The Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Books 1-3: Books 1-3 in the Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Series

by Lora Edwards

  Ovidia sat back in her chair, tapping a red fingernail against her lips. “Interesting. He has always had quite the effect on the ladies, but this is a new reaction.”

  “Vid, there is nothing interesting about it. He realized he was kissing the plain nerd and was disgusted with himself.”

  “Teag, you are hardly plain, and maybe he is just as attracted to you as you are to him.”

  Teagan made a face. “Yeah Vid, he was real attracted to me,” she said sarcastically, lifting her chin to gesture behind Ovidia.

  Turning in her seat, Ovidia looked over her shoulder. Across the street, going into a nice Italian place was Bran, his arm wrapped around the same curvy blonde from the night at the bar.

  “Well, maybe not, or maybe it was too much for him and he is trying to not think about you,” Ovidia offered, a sheepish grin on her face.

  “Vid, he is a player. He probably has a string of women a mile long and that ‘moment’ with me meant nothing to him. It doesn’t matter anyway—I have a job to do here and when it is completed, I will go back to Duke, to my old life, and Bran can see whoever he wants.” Teagan tossed back the rest of her drink and stood. “I think I am good for the night, you coming with me?”

  “Yeah, we better get some sleep tonight, tomorrow will be a long one.” Throwing some cash down on the table for their drinks, Ovidia sighed. “I am sorry, Teag.”

  “It’s all right. Like I said, the last thing we need to complicate this mission is a love affair.”

  Ovidia’s laugh trailed behind her as the topic turned to lighter subjects and Teagan told her about the pizza Fiona had made for her.

  She laughed at Ovidia’s groans of jealousy but offered to share. Back in the apartment, after slipping into her favorite leggings and grabbing the piece of key lime pie, Teagan lit the fire and watched the flames dance; as she convinced herself Bran’s rejection did not hurt her. It had just been a kiss, and it might have set her world on fire, but it clearly had not affected him the same way. Teagan convinced herself it was a good thing; she had a mission to complete and would be far too busy focusing on the hunt for Jack to be mooning over some man. However, regardless of what she told herself, mental replays of the kiss were the last thoughts she had before drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 10

  “Girl, our tea is ready. Let’s take it at the table.” Hugh gestured toward the table next to the stained-glass window.

  Teagan sat and wrapped her hand around the mug, the warmth seeping into her cold hands.

  “Now, it is okay to be nervous. You will do just fine,” he said gently, placing one gnarled hand around Teagan’s.

  “I’m scared Grandpa,” she whispered, not looking up at him.

  “Good,” Hugh replied.

  “Good? Grandpa how can you say that?”

  “Because it is good. You will be much more cautious if you are scared. I was worried the other day when you came in all cocky and seemingly eager to go out and take on one of the most notorious serial killers in history. I am glad you are scared, scared is good. People that are wary, live; cocky people die.”

  “If you are worried for me, why are you encouraging me to go? Why want this life for me,” Teagan asked, looking in his eyes.

  Hugh sighed and wrapped his big hands around his mug. “Teagan, when I first envisioned you coming to work for the institute, I envisioned you working with me, going on nice safe research trips to places like the Library of Alexandria or other academic places the institute is determined to resurrect knowledge from. Then you started talking about seeing London as Jack the Ripper saw it and being able to track him down, and I wasn’t so sure a staid, academic life would satisfy you. I want you to be happy and you need to see if this suits you. If it does, so be it.”

  “You really believe I can do this,” she asked, looking down into her tea.

  “Teagan, you are not going alone. Bran may seem like a flighty womanizer, but you have seen him fight, and he has seen more perilous missions than this one. I know you think Ovidia is just fluff and no substance, but she is a Valkyrie. The clothes and the parties are just her way of coping with what she has to do for her work life. When the fight is on, you will be glad to have her at your side. They are seasoned warriors and they will protect you.”

  Teagan nodded at him, a companionable silence falling over the library as they each got lost in their own private thoughts.

  She could do this. She was strong, capable, and not without her own skills, magical and otherwise. She had worked with her Grandpa and with the tutor from Faery he had brought in. She was smart and knew the Jack the Ripper case inside and out. She would use her knowledge to their advantage. Teagan could feel the excitement seeping back in helping, somewhat, to cover the nerves.

  How many times had she wondered what it would have been like to see Whitechapel, to experience the history she loved to study? She could do this, and if she really looked deep down, she was excited, more excited than scared.

  Her mug was now empty, and after giving Hugh one last hug, Teagan set out for wardrobe. She would get dressed and then meet Bran and Ovidia in, what they called, the ready room.

  “Now, Miss Teagan, remember what I told you about the ribbon. The rest of your wardrobe is already at your destination and it will be waiting for you as you require. You will have a lady’s maid that will help you dress and will help you with the complicated hairstyles of the day. She has been made fully aware of where you come from and your special abilities. She is a member of the institute in that time, so feel free to be comfortable with her.”

  By the time Mrs. Bloom had finished her lecture, Teagan was dressed in a blue muslin walking dress with her hair swept up in the style of the day, and a blue hat set jauntily on her cinnamon curls. Teagan took as deep a breath as she could while wearing a corset, waved to Mrs. Bloom, and left for the ready room.

  At the sound of the door opening, Ovidia and Bran turned. Bran looked dashing in black breeches, a starched-white dress shirt, and a black brocade vest with a gold watch chain draped across the front. Ovidia looked ladylike and prim in a pale pink muslin walking dress, her blonde curls tucked under a pink confection of a hat.

  “You ready for our grand adventure, Teag,” Ovidia asked, walking over to rub a hand down her arm.

  “Ready as I am ever going to be,” Teagan replied. The three closed their eyes and Teagan envisioned the picture of the drawing room that had been given to her a few days earlier. They would be staying in a house in the most fashionable part of London. Teagan and Bran would pose as a newly married couple, Ovidia as Teagan’s younger sister, single and looking for a husband.

  The institute had provided them a cover story as well: Bran was a wealthy aristocrat recently coming into his title who had made his own fortune in America, and Teagan and Ovidia were the daughters of a wealthy railroad magnate, Patrick Reading. The old and established family title of Draconus had been cultivated by the institute for many years, with the Duke holding the title being a recluse before his recent demise. Teagan felt a shimmer in the air, and slowly opening her eyes, she looked around to find herself in a sumptuous drawing room. She had made it to 1888; now to begin the hunt for Jack the Ripper.

  “Let’s get settled in and then meet for dinner,” Ovidia said to the two of them as the butler appeared.

  “Good evening, my name is Stallings. I have served the Draconus family for many years; welcome. Please allow me to show you to your rooms.” The small group followed him out of the drawing room down a hall, past a formal dining room, a few more parlors, what looked to be a man’s study, and a powder room.

  “This will be Miss Reading’s room,” Stallings announced as he stopped at the first closed door. Ovidia waved them on and opened the door, offering a small glimpse of an opulent room dominated by a wooden four-poster bed hung with golden silk. Stallings led them down the wide corridor to a set of double doors.

  “This will be Duchess Draconus’ rooms.” Stallings opened the doors wid
e and gestured for Teagan to follow. Inside was a pretty sitting room with a sage striped fainting couch, a matching upholstered chair with a small ottoman, and a delicate piecrust table between the fainting couch and the armchair. A small writing desk with curved legs sat in the far corner, and a door next to the marble fireplace revealed a bedchamber with another large four-poster bed draped in ivory and sage.

  “Through this door is Duke Draconus’ quarters.” Stallings walked across the bedroom, gesturing to another door. Beyond was another sitting room, and Teagan spotted a black marble fireplace flanked by two large dark brown leather chairs.

  Bran followed Stallings through the adjoining door, shutting it behind them, leaving Teagan alone to explore her new suite of rooms. It was everything she expected and more. She spent some time running her hand over the antique furniture, which was not antique in that time, as she reminded herself. She discovered her very own powder room with an actual flush toilet, as well as a claw foot bathtub and pedestal sink. Knowing how scarce these things were in 1888, especially in a home as old as this one, she wondered if some modern amenities had not been added to the private rooms for the modern guests that occupied them. Teagan walked into the bedroom, absently running her hand over the beautiful silk coverings on the bed. She could imagine playing lady of the house, having her breakfast brought to her in the morning along with her correspondence on a tray.

  Teagan giggled to herself; she may have to try that out just once for fun. Going back to the sitting room, she noticed a collection of books on the shelves: Jane Austen, Melville, and the first Sherlock Holmes novel. Picking up A Study in Scarlet, Teagan lost herself in the world of Sherlock Holmes while she waited for the time to rejoin the others. She idly wondered if she would have to dress for dinner. It was just them, after all, but would they keep up appearances in case of unexpected visitors?

  The question was answered some time later when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Teagan called, and a girl dressed in a modest, homespun dress entered.

  “Your grace, my name is Victoria, and I will be your lady’s maid.”

  “Your grace? Oh yes that’s right, I am a duchess, but here in private you can just call me Teagan.”

  Victoria smiled. “Teagan, that is an unusual name.” Victoria looked shocked for a moment and her face turned a bright shade of red. “I am sorry miss, sometimes my mouth runs away from me.”

  “Don’t worry Victoria, I am not really your mistress. I would like for us to become friends.”

  Victoria smiled shyly again. “Well then let’s get you properly attired, shall we? Have you chosen a dinner dress yet?” Victoria asked, bustling into the bedroom and opening up the large armoire that sat there. Inside were gowns, shoes, and hats for every conceivable event.

  Teagan was shocked there were so many, then she remembered how many times a day these women changed their clothes. “I’m not sure which is a dinner dress,” Teagan responded.

  Victoria smiled again. “I have seen others from your time. In the future, you do dress differently, wearing pants like a man, and short skirts! What do you think of this one?” Victoria held out a gown of bottle green silk. “I think it will complement your hair and bring out your eyes.”

  Teagan nodded, and Victoria laid the gown out on the bed before turning to Teagan and assisting her in changing from afternoon dress to evening attire. Thanks to Victoria ‘s quick and efficient ways, Teagan was soon dressed in the green silk with matching slippers, emeralds at her throat, and a green ribbon woven through her upswept hair. Teagan did not recognize the woman staring back at her from the mirror. It was an upper-class society woman who spent her days lunching with the ladies and going to parties, not the plain college professor in a cardigan she usually saw.

  “Victoria, you are a miracle worker. I do not even recognize myself!”

  “You do look the part of a duchess Miss Teagan. Mr. Bran should be here shortly to escort you down to dinner.”

  “Escort me? Why can’t I just go on my own?”

  Victoria frowned at Teagan. “It isn’t done that way here miss. You will have to get used to the mister being in charge. I have heard that it is different where you come from, but here, he is your husband and he has charge of you.”

  “Of course, Victoria. I have studied this time period extensively, I should have realized that.” Sighing to herself, she turned at the sound of a knock at her door. If she wanted to be successful at blending in, she would have to get used to this idea of men being treated as superior. Opening the door, her mouth fell open. Bran was dressed in his evening clothes, the tight fawn breeches emphasizing the strong muscles in his legs and the dark brown coat stretching over his broad shoulders. He looked every inch the Duke he was purported to be.

  “You look lovely Teagan, that dress…” Bran trailed off, his eyes hot. Shaking his head, he extended his arm. “Lady Draconus, I am here to escort you to dinner.”

  Teagan took his arm, all the while chanting in her head; He is not into you, he is just being polite. You are not attracted to him. Keep your head on the mission!

  Ovidia sat at an elaborately laid table in a creation of fiery red that set off her blonde hair perfectly. It was a very Ovidia dress.

  “Teag, come sit. The people of the Victorian era have a very complicated dinner routine, and we are going to practice. It is inevitable that we will be invited to a dinner party, and there are only so many things we can pass off as you being a brash American.” Ovidia winked to take the sting out of her words.

  “I studied the Victorian era extensively during my Jack the Ripper research, I will have you know, and I happen to have excellent table manners.”

  Ovidia laughed as Bran joined them.

  “I cannot believe people ate like this! No wonder they needed corsets—from the food to the sitting around, these ladies must be huge,” Teagan said, leaning back in her chair.

  “Well Teag, some of them do not eat like this may be their last meal! We will have to work on ladylike portion sizes,” Ovidia stated, looking down at the remains of the dessert course on her plate.

  “I had to try some of everything, and a lot of others. Some of that was really good. My compliments to our chef,” Teagan said, rubbing her stomach, which was straining painfully against the corset of her dress.

  Sitting back in the chair and taking her wine glass, Teagan looked at her two companions. “Okay, what is the plan for finding the Ripper?”

  “Well first we need know to where, and approximately when, each of his victims were struck. Tomorrow is the date of the first Ripper murder, or the first one attributed to him anyway, so we will go to Whitechapel and see if we can track him down, then we can use the human ripper as bait for the one we are really after” Bran said confidently, lifting his glass of brandy in Teagan’s direction.

  “Maybe we will be lucky and it will be a one and done. Maybe we will save some of the women’s lives.”

  “Is that wise? Won’t we be changing history that way?”

  “Saving the lives of a few harlots in Whitechapel is not going to have some major effect on history, I am sure,” Bran reported.

  “How can you know that? Many great people came from humble beginnings.”

  “Be that as it may, this killer needs to be stopped, and if the new future is not to your liking, we can always come back and stand by while he murders a few innocent women to fix it,” Bran snarled in her direction.

  “Children, children, no fighting at the dinner table,” Ovidia cut in, attempting to referee.

  “Ladies, it has been a trying day, so I think I will call it a night. I will see you at breakfast,” Bran replied, his voice stilted as he got up from the dining table and strode out of the room.

  “Was it something I said,” Teagan asked Ovidia.

  Ovidia looked at Teagan, taking a sip of her wine and setting it down with a sigh. “Teagan, I know this is all new and exciting for you, but Bran and I, we have seen many missions, and not all of them plea
sant. There were times we had to let things happen, terrible things, for the sake of the timeline. You learn to deal with it, each of us in our own way. There are times, though, that the demons of the past rise to the surface when you least expect it. Cut him some slack and give it time. He will be back to normal by morning. Let’s go up and get some rest. We have no idea what the coming days will bring and we should rest now while we know we can.”

  “I’m sorry Vid, I didn’t know. Should I go apologize to him?”

  Ovidia reached out and squeezed her hand as an unfamiliar haunted look of sadness crossed her face. “No, let him wrestle with his demons on his own tonight.”

  With one last smile, Ovidia headed up the grand staircase, leaving Teagan staring after her.

  Chapter 11

  Teagan was dressed and down to breakfast early the next day, excited for her first full day in 1888. Victoria had helped her into a simple pale-yellow morning gown made of soft muslin then had brushed her long hair and tied it up with a yellow ribbon.

  “Just in case you get a surprise visitor. We cannot have you wandering around the house in your modern clothes—people would be scandalized,” was Victoria ‘s response; when Teagan expressed an interest in going down to breakfast in leggings and a long t-shirt.

  Choosing from the scrambled eggs, ham, and sausage, and the variety of fruits, breads, and jams laid out on the sideboard, Teagan sat down to breakfast. The downstairs maid brought her a steaming pot of tea, and Teagan smiled at the girl; now all was right with the world.

  “Lady Draconus, would you like to go over the correspondence while you break your fast?” Teagan jumped and looked over at the butler standing quietly at her side.

  “Stallings, you scared the crap out of me!” Teagan smiled to take the sting out of the comment.

  “I apologize for frightening you, Lady Draconus. In the future, I will endeavor to make more noise when entering a room.”

  “What correspondence, Stallings,” she asked him, wondering who would have already sent them a message.