Page 41 of Barely Breathing

A doorman hurries from behind his desk when he sees me at the door.

“Miss Devine,” he says, pulling it open. His uniform is too tight against his stomach. I see the buttons straining. Astrid wouldn’t be pleased to see that fact.

“Hello, Simon,” I answer. Astrid wouldn’t appreciate me being on a first-name basis with the help, either. I don’t care. Simon is a human who knows about the supernatural. For that alone, I feel a kinship with him.

“Miss Devine,” he lowers his voice and leans toward me as if to reveal a secret. “A woman has been waiting all night to speak to you. She’s not on the list. Lady Astrid doesn’t want me to send up anyone who isn’t on the list.”

I see his worry.

I follow his gesture to see a figure curled in one of the lobby’s leather chairs, wild curls escaping a bright scarf headband. For a moment, I’m transported back to that first meeting in California—the shock of seeing my hair on someone else’s head. It was the realization that I inherited more than just mortality from her.

I knew she was in town, but I’m not prepared to see her again. My emotions are still raw fromCostin, and I’m unsure how much more I can take. I’ve been up all night, and I’m exhausted. I think about turning around and hiding before she sees me.

Lorelai looks up from her book, and our eyes meet. I’m struck by how we have the same hazel shade. She unfolds herself from the chair with a fluid grace that contrasts sharply with the lobby’s rigid formality. Her layered dress appears handmade, adorned with the same eclectic plastic jewelry I remember. The butterfly tattoo peeks from beneath her neckline—the mark she got to keep me close after giving me up.

“Tamara.” Her voice catches. She starts to reach for me but stops herself, uncertainty crossing her features. She glances at Simon, and I know she’s aware of her standing as the family secret. I’ve only known of her existence for less than a year. “I’ve been trying to call...”

“I was...” How do I explain being mesmerized for a week? It’s more than I have the emotional capacity to get into right now. “Unavailable.”

She nods like she understands, though she can’t possibly. “I hope it’s all right that I came. I felt something was wrong.”

I struggle to find words.

Lorelai’s expression falls. “You remember me, don’tyou?”

“Miss Devine?” Simon hovers uncertainly. “Should I...?”

“It’s fine. She can come up. You can put her on the list.” I head for the elevator. Lorelai falls into step beside me. The contrast between us feels stark—her flowing bohemian layers against my rumpled clothes from Costin’s floor.

We wait for the elevator doors to close before turning to each other. She wraps her arms around me in motherly affection. I’m not used to it, and my first response is to stiffen up in surprise.

“You look tired, butterfly.” She uses the old nickname cautiously. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Suddenly, she pulls back just as I lift my arms to tentatively return the hug.

“Too soon,” she says, wrongly reading my reaction. “It’s okay.”

She pats my shoulder. I remain silent. What do you say to the birth mother you barely know on the way to the home of the mother who raised you?

The truth is, I’m emotionally drained from my fight with Costin. I’m not sure how much more I can process at the moment.

“You remember what happened at my house?” She searches my face before looking down at the amulet I wear. “I don’t know what kind of magic caused it, but I forgot about your visit for a time. Then it all came rushing back last week. I waspainting in my dining room, and the protection altar started shaking. The photos were falling, and the salt was spilling. I knew I had to come.”

The protection altar. All those photographs of me growing up, surrounded by salt and charms. She’d been trying to keep me safe from across the country all these years, doing what little she could for the daughter she couldn’t keep.

I nod, deciding to give her the elevator-ride abridged version. “I remember. Conrad came to kill us and instead killed himself when he took my amulet. When it broke, time was reset. That is why you forgot. I fixed it a week ago.”

“Does everyone…?” she starts to ask.

“No. Only you and I and…” I look up at the numbers counting up to the penthouse floor. We’re almost there.

“Paul,” she finishes for me.

I nod.

“It must be because we were there when it broke. That makes sense. We were closest to the magic,” Lorelai says. “I’m glad you were able to restore its protection. I hate the idea of you not having it.”

I think of the story she told me about goblins stealing my breath as a baby while she sat bound in a rocking chair, and of all the other monsters that forced her to give me up. I have no clue who would have sent the goblins after me or why, but it wastwenty-eight years ago. It probably doesn’t matter now. I wonder if they’ve been watching, waiting for another chance. And if not, it seems like Lorelai believes it. The trauma of those memories is etched plainly on her face. I hate to tell her, but we’re about to face a different kind of monster—Astrid’s cutting disapproval.

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