“Sorry,” Clem replied, her voice so shaky that Charlie waved aside her apology and strode into the room.
“What is it?” he demanded, all traces of sleep gone from his voice. “What has happened?”
“They’ve taken Uncle Matthew and Aunt Abigail!” she declared and then burst into tears.
Ettie and Charlie exchanged a quick, concerned look.
Ettie put her arm around the distressed girl and led her to the couch. “It’s okay, Clem, just tell us what happened.”
Clem wiped the tears from her cheeks and swallowed. “I didn’t go straight home when I left the rooftops. I thought I’d go see Reginald, maybe tell him what was really going on…” her voice trailed off as she looked up to see the tension reflected in both their faces.
“But I didn’t tell him… I… we… we got sidetracked,” she stammered, “and after a little bit I went home. A woman at the cab stand asked if I was going to the Upper West Side and if I’d share a cab with her.” She swallowed again. “Well, she wasn’t what she seemed, and right before I got out she warned me to be careful or else!”
Ettie looked up at Charlie who was standing in front of the huge picture window, the night sky opening like an abyss behind him. He looked grimly back at them and asked, “You didn’t recognize her?”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life!” she cried. “But that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Sir Knightly could have hundreds of people we don’t know about roaming the country abducting old couples!”
Ettie tightened her arm around the girl, and Beatrix’s large head rested on her knee. The dog’s grave eyes were fixed on Clem’s face. Ettie had never known Clem to lose her courage, not even when badly frightened. But it was clear to both her and Charlie that the young woman was barely hanging on to her nerve.
“How do you know they were taken?” Charlie asked, his voice a deliberately calm monotone.
“When I got home, the place was dark as a cave, no lights, no servants, nothing,” she replied, leaning forward to hug Bea and rubbing her face in the dog’s soft ruff. When she straightened up again her cheeks were smeared with black soot, but she was more composed and continued, “I called out and ran through the house. I wasn’t really thinking straight. The woman’s words kept running through my mind—I’d be next. Finally, I reached the upper floor where the servants’ quarters are, and that’s where I found Rolf and Bea.”
“Rolf?” Ettie questioned.
“He’s Schreiber’s grandson,” Clem explained, “the butler.”
They nodded in unison and Clem continued, “Well, Rolf had been out walking Bea and rounded the corner just in time to see two large, black carriages pull away from the house.” She cleared her throat, concentrating hard on rubbing the big pit bull’s ears. “When he got to the house, everything was the same as when I arrived; the door was open and everyone was gone.”
“Who is everyone?” Ettie asked.
“They don’t have very many servants, live-in, that is; there’s Schreiber; Rolf, he serves as footman and all-around helper; Mrs. Greene, she’s the housekeeper; and Grumpy is the cook.”
“Grumpy?” Ettie couldn’t help herself.
Clem smiled tremulously, some of her old mischievousness returning. “Yes, I think originally it was French or something, like Groompie,” she tried with a French accent, failing miserably and giving a shaky laugh. “But I’ve only known her as Grumpy.”
“No one else?” Charlie prompted.
She shook her head. “The day staff would have gone home by then.”
Charlie came closer and sat down next to Clem on the other side of the sofa. “Did anyone follow you here?” he asked with an intent look on his face.
Ettie could tell he was worried. So was she. How compromised were they?
“No,” she replied with certainty. “You see that’s why we’re dressed like this.” She indicated both herself and Beatrix.
“Yes, I did wonder,” Ettie admitted, smiling.
“Rolf was pretty upset. He kept saying, ‘Why didn’t they use the plan?’ I didn’t know what he meant and it took awhile to get it out of him. Seems Uncle Matthew and Aunt Abigail had an escape route built into the house.”
Charlie huffed admiringly. “Just like old Matthew.”
“Let me guess…” Ettie laughed. “…through the sewers.”
Clem nodded. “Partially. Most of it was through a connecting network of cellars. We emerged several blocks away from the house. But I took the precaution of disguising us as best as possible and taking as many side streets as I could. You told me to come here if there was any trouble. So I did. I don’t think anyone followed us.” Her forehead creased in a worried frown.
“You did right,” Charlie reassured her, then asked, “Rolf?”
“He was with us until we emerged from the sewers. Then he went off to a safe house Uncle Matthew had set up. I wrote the direction down.”
She stuck a grubby hand into her pocket and pulled out a notepad-sized piece of paper. Clem clutched it convulsively in her hand and began to shake again.
“Before we left, I went up to the roof. You know, just in case. Maybe they were hiding in the shack up there.” Tears started in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “When I went inside, the receiver had been wrecked, completely destroyed. That’s when I knew for sure it was Sir Knightly. Somehow, he’d found out about Uncle Matthew’s spying devices.”
Ettie hugged the crying girl tightly, and Clem buried her face in her shoulder. She and Charlie looked at each other over her head.
Eventually, Clem looked up and dried her tears. “What do we do now? Do we cancel the operation?”
“Not a chance,” Ettie replied unhesitatingly.
They both looked at her startled.
“He thinks we’re weak, that we’ve been routed… that we’ll fall back and regroup.”
“Well, shouldn’t we?” Charlie responded. “Without Matthew’s intel—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ettie insisted. “We have to do the unexpected for this to succeed.” She looked at them with fierce determination and declared, “We move tonight.”
Bea barked her approval.
Thirty-Two
GABRIEL FELT THE warmth of her pressed up against his back and her arm wrapped around him. He took her hand in his and tucked it up under his chin, closing his eyes to go back to sleep.
“Do you remember that winter we spent in Cornwall?”
Her voice wafted over him, and he could feel her breath on his neck.
“Um-hm,” he answered sleepily. “You couldn’t stay indoors, and it was so warm by the fire.”
“We warmed ourselves just fine.” She laughed. “Even without the fire.”
Gabriel smiled, remembering that long ago winter. It was the first Christmas after they were married, and he wanted to take his bride somewhere beautiful and romantic. The cottage belonged to a grateful client of his uncle’s, who was more than happy to lend it out to the newlyweds for a fortnight.
He hadn’t told her where they were going. It was easy to keep her in suspense now that he had access to a private coach. Caroline’s coach, to be exact.
Lady Caroline Winter, his friend and benefactress, had finally awakened from her coma two days after the death of Sir Archibald Brandon, a.k.a. Arthur Bradley. It was a coma that had come as the result of a blow from one of Sir Archibald’s private soldiers when she had tried to fight them off. The brutal murder of her partner and lover, Aamod, was the first strike in a battle that would result in the deaths of scores of young heirs to the realm, as well as Sir Archibald’s timely end at the hands of Benjamin Franklin.
Lady Caroline had recovered her health, but not her spirit. During her convalescence, Gabriel sometimes saw flashes of the witty, sharp woman who had given him so much, only to watch it fade away, ephemeral as the mist.
Although the crime against her was covered up by agents of the Crown, as was the death of Sir Archibald, shards of s
candal were still scattered throughout society. Many were pleased to see the haughty Lady Caroline brought low, even if the reason for her seclusion was a complete mystery. But Gabriel felt she would have been heartened to know that there were many more who asked after her with concern and bemoaned society’s loss of such a compelling woman; if only she had asked or cared to know.
Gabriel really wasn’t surprised by her decision to return to India. He knew that she was a practicing Hindu. So it made sense, he supposed. He was surprised that she named him as agent for her estate, to manage as he saw fit. It was an undertaking that buried him in work for months after his and Odette’s small wedding at the Ferrous Swan, his family’s inn not far from London.
Odette had been equally busy. In order to appease the livid David Garrick, she agreed to dance an exclusive four-month farewell engagement at the Theatre Royal. The place was literally packed every night, all of London society eager to see the famous ballerina before her retirement.
Caroline’s wasn’t the only goodbye. Odell left directly after their wedding. Odette had begged him to stay awhile longer.
“What does it matter when you return?” she had asked, tears choking her voice. “You could live here for years, and it would make no difference.”
Gabriel had seen the pain on his face, heard it in his voice.
“Odette, I’ve already stayed here months longer than I should have,” her brother replied, shaking his head sadly.
“But—”
“Odette,” he said with whispered anguish, grasping her in a fierce embrace, “the longer I stay, the harder it is to leave.”
Wu soon followed suit. While Fancy cried and pleaded for him to stay, Odette stood quietly, emotionally shell-shocked from the effort it took to let go of her family.
“Will you be back?” Odette had asked as they stood in the beautiful gardens of the house on Exeter Street.
Wu had regarded her calmly, his few possessions packed in a leather valise in his hand.
“No.” He shook his head sadly. “But I will always be here when you need me.”
“Dammit, Wu!” Fancy had exclaimed angrily through her tears, “That don’t make any sense!”
Then she threw her arms around the boy, and they held each other tight. When they finally stood apart, Odette and Cara embraced him in turn. As he left, Gabriel saw a glint of tears on the boys face, but he walked out under the flower arbor without looking back and was gone.
Gabriel knew that Odette had been grateful for her work. She had thrown herself into her dancing and the attendant social obligations.
So it was with some relief that they both found themselves standing on that cold London street waiting for the carriage that would take them on holiday. When it pulled up beside them, Tom had jumped down from the box. He stood, resplendent in caped greatcoat, warm hat, gloves, and a wide grin.
He made her an elaborate bow. “Well, miss—I mean missus, looks like you’re in for a fine surprise.”
Odette had clapped her hands with joy. “Tom! It’s been ages!” she exclaimed, hugging him.
He blushed fiery red and bowed again. “Your husband here keeps me right busy.”
Having Tom drive them was a masterstroke. His cheerful presence and unique commentary brought a smile to Odette’s face more often than in the several weeks previous. He was also surprisingly astute, occupying himself with his own pursuits while Gabriel and Odette explored the villages and countryside.
Neither had ever before been to Cornwall, and he had promised her that it was just the beginning. They had determined to see the world together, little realizing then that family and work would keep them almost continuously tied to London.
Yet, those had been magical days. Hikes down the cliffs, running along snow covered beaches, collecting shells among the caves and tide pools, long conversations and some arguments, making up under the down cover of their cozy bed. Cornwall was their beginning, the actual start to their marriage. For Gabriel, it had been pure bliss.
He kissed her fingers.
“Never forget it, my love,” she whispered in his ear. “Never forget.”
Gabriel woke with a start, his heart beating hard. He sat up, and his hand reached out to feel the space beside him. It was warm.
“Odette,” he whispered, all his pain and longing encapsulated into that one name.
He would never forget. Not until the day he died.
*
“Odette, you can’t keep doing this.” Ambrosius’ expression was as close to worry as one of his kind could convey. “You’re spreading yourself too thin.”
He meant it literally. Odette, like her mother, had the ability to be in more than one dimension simultaneously. The fact that this required her to spread her molecules and regroup them, creating more than one copy of herself, meant that these copies were mere shadows of her original being. If she were doing this for only two or three different dimensions, the danger would be small. The likelihood of her molecules drifting too far apart to ever regroup again, however, increased with the number of dimensions she explored at one time. And because Odette was anxious to find the source of the time breach and return to her family, she took risks.
Odette’s ability to do this was actually greater than Ivy’s had ever been. Ivy inserted herself into only a very few dimensions at the same time, but the toll it took on her was tremendous. Odette, however, seemed capable of searching literally scores of dimensions without consequences. Her emotions gave her greater reach than the other Time Traitors, but they also bound her to one dimension. Odette’s need to connect with the ones she loved weakened her focus and often left her feeling depressed and alone.
She sat on a large rock perched high above the surrounding valley on a mountain of great beauty. The craggy cliffs were covered with lush vegetation and mist swirled through the fissures and wrapped around the blossoming trees. Below in the valley, a crystal clear lake reflected back the sky leaving one with the vaguely disorienting feeling of not knowing which way was up. Even from this distance, Odette could see a canoe-like boat skimming the waters, and a small village nestled just back within the shelter of the trees. It was an amazingly beautiful and peaceful scene.
Ambrosius stood beside her, a hand upon her shoulder. It was an unusual gesture. Touch was not something the Time Traitors were known for. As a people, quietness defined them. They possessed the ability to bond with the world around them in a profoundly physical way. Their capacity to exist between substance and nothingness, to slip through the barrier of matter, connected them to all things, except people and each other. Their humanness or lack thereof was not a factor of their physical being, but rather of an emotional barrenness.
Odette was their bridge. She was evidence that humanity was learned. Her emotions, her ability to empathize with others, and most especially her capacity for love, broadened their reach. Emotions were timeless. They lived beyond the physical. They connected everyone, even in death. But they were a double-edged sword. Emotions freed her and bound her. They were her strength and her weakness. While they gave her greater ability to see the unseen, Odette’s longing for her family drained her will.
It was thus that she sat, staring almost blindly out at the grand vista before her. From the corner of her vision a large bird soared into view. She couldn’t name it, but it was definitely a bird of prey, perhaps a hawk or eagle. It caught a current and swooped close past the forbidding cliff face. She closed her eyes and spread her mind out to reach it, feeling the exhilarating freedom of flight.
Odette’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped, “Where are we?”
“I think you know.”
The voice was familiar, but had deepened with age. Both she and Ambrosius swung around.
A man stood before them. He was now taller than Odette, but not by much. The wrinkles that lined his face highlighted a countenance both handsome and tranquil. His hair was flecked with gray, but the body was still slim and strong, beside him stood a little girl.
/> The girl pointed at Odette and said, “Look, Yéyé, she is made of stars.”
Odette looked down at herself and cried out in surprise. She was enveloped in a dress of starry gauze. It seemed to move of its own volition, as if perpetually exposed to a breeze. She reached down to lift the skirt, and the material flowed through her fingers like water.
She looked at the man she trusted above all others and asked, “What is happening, Wu?
“You’ve finally come to ask me that question?” He laughed.
“If I’d known you had the answer, I would have come sooner.” She said with some asperity, but then smiled and added, “You could have also come to me.”
“It is only recently that I have acquired the knowledge to help you,” he explained. “Only you could have found the ‘when.’ I could not have told you, since I didn’t know myself.”
“Wu!” She shook her head with bemusement and threw her hands into the air. “What did you just say?” She laughed and, released from her initial shock, rushed forward to embrace him. “How I’ve missed you!”
“And I, you,” he replied in a gruff voice. Stepping back, he gave her a penetrating look. “You are unhappy.” It wasn’t a question.
Odette swallowed the lump that arose in her throat, and replied, “I’ve been gone so long. I miss Gabriel… I miss my daughter.” She looked down at the shimmering substance that flowed around her, and her chest tightened in a feeling akin to panic. “And now, look at me; I don’t know what I’ve become.”
Ambrosius walked up beside them. “You have become what you were always meant to be.”
“What do you mean, father?” Odette practically cried, “What haven’t you told me?”
At this, other Time Traitors silently appeared. They stood behind Odette in a semi-circle, all looking expectantly at the three before them. The little girl, her eyes wide with wonder, crept closer to her grandfather and grasped his hand.
Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II Page 35