

I merely monitored the situation.

Liar.

I suppose I am. He sounded delighted.

I whipped a finger at him—the other him. You whispered something in my ear. What did you say? Oh God. Had he manipulated me? Had the impulse to jump in front of that bullet come from him? No. I knew it in my bones. That decision had come from me. Only me.

I whispered many things, Rey said with a wicked leer. But to my disappointment, you didn’t listen. You were supposed to stay put. You were supposed to let him die. But you didn’t. You overpowered me. How, sweet Elizabeth? Where does this strength come from? Not from Josephine, I assure you. She nearly killed you in that tunnel. While you were resisting Josephine’s will, I was on the other side, whispering in her ear, telling her to plunge that knife into her chest. She would have had it not been for you. Your will overpowered hers, just as it had mine. An unattainable feat.

Josephine. She’d been in the tunnel with me. Both in 1905 and in the present. Only in the present, she’d been a corpse, trying to sacrifice herself to seal the curse that would reincarnate her and Braden. But in my time, she’d already done it. I was meant to stop her—to keep history from repeating itself and ending our lives for good.

But know this. In a movement too swift, Rey was directly in front of me. "It will not happen again. Come the thirty-first, I will claim you. I promise you that."

The thirty-first? I squeaked. That was two and a half weeks from now.

Oh God. Please no.

Yes, my sweet. Bile rose in my throat as Rey skimmed his lipless mouth across my cheek. The thirty-first—your new expiration date. The day you die.

CHAPTER 4—ELIZABETH

The day I die? The thought tumbled through my mind on repeat. The haunting was starting over again. No—it’d never ended. We’d changed the past. Which meant Josephine had died on August 31, 1905. Therefore, so would I—in present day.

I’m sure you have many questions, Rey said, razor-sharp claws embedded in my nape. Shall we take a tour? See how this moment unfolded? He jostled me into motion. With every step, the rain parted, leaving me untouched. Let’s start here, shall we? He shoved me forward until I was standing directly in front of Adam. His eyes were greener than the jungle, made starker still by dark, brooding brows, black lashes, and ebony, windswept hair. Even frozen in a yell, his features were striking. Sharp. Angular. No amount of injury could diminish his appeal. Not the angry split down the center of his lip, not the blackened bruises on his jaw and temple, not the gashes on his arms and face. Not the—

I looked away. Taking inventory of all the ways he’d been harmed by Jack’s psychotic friends was not helping my panic. It was a wonder how he’d made it to the plantation this morning with how injured he was. I forced the thought from my mind. I couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t think about the look on Adam’s face when Jack had taken me last night.

You may have won the battle, Rey purred, circling Adam and me with that inhuman, predatory grace. "But you have yet to win the war. The reason you failed to defeat me is not because of Josephine or the fact that she did not complete the chant. That was a tiny blunder compared to your mistake."

My mistake?

Although Josephine’s error has certainly complicated matters, he added with a black grin. Had she completed the chant, the Callahans’ entire bloodline would be subject to unending misery, but because she failed to bring the chant full circle, only one end of the bloodline will be affected. I tensed. The Callahans in your time, and from this day forward, will suffer my wrath, but as for the Callahans in 1905, he paused, they will resume as is. They will not be touched. They are free to do as they please without my intervention.

I wanted to throw up.

"As for your mistake, Rey prowled to a standstill behind Adam’s shoulder, you positioned him for failure the second you forced him down this path."

His words punched me in the gut. Positioned him? Forced? It was just last night that I’d been standing in a strobe-lit room, begging Adam to make the right choice, to fight for us, to face our past so we could save Josephine and Braden in 1905. I’d had all the coercion I needed—a single sketch I’d hidden that, if burned, would neutralize the curse and sever our connection to 1905, thus ensuring our survival. It was one of several items that needed to be burned. Adam had thought he’d burned them all; he had no idea that I’d betrayed him, that I’d hidden one of the sketches in my desperate attempt to not only save Josephine and Braden in 1905 but to keep my memories of Adam. To ensure we had a future. Because had I listened to him, had I agreed that ensuring my survival was more important than saving Josephine and Braden, more important than his desire to have a future with me, then Josephine’s sacrifice would’ve been for nothing. She’d be dead. Braden would be dead. The Callahans would’ve gone unpunished—both past and present. And Adam and I would’ve felt nothing for each other and never would.

Hiding that sketch had been my only option.

But now, as Rey’s words sunk in, I realized what my actions had cost us.

You must trust in yourself and in each other, but most importantly, in the love you have for each other. It is the only thing more powerful than evil. In your love, salvation will triumph, but only if chosen. This is paramount, Josephine. You must choose to face your past together.

Eleanor—Braden’s grandmother in 1905—had tried to warn Josephine—warn me. But I hadn’t listened. By forcing Adam down this path, I’d betrayed his trust. Had we made this decision together, our connection to 1905 would’ve been severed the moment I’d stepped in front of that bullet. We would’ve been free of the curse. Free of Rey. But what about Josephine and Braden? If we were still bound to 1905, could we still change the past?

Betrayal has blackened your love for each other, Rey purred. "That’s why I’m still here, why I’ll continue to be here until your very last breath. In the blink of an eye, Rey was beside me. Enough conversation, hmm? Let’s hit the play button." With a snap of his finger, the world jolted into motion. Adam’s outstretched arm nearly whacked me in the face. I staggered back, my senses overwhelmed by an onslaught of activity. Wind howled in my ears. Rain pelted the earth. The trees, nearly horizontal from the wind, swayed violently from side to side. Branches and twigs whipped through the air from every direction. Yet I felt none of it. I was completely untouched.

Adam!

I whirled to the sound of my own voice. Leaping off the stairs, frantic to save him, I stepped out of my own way just as Adam roared from behind me. I watched myself smack into Adam’s chest, going limp as deep crimson seeped through the fabric of my gown, spreading in a wide circle over the center of my back. Adam caught me in a cradle-hold, shocked, bellowing my name as he lowered my lifeless body to the ground. And then it froze. Everything motionless.

I assume you’re wondering what happened to the bullet wound you sustained this morning, Rey said. "Technically, it wasn’t you who sustained the injury."

My brows furrowed.

It was Josephine.

What?

"Hmm, that’s not quite right—it should have been Josephine, he corrected. I stared back at him, shocked. Confused? Rey grinned. Take another look." He inclined his head toward Jack. While parts of him looked as though he’d stepped off a yacht, the rest of him was bedecked in 1905 attire. Black button-down vest, bowtie, pocket watch, pinstripe slacks. Collin. He’d bled into Jack. Just as Josephine and Braden had merged with Adam and me. But as I drifted to get a closer look, I realized why Rey had directed my attention to him. The gun in his hand—one look at it and I knew it wasn’t from this time. It had a long silver barrel, too long, and an old, vintage