[Through Time 02.0] Whiplash

by Claudy Conn

  “Ah … and your mission is to find and stop him.”

  “A quick study,” Trevor said, coating the sarcasm with a winning grin.

  She ignored this and said, “Okay, Royal, so it wasn’t Pestale who has escaped—”

  “Yet,” he stuck in.

  “Right, yet, but a brother of his, Hordly, but this Hordly seems like he’s more interested in playing around than taking over the world.”

  “He is amusing himself until he can find a way out, nothing more. His purpose is very clear,” Trevor answered her grimly.

  The next thing she knew, his arm was around her waist. Just before he shifted them, he touched her chin with one finger and murmured, “Don’t worry, Jazmine Decker, I will allow no harm to come to you.” Then they were traveling through space so fast that as she blinked they touched ground.

  This time, she found herself still in his hold as they stood in a small village tavern, surrounded by locals.

  The building was constructed of hardwood, its rafters of thick, round logs. A long mahogany counter that was well worn and yet well polished ran along part of one wall. Oak logs that stretched from the low ceiling to the wood floor made serviceable partitions for the many round tables that filled the huge chamber.

  Jazz stepped away from him as she looked at the crowd of men, a mixture of peasants, gentry, and farmers, seemingly all bent on forgetting the hardships of the day as they enjoyed their food and drink. She couldn’t help but marvel to herself. She was standing in the past, watching history—1816, in fact. She had always thought she would like to live in the past; now that she was there, she wasn’t so sure. Ironic.

  As Hordly was not present, she looked up at the Fae hunk who had reached for and was holding her hand and said, “Now what?”

  “You are forever asking that question.” He gave her a rueful smile. “It may appear to you that I am all-knowing, but the sorry fact is that I am not. Capable, aye, but not all-knowing.” He sighed. “I suppose we play this one by ear. Come—we are invisible to this crowd.”

  He pulled her along and saw her seated at a table in the darkest corner of the room. He pulled her chair close to his as he sat beside her so that their backs were against the wall and they had a view of the front double doors.

  Jazz again looked up at him, and as their eyes met, something happened to her. She felt it whiz through her system, a sudden ‘feeling’ she could not explain, and that feeling was a connection. She felt connected to him.

  She couldn’t explain it, didn’t know how it was, but it slammed into her head and stared down all other considerations. It was as though a fully charged wire reached out of her heart, wrapped itself around him, and returned to wrap itself around her. He felt it—she saw that he felt what she felt.

  He bent his head in that one electric moment, and she was sure he was going to kiss her. She suddenly needed his kiss, wanted his kiss, and she waited for that kiss. She felt a tingle of anticipation, so sure he had bent to kiss her!

  Regarding her as though he were looking at a madwoman, he said, “Jazmine Decker, your breathing is irregular—are you unwell?”

  She realized he had bent not to kiss her ready and pursed lips but to adjust his sandals.

  * * *

  Okie dokie, that soaked her in frigid water. This was trouble. She had to admit she had a thing for him. She didn’t know what kind of thing, but definitely a thing. She cleared her throat and tried to make idle conversation. “If we are invisible, how come no one tries to sit at this table?”

  “They don’t see the table,” he answered simply.

  “Huh,” she said and digested this. He was not looking at her but seemed to be intent on studying the entrance.

  She grimaced at him as she tried to recapture her sense of self, tell herself that, sure, he was the most attractive male on the planet, but what did she care? It was all in her head, she told herself. Sure, he was a hunk parading his muscular, naked self without a care, sporting abs she wanted to run a hand over, and stop it!

  She had to remember that he was a Royal Fae and she was a Fios.

  No way could there be a link between them. Just wasn’t happening. Never could be any kind of link …

  How could there be? She was just giving in to a very normal, red-blooded instinct to touch a hunk of a male. It was nothing more.

  She thought of her friend Tammy whispering, urging her in her ear, Go for it, girl! Take that hunk and have your way.

  This made her break out in sudden, irrepressible laughter. Nerves, she knew it was nerves. So much to absorb, too much, and it left only one thing to do: laugh until her tummy hurt. She couldn’t stop and knew he was regarding her with open concern.

  She managed to talk herself steady and got it under control. She was talking to herself in her head, she knew, but when she snapped her fingers across her face with attitude, she realized how very disturbed she had become over this new problem, and how very disturbed she must appear to him.

  He eyed her as though she really had lost her mind. She couldn’t blame him. She had just been laughing uncontrollably and was now snapping her fingers while she had a conversation with herself in her head. No wonder he was really convinced she was a loon.

  This nearly made her burst out with mirth again, but she managed to control herself.

  Perfectly understandable, she told herself. After all, she had been sucked into 1816 with a Royal Fae. She had encountered an evil, oh so hot, but evil, very evil, Dark Fae named Hordly, and her senior group would be waiting for her in the morning. This thought made the giggles return, but after a few choked sounds, she had it back under control.

  She saw his gold eyes watching her as she bent over with rollicking laughter once more. She saw him patiently waiting for her to stop before he took her chin and looked into her eyes. Then he said, as though he were speaking to a child, “There, there, Jazmine Decker. I don’t mean to allow any harm to come to you.”

  She had to look away because she knew he was being kind and trying to comfort her, and she didn’t want to laugh right in his face, which seemed a real possibility.

  She managed to glance away and studied the men and women in the local tavern. Her mind took it all in and got control of her nerves. She had to face the fact that she had been transported to the past. Here she was in 1816, unless of course she was unconscious in a hospital and making all this up in her mind?

  She could hear men talking about one of their own not being ‘right’ after Waterloo. His body evidently had survived but not his mind. She heard another talking about purchasing a cow from a farmer having troubles down the road. These were not restoration actors; these were real people talking about real problems, real life.

  She pinched Trevor, and he released a growl. “Why did you do that?”

  “Wanted to see if you were real,” she answered.

  He said nothing to this but shook his head, and she returned to studying the occupants of the tavern.

  The men for the most part were in shirtsleeves, well-worn leather vests, breeches, and boots. A few well-dressed men strolled in and joined a group of what she assumed were local gentry at a far table. She loved historical romances and had read enough to know that the superfine cutaways of dark colors and waistcoats had replaced the colorful, bright satins of the 1700s. She was really in 1816. It was a movie playing right before her eyes. Gone were the wigs, as men in 1816 wore their unpowdered hair either tied back or cut short. She watched it all unfold before her with avid interest.

  Trevor spoke to her, his very fine brows drawn together. “By Danu, Fios, you are making some very odd noises.”

  She realized she was oohing and aahing and felt a giggle begin to return. She suppressed it. “The style of dress … the manners … everything,” she answered. “We damn well are in the past. We really are.” She eyed his naked chest suddenly and asked, “Aren’t you cold? Shouldn’t you cover up?”

  “No, we Fae regulate our temperature to accommodate the conditions in whi
ch we find ourselves. Why, are you?”

  “Yes, a little,” she said, hugging her arms around herself. Evening had descended, and they weren’t close enough to the enormous fire at the far wall for her to catch any benefit. They were invisible to everyone who came in, yes, but she was not unaffected by the conditions.

  His lashes moved almost imperceptibly, and she was covered in a lovely dark knit shawl. “Better?” he asked.

  “Where did that come from?” She laughed. “That was quick knitting.”

  He seemed pleased with himself. “I brought it with a thought from the shop down the avenue.”

  “Huh? Oh no—did you leave money in exchange for it?”

  “I left a gold piece. I think that will do,” he answered blithely.

  “Then, I will allow that was really well done.”

  “Of course,” he said impatiently.

  “Oh, you are such a … a …” She gave it up.

  “Red enjoys humans, but I have yet to understand why.”

  “Again with this princess of yours. Are you in love with her?”

  He choked on a cough. “May I be struck down before ever that could happen. No. We don’t agree on politics—in fact, there are a great number of things we don’t agree on—but even so she is amongst my dearest friends. She is also now wife to Chancemont LeBlanc, the Milesian.”

  “Ah, you mentioned him, Lana’s brother,” Jazz said, putting everything together. She sighed. “Why don’t you blink us some clothing of the time, and then we wouldn’t have to be invisible and could ask the locals a few questions—”

  He cut her off. “We must not do anything to upset the balance of this time. We shall stay invisible and hope that Hordly’s intrusion will do no harm.” He glanced around.

  “That’s too bad, because if we could question some of the locals, they would know if they saw some gorgeous hunk of a Dark Prince,” she teased to lighten the mood. He was always so serious, and whether she was in a coma or actually in the past, she needed some levity to ease her tension.

  He frowned at her.

  She said, “You said I do it, but you do it more.”

  “I do what more?” he asked.

  “Frown,” she answered. “So what do you think?”

  “I do not do more frowning, and why do you call him gorgeous? He is evil. You witnessed what he did to that poor human.”

  She immediately felt contrite. “Right, yes, you are right, but I was trying to …” What was she going to say, make light of it? Put a spin on things so she wouldn’t have to dwell on the mess she was in? She said, “Why not just answer the question?”

  “I already told you, we don’t want to upset the balance, and besides I don’t mingle with humans well,” he said.

  “Yes, but I do get along with them. Maybe I should go and see what I can find out,” she said, smiling.

  He reached over as though to take her hand but stopped himself. “You are resilient, Jazmine Decker. I suspect most of your kind would have suffered great distress had this situation been shoved at them all at once as it has been on you. In fact, I fully expected you to do some human crying.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What good would that do? It is what it is.”

  He didn’t answer her. Instead, his attention was centered on the tavern doors, where a huge male dressed in the clothes of the day and holding a woman on each arm walked in. Hordly.

  “Hush,” Trevor said on a low note as she touched his arm, and then, “Stay here.”

  She stood, unable to do much more as he shifted away. She had no idea what he meant to do, but what she didn’t expect was what happened next.

  A seductive male voice whispered in her ear, “You and I, pretty one, you and I.”

  And the next thing she knew she was traveling through space wrapped in the arms of a Dark Fae Prince.

  ~ Four ~

  TREVOR WATCHED THE Dark Prince Hordly enter.

  He saw the Dark Prince was occupied and sneered as the Unseelie locked lips with one woman before turning and running his hands over the other.

  He was disgusted by Hordly’s careless gluttony. A true warrior would be working on a solution to his problem. Maybe his little Fios was correct, and this Dark Prince was all about play …?

  However, he immediately realized he had made a tactical mistake.

  He had assumed the Dark Prince was too busy, too engrossed with the women, to bother looking around the tavern.

  He assumed the Unseelie was careless. He had underestimated him.

  He should have been prepared for this, and as dawning came over him, he felt a moment of sudden, sickening emotion, felt fury at himself ride hard through his mind. He turned and witnessed it all with a dread he had not thought possible to feel. He witnessed it all but was unable to stop it.

  Suddenly, where Hordly had been were only two women groping one another while some of the men in the tavern inched closer to them.

  And Trevor knew.

  Hordly had shifted to the back of the open room. He was Fae fast, and he took Trevor’s little Fios up in his strong arms and shifted off, disguised in a scent that would be nearly impossible to track immediately. By the time Trevor got there, Hordly could kill his little Fios. The thought made Trevor rail with agony.

  He would never underestimate Hordly again.

  Not only had the Dark Prince seen him in the tavern, but he had planned and executed his attack.

  Trevor had promised her he would keep her safe.

  This couldn’t be happening. Hordly could snap her neck without a thought, and her lovely life would be over. No … no … he could not allow it. He would find Hordly.

  Something ferocious welled up inside Trevor. He clenched his fists as he raised his eyes heavenward and declared, “I am going to find you, Hordly, mark me on this!”

  The notion that the little Fios was in the hands of something like this Dark Prince, who was without empathy, without a shred of compassion, made him mentally and almost physically ill, a thing that Fae rarely experienced.

  Jazmine Decker mattered to him, but he had not realized the extent of protectiveness he felt on her behalf. She shouldn’t matter to him, he told himself sternly. Only his mission should matter.

  In the past, he had never bothered with humans. He had believed they as individuals were of no consequence. However, watching Hordly abuse the little woman at the inn, leaving her to suffer, hurt something deep inside him. This new feeling was what his friend Red had tried to tell him about when he’d argued with her that, if a human were lost during a battle, he would be sorry for it, but he would simply chalk it up as an unfortunate casualty. It should not matter, and yet it suddenly did matter. What was more to the point was the undeniable fact that, in particular, the little Fios mattered. She mattered a great deal, though why, he could not say.

  Perhaps it was that ‘look’ in her lovely human eyes always so brightly infused with honesty, concern, and courageousness. And she was courageous. Look at how she had handled herself from the moment they met, after all she had witnessed and experienced. He had seen only recently during Gaiscioch’s war that most humans ran for cover when presented with insurmountable dangers.

  He had one hope, that Hordly would want to keep her alive as a hostage.

  He felt desperate. He could not allow the Dark One to hurt her. He had so little time. Odd that his hope was Hordly would want to use her for negotiations.

  Again, he chastised himself for the sick concern he was experiencing on her behalf. His opinion of humans had always been very poor. He thought them an infant race without purpose, but this one—was different.

  He excused himself, telling himself that, for one thing, she wasn’t quite human. Besides, she might be useful as a seer. He reminded himself that his queen prized all Fios as ‘special’.

  Plus, this was his fault.

  He had left her alone. She had put a certain amount of trust in him, and he had failed her. This absolutely grated at his nerve endings.


  He felt a fool—tricked by an Unseelie.

  He went into tracking mode and centered all his magic on one thing: finding and following the Dark Prince’s specific scent.

  He knew the Dark Prince would expect to be followed and would try to redesign his scent to blend in with his surroundings as he shifted. However, that would delay the Unseelie, so time, in this case, was on Trevor’s side.

  He meant to make good use of that.

  He reminded himself that no Unseelie alive could measure up to a Seelie Royal.

  He discovered almost at once that the Dark Prince Hordly was jump shifting. He had used the scent of pine and earth but appeared to have forgotten his dark and hellish sorcery left a trace amount of putrid scent behind. Trevor centered his tracking on that.

  Surprised, Trevor used caution when he realized the Dark Prince wasn’t going long distances. This was both wearisome and useless. Why would Hordly use this mode of travel? It certainly would not help Hordly elude him, so the question was why? Why jump shift?

  The answer came all at once and as a sure conclusion: the Dark Prince was hampered by some unknown. Hordly couldn’t do more than jump shift. Something had gone wrong with his skills in the transition from the Dark Realm into this past.

  What held the Dark Prince lassoed and limited like that? When the Dark Prince used the Orb, a Relic Trevor was certain was a Seelie artifact, had something gone wrong?

  Did the Orb not work quite the same for an Unseelie?

  As these thoughts presented themselves in logical formation, he continued to follow and track. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he found that Hordly had decided to take a stand.

  They were in an open field with a dark pine forest at Hordly’s back, and it was in this moment that Trevor decided this one was nothing like his brother Pestale, who was cunning and careful and who enlisted his black magic with purpose.

  This one, this Dark Prince, vibrated with pure evil—enjoyed being evil, or so it appeared to Trevor as he looked into black, cold eyes. This one would make mistakes.

  Hordly was an iceberg of unemotional purpose. He radiated disinterest towards all other beings, but what was worse, Trevor realized, what distinguished Hordly from Pestale, was this one, Hordly, enjoyed torturing and killing his victims.