by Leena Maria
With shaking knees I put down the bucket - and noticed someone was standing in the corridor in front of me. A pair of sensible, worn shoes stood behind the bucket, with a hem of the similar coarse fabric as my own outfit above them.
"What are you doing here?" a woman's voice demanded – in a British accent.
"I am new, I came to clean," I tried to sound as British as I possibly could. "There were two men in the library," I then whispered with lowered eyes.
That did the trick. I was no longer of interest.
"Men? There should be no men here! They must be thieves! They are after our ancient manuscript, for sure!"
I put my hand over my mouth and tried to look horrified, though my sole intention was to cover as much as my face with my hand as possible.
"We shall have to stop them ourselves!" the nun declared, already stomping down the stairs. "The other sisters are at service."
I realized she wanted me to follow. As I could not really do anything else, I did. I might escape in the mayhem that would no doubt follow.
Which it did. The nun had the body build of a rhinoceros and she stampeded into the library with all the grace of the said animal. The two men were now in front of one of the bookshelves, behind a wooden railing that separated the bookshelves from the front of the room. They were pulling precious books down and throwing them on the floor.
"Thieves!" the nun hissed. "Stop what you are doing, immediately!"
The men looked at her, surprised and apparently scared at first, then began to laugh. They saw a short, stocky nun, and a slight, tall novice, who obviously was not very muscular.
"And how exactly are you going to stop us?" the bigger one of them asked and grinned. "Are you going to throw the girl at us? Wouldn't mind that, though. She looks quite pretty, we could have some fun with her."
Obviously that was not the wisest thing to say to a chaste nun with the body build of a weight lifter. With the speed of a cat the nun reached for a poker by the fireplace near the door, next to a reading desk. There was still a huge pile of books on it - probably left by Reggie. Without stopping, the nun charged the men, waving the poker over her head and bellowing at the top of her voice "Thieves, thieves!" She had powerful lungs, all right.
That got their attention. I suppose that it got the attention of everyone within miles. At least the singing down the hallway stopped abruptly.
The men backed away from the nun.
"Protect the manuscript!" the nun yelled at me.
"What...? Where...?"
The poker changed its direction from the thieves to the left of the nun in one wide swoop. I ran to the general direction, between shelves, and then I saw the glass cabinet. Inside it was only one thing – an ancient looking small book. I placed myself in front of the cabinet and then concentrated on looking at the poker ballet performed by the nun who had now advanced to the aisle between the old book cabinets. It was really quite amazing to watch. I wondered if she had been performing in a circus in her younger years.
She surely knew what she was doing. The thieves had to duck and take cover, as she swirled about like a dervish, brandishing the poker skillfully.
Running footsteps approached, and then suddenly the whole place was full of nuns. One of them was holding an oil lamp in her hand. Unfortunately she ran too close to the whirling dervish nun, and the oil lamp took the full force of the poker in her hand. It flew out of the other nun's hand, straight towards a bookcase to my right where it smashed. Burning oil erupted from the glass and metal lamp all over the books.
Dieter, one of the time walkers had said the library would burn in a few hours... I had to get out!
The old books caught fire so fast it was unbelievable. Suddenly I stood behind towering, roaring flames, with my back against the glass case, the heat of the fire hurting my skin. I turned around. I had an odd sensation in my mind, as if I was observing the whole situation through someone else's eyes.
Without thinking I raised my foot and kicked at the case proper karate style. The glass broke. I grabbed the manuscript, cutting myself in the process. Blood dripped on the floor, but thankfully I had only cut my palm, and not my wrists. I swore - what was I thinking? I should have used the rag around my hand...
My brain informed me it was not very wise to stand in the middle of a fire, debating with myself why I hadn't grabbed the manuscript in some other way. How could I escape? Where could I run to?
This time I really panicked. I looked at the bag in my hand. Somehow I had used it to come to this time... It was made here. Could I go back to my time with an object that was from my time? Even without a gate? It had to be possible - from what I had heard I understood stepping down to a time and place did not necessarily require a gate. And the Time Walkers managed to return to their time, with the skills of the Weaver. I had to try. I needed an anchor... My brain was working overtime trying to find a way out.
I did not want to use the old book as an anchor - I had no idea where it would take me.
I lifted the hem of my outfit and put my hand in my jeans pocket. Nothing. No, wait, something... I lifted up the visiting card of Kitty's Divinations. It would have to do. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the panic in my mind. That was not easy, not with the heat of the fire billowing around me, and the nuns screaming. Still, my life was at stake. I did the best I could.
I felt a tug in my hands.
"Lord have mercy! An angel!" I heard someone yell before the heat of the burning library suddenly vanished and I found myself back in the buffer zone.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
43. Meeting Angel
It took me a while to stop the bleeding. The glass had cut me deeply on the fleshy part of the right palm, below the thumb. I pressed at the wound tightly with the cleaning rag I had used as a scarf, hoping it wouldn't get infected - or that at least I would reach the world of modern medicine soon. I had no choice but to use the rag – otherwise blood would have run into a pool at my feet. Even as it was, my nun's outfit was a mess.
I kept the old book tightly under my left arm, so that my blood would not soil it. I had no idea what it was about, but probably it was some sort of a prayer book, and obviously it was something very valuable, if it was locked into its own glass case. I had no idea what had prompted me to save it, other than the fact that I loved history and books and it had looked so ancient.
My hand throbbed with pain, but eventually the bleeding more or less stopped. I tried to tie the rag tightly around my hand but the cloth was too thick for that. I would have to try to keep it still, to prevent the wound from tearing open again.
I held the visiting card in my teeth until the medical emergency was over. Then I took it in my left hand, being careful not to drop the book under my arm, and took a closer look at the card.
It was tied to my time, or else I would not have ended up in the buffer zone, I figured. Maybe. I wasn't sure, as I did not know about the logic of the anchor-system in time traveling. But as it was all I could use, I would have to try to get back to my own time using it. I could hardly return to the library any more, as it was burning to ashes right now. It was rather strange - if the library had burned in the past, had the two men and I been there to cause it? Or would it have burned anyway? Would the nun in the upstairs corridor have gone down the stairs and seen the men even without me? Would she have reacted to them in the same manner, if I had not been with her, and the men had not made her furious with their remarks about me?
My brain chose the oddest times to try to make sense of this entire time travel thing. I tried to shift my thoughts onto practical matters, such as how the heck to get back to where I should be.
Despite holding the visiting card, I didn't see any strings leaving my right hand. Probably because of the injury, I concluded. So I would need to use my left hand. But I did not want end up in the time when the old book was written. Whenever that was. I wanted to go home, to my own time.
I decided to take off the nun's habit. After a
little effort I managed it, without dropping the visiting card or the book. I wrapped the book and the embroidered bag up in the habit, avoiding the blood-stained parts, negotiated the sleeves and hem into a knot and held it away from my body. I figured I needed to physically touch an "anchor" with my hands to be connected to its place of origin. If my logic was right, I was now safe. I had to use my right hand now, though, and it hurt. I turned my right arm at an angle and supported my right elbow to my waist to be able to carry the bundle. I held the weight of the bundle with my wrist, once I had slipped my hand through the opening under the knot.
I squeezed the visiting card tightly in my left hand and concentrated, trying to empty my mind and feel what ever there was to feel. No one had had time to explain the weaving thing to me, so I had to make do with the only thing that had worked before.
After a while I felt a tug, and slowly a misty ball appeared in the palm of my left hand, and from this two strings reached out. The other one was slightly pink, and the other one... It was strange. It glowed with a sinister, golden glow, but it was black. The strings went to the same direction, though, so I just began to walk where they led me.
At first it was slow going – from what I could gather. Again the sensation of speed came from the mist pressing against my face. Then, suddenly, the black string tightened considerably. And then it began to hurt – it shot out of my palm and fingers with such a speed I felt as if I was holding on to a rope that was running through my fingers with too much speed, burning my skin. The pink string kept flowing as it had, but the black one got tighter and tighter, and it yanked me off my feet. Again I flew in the mist.
My left hand began to tingle painfully – like thousand sharp needle-pricks. I did not like this at all. I tried to put my feet down, to slow the speed, but it was as though the solid "ground" had disappeared and my feet dangled helplessly as if I was in deep water.
Then shadowy forms began to take shape in front of me. My flying slowed, and finally stopped. I felt something solid under my feet again. I stood still and listened. I heard distant talking. Two women.
I took a step closer and stopped again.
"No, she has not been here yet. And I haven't forgotten that I will call you when she arrives, just as we agreed before," the voice of an older woman said.
"Thank you! I want to see her after your consultation! Don't let her leave your shop before I arrive. You have my mobile number, " a young woman's voice chimed. A charming voice, as if silver drops were falling on water.
"You are such a good friend!" the first voice commented enthusiastically, "to help someone who is grieving connect with her departed one on the other side."
"Thank you for saying that!" the younger voice rang like beautiful bells. "I want her to be happy again, and this is probably the only way to help her get over the death of her friend."
I felt a strong urge to step out of the mist and see who the owner of this beautiful voice was, but something stopped me. Call it intuition, if you will. I felt as if I was under a spell – like I was about to do something that deep down I did not want to do.
You'll know the feeling, if you ever did anything stupid as a child as a result of someone else's influence. You trusted them, only to find out you were cheated into doing something that was not good for you. The feeling I had was the slightest whisper of a warning, barely there. I hesitated. Then I thought it would not hurt, if I waited and took stock of the surroundings for a while. My emotions tried to convince me I was wrong to wait, that I should approach that bell-like voice, but I decided to trust my intuition instead.
I inched myself closer, and just as it had been when I had approached the nun's cell, the space formed in front of me. I finally figured out I was looking at the interior of a little shop. There were books and all sorts of little pieces of bric-a-brac for sale. By the cash register was a big crystal ball. On the walls were paintings of tarot cards. The young woman was by the door, opening it, starting to leave after having concluded her business. The older woman, the store owner, probably, stood in the middle of the floor.
I sighed. Indeed I had come to the fortune teller's shop, and into my own time. What a relief!
The older woman turned around.
"What was that? I heard someone sigh... There is a spirit here somewhere!"
I looked around and did not see anything. Then the thought hit me - she had heard me. I froze.
"Are you sure?" the tingling sweet voice of the younger woman came from the doorway.
"Quite sure. It came from over there! I think I saw someone there! Come closer, dear soul! Tell us your message!"
I saw the slightly shadowy figure point directly at me. I quickly took two steps back and the shop almost disappeared from sight. But I did not want to go too far, in case I could not find it again, and stopped.
The young woman let go of the front door and started walking towards me. Her movement was so abrupt and so determined I was shocked. This was not a sweet young woman I was looking at, but something much scarier.
"Show me again!" This time the younger woman's voice was not sweet and nice, but steely and hard. The shop owner flinched, and then pointed again at my direction. I could not see her face, but her body language revealed her insecurity in front of the suddenly changed young woman.
I withdrew myself deeper into the fog. Frantically I searched my pockets to find something, anything that might take me to another location. Nothing. Only the book, and the embroidered bag. And the nun's outfit. The book would take me wherever, and the other objects back to a burning nunnery. I considered whether I could use my own clothing, but I'd probably end up in some Far-Eastern factory if I used them as an anchor.
While I searched, the misty atmosphere changed. It became electric – I felt the electricity raise the hairs on my arms, and I knew the young woman had entered the mist. How she had done it, and who she was, I had no idea. But I suspected she was either some kind of a shadow, or one of those who called themselves Immortals. Or worse still - a Nephilim. I stood dead still, hoping the fog would hide me.
Until I looked down and saw the drops of blood floating on the misty surface, slowly sinking through it. They led like the breadcrumbs of Hans and Gretel, from my feet, towards the direction of the shop.
And then she was in front of me. Her body heat enveloped me pleasantly, revealing what she was.
She was beautiful. Her long blonde shiny hair reached her waist. She was wearing tight jeans and a very expensive looking designer leather jacket. Her makeup was immaculate. Her eyes were beautiful as well; they drew you in and held you captive. The look in the eyes was friendly, and slightly concerned. And they were golden yellow.
"Dana, how glad I am that I finally found you!" she smiled and again I felt the enchantment of her silver voice wrap around my mind.
"Who are you?" I fought the voice. "How do you know my name?"
"You really do not know?" she smiled, arching one of her perfect eyebrows, amused.
"I do not know you," I said. Somehow I felt it would be very dangerous to reveal anything about me to her.
Then I felt her inside my mind, literally. It was as if soft fingers were caressing, soothing, playing with my mind. I could sense the direction they came from, and it was coming from her. If I looked closely, I felt I caught a glimpse of dark tentacles floating through the air, reaching out to touch me...
"Come with me, Dana," she purred. "We'll go home, to the place where you belong."
Belong? How could I belong anywhere with this beautiful, dangerous creature? She was certainly not talking about my own home. I felt her mental fingers rummage through my mind and then they touched a place that caused a reaction. The probing stopped. The... tentacles, or whatever they were, could not go past that point. I concentrated on that spot and realised I was not quite as soft as she – and I – had taken me for. I felt anger resisting her touch there, and great strength.
"I'm going nowhere with you," I surprised myself by saying it calmly, from
this newly found center of my mind. I even found the strength to become flippant. "Didn't your parents ever warn you about going off with strangers, however charming they were?"
She twitched at my resistance. I felt her try again; her persuasion flowed into my mind and tried to convince me I should trust her. Her only problem was that I had always hated being told what I should do against my will. I felt my resolution get even stronger.
"No. I repeat, I'm going nowhere with you!"
"You - you dare to resist me?" she asked in an unbelieving tone.
"I have no good reason to follow you anywhere, whatever you think you are!" my voice trembled ever so slightly.
"Oh but we are alike," she purred, now clearly amused. "We are so alike, Dana!" I did not understand what she meant."Yes, we are both here in the buffer zone, that much is correct. But I don't like you, and I will not follow you anywhere. Goodbye!"
I took a step away from her, only to find she was already standing behind me. I turned to face her again. The mist was swirling like a storm around me now, proving me she had moved physically and not just beamed there star-trek-style.
"If you will not come voluntarily, I'll bring you in by other means. By any means at my command."
At that she changed. Her voice had taken on a unnerving and powerful tone. She was just as beautiful as before, but her expression turned into something icy. Her eyes were not glowing with warmth anymore. Instead they were like two piercing yellow flames. Her mouth opened into a humorless smile, and I stared at her sharp teeth. She licked her upper lip with her pretty, pink tongue. And then she opened her wings.
They were beautiful – the darkest shade of grey, with golden light pulsing in them. Like thunderclouds with lightning flashing in their midst.