The Book of Sorrel, page 3
He had a feeling he wasn’t the only man to find himself overcome by her. He’d noticed the longing looks of the other men in the bakery. For some unknown reason he seethed on the inside about it. This primitive, territorial desire had almost overtaken him in there. Why he’d felt this need to have her and protect her, he had no idea. But he’d fought it off. Besides, he had a feeling Sorrel Black didn’t need anyone’s protection, and he had given up on women a long time ago.
Those thoughts propelled him to the next phase of his plan—get to know everything he could about Sorrel Black. Who knew? Maybe this piece would catapult him to the next level. Maybe he would finally get some national recognition. Perhaps that was why he was forced to take the assignment. Unfortunately, the powers that be would control the piece’s fate. But he would do everything he could to make sure his article got the glory it deserved. Because the instincts that made him so perfect for this job were telling him that Sorrel Black had a secret worth finding.
Eric walked down the gray cobbled streets in search of a place to eat a late lunch and hopefully interview some of the locals about Sorrel. Riverhaven was reminiscent of his younger days in Prague, he thought. He found himself almost getting sentimental as he walked past the tightly knit brick buildings that housed everything from frozen yogurt shops to clothing boutiques. His days in Europe were some of the best and worst of his life. He had seen things and knew things he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Things he didn’t wish to be part of. He supposed they had made him cynical, like Sorrel had accused him of being. He’d been accused of worse, so he let it slide off his back. Almost. He didn’t like that Sorrel thought poorly of him, though he knew she had every right to. It wasn’t going to stop him from getting his story.
Eric decided to eat at the Riverview restaurant, not far from Love Bites. He would give Sorrel this: it was a clever name for her bakery. The Riverview restaurant boasted a healthy fare, which was hard to find in the south. Most places in these parts, even in Atlanta where he lived two hours away, fried everything. Portions were insane too. Another reason to miss Europe.
The hostess seated him outside, as he’d requested, at a table on the terrace that overlooked the river. Eric wasn’t looking forward to the sweltering summer days that would be upon them soon. He wanted to take advantage of the mild May weather while he could. And it wasn’t often he got to eat in such a picturesque place. He usually ate at his desk or in his car, depending on his assignment. The lone wolf, they called him at the office.
While he waited for his food, he observed the kayakers and several people taking a stroll across the stone bridge—reminiscent of Europe with its medieval flare—that spanned the lazy river. Riverhaven was just the kind of town to hide in, he thought. So quaint that no one would suspect a criminal lurking among them. Not to say Sorrel was a criminal, though he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility. Which was why when his attractive server, who had flirted with him when she’d taken his order, returned with his quinoa Caesar salad, he used it to his advantage.
“Carly, is it?” he purred her name. “Do you have a minute to chat?”
She bit her lip and looked around at the mostly empty tables on the terrace. It was well after the lunch rush and before the dinner crowd arrived. “Well, okay.” She took the seat across from him, flapping her fake eyelashes so much it was going to give him a case of vertigo. Even so, he would endure the eager younger woman if it got him closer to his end goal.
He leaned in a bit. “How long have you lived here?”
“Gosh, my whole life,” she drawled.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Since high school. My momma owns this place.”
This was good news, Eric thought. “So, you know most people around here?”
“Yep.” She smiled. “At least all the locals. We get a lot of tourists in here. Are you visiting or moving here?” Her tone begged for him to say he was going to increase their population and not only by one.
Eric leaned back and gave her a dazzling smile. “I might be around for a while.”
Her bright violet eyes lit up.
“Can you recommend a good bakery?” He tried to keep it subtle. “I have a sweet tooth.” He didn’t lie. He was just good at controlling his cravings—all of them.
She clapped her hands together. “Oh my goodness, yes! Love Bites is the best place ever. When you eat there, I swear it’s like you leave feeling healthier even though you’re eating cupcakes. And don’t even get me going on Sorrel, the owner. She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
“Did you say Sorrel?” an older woman seated at the next table over asked.
Eric gave this new player in his game his attention. That was enough for the white-haired woman to turn her chair toward them. “She is the sweetest thing.” She spoke with her hands, waving them all over the place. “I came down with a case of that terrible crud that was going around here a few months ago.” She turned to Carly. “Do you remember that? I thought I was going to cough up a lung. They almost had to put me on oxygen.”
Carly nodded gravely. “So many people were sick.”
The older woman slapped a hand across her large bosom. “That dear Sorrel brought me, and at least a dozen people I know, homemade soup, the likes of which I’ve never tasted. My golly was it amazing. She even spoon-fed me. How precious is that?”
Carly reached out to the woman and patted her hand. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, but it doesn’t surprise me. That Sorrel is something special.”
“Amen. After that soup, I felt like a real person again. Not sure what was in it, but it cured me, I’ll tell you that.” The older woman swatted her knee.
Eric held up his hand. “Excuse me, did you say her soup cured you?”
“Well, yes, darlin’. A little TLC and food are good for the soul.”
“So, it wasn’t really the soup?” Eric confirmed.
The woman waved her hand in front of him. “You’re missing the point.”
“Which is?” Eric asked.
She leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s something about Sorrel.”
“Yes, ma’am, you’re right. You just have to try Love Bites and meet Sorrel,” Carly gushed.
“Sorrel! Sorrel!” another woman joined in who happened to be walking by. “Oh. My. Gosh. I. Love. Her. She saved me from marrying that two-timing louse Hunter Dupree last year. I’ll be forever grateful to her.”
Eric’s brow quirked. “How did she manage that?” He tried to sound like somebody more interested in gossip rather than a calculating bastard, which he knew he was.
Sorrel’s newest fan pulled up a chair right next to him. She gave him an appraising look before holding out her manicured hand. “I’m Sadie, by the way,” she said seductively.
Perfect. He had another admirer. He gave her hand a quick shake. He didn’t have time for female distractions. But he knew he had to play nice to get the information he needed. Though he had been hoping for more incriminating evidence, not a damn pep rally for the beautiful creature he couldn’t stop thinking about holding in his arms. Focus. “Nice to meet you, Sadie. Tell me your story.”
She sat up straight, showing off her posture, which in turn gave a better view of every curve she owned. No doubt she was looking for someone to replace the ex-fiancé. “Last year,” she began, “that pig Hunter and I went into Love Bites for our cake tasting, and after we tried the chocolate raspberry truffle cake—”
“Ooh, that’s one of my faves,” Carly interrupted.
All the women nodded in agreement.
Could Sorrel walk on water too? Eric wondered.
“Anyway,” Sadie continued, “Sorrel took both our hands, and as calm as an ocean breeze she said, ‘I think, Sadie, there’s something that Hunter needs to tell you.’ I thought for sure it was going to be that the idiot had wrecked another truck or some nonsense. However, after he spluttered for a few minutes, he confessed to sleeping with Bethany Jenkins not once, but pretty much the entire time we were engaged.” She slammed her fist on the table. “I can’t believe I was going to marry that fool. My daddy said he was a loser.”
Eric tilted his head. “So, there were rumors about him going around?”
“Oh no,” Sadie swore, “for as stupid as Hunter was, he was good at hiding his indiscretion.”
“Then how did Sorrel know?”
All the women looked at each other, debating with their eyes if they should say what was obviously on the tips of their tongues.
“Ladies,” Eric coaxed.
The older woman leaned in and whispered, “Well, some around these parts say it’s witchcraft, but the good Lord knows she’s too sweet for that to be true.”
“Witchcraft?” Eric chuckled. These small-town people were something else, always wanting to blame everything on the devil instead of people’s human nature. He was quite confident whatever Sorrel was into was more illegal than evil. He knew evil, and she wasn’t it.
Chapter Four
Sorrel. My mother’s piercing voice could wake the dead, or in my case, dead asleep.
I shot straight up on my couch where I had fallen asleep, clutching the wretched silent book, wishing it would, for once, speak to me. Help me know what to do about that reporter, Eric Knight.
Sorrel, can you hear me?
I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of her voice, wishing so much we could speak in person and not only in our minds. As far as the world knew, Elizabeth Black had died in a tragic scuba diving accident in Palau, Micronesia, five years ago. Her body was never recovered. I didn’t even know where she lived now or what new name she’d assumed, all for my protection. Yet I didn’t feel protected. I felt cursed, living a life where I never aged past twenty-five, which made it impossible for my mother and me to stay together. It was getting harder and harder for people to buy that we were mother and daughter, no matter how many gray streaks my mother put in her hair or the horrid makeup she applied each day to age herself.
We had stayed together as long as the book directed. Long enough for her to pass the book on to me on my twenty-fifth birthday. The day appointed by this curse that each new descendant, all female in my family tree’s straight line, inherited the book our magic was tied to. It had been the day I was supposed to find out which mortal I would be forced to marry. It was the day the book stopped working.
I rubbed my tired eyes. I can hear you.
Happy birthday, my love.
I picked up my phone to check the time. It was just before midnight. It made me wonder if my mother was close by in the same time zone as me. Or did she just instinctively know I was alone, and it was a good time to contact me, as she didn’t know where I lived either. I hated not being able to share everything about my life with her. She didn’t even know I owned a bakery. She felt the less info we shared, the safer we would be.
Thank you. I leaned my head back on the couch, exhausted.
You’re worried. I can feel it. Did the book finally say something to you? So much hope and trepidation filled her voice. She hated that she’d passed down this curse to me, yet she feared what the book’s silence meant for me and her.
The book is ever silent. I ran my hand across its ancient cover that had been woven together with the brightest, greenest leaves I’d ever seen. I’m not sure what species the leaves were, but they were indestructible, as far as I knew. Inside the book, the pages were made of a substance like white animal skin, and every word was written in gold. There were pages and pages of instruction on things like how to prepare elixirs to cure everything from acne to the flu, even serious diseases. The last page, though, had been added later, but how long ago, no one exactly knew. Family legend stated it was when the curse began. It was when the messages began to appear, directing the life of the keeper of the book. The only messages the page contained now were ones to my mother from years ago, including the directive to marry my father.
Maybe you’re right, Sorrel; maybe the curse will end with you.
Dad always said I would be the one to break it.
Mom sighed. Your father was a mortal who told you fairy tales because he desperately wanted to give you hope.
Why do you speak of him like that? You loved him and he loved you.
Did he, or was it the curse I thrust on him and you? Guilt riddled her words.
I knew Mom worried Dad had loved her only because the curse made him, but I didn’t believe that. I saw the way my parents used to look at each other when they didn’t know I was watching. And even though I was only nine when my father unexpectedly died of a heart attack, I knew love existed between them. It was the kind of love I wanted. The kind my father promised me I would have. Though maybe my mother was right. Dad only told me the stories about Princess Sorrel, who I realized as I got older was really me, to help me deal with the curse in the only way he knew how to at the time.
He loved you. I pleaded with her to believe me. For my own well-being, I had to believe that was true.
Perhaps, she conceded.
Mom, do you think the curse is already broken? I mean, the book has quit sending messages, and it’s not like we were ever hunted down by the Selene family. For years I’d been warned about the importance of keeping the book safe. The legend was that many years ago, in a land and time unknown, there had lived three families, all part of the Praeditus, or the Endowed. The Aelius family, the Tellus family, and the Selene family. Each family was blessed with powers and given a book.
The Aelius family received its powers from the sun. My family, the Tellus family, was given its powers from the earth. It allowed us to use the things from the planet to heal and help by pushing our energy into herbs and plants of all kinds. The Selene family was blessed by the moon. Though the families’ gifts came from different sources, they all worked in harmony just as the sun, earth, and moon do. As time went on, the Aelius family believed our families’ gifts should help all mankind, not just our kind. Then the Aelius queen fell in love with a mortal. Against the wishes of the other two families, she married the mortal and had children with him. The Tellus and Selene families feared this would expose them all and that mortals would exploit them. So they banded together to destroy the entire Aelius family.
As the last remaining member of her family, the Aelius queen sought her revenge by cursing the other two families, using the powers of the books. Since her line wasn’t allowed to continue, she would make sure the other two lines suffered the same fate. The Tellus family was limited to one daughter each generation, and for the Selene family, one son. In sweet revenge, each cursed son or daughter would be forced to marry a mortal. It was a double-edged sword. Not only did marrying a mortal mean they would be diluting their powers each generation, but it also shortened their life spans. No longer would they live for over a thousand years like their ancestors before them. As an added cruelty, it meant never knowing if the mortal they were bound to truly loved them, or vice versa, because the power of the curse brought them together. Regardless, each cursed child was forced to watch their mortal companion age and die while they stayed young for years and years.
The last part of the curse was that the remaining two lines would be sworn enemies from that time forward. Legend held that each ruling family from the Tellus and Selene sects went into hiding with the family books, while the remaining members hunted each other into oblivion. According to the legend, there was one way to break the curse. If either the Selene or Tellus family found the book of their enemy, they could destroy it, killing the remaining members of that line. For the curse dictated that, in the end, only one family would remain.
For all I knew, it was mostly all a fairy tale, reinvented as it was passed down from generation to generation. My mother couldn’t even tell me what powers the other lines supposedly possessed, other than that the Aelius family had something to do with light and life and the Selene family, darkness and death.
It’s dangerous to think the curse has been broken, Sorrel.
Why? We wouldn’t know how to destroy the other family’s book even if we did find it. Not like we had ever tried. I had no desire to.
Perhaps it’s like the binding ceremony: it only appears in the book once you’ve met the mortal you’re meant to marry.
You mean forced?
Yes, she let out a heavy breath.
My snow-white cat, Tara, jumped on my lap, pushing the book out of the way. She was an attention whore. I stroked her soft fur until she purred. Mom, even if I did find the other book, I could never destroy it. How could I kill anyone?
This is why I insist we stay apart. To lessen suspicion about who we really are. We don’t know the heart of the other family. What if they are willing to kill you . . . and me?
Why did she have to put it like that? How could I live with myself? Dad said I was meant to heal, not hurt.
And so you have, I’m sure to your detriment.
I curled up and held Tara close. There’s a man investigating me, a reporter, I admitted.
My mother went silent, but I felt the anger and worry inside of her. I told you to be careful.
I have been. I only help people when I feel like I’m supposed to. Which was pretty much all the time, but I hid that thought from her.
You and your feelings, Sorrel. They’re going to get you into trouble. It sounds like they already may have.
Dad told me to follow my heart. It’s all I have to go on.
What about reason? You’re recklessly putting yourself in danger.
From a family we don’t even know exists? Or from the mortals you’re so prejudiced toward?
I’m not prejudiced, she fumed. There are stories in our family of how cruelly mortals have used us—the mortals we’ve been forced to marry and those who’ve been suspicious of us. And if it weren’t for a mortal, our family would have never been cursed.
