by D. N. Leo
Ciaran understood. She had told him that was her gateway connection. He was of no help when it came to paranormal matters. But he had an absolute advantage if helping Madeline required him to operate technology.
She took her wrist unit off. As soon as it left her wrist, the screen went blank. When he turned it on again, it asked for verification. He was about to press her thumb on the screen, thinking any verification system would ask for the owner’s thumbprint. But then he remembered what Madeline had told him about their future together. If there was a system that recognized her, it ought to recognize him.
Ciaran pressed his thumb on the verification screen. The small machine hummed for a second, vibrated, and then pinged. The screen said, Ciaran LeBlanc, Sciphil Three, king of Eudaiz. Full access granted.
King? He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. He’d ask her about that later, but he needed to save her first. He flicked through a few screens. He could see the communication function was off, and that was why she couldn’t reconnect with her people. He studied the emergency screen then entered a few commands—a wild guess on his part—and executed them. The unit issued a square medical patch similar to the one Madeline had asked him to apply to his neck.
He took the patch and snapped it to her neck.
To his relief, Madeline stopped gasping for air. In no time, she resumed her normal breathing. Although still groggy, she smiled at him. Ciaran kissed her forehead. Then he withdrew his hand from her face when he realized he was rubbing his thumb on the dimple on her left cheek.
“You've been cursed, or voodooized,” Alex said.
Ciaran shook his head. “That’s another theory of yours?”
“What else could it be?”
Ciaran looked at Alex. “First, we couldn’t find the Red Widow. Second, the zodiac trap. And now, voodoo practice? I have no substantial knowledge in any of these areas. Your dog pointed me to the wrist unit, the use of technology. There’s nothing magical about that. The unit must have connected to Madeline’s system and provided her with vital extraterrestrial energy. It fixed a problem that looked something like asthma.”
“I don’t have asthma, Ciaran. I’m afraid Alex might be right. I know it goes against your beliefs at this period of time. But later, you’ll be more open-minded about other worlds and magical matters.”
Ciaran helped her sit up. He still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Assuming I accept your theory, Alex, where does that leave us? Madeline, you said the reason for all this is because you came here to stop a magical creature from marking me in this time and killing me in the future. But it appears we were all attacked. Not just me.”
“We figured out that we share the Aries sign,” Alex said.
“A large population of humans were born between March and April, Alex,” Ciaran said.
Alex crouched and flicked his fingers, calling the dog.
“If your intention now, just to be humorous, is to ask the dog for his birthday, it’s still circumstantial—even if he was born between March and April,” Ciaran growled.
“All I can do now is laugh at the situation. I want to get back to my wife as much as Madeline wants to sort this out and return to you as her husband in the future. I’m sure she’d rather be there than here with you as a less-than-pseudo boyfriend. But to do that, Ciaran, you will need to be open to new and different ideas and consider all possible explanations and theories.” Alex began to pace again.
Madeline stood up. “Take it easy, Alex. We’ll get there. We’ve seen many things in the multiverse. Ciaran, at his stage now, hasn’t seen any of those things.”
“Well, he’s going to start seeing them now. He’ll have to accept it.”
“All right, let’s be efficient,” said Ciaran. “I don’t have another explanation, so I’ll accept yours, Alex. I’ll accept that it’s voodoo. So why Madeline, and what should we do next? If we take Madeline to the cross zone that I know of, would that help? Would she be able to reconnect with her people in Eudaiz?”
Alex shook his head. “The Red Widow. We have to find her. She is the connection between everything. Now that she’s started to use voodoo, it won’t be possible for Madeline to reconnect with her people, or even get back to where she came from. Dark magic with voodoo has no boundaries. If it wants her, the only way to escape is to find and kill whoever is practicing that magic.”
Chapter 22
Dorset—England, 1348
Alex looked out at the filthy water where boats moved in and out to trade in the port. He loved this town, not only because he had grown up here, but because his family had lived here for generations. They weren’t nobility, but they were respected in the community. He had worked his way up to the rank of officer, and one day, with his position, he hoped to find a good wife.
He knew his chief commander accepted bribes from those on the French ships, and that bothered him a lot. He wanted to report the shady practice to a higher authority, but he knew they were all corrupt.
Just now, he had seen his commander accepting another bag of gold. Maybe if he could obtain the gold as evidence, he could notify the authorities. He might have to travel to London to do that, but this corruption had to stop.
He went back to the chief’s station, where he saw a couple standing outside, arguing. They looked different. Their manner, voices, and clothes were strange. He sneaked up behind them, hiding behind the wine barrels, and listened.
“I have to kill him. I have to stop this! I can stop the Black Death,” the man said, pacing back and forth.
The woman shook her head. “You’re talking about two different things. Yes, you can kill this man, Arik. But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop the plague. The plague is—it was—something that happened. It’s a fact we know. If you kill him, the plague will still happen, but by causes unknown to us. Or a pandemic worse than the plague might occur. Do you want to be responsible for that?”
“I time traveled for a reason. I was sent here for a reason, Madeline. Millions of people will die if I do nothing. True, something worse might happen if I try to stop this. But that’s just speculation, isn’t it? What if whatever happens in place of the plague is a lesser threat?”
“To repeat your point, Arik, that’s speculation. We either deal with fact, or we deal with speculation. I prefer to stick with the facts. We know what happened in the past, and we’ll find a solution to deal with it in the future. I don’t like the idea of us taking chances shooting at moving goal posts.”
“So you expect me to do nothing? I’m sure I’ve killed before. I’m sure that whenever I traveled to the past, I was sent to places at exactly the times when significant things were about to happen. I know I would have done something about it.”
“And then what?”
“When I come back to the present, I remember nothing. I think I forget for a reason.”
“Oh, so now you think you’re some kind of vigilante who can take matters into his own hands and doesn’t have to face the consequences of what he does?”
“For your information, I cop the consequences big time. Whenever I come back, I don’t remember what I did or where I went. But I always know I have blood on my hands, regardless of whose it is. You tell me—remembering or not remembering… which one is worse?”
He slammed his palms against the wall outside the trading station.
“You were alone before. But this time, you’re with me. And I can remember.”
“How?”
“I’m only half human. Ciaran must have told you that.”
“I know now.”
“I’m a psychic, a mind reader, and a mind tracker. Now you know that, too. My mind doesn’t work the same way as yours. I do remember, and I’ll tell you when we get back whether you killed someone or changed the course of history. I’ll tell you if you caused something worse to happen.”
“Really?”
“Yes. So do you think you can stop yourself from killing this time?”
He nodded.
They heard a crash and then a cry from inside the station. Madeline peeked through a small gap in the wooden wall.
Then the man called Arik stormed inside the station. The woman, Madeline, followed. Alex didn’t quite understand what they had said. He needed time to think. So he waited.
A half-naked girl ran out of the station. His blood boiled. His commander had raped another underprivileged girl. Then, a short moment later, he heard his chief cry out. Madeline and Arik exited the station, walked for few steps, and vanished into thin air.
Alex shook his head. The smell of cheap wine and raw meat from the back of the station at the port still engulfed him, so he didn’t need to pinch himself to know this wasn’t a dream. He quickly sneaked into the station from the back.
Inside, his commander stood in shock. His face was covered in blood, and his right hand had been cut off. The gold coins he had taken as bribes were scattered on the table. He looked like he wanted to say something to Alex, but no words escaped his mouth.
Alex went over, grabbed all the coins, and put them back in the bag. “I’m reporting you for taking bribes, chief,” he said.
“Alexander…I’ll kill you.” The old man rushed after him and grabbed his shirt. With the hand he had left, he swung a knife at Alex. Alex grabbed the knife easily and turned it so that it stabbed deep into the old man’s throat. Blood spurted out.
He heard a noise at the door. The guards had returned from the port.
He knew what it looked like. They would think he had just killed his commander-in-charge to steal the gold. The guards wouldn’t understand. No one would believe him. He swung a kick at the first guard, pushing him back onto the other. They toppled like dominos.
Alex charged out of the station with the bag of gold in his hands. He ran for days—or maybe longer than that—until he couldn’t run anymore.
Chapter 23
“Did you get me anything useful?” Egon hissed at Frida when she walked into the room of the small cottage outside Windsor where they often secretly met.
“I don’t like your tone.”
“That won’t matter when you’re dead.”
“There’s no need to be rude. You had only one task, and that was to keep my sister safe—and you failed. So don’t raise your voice at me.”
Egon raised his hands, seeking a truce. He paced back and forth in the small room, making the wooden floor creak.
“If you stomp around here any longer, the walls and the floor will crumble, Egon. You’re giving me a headache.”
“You no longer get headaches. You’re not human anymore. You think I don’t know you’ve traded your soul?”
Frida smiled. “I’m impressed. Now you know you’d better not make me angry. Even a vampire like you has a soul, and I know you wouldn’t want to trade it at any price.” She approached him, tracing a finger along his broad shoulder. “But whether I have a soul or not, I still care about my sister as much as you do.”
“Margaret would never accept this.”
“Accept what? What I have become is my choice. She’s in no position to judge.”
“She never judges you.”
“But you do!”
He shook his head and turned away, looking out the window. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Agreed. So let’s cut to the chase. I’ve injured the Red Widow. She had indeed captured Alexander, hoping to amass an army to fight us. But she failed. The human who was with Margaret when she was attacked is indeed just a human. We have no worries where he is concerned. But we have to keep an eye on Madeline. She seemed to have some sort of power that revived the human who was nearly dead.”
“Like the way we turn people into vampires?”
“Yes, in a way, but she turned him into something else. I think what she has could be quite useful. So I let her live.”
“So did you get Alexander or not?”
“I got him, but I’m not sure we got the right Alexander. He doesn’t seem to remember a thing about his past. I’ll let them work out their connections together, and then I’ll go in. As for now, I’m going to focus on finding Margaret. Apart from whining and blaming, what have you done, Egon?”
“I killed Margaret’s soul guardian.” He turned, smirking, and looked at Frida. “If that counts.”
Frida shifted uneasily. She had always wanted to be a soul trader and had been trying for years. Once she became one, she would be strong and powerful enough to handle any creature’s soul if she could acquire it. But Egon had one thing she didn’t—experience. If it were that easy to become a soul trader, every creature in the multiverse would have become one.
“I get your point. You’re capable of killing a soul trader.” She smiled. “Very impressive. But why kill her?”
“She gave out Margaret’s location. That’s how they captured her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet. But it’s not the Red Widow. Otherwise, we would have heard.”
Frida nodded. “Yes, indeed. Well, that’s all the information I have for you for now. I’d better get back to work.” She turned and sauntered toward the door.
Egon leaped at her from behind. He grabbed her and held her tightly. Even if she had a weapon, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t have a free hand with which to use it.
His nose flared as he took in her scent.
“I didn’t want to do this, but you forced me, Frida.”
“You know the consequence of killing a soul trader.”
“I told you I just killed one. Killing a second will make no difference. But instead of drinking your blood, I’m offering to turn you. Do you want to take the chance I’m giving you?”
“Yes, yes, please turn me.”
He chuckled. “Good girl. I like when you beg.” He squeezed her harder.
“Please!”
He rubbed one hand up and down her torso, the other still tight around her throat. “I do want to turn you. But I will get some pleasure from you before I do. Will you give me pleasure?”
She cried. “Do whatever you want!”
“Good. Very good.” He kissed the nape of her neck then grazed his fangs along her flesh, leaving a bloody trail on her broken skin. Then he bit her jugular and ripped it out. He let her body collapse to the floor. As she lay there, gasping her last breath, he told her, “You’re nowhere near as pure as your sister. You are in no position to compare yourself to her. It’s an embarrassment to her to be related to you. Even if you gave yourself to me for free, I wouldn’t take you.”
“I know…where…she is… Save me…”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I’ll tell you…”
Egon thought a moment. He had no intention of saving her, so he said, “All right, if you tell me the truth, I’ll spare your life.”
“She…is…”
Egon bent down to listen, but Frida spoke no more words. A puff of silver dust came out of her mouth and went straight into Egon’s eyes. There was an explosion in his brain. The pain and the dust blinded him. He roared. He grabbed her—he didn’t know where—and tore her to pieces.
The pain didn’t subside. His sight didn’t come back. He scrambled to his feet and ran blindly ahead. He stumbled around, bumping into walls and fences and rocks. The pain was unbearable. He needed help. He kept running until he heard water then dove into the icy stream, hoping to wash the dust from his eyes. As a vampire, he didn’t need to breathe, so he stayed under the water for a long time.
After a while, the intense pain eased, but Egon came to a new reality. His eyesight wasn’t coming back.
Chapter 24
England, 1348
Alex landed with a thud on the soft ground outside the mansion on the outskirts of Yorkshire county. It was a country house and winery where the duke spent time during the summer. His contact had told him the duke had made an exception to come here to meet with Alex in person. Alex had been to York only a few times, and he’d disliked every second of
those visits.
He shook his head. He was overthinking, as always. He focused on a small door which led to a chamber where the meeting was to take place. His contact had left a small candle in the window, a sign of welcome. He pushed the door open and walked in. But instead of seeing his contact and the duke, he saw a magnificent woman dressed in a long red gown sitting graciously on a chair. Her servants flanked her, weapons drawn.
He didn’t attempt to withdraw from the room because he knew other guards and servants had already covered the exit.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked.
“Alexander Junior Milford, my lady.”
The woman smiled. “I am Lady Lilidale, the duke’s widow.”
“My condolences, my lady.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “He died a long time ago. I’m used to his absence.”
Alex’s informant had charged him a fortune for this meeting with the duke but obviously did not have up-to-date information. Even if he shared his story with this woman, the information wouldn’t get to court, wouldn’t be heard, and justice would never be served.
Why bother? He sighed.
“I am told you are a fugitive.”
“No, my lady. I’m here to make a case for myself. I would like to be heard and see justice served.”
She smiled. “I understand. My husband died, and I am now in charge. What is your case?”
He hesitated. He knew nothing about this lady. “Thank you, my lady. I didn’t expect to be heard so soon, and I’m unprepared. If you give me some time, I’ll put the story in writing for you. That will make the presentation to the court a lot easier.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I do, my lady. I only need time to prepare.”
“Let me help you remember.” She flicked her fingers, and the guards by her side charged at him. Alex drew his knife but had no confidence he would survive the attack. He took down a guard before he felt the sharp pain of a blade penetrating his side. He swung his knife, cutting off someone’s arm. He had no idea to whom it belonged. Then his world started to blur.