Chapter 3

Alexis sat on the edge of the bed for a while, catching her breath. No blood smell, no basement. Hand-drawn charts of human meridians hung on the wall. Sunlight poured through the lattice window onto her bare feet.

She really had come back. Back to twenty, back to when her grandfather was still alive.

Downstairs came the creak of a rocking chair, followed by a familiar light cough.

Alexis ran out of the room barefoot and rushed down the old wooden stairs.

On the porch, a white-haired old man sat in his rocking chair grinding herbs, his fingers rough, the knuckle of his right index finger slightly swollen. Her grandfather, Cary Ashley. He had married into the Santos medical line, and Alexis had taken her grandmother's surname, Santos. He had been chosen to inherit its autonomic nerve needling technique; he was its keeper now, and the person who loved her most in this world.

Alexis rushed over, dropped to her knees beside the rocking chair, and hugged the old man's legs. She buried her face in his knees, and the tears she hadn't shed in twenty-five years almost broke through.

Cary set down the herb roller, and his rough palm came to rest on her hair.

"What's wrong, kiddo? Did you have a nightmare?"

Grandpa's hand was warm, alive, still able to grind herbs and pat her head. Alexis forced the tears back, looked up, and smiled at him.

"Grandpa, I had a very long dream. But I'm awake now."

Cary raised an eyebrow, a sharp glint flashing through his gray-brown eyes.

"Good thing you're awake. That Williams boy said he's coming over today. Weren't you going to their house to help cook?"

At the mention of Bertrand's name, hatred flashed through Alexis's eyes. In her past life, this was the exact day Bertrand used his mother's headache as an excuse to trick her into becoming the Williams family's free servant. She clenched her fists and pushed the hatred down, not answering her grandfather.

Suddenly, light footsteps came from outside the yard gate, followed by the jingle of a brass bell.

"Sister Alexis! Are you home? I have something urgent to tell you!"

Christy's voice, cloyingly sweet.

Cary frowned.

"So early in the morning, making all that racket. No manners at all."

Alexis stood up and dusted off her knees.

"Grandpa, you sit. I'll go see what she's up to."

Cary nodded.

"Go on. If anyone bullies you, Grandpa will blast them with his shotgun."

Alexis crossed the yard and stopped inside the wooden fence gate. Outside stood Christy in a pale pink ruffled dress, her blonde curls shining in the sun, the brown beauty mark under her right eye clearly visible. She smiled innocently and reached out to grab Alexis's arm.

Alexis curved her lips, her gaze coldly locked on the outstretched hand, and stood perfectly still, not moving an inch.