Nothing happened. She wasn’t thrown across the room, nothing burst into flames, she felt quite fine, in fact. Calm. Enjoying the rough old leather under her palm. Could it be possible she was going to find the answers she craved?
“Shall we have a look?” she asked in a whisper.
Another sharp kick and she heaved back the cover, eager to see what was inside.
Chapter 8
Tilly scratched absently around the rabies shot Dexter made her get. It was embarrassing enough to have to admit being bit by a rat without Dex treating her like a criminal for being bit in the first place. He was lucky he’d never had to wrestle a rat for his dinner. After all his fussing and coming up with a cover story, the doctor hadn’t even asked her what had happened.
“Day seven,” she muttered, having taken to speaking to herself as if she were stranded on another planet, keeping a log while waiting for her people to come rescue her. Which she was in a way, now that she thought about it.
She sat on a park bench staring at the chimneys of Belmary House that were visible through the trees. She could see peeps of the stone wall that surrounded it on this side of the park, and was almost lulled into complacency by the slow, steady hum of the cars that occasionally passed by on the street side. It was so different from what she had grown used to. The fact that anyone could go up to the house and buy a ticket and tour the rooms she’d lived in, made her feel lost and queasy.
She herself had chickened out at the ticket counter, so afraid to run into Dex or Emma that she’d abandoned her plan A, which hadn’t been much of a plan at all. She’d thought walking boldly through the house like any other tourist while wearing the blonde wig she’d bought on one of her secret outings would work, but in the end she knew she couldn’t risk the small bit of trust she’d worked up to with Dex. He finally left his house in the mornings without running down a list of things she shouldn’t do, and repeatedly begging her not to leave the flat. If he caught her with a wig on, trying to break into the locked bedroom, who knew what he’d do.
She got up and bought a meat pie from a nearby vendor, wanting to squash her building anger with some savory food. As soon as she sat back down she was surrounded by pigeons, looking for dropped crumbs.
“I used to live there,” she told them as she tore off bits of the flaky crust and threw them to the ground. “Now I can’t even walk through the front door.”
The pie didn’t do anything to ease her bad mood and after a quick glance to make sure it was only the pigeons paying attention to her, she angrily snatched the wig off her head and stuffed it in her fully packed traveling bag.
She’d worked so hard to gather the things she thought she’d need to help her if she got stuck in another bad time and now she was going to have to drag it back to Dex’s place and hide it again. It was ridiculous how she’d ended up. She’d fled the past because she felt she didn’t have enough freedom and here she was in the future, a virtual prisoner in her cousin’s home.
While he kept reassuring her that as soon as Piper Sinclair returned she’d be on her merry way, no calls came from Scotland and she could tell by Dex’s increasingly agitated faces that time was running out for her.
“Tilly? What are you doing here? Were you supposed to meet Dex? He’s in a lunch meeting.”
She looked up to see Emma holding a flowery cloth lunch bag and shooing away the birds so she could sit down on the bench. Tilly nearly dropped the remains of her pie in her distress at being caught but it occurred to her that Emma wasn’t acting horrified that she was out and about. Maybe she didn’t share Dex’s paranoia that she could somehow destroy the entire fabric of the universe by going out to the shops.
“Uh, no, I was just hungry and sick of takeout.” She waved the pie as if she needed proof.
“Dex loves those,” Emma said, taking out her own lunch and arranging it neatly on her lap. She sighed contentedly and looked up at the sky, which was as clear as it ever got in London. “It’s crazy to me to think he’s been living so close all these years, waiting while I never knew him. He went to that very cart at least twice a week. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Yes.” Tilly sniffled. She tossed the rest of the pie to the birds and while Emma admonished her not to feed the foul creatures, she burst into tears.
“Goodness, what is it? Are you in pain?” Emma swept her lunch to the bench and scooted close to put her arm around her.
It only made Tilly feel worse. Emma’s and Dex’s story truly was an amazing one, and she herself could have had one that was very much the same. A love that transcended time. And she had ruined it because of a bratty bad mood mixed with imbecilic curiosity. She never should have tampered with the portal, no matter how angry she’d been. Just because she’d had a little success with a few minor gardening spells she’d thought she was Albus Dumbledore.
Dexter was right to think she was a moron, because she was. She’d ruined everything for herself, for Ashford, for her mom and grandma, for Dex and Emma. She blubbered all this while Emma patted her shoulder and only stopped when she felt snot touch her upper lip and knew she had to get herself together.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so gross,” she said, digging around in her escape bag for tissues. Emma managed to get one out of her own purse faster and dabbed at her face as if she was five years old.
“No, you’re not. You’re understandably stressed,” Emma said soothingly. “But for the record, I don’t think you’ve ruined everything for me and Dexter. If that makes you feel any better. I can’t answer for the rest of it, though. I know you feel terribly guilty, but you couldn’t have known about your future. It’s madness, everything that has to do with that portal.”
“And I opened it up again,” Tilly said, not cheered up at all by Emma’s well-meant but poorly delivered words.
Emma made a noise in her throat, not disagreeing with Tilly’s self reproach. “I wish Piper would get back and get you home,” she finally said after they sat in silence for several uncomfortable minutes.
“Dex knows things,” Tilly said, the anxious sense of urgency rushing back at her. The self-pity and guilt had almost been a welcome reprieve. “When I’m supposed to get married, when the— the kids were born. I think he thinks it might be too late.”
“Nonsense. You’ve only been here a week,” she said.
“Yes, but I was stuck in 1644 for almost three weeks, and before that I was in the early twentieth for a day or two. There were a bunch of magazines in the room with dates from 1920 to 1923. All told I’ve been gone for well over a month.”
Tilly could tell Emma tried to keep her face positive, but it froze slightly and her eyes faltered. “At least you’re here with us now,” she said dully.
Tilly didn’t bother to acknowledge the pitiful attempt to cheer her. “I can’t stay here. I especially can’t stay here. It’s almost like Dex doesn’t like me anymore or even see me as me. He wants the other Tilly back, the thirty-something year old one with kids who isn’t a half-wit.”
“You didn’t just come here for the meat pasty, did you?” Emma asked abruptly, narrowing her eyes. “You were going to try something.” She looked under the bench where Tilly’s bag rested against her heels. “Look at your massive bag. You wouldn’t need something like that for a stroll in the park.”
“I even bought a wig in case I ran into one of you,” she admitted, completely defeated.
“You certainly can’t mean to try the portal again?”
Tilly threw caution to the wind. Trying to get Emma to help her was her only hope out of this time. “You know as well as I do that I can’t stay here. I’m practically a fugitive. If I stay, what do I have? Dex getting more and more frustrated with me? I can’t even call my mom. Didn’t you want to talk to your mom when you were stuck in your past? She was right there and you couldn’t, right?”
“It was almost as bad as not being able to hold Dahlia,” Emma said, voice choked from remembering the terrible time.
“I need to try
and fix what I’ve broken,” Tilly insisted, seeing she might have a chance to get in the bedroom after all. “Just get me in the room.”
“I still think we should wait,” she said, making Tilly want to scream. “Besides, what if the portal doesn’t open for days and days anyway? Even if we manage to squeak you past Dexter every day, what if it opens at three in the morning or something?”
Tilly swallowed hard, knowing she was going to have to confess the worst part of her plan. The thing that might end up hurtling her into a time far removed from anyone and anything she ever knew.
“I’m going to open it myself,” she said. At Emma’s incredulous look, she hurried to explain. “I didn’t take Ashford’s book, but I copied down the spell. I’ve been obsessing over it since I got here and I think I might know what I did wrong.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Emma looked appalled.
“Do I look like someone who’s joking?” Tilly stood up and sat down again, bursting with nervous energy. “I’m about as desperate as anyone can get. This is my life, Emma.”
“It is that,” she agreed slowly. “Oh, I don’t know what to do. Dexter will have my hide when he finds out.”
“Tell him to stuff himself,” Tilly said, not caring what her pigheaded cousin thought. “Let me try to get back to Ashford. Weren’t you hoping in your heart of hearts that Dex was going to show up after you got back?”
“I did,” she admitted. “I even hoped a little that he’d follow me, give up his ten years to be with me. I’m so glad he didn’t, but I’m even more glad he waited. It’s a miracle I don’t think I’ll ever be able to comprehend.”
“It’s love,” Tilly told her fervently. “Like me and Ashford. I think love can even transcend stupidity, don’t you? Next time I get mad at him I’ll take a walk in the park, okay? I will get back, I will.”
“Well, we need to do it now, before he gets back from his meeting.” Emma stuffed her uneaten lunch back in the bag and glanced at her watch.
The motion reminded Tilly heartbreakingly of Ashford. How she longed to see him again in all his high-handed impatience. Before Emma could change her mind, Tilly grabbed her go bag and jumped to her feet, bursting toward the house. In a matter of minutes she’d be inside the room again, perhaps in a few more she’d be back with Ashford. She wanted to kiss him right above his fussily tied cravat, cling to his broad shoulders and never let go. She’d apologize until he forgave her and they could set to having their gaggle of children.
When Emma unlocked the door and swung it open for her, refusing to go in herself, Tilly’s confidence plummeted. The seemingly benign corner caused a shiver to run down her spine. With another glance at her watch, Emma nudged her in.
“I’ll lock you in and check on you in an hour or so,” she said. “If you can’t make it happen before Dex wants to go home for the day, I’ll try to distract him somehow and then let you out so you can get back before him, okay?”
Tilly threw her arms around her and nodded. “I won’t be here in an hour,” she said. “Everything will work and I’ll see you next Christmas. I mean, old me and even older Ashford. Oh my goodness, I’m going to miss you.”
“Good luck.”
With that, Emma slammed the door and Tilly heard the click of the bolt. She felt a little offended that Emma seemed so willing to be rid of her. It really hadn’t taken much convincing at all. But she was getting what she wanted, so she shook it off, chalking it up to nerves getting the best of her. She dug out the crumpled bit of paper she’d copied the spell onto, feeling a pang to recall getting it from her maid Nora, the poor girl never imagining what nefarious deeds she was up to.
She did not want to do the spell again, in fact she’d be happy to leave magic behind her for good and eat normal vegetables for the rest of her life, but she had to try again. And possibly again if it didn’t work. Before she could unfold the instructions, however, the temperature dropped alarmingly and she felt the tell-tale beginnings of a headache, signalling that the portal was opening. On its own.
“Well, hell,” she said, too surprised to feel any fear.
Could it be she was getting a stroke of much needed luck? After only a moment’s hesitation, she waved goodbye at the surveillance camera and stepped toward the corner of the room.
Chapter 9
Serena lay next to Kostya, listening to his slow, measured breathing, fairly certain he was asleep, but decided to wait a little longer.
It felt like something crackled under her skin, she was so excited to get back to the book and read some more. If she got caught, she’d plead late night hunger and say she’d sleepily gone down the wrong hall. But she knew she wouldn’t get caught.
Since she’d first laid hands on the book she’d felt a calm sense of power. She didn’t understand everything she’d read so far, but something about the pages urged her to keep going, keep turning them, keep drinking in everything they had to offer. She hadn’t felt so excited since Kostya had returned from his family and they’d hastily married. Then his dark moods and secrecy made her question everything.
If he wouldn’t tell her what was going on, she’d find out on her own, and she felt certain now the answers lay within the pages of Ashford’s family’s ancient book.
She patted her belly, grateful she’d been allowed to touch it at all, and felt that she and the baby shared a thrilling secret. Unable to wait any longer, she carefully rolled out of bed and paused a moment to see if Kostya stirred. He snuffled out a breath and she wanted to stroke his brow and tuck the blankets around him, but didn’t dare lest he wake.
She crept toward the door, and took another long look at him, feeling suddenly guilty. He hadn’t wanted her near the book because he thought it might be dangerous, and perhaps he was keeping things from her to protect her. She shook her head at her silliness, thinking to creep through the house like a thief and do something both her husband and her oldest friend thought she should stay well away from. Kostya looked so peaceful in his slumber, so different from when he was awake. What tormented him so?
She wanted to crawl back under the covers and nestle against him, trust that everything was all right, but she received a hearty kick that seemed to tell her plainly to stick to the original plan.
Answers. She wanted and needed answers, not warm, fluffy ignorance. She turned away and headed resolutely toward Ashford’s study. At the door, she had another moment of pause, but was urged on by her own growing thirst for knowledge, that tingly, heady feeling she’d experienced when she first opened the book and began to absorb its wonders. The baby added another kick to dispel any last doubts.
Her fingers turned instantly to the most recent page she’d been on. What was miraculous was that some of it wasn’t even in English, and yet she still understood. When Ashford told her magic existed and both he and Kostya were descended from long lines of witches, she’d only believed out of loyalty to them. She hadn’t truly believed until she saw it for herself, in the words that almost danced into her mind from that ancient book.
She read for about an hour, completely engrossed, until her candle guttered and she knew she’d have to hurry back upstairs or get caught in the dark. She thought about lighting another, but worried she’d get caught if she was too greedy, and Kostya had promised to spend the day with her tomorrow. He’d want to take her to the crowded parks and go to all the posh shops and lavish her with hats and things she didn’t need up in the country, but it would make him happy to do it, and she did love to see him happy. She couldn’t be tired from lack of sleep, it would only make him worry and keep a sharper eye on her. But, just one more page.
The next page was so fascinating she couldn’t help but turn to the next. It was amazing what Ashford’s family had come up with over the years, just for gardening alone, and the love spells tantalized her, making her wonder with a slice of guilt if she could make Kostya love her even more than he already did. She dismissed that thought and looked at her quickly dying candle. She really ought
to find another or get back to her room. It would be awkward to stumble into an early morning servant and have to explain what she was doing. Something made her turn one more heavy, crackling page, as if she had no choice in the matter, and the room plunged into darkness.
It wasn’t just the darkness of the candle finally burning out, it was complete and utter blackness. She wouldn’t have been able to see her hand in front of her face if she could have lifted it from the page, which she couldn’t.
A slow flapping sound seemed to come from behind her, then a scuttle as if something had landed near the fireplace, scraping along the hearth stones. A shiver ran up her spine and she wanted to tear from the room, lift up her nightgown and run as if her life depended on it, but her hand was still stuck firmly to the page. Her shoulders felt heavy, as if something pushed her down into the chair. Images flashed before her, things she squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop seeing, but they were in her mind, blazing forth like bursts of lightning against the darkness.
Oh, she didn’t like this at all. And something was still scuttling around near the fireplace. For the first time in her life, she prayed for it to be a rat. It sounded bigger than a rat, though, far bigger, and it was … gasping … trying to say something?
No. She shook her head wildly, and pried her hand from the page, shoving herself away from the desk and nearly toppling the chair over. She hurriedly righted herself to keep from falling near the thing, but it was quiet now, and when she opened her eyes, the candle flickered merrily, nowhere near as close to burning out as she’d thought.
Which had she imagined? Or was it all real? She was drenched in a cold sweat and felt weak and achy, only wanting to shut the book and flee back to her bedroom. She gathered her breath and after a moment felt silly. Had anything so very bad actually happened? Now she wasn’t sure.
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