Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery (Out of Time #1)

by Monique Martin

  “You were always free to leave,” he said.

  Despite the voice in her head screaming for her to run, to run and never look back, there was a chorus of other voices asking questions, questions she and Simon had spent years trying to answer.

  She looked at King and said the only thing she could. “I’m sorry.”

  His back straightened. “I didn’t tell you this for pity.”

  “Why did you tell me?”

  He regarded her calmly. “Because it’s what I am.”

  “But why me?”

  He walked over to her, and she somehow managed to stand her ground. He stroked her cheek with his gloved hand. “How does any man answer that question? You are an amazing woman.”

  She tried not to shrink back from his touch. “I don’t understand.”

  He smiled enigmatically and stepped back. “I don’t suppose you do. Yet.”

  Her head was throbbing and his cryptic answers weren’t helping any. She ran a hand over her forehead and massaged her temple. She had the beginnings of one hell of a headache.

  He pulled a watch chain from his pocket. “It’s late, and you’re obviously tired,” he said, once again the well-mannered host. “We can continue this another time.”

  “You’re letting me go?”

  “I told you that you were always free to go.”

  There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. “And you won’t hurt anyone. Simon or Charlie?”

  “That’s up to you. Every action has a consequence.”

  She could leave, but he’d know every move she made, and Simon would pay the price. “So, I’m not really free at all, am I?”

  “We’re all bound by the choices we make,” he said and reached into his breast pocket. “I don’t think you’d want to leave town without this.” He held out his hand, and resting in his palm was Simon’s scarab ring.

  She felt her stomach drop. “Where did you get that?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he said and held it up to the light. “Very unusual. One of a kind?”

  “That doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Oh, I think it does. But I am curious. How did you come by it?”

  “A family heirloom, and I’d appreciate it if you’d give it back to me,” she said and held out her hand.

  “Perhaps,” he said and slipped it back into his pocket. “In time. As I said, I’m a patient man.”

  And one who had, literally, all the time in the world.

  ~~~

  Simon leaned on the far end of the bar and stared down at his clenched fists. It had taken all of Charlie’s strength to keep him from forcing his way out into the night and blindly banging on doors until he found King. He knew it would have been useless, but anything had to be better than waiting. He’d spent the first two hours pacing in the back room, until the walls started to close in. Being in the bar was no better. Every time someone laughed he wanted to cram it back down their throat. Every minute that scratched by took another layer of skin. Every glass of whiskey that passed over the bar called his name. He ached for a drink, anything to blur the horrific images that cluttered his mind.

  A vampire. His worst suspicions confirmed. Elizabeth was with the creature and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but wait. He clenched his fist until the knuckles strained white. Useless. Bloody useless. He wanted to rage, to hit something until his hands were as raw as he felt inside.

  A man shouldered up to the bar and tapped Simon on the shoulder. “Ain’t ya gonna play or what?”

  Simon blinked a few times and then turned to the man with a withering gaze.

  Charlie interrupted before things got worse. “Ankle it. Go on. Get,” he grunted and pulled the man forcibly by the lapels away from Simon. “Sorry ’bout that, Professor.”

  One more hour. He’d give her one more hour to return, then he’d take the city apart brick by brick till he found her. Charlie’s assurances that if King wanted to hurt Elizabeth he’d have already done it weren’t comforting. Going in half-cocked and getting himself killed wouldn’t help her either. Damn it. There had to be something he could do.

  If only he’d been more careful with the watch. If he’d only pushed her away when the light had enveloped him. If only. A thousand chances to keep her out of harm’s way, each one missed. Each missed opportunity had brought her a step closer to him, and the death his very presence would inevitably bring. Or had it already? Was she…?

  He pushed that thought aside ferociously. No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. It was his fate to watch. He knew that as surely as anything. When the time came, he’d bear witness to it. He took morose comfort in the thought. A drowning man will grasp even the blade of a sword.

  There had to be something he could do, some way to protect her. Was he so pathetic as to let fate wrench away the only thing that meant anything to him without a fight? He’d spent years studying the bloody things. They had weaknesses. King had to have a weakness.

  Vampires could be destroyed, he knew that much. They were strong, but not invincible. He needed weapons, tools, something, anything. If King harmed one hair on Elizabeth’s head, he’d kill him with his bare hands if he had to.

  “Professor?”

  Simon looked at Charlie expecting to see the same haggard, worried face he’d seen for the last few hours.

  “Told ya,” Charlie said, grinning from ear to ear. He mopped his brow with the bar rag and nodded toward the door. “She’s back.”

  Simon turned and Elizabeth was standing in the doorway. She looked tired and pale, and more beautiful than ever. He strode across the bar, one step behind his heart, and gathered her into his arms in a crushing embrace.

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  He pulled back to look into her eyes. He needed to see her face to be sure.

  “Really,” she said with a small smile.

  His hands cupped her cheeks as he searched her eyes. Her skin was warm, alive, but even that reassurance didn’t stop him from sliding them down her neck.

  She pulled away and looked at him accusingly. “What are you doing?”

  “I had to be sure.”

  Her brow shot up. “You know?”

  “Charlie told me.”

  She pulled back, her eyes clouded with confusion and betrayal. “Charlie knows?”

  “Lizzy!” Charlie said.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Simon whispered, before Charlie pulled her into a bear hug. Her body tensed as Charlie held her arms.

  “You look all right,” Charlie said, as he held her at arm’s length. “I was so worried, thought I might have kittens.”

  “I’m all right, just tired,” she said wriggling out of his embrace.

  Charlie stood awkwardly for a moment still holding her arm. “Sure. Course ya are.”

  “We’re going home,” Simon said and eased her out of Charlie’s grasp.

  “Right. Yeah,” Charlie said, and smiled at Elizabeth. “Sure glad you’re okay, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth nodded, her eyes glinting with mistrust, and slipped her hand into Simon’s. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  ~~~

  Simon hurried them along the dark streets. As much as he wanted to know what had happened, he needed to feel she was safe, and their little flat was as close as he could get.

  Once they were home, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her chest. Simon came up behind her, and she jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

  She turned and smiled, shaking her head. “It’s okay. I’m just a little jumpy.”

  He nodded, trying to hold back the torrent of questions he had, giving her the space she needed, but it was killing him to do it.

  Elizabeth sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the far wall before looking up at him.

  “Charlie knew? This whole time?”

  Simon shook his head and sat down next to her. “I think I understand
his reasons, but that’s not important right now.”

  He took her hand in his, warm and human, thank God. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, a frown wrinkling her brow.

  Simon tried to steal himself for the worst. She didn’t appear to be injured, but she was clearly in shock. His mind reeled with possibilities, each more horror-filled than the last.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but paused.

  “Did he…Did he touch you?”

  “No,” she answered quickly, and Simon felt one of the fists that clenched his heart ease its grip, but he had to be sure. He looked at her closely, into her eyes for any hint of something hiding from him.

  She smiled sympathetically, patiently—his Elizabeth through and through.

  “I’m fine, really. Freaked out, but fine.”

  Finally, Simon’s heart began to slow.

  “He was a perfect gentleman,” she said with a bitter laugh, “when he wasn’t threatening you or Charlie.”

  Slowly, she told him everything. She didn’t know where she’d been taken. The limousine had curtains in the back, and they’d remained closed for the trip. Judging from the distance she’d traveled, she guessed it was somewhere uptown, but couldn’t be more specific than that. She described the lavish apartment and recounted the details of King’s change with chilling precision. The academic part of Simon’s brain catalogued each detail of the creature’s appearance, while all his heart wanted to do was to tell her to stop, to blot out the last twenty-hours and spirit her away.

  She told him all she could remember of their conversations, including the chilling revelation that King had been not only following them, but actively investigating them. Who knew what, besides his grandfather’s ring, King had gotten from Smitty at the pawnshop. Simon tried to remember the scene to see if they’d inadvertently let any telling details slip.

  “I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” she said finally. “It’s only a week until the eclipse.”

  “Too much can happen in a week,” Simon said, as he pushed off the bed and started to pace.

  “What else can we do?” she asked, and then quickly read his expression. “We can’t leave. He’ll follow us.”

  He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Have I mentioned how much I hate this?”

  “I know,” she said. “And I’m so sorry about your grandfather’s ring.”

  Simon dismissed it, but there was something very troubling about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps King had taken it as tangible proof of his knowledge about them.

  “It’s not important,” he said. “We’ll find some protection tomorrow. Go to St. Patrick’s and get supplies—holy water, crosses.”

  He didn’t actually put much stock in the idea of religious icons affording them protection, but if there was even the slightest chance they might help, he’d get them.

  “I don’t remember reading about any accounts of vampires that quite match your description,” Simon said, his need to categorize and analyze giving him a respite from the helplessness he felt. “The veins are somewhat similar to the Danag of the Philippines, but the eyes are all wrong.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Maybe having a soul mutated him somehow?”

  “Perhaps. You don’t remember any particular odors?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Some species give off a slight metallic scent. Some attribute it to the blood they’d consumed. Ancient alchemists, believed that if you could find the proper ore, you could forge a weapon to kill them.”

  “You don’t see a lot of forges on the lower east side.”

  “No,” he said with a small grin. “But I’m sure there are factories not far away. It’s something to consider. Silver shouldn’t be that hard to find, although I doubt we could afford very much.”

  “And we’re not even sure it would do any good.”

  “No,” he said with a sigh.

  Elizabeth stood and crossed the room toward him. She slipped her arms around his waist. “At least we know now. No more guessing. And, upside, we found the proof you’ve been looking for.”

  He looked down at her. “It found us.”

  He pulled her closer. His lifelong ambition had been achieved, and he would have given anything for it not to be so.

  “Your grandfather was a brave man,” she said.

  Simon smiled. He was, and in ways Simon had never known.

  The stuff of nightmares was real. And, he thought as he looked down at Elizabeth, it wanted her.

  Simon pulled her closer. He would not let that happen. Whatever the cost, whatever it took, he’d find a way to protect her. Find a way to bring them home.

  “It will be all right,” he said, praying it was true and fearing it wasn’t. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “DOESN’T STEALING IT DE-holy it or something?” Elizabeth whispered, as they dipped another vial into the shallow holy water font. She wasn’t religious, but pilfering from a church couldn’t be good.

  “Shhh,” Simon urged with a nervous look around.

  Old St. Patrick’s was a heavily frequented church. They’d almost been caught twice by people passing by on their way to pray.

  “Can I help you?” said a familiar voice with an unmistakable Irish lilt.

  Oh boy. “Father,” Elizabeth said as she turned around.

  “And what exactly would you be needin’ with the entire day’s holy water?”

  “It’s a funny story really.”

  “Oh, is it now?”

  “Not exactly haha-funny, but…Tell him Simon,” she said with a nudge to his ribs.

  Simon rolled his eyes and recapped the small vial. “I don’t expect you to understand or even believe me, but we need this to fight a vampire.”

  Elizabeth dropped her vial. “Sorry,” she said and scrambled to pick it up. So much for subterfuge.

  Father Cavanaugh sighed and nodded. “I see. Perhaps we should continue this in the back?” he said, and gestured to a door in the rear of the church.

  Softly murmured prayers filled the silence. As she watched Father Cavanaugh and Simon whispered something to each other, she realized what it was. It was secrets. Everyone there always seemed to know something she didn’t. For all her conviction, for all her words about believing being enough, a part of her always questioned, always doubted. She wasn’t raised in any particular religion and for the first time she envied those who were. She looked up at the brilliant sunlight streaming through the stained glass. How comforting it would be right now to give herself over to an all-knowing something.

  “Elizabeth?” Simon said, pulling her from her tangled thoughts.

  “Coming.”

  They followed Father Cavanaugh into a small back room. Cherrywood cabinets and a shining metal drum, like a water dispenser, lined the far wall. The father gestured to a beaten leather couch.

  “You’ve some experience with vampires?” Simon said in a very businesslike way, as if he asked the question every day.

  The father nodded.

  “I thought as much.”

  Father Cavanaugh pulled up a rickety wooden chair and sat down. “And it seems, so do you.”

  Simon’s expression was deadly serious, emphasis on deadly. “What can you tell me?”

  “A man of few words, I see. I respect that, but may I beg a little indulgence? I’m an old man and prone to ramble on a bit, I’m afraid,” he said with a wink at Elizabeth.

  Normally, Elizabeth would have been charmed by the father’s easy-going, folksy tone, but she was angry. Angry that everyone, including people she’d trusted had known what King was, how dangerous he was and hadn’t said anything. What other secrets were they keeping?

  Next to her, she could feel Simon tense, even as he leaned back against the cushions. “Of course.”

  The father inclined his head and then turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Wh
at have ya seen, lass?”

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  “A demon is always drawn to the innocent.”

  She laughed nervously. “I’m not exactly what you’d call innocent, but thank you.”

  The priest leaned forward in his chair. “It’s a purity of the heart they seek. To sully the unsullied.”

  Simon grunted and shifted in his seat.

  “And if they have a soul?” Elizabeth asked.

  The father rocked back in his chair. “I see.”

  “Well, I bloody well don’t,” Simon ground out. “Soul or not. What difference does it make?”

  “Every soul is worth saving.”

  “Not this one,” Simon said. His voice was cold, edged with a crisp finality. Simon Cross, judge and jury. No appeals.

  The father settled back in his chair and clasped his hands. “And why would that be?”

  “He’s after my wife.”

  Elizabeth felt a thrill at the words. Sure, it was a fib, but she felt like his wife, or what she imagined it would feel like.

  The priest smiled genially. “Coveting your neighbor’s wife is a sin, but hardly reason enough to be kept from Heaven.”

  “Murder, extortion. You can take your pick of sins. And honestly, I don’t care,” Simon said. “I didn’t come here to find a way to save a man I’d just as soon see dead.”

  Despite knowing how he felt, to hear the cold conviction in his voice shocked her. “Simon.”

  If Father Cavanaugh was insulted he didn’t show it. His placid face betrayed nothing. “Why did you come here? Aside from liberating some of my holy water?”

  Elizabeth spoke up before Simon could. “That’s all we came for, but now that we’re here, maybe you can help us?”

  Simon shifted impatiently in his seat and Elizabeth quickly continued before he said something insulting. “We know a little bit, but our practical experience is, well, different.”

  “And what experience is that, child?”

  “King. I guess you’ve probably heard about him.”