Time and Technicalities (Timewalkers Book 1)

by RP Halliway

“It’s just past four PM. That is still daytime for just about everybody.”

  Silas scanned the street as well, seeing the emptiness all around. “We should at least knock.”

  They got out of the car and walked to the front door. The door showed signs of age, such as peeling paint in the detail of the door, and a dented and scuffed bottom. Silas ran a hand over the door, getting a feel for the wood, and condition, before delivering a loud knock.

  “What the . . .” Evie jumped, hearing the knock actually echo around the neighborhood. “Why knock so loud?”

  “I want to make sure if anyone is here, they hear it,” he said, his face warming. The emptiness of the place was overwhelming. He wished for somebody—anybody—to appear on the street.

  “This place is unsettling,” she said.

  “Roger seemed to feel everything is safe. But Roger definitely runs with a different crowd.”

  “There is safe, and—” She started to reply, but the door opened.

  “Yes?” A woman’s voice asked through a small opening. Seeing Evie and Silas, she opened the door a bit more.

  “Hello,” Silas said. “We are here to see—”

  “Her!” The woman cut off Silas and pointed to Evie. “She speaks!”

  “Oh,” Evie said, taken aback, a cold chill running down her spine. “Hi. I’m Evie,” she managed to vocalize—sounding quite confident, and surprising herself. “And this is Silas. We were sent to see the psychic Mademoiselle Ranier.”

  “Sent by whom?”

  “By Roger,” Evie answered, somewhat comforted by having an answer, but also on edge because of the uncertainty in how the recommendation would be received. “The professor.”

  The door slammed shut, and the pair could hear the faint sound of feet shuffling away.

  “Maybe this is the wrong place,” Silas said, taking a step back.

  “I’m ready to go. This place honestly gives me the creeps.”

  “I’m with you on that.” The pair turned and managed to cross the length of the sidewalk and get to the car before the front door opened wide.

  “I’m Mademoiselle Ranier,” the new woman at the door said, with a strong foreign accent. She looked around fifty, and almost six feet tall, close to Silas’ height, but much thicker, covered in brightly colored swatches on a throw, and wearing a black dress underneath. A multicolored belt adorned with fiery blue opals at constant intervals held the dress close to her waist, trying desperately to make it look slimming, but failing. Her jet black hair showed no signs of graying and fell down to her mid back, and a red and blue scarf sat on her head, holding some of the hair back. A small chain ring wrapped around the top of the blue scarf on her head, studded with gems, finished her outfit.

  Evie and Silas took in the woman and tried to gauge the danger of approaching her.

  “Hi,” Evie said with a small wave, not moving closer.

  “Please do come in,” the woman said. “If Roger sent you, then I’m sure you have some questions.”

  Evie looked to Silas, and Silas tried to size up the situation. The woman looked to be a very imposing figure and possibly had others inside. But Roger’s recommendation was one of a friendly relationship. Silas looked at Evie and shrugged. “If you want,” he whispered to Evie.

  “I don’t really,” Evie said, taking a step closer to Silas. “But we probably should, just to learn what Roger thinks we can.”

  Silas nodded and took Evie’s hand, and the pair walked toward the door.

  “Welcome!” Mademoiselle Ranier said, stepping back and opening the door fully for the couple.

  “Thank you?” Evie replied, almost as a question, trying to be as polite as possible.

  “My name is Brenda,” Mademoiselle Ranier said, dropping into a very Bostonian accent. “I just use the Mademoiselle Ranier bit to keep the mystery.” Silas could tell she enjoyed seeing their reactions.

  “Oh, hi,” Evie said, feeling a bit more at ease.

  “Hello,” Silas said through tight lips, trying his hardest to be friendly.

  Brenda led them down a small hall to a room on the left side. Entering, the couple found a dimly lit kitchen with a small square table and small stove and sink. Brenda twisted a dial on the wall and the lights brightened, showing a few plants hanging in the corners and a small teapot on the stove.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Brenda asked. “I have a stock of some of the best teas you could ever drink.”

  “I could go for tea,” Evie said, trying to be polite. Silas nodded in agreement.

  “What kind would you like?” Brenda asked, opening a small door to reveal a variety of small tins.

  “Surprise us?” Silas replied, trying to hold a smile.

  “Surprise! I like that!” Brenda said. She looked around for a few seconds, then reached in and removed four tins. She tapped a small teapot quickly with her hand, testing the temperature, and turned the gas burner a bit higher to bring the water to a boil.

  “Oh, where are my manners?” Brenda said. “Please, have a seat.” She pointed to the two chairs on the back side of the table.

  “Thank you,” Evie said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Silas did the same, scooting his chair close to Evie.

  Brenda pulled out her chair and sat down—actually more of a dropping into the chair than a sitting—and let out a small grunt as the small chair took her weight. She glanced at the couple sitting across from her, and took a minute, a full minute, to size them up.

  Not sure what the protocol was for being visually examined in such a situation, Evie and Silas sat still for the entire minute, Evie slowly moved her left hand into Silas’s right hand.

  “Hell-llo!” Brenda said as the teapot started to whistle, breaking her deep gaze. She put both hands on the table and propelled herself upwards with another small grunt, the chair sliding backwards, either from her legs or dress, stopping with a small squeal. She slid out and around the chair, walking the three steps to the stove.

  Cups clanged together as she rummaged around a high shelf and produced three cups, setting them on the counter. Opening the differently decorated tins, she carefully proportioned different amounts from each into the cups. Pouring some of the boiling water into each cup, she slowly stirred the teas, bringing the mixture of tea into the water leaf by leaf.

  Satisfied that the tea met her expectations, she turned around and placed a cup at each place at the table, leaning forward—almost dangerously—to reach Silas and Evie.

  “Let the tea sit for a few minutes,” Brenda instructed, as she sat down heavily again. “The flavor needs to release and mix.”

  “I see,” Evie said, pulling the cup that Brenda placed in front of her a bit closer with her free right hand. Evie could see the small leaves swirl. She counted at least four distinct colors of leaves, and took a sniff of the blend.

  “Now,” Brenda blurted out with a huge grin, “What does Roger say I can tell you?”

  The outburst and show of emotion surprised the couple again, and Evie’s left hand squeezed Silas’ hand quickly and with intensity, shocking him and making him jump.

  “I guess we’re here to talk about psychics,” Evie said slowly, not sure of how that answer would resonate with Brenda. She gave Silas’ hand a quick squeeze then let go, wrapping both hands around, but not touching, the hot cup to calm herself.

  “I see,” Brenda said, her face growing peaceful, and then breaking into a smile. “Did he tell you I am a fraud?”

  “Oh, no!” Evie blurted out, hoping she hadn’t offended their host. “Not at all!”

  Brenda broke into a loud laugh. “I’m just kidding.” Her mood changed to deadly serious, with an almost scary scowl as she leaned in toward them quickly “I am NOT a fraud!”

  Evie’s hand immediately jumped back into Silas’. Silas echoed the sentiment by squeezing her
hand back tightly, but then relaxed and released as Brenda broke into another laugh.

  “Roger is a good guy,” Brenda said, the laugh lingering in her voice as she sat back.“He and I have had many long conversations over the years.”

  “Roger just told us that you could give us insight into some things,” Evie said. Brenda was a bit erratic and it put Evie on edge.

  “That I can!” Brenda said, leaning to reach a small strainer behind her, the size of a spoon, and also a small cup from just beside the sink. She ran the strainer through the tea and collected the tea leaves, gently banging the strainer into the cup, clearing it. She handed the strainer and cup to Evie, who mirrored her actions. Satisfied with the state of her tea, Evie passed them to Silas, and he also performed the straining process.

  “Not going to read the leaves?” Silas joked.

  “Nah, I’m not that kind of psychic,” Brenda said with a smile. “And this tea is better without sugar, if that was what you were thinking,” Brenda added, winking at Silas.

  Silas’ eyes went wide as he nodded his head.

  “Are you a psychic?” Evie asked, genuinely curious, and hoping for a straight answer.

  “I can sense things,” Brenda said, taking a sip of her tea. “I don’t know if I would call that psychic or not.”

  “Sense what kind of things?” Evie asked, trying to figure out what information Roger felt was important to them.

  “People and events mostly,” Brenda said. “And that is why tea leaves do no good for me.” She winked at Evie.

  “How did you meet Roger?” Silas asked, trying to get to the start of the story.

  “Straight shooter Silas!” Brenda declared. “I like that.”

  “We don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Silas replied, squirming a bit. “No more than you can afford. I’m sure you have other things to attend to.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Brenda took a slow sip of her tea. “I have lots of time. As you can see, the streets are pretty empty.”

  Silas and Evie both sipped the tea, actually finding the eclectic flavor quite enjoyable.

  “The story of Roger . . .” Brenda began, taking another slow sip of tea. “Roger was working at the university and was friends with Andrews, Joy, and Frank. They were all trying to get funding to look into different types of memory. Roger was probably a year away from his break—or breakdown—however he describes it. The group wanted to study how memories form and manifest, and also how other factors can influence experiences. I was already Mademoiselle Ranier, performing readings on people, and such. They wanted to do a test on my brain while doing a reading.”

  “They wanted to test a psychic?” Evie said. “In the imaging machine?”

  “Sort of,” Brenda answered with a sad face, which slowly grew into a smile. “Roger felt that memories and lies and the like, exhibited different responses in the brain. He was convinced that psychics were fake, just creative liars, and I agreed to do the study.”

  Brenda stopped and took a sip of tea, her gaze boring into the faces of the pair, looking for signs of judgment.

  “I made it clear that I wouldn’t do the study unless I was actually receiving a message. They all agreed,” Brenda said, softening her look. “I would sit in the waiting area several times each week, waiting for a good message, and one day, I felt a connection. I told Roger, and we set up the machine. Even with the noise of the machine, I was able to focus on the connection and get the message.”

  Brenda took a gulp of her tea then continued. “After that, I waited for the results. When Roger walked in with them, he sat right there.” Brenda pointed to the chair Evie was sitting in.

  “And the results?” Evie asked, interested in knowing the details.

  “Roger said they had never seen anything like it,” Brenda said, moving her hands across the surface of the table. “He showed me many pictures of different test results—pictures of people telling the truth, recalling memories, liars, even people recounting sexual experiences, and all of the brightened regions from the machine. Then he pulled my scan out and put it right on the table in the middle of the others. He said my results didn’t make sense—couldn’t make sense.”

  “He captured a real psychic event?” Silas asked, feeling a tingle race across his forearms.

  “I don’t know what he captured,” Brenda said. “Just that during the test, I was able to receive a message.”

  “What was the message, if I may ask?” Evie said.

  “It was a message that Roger was out of place,” Brenda said, giving a soft look to Evie. “I don’t get messages like ‘Silas will be wearing yellow tomorrow’ and stuff like that, but more of a feeling of things being on a different path in the past, or how to set things in place to make things right. And I can’t conjure anything up at will. I just get a feeling whenever they happen.”

  “And you felt he was on the wrong path,” Silas said.

  Brenda nodded.

  Evie took another sip of her tea. “This is very good tea.”

  “One of the perks of Mademoiselle Ranier.” Brenda waved at the tea tins on the shelves behind her. “The locals, and others, send me exotic plants and herbs, and spices and such, thinking I am an old gypsy alchemist.”

  “Aren’t you?” Silas joked.

  “Only in the drinking of the tea sense,” Brenda laughed. “I don’t use herbs or potions or tea leaves to do psychic readings.”

  “What do you actually do?” Silas asked.

  Brenda twisted up her lips ironically. “I do perform a bit of the fake readings, mentalist type stuff—I will never admit to that outside of this room. But only to those that understand the entertainment value of the whole ambiance. I never perform fake readings for people looking for real help. In those cases, I am honest with them and tell them that I will try to channel something. But I never promise any results.”

  “Do you get results?” Evie asked.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” Brenda said, causing Evie’s face to warm. “I don’t make promises, but my results keep customers coming through my door.”

  “Sorry,” Evie said, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry,” Brenda said, smiling warmly at Evie. “Everybody has doubts, but also wants to believe I am for real. Now let me ask you a question. Why are you here?” She alternated her intense gaze between Silas and Evie.

  “Roger said you might help us find answers,” Evie answered nervously.

  “Answers to what?” Brenda pressed. “Why are you here?”

  “A couple weeks ago,” Silas started nervously, figuring it would be helpful to be honest, “I woke up from a dream with a face imprinted in my brain. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, so I made a drawing and tried to find who it was,” Silas spoke quickly.

  “It was her?” Brenda asked, pointing at Evie with a finger. A small bracelet of stones dangled from her wrist.

  “Yes,” Evie answered, her voice shaking a little. “At least I looked like the drawing Silas made.”

  “Not hard to guess,” Brenda said with a small smirk.

  A small figure passed by the door.

  “Angel!” Brenda called. “Be a dear and fetch young Esmeralda.”

  “Okay,” The voice said, and shortly afterward the front door opened and closed.

  “And you feel there is something supernatural about that dream?” Brenda queried the pair.

  “I don’t know how to explain it otherwise,” Silas replied. “It was just so vivid and life-like, not like a regular dream.”

  “And you?” Brenda asked Evie, her gaze again feeling like it was reading Evie’s soul.

  “My dream didn’t focus on faces,” Evie said, and paused for a moment before feeling the need to add more. “But I had a dream about conversations and voices.”

  “Anything else?” Brenda
asked, looking at both Silas and Evie.

  “There was an artifact in the first dream—cylinders actually,” Silas said.

  “Cylinders. Roger’s expertise,” Brenda said, leaning forward. “First dream?”

  “Yeah,” Silas said. “There was a second dream.”

  Brenda looked to Evie. “Did you have a second dream?”

  “Yes,” Evie said. “That’s why we traveled here. To Virginia.”

  “We came to visit Professor Andrews’ lab,” Silas said. “It was in the dream. I heard the name of a little kid in a dream—Timmy—and that it was in Virginia. That’s how we ended up here.”

  “I see,” Brenda said softly, seeming to go into a deep thought. “Did you meet Timmy?”

  “We did,” Evie said. “Pretty much exactly as we had seen in the dreams.”

  “Interesting,” Brenda said. “But you didn’t have any visions while you were awake? No messages?”

  The pair paused for a minute and looked at each other, then shook their heads. “No, nothing while awake. Just in dreams.”

  “Are you thinking you are psychic then?” Brenda demanded, causing Silas and Evie to jump slightly in their chairs.

  “Not at all!” Silas said. “I don’t know how to characterize it, but I would never call it psychic.”

  “I don’t think you’re psychic either,” Brenda said, relaxing and giving Evie a smile. “Both from the story and from the feelings around you. You don’t seem to be able to connect outside of the natural realm.”

  “But what about the dreams then?” Silas asked, tensing up at Brenda’s mixed messages. “What are they?”

  “I believe that the dreams are probably real,” Brenda said. “The bigger question is obviously ‘why.’ Why are you getting these dreams? Why you two? People all over the world have dreams where they see or experience things that come to pass, but those dreams are neither psychic nor supernatural events, just random things that turned out to occur. I’ve seen it many times—someone comes in and says they had a psychic episode. I convince them to wait it out as I try to construct who they are, and most of the time it turns out to be random.”