Love Reborn (A Dead Beautiful Novel) Read Online Free Page B

squeal. I breathed in her tangy perfume. It reminded me of winter in Montreal, of the cozy smell of smoke and incense that had enveloped me every time she’d opened the door to her dorm room; of the scratchy blanket she’d thrown over me all those times I’d fallen asleep on her sofa, the candles on her windowsill flickering while the snow fell over the city. Suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay.
    We parted quickly, an awkwardness coming over us as Anya brushed herself off. She normally wasn’t one for hugs. I couldn’t help but smile when I took in her tight black ensemble, which was more urban than rural, and made her look at odds with the rocky natural landscape of Massachusetts. She wore heavy black eyeliner and nail polish to match.
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded, eyeing my wet jeans, my windswept hair, my coat, which was stained at the hem with flecks of mud. “And what are these shoes?” she said with a frown.
    I looked down at the tall shearling boots, which I had taken from my mother’s closet. “What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
    Anya raised an eyebrow. “Nothing,” she said. “They’re just ugly.”
    I rolled my eyes, though a part of me wanted to squeeze her. After our flight through the woods, after the dogs and the Monitors and the mysterious chest from the lake, it was a relief to hear Anya criticize my fashion choices—to be reminded that normal life still existed somewhere. “What are you doing here?”
    She dug around in her pocket and handed me an envelope. I opened it and unfolded the note inside. It was written on a thick piece of paper with an expensive grain.
Dear Ms. Pinsky,
    You do not know me, but I know you. I am writing to you on a matter of utmost urgency. Enclosed is one ticket to Pilgrim, Massachusetts. Go there immediately, and wait at the Old Soul Tavern on Main Street. Once you arrive, you will know what to do.
    Sincerely,
    Monsieur
    I stared at the swirls of black ink. The handwriting was neat but elegant. “Monsieur?” I murmured to myself. It was French, though all it meant was Mister. “Monsieur who?”
    Anya shook her head, her pale cheeks flushed from the cold. “Maybe that’s just his name.”
    I flipped the envelope over. It was addressed to her home in Montreal. There was no sender or postmark. It must have been hand-delivered.
    “It was sitting in our mailbox a few days ago,” Anya said, reading my thoughts. “But it doesn’t look like it came by the normal post.”
    Was it a coincidence that someone had sent a letter to Anya telling her to come to the same town Dante had told me to meet him in? He was the only other person who knew we were coming here, but the handwriting didn’t belong to him. Plus, there was no way Dante would have had time to send Anya a note. He’d been with me for the last ten days.
    I gazed at the first line. You do not know me, but I know you . It felt threatening. Had someone been watching her? I studied the signature. Monsieur. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
    “How did he know I was coming here?” I asked, almost to myself. “And why did he tell you to come, too?”
    Anya furrowed her brow, which was a delicate shade of brown. Her natural color. “Didn’t you get a letter from him, too?”
    “No.”
    “So why are you here?” she asked, and glanced behind me. “And where’s Noah?”
    My face dropped. The last time I had seen Anya was in Montreal, just before Noah and I had left by train for Gottfried Academy. She didn’t know that we’d found the chest beneath the lake, or that the Liberum and their Undead boys had followed us. She hadn’t heard that they’d taken Noah and pulled him beneath the ice, or that Dante had come and saved me. Did anyone outside of Gottfried know what had happened?
    My expression must have betrayed my thoughts because Anya stepped back, her chest collapsing.
    “He can’t be...” she whispered. “But you only just left school. He was fine