Midnight Train to Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance)

by Juliette Sobanet

  The man’s bearded face contorts into an ugly grimace, but he keeps his lips sealed.

  “Tell me where they are!” Samuel’s voice booms through the cabin.

  As his face pales to a sickening shade of gray, the man finally caves. “Farther up in the mountains, there’s a castle. The girls are there.” He sucks in an arduous breath. “But it won’t be long.”

  Samuel flicks me a knowing gaze before digging his knee into the man’s back and tightening his hold. “It won’t be long until what?”

  “Until they’re dead,” the man replies, gasping for air. “Like she was supposed to be.” He rolls his haunting black eyes up toward me, but he can’t keep them there for long because Samuel slams the man’s forehead into the ground, this time pointing the knife into the back of his neck.

  The attacker gains a second wind, writhing beneath Samuel and bucking him off his back. Soon the two men are rolling around on the rug, ensnared in another violent battle for the knife that Samuel is holding onto with a death grip.

  Panic soars through me as I comb the room, searching for the guns Samuel brought with us to the cabin. Just as I spot a shiny black pistol lying on a side table near the fireplace, the men roll right into one of the legs, knocking the gun to the floor.

  The man reaches for the pistol, but Samuel is quicker. He thrusts the knife into the man’s side as I lunge forward and grab the gun.

  “We’re going to ask you one more time,” I say in French, forcing my hands to stay steady as I aim the gun at the man who is now doubled over on the floor, clutching his bleeding side.

  “Who do you work for?” I command.

  He lifts a fiery gaze to mine. “You better enjoy your last Christmas. You and your boyfriend will be dead before sunrise tomorrow.”

  This time Samuel sends the knife deep into the man’s chest, showing no mercy.

  The incessant snowfall that lasted through the night has finally let up as Samuel and I are preparing to set off on our voyage to find Rosie and Frances. A bright beam of sunlight peeks through one of the dusty cabin windows, giving us a clearer picture of the dead man sprawled before us on the living room rug.

  Staring at this lifeless, bloody mass, I feel no remorse as the brutal fight Samuel endured to save both of our lives replays through my fatigued head. I am certain that if Samuel hadn’t finished the job, our bodies would be the ones slumped in a pile on the cabin floor. Which would mean that Rosie and Frances would have no chance of survival…and neither would Isla.

  Samuel knew that wasn’t an option, so he did what he had to do.

  Dressed in the heavy wool sweaters, winter coats, and oversized snow boots we’ve just discovered in one of the bedroom closets, we give our attacker one last glance before Samuel takes my hand. “We don’t have much time before they’ll send someone else after us. Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’m going to be,” I say, as we turn together and head for the front door.

  Besides the guns we are each carrying—one from 1937 and one from 2012—we are armed only with a hand-drawn map to the supposed castle where the other two girls are being held, and with the knowledge that it was a woman—a woman who wants Rosie’s baby and who is expecting that baby to be a girl—who ordered the abduction.

  The grueling finale to our night did not give us a single moment’s rest, and so here we are, beaten, bruised, and exhausted, wading through a foot of freshly fallen snow on this freezing Christmas morning seventy-five years in the past.

  Even though the winter air is still bitterly cold, I notice that the strong winds that howled through these mountains the night before have died out along with the snowfall. Save for the sound of our boots crunching over snow and broken branches, the forest is eerily silent.

  Samuel pulls the crumpled map out of his coat pocket as we attempt to orient ourselves amid the sparkling winter wonderland that surrounds us. His fingertips are already turning pink from the cold, the cuts and bruises splashed across his knuckles looking painfully raw.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wear the gloves?” I ask as he studies the map.

  “I’ll be okay,” he replies. We only managed to find one pair during our frantic closet ransacking efforts, and Samuel insisted that I wear them.

  Samuel surprises me with a tender kiss on my good cheek. “After the night we’ve both had, cold hands are the least of my worries. Let’s find these women.”

  Samuel holds the thin piece of paper up between us, flipping it around a few times. There are two crisscrossed lines on the bottom of the map, and above them a confusing maze of swirling lines that connect several small X marks to one larger X that appears to sit between two poorly sketched mountains.

  “How are we supposed to decipher this mess?” I ask.

  Samuel points to the crisscrossed lines, then traces his finger up to one of the smaller X marks on the right. “The lines are the train tracks, so that would put us here. And this,” he says, pausing and pointing to the larger X, “must be the castle both of the men mentioned.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Samuel studies the map for a few more seconds before lifting his confident gaze to mine. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Jill. Can you do that?”

  I nod as he takes my hand. “Lead the way.”

  As each strenuous step through the piles of snowfall takes us—hopefully—closer to the girls we are trying to save, I realize that I do trust Samuel, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. But no matter how much I believe in this man who has saved my life not once, but twice over the course of the past twelve hours, I can’t shake the last words of our most recent attacker.

  “You better enjoy your last Christmas. You and your boyfriend will be dead before sunrise tomorrow.”

  A violent shiver runs up the back of my neck as I push his threat out of my mind and focus on the winding path ahead.

  After a few minutes of walking in silence, Samuel glances down at the map once more. “If the man who stormed the cabin was able to take Frances and Rosie to the castle and make it back to us not long after—and in the dark no less, then the castle can’t be too far from here.”

  “How do we know the men were even telling the truth about the castle?” I ask as I step over a fallen branch and sink my clumsy boot into another mound of snow.

  “We don’t. But the fact that both of the men told us the same thing while I was threatening their lives at least makes our search a little more worthwhile. I’m not surprised they wouldn’t give up any names though.”

  “They did both mention a woman,” I point out. “The first guy back in the shack said something about things happening tonight when she arrives, and our most recent friend said he didn’t know her name. Plus after seeing that baby nursery with Madeleine’s name already on the wall, we know there has to be a woman involved.”

  Samuel checks our surroundings before leading me in between two towering, snow-covered pines. “If Henri Morel’s wife found out that he was having an affair with the British woman from the train, Frances Chapman, that would give the wife motivation to harm Frances.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman lost her mind out of jealousy,” I say, thinking of my own mother, of what she did to Russell Hughes and of what she was willing to do to Isla…all due to her own wretched jealousy. “Henri Morel’s wife is named Agnès. I saw her painting hanging on the wall in the Morel Château, next to paintings of the other Morel women, Frédéric’s mother, Hélène, included.”

  “What about Madeleine Morel?” Samuel asks. “Did she have a place on the wall?”

  I shake my head. “I did a little snooping around and found Madeleine’s painting, along with Isla’s and another one that was destroyed—which I now know was Rosie—hidden in a storage closet at the end of the hallway.”

  Samuel nods, the lines around his green eyes creasing as he mulls all of this over.

  “What do you know about the Morel women?” I ask.

  “My team w
as mostly focused on digging up dirt about Isla’s fiancé, but they did find a few details about his mother, Hélène. She grew up in one of the worst suburbs of Paris as the only child of a single mother. They didn’t have much money, but of course that all changed when she married Laurent Morel, one of the richest men in France. She and Laurent had a baby girl before they had Frédéric. But…” Samuel trails off, a look of clarity streaking through his eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “The baby died only three days after Hélène gave birth.”

  A sickening feeling seizes my gut as I see Isla tied up in the 2012 version of that disturbing cabin nursery. Could Hélène want Isla’s baby?

  “Jill, what is it?” Samuel asks, stopping to look into my eyes. “You’re fading again, just like you did earlier in the nursery after that baby mobile started spinning. What happened to you back there? And what’s happening now?”

  “This is going to sound crazy…” I trail off, wondering how I’m going to explain the bizarre filmstrip of scenes from my sister’s life that played before me, that I was somehow present for…although not in a physical sense.

  Samuel gestures to the snow-laden trees surrounding us. “Jill, we stepped on a train and traveled back in time to 1937 to solve an abduction that is almost identical to your sister’s. Nothing you could possibly say would sound crazier than what is already happening.”

  “Good point,” I admit as we continue on our hike.

  “So tell me what is going on,” Samuel prods.

  “The minute I stepped foot in that nursery back in the cabin, I felt Isla. I’ve always been able to feel her like this, to know when something is wrong, when she’s in danger. It’s this intense connection we have—the same connection that led me home that day when our mother…” Just as I am wishing away the horrifying memories, Samuel wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m here.”

  Relief floods through me as I realize that Samuel is the first person who knows the story of my past…and he loves me anyway. The warmth of his body pressed against mine as we trek side by side through the mountains gives me the courage to keep talking. To tell the truth about the inexplicable voyage I’ve just experienced.

  “When that baby mobile started playing, something happened,” I begin. “I felt my body leaving your side…and I went to Isla. It was like a movie. I saw everything that had happened to her in the past few months in the most vivid, colorful clarity…as if I were actually there.”

  Samuel nods, taking in my outrageous story as if it’s totally normal. “What did you see? Maybe it will help us.”

  “First, I saw Isla posing for Christophe, the painter. But Frédéric was watching them. The look in his eyes…it was possessive, fierce, jealous. He knew he was losing her. That look alone makes me certain he must’ve had something to do with her abduction, not to mention the way he went nuts on me when he caught me snooping in his bedroom.”

  “What else?” Samuel asks as we set off up a steep incline.

  “Next, I saw Isla holding a positive pregnancy test, crying out of joy because she knew it was Christophe’s baby. Then I saw her dressed in a long black dress, walking into a private room…with Senator Williams.”

  Samuel raises a brow but lets me continue.

  “You were right. She blackmailed him into resigning. He wasn’t buying it until she shoved a photo into his hands.”

  “Proof from all those years ago?” Samuel asks.

  “Yes. I couldn’t see the picture, but the look on his face said it all. She finally got her revenge. Then the scenes began to speed up. I saw her leaving a note and her engagement ring for Frédéric and dashing out of the party to go to the train. I traveled with her on the train…and I watched it all happen, Samuel. I saw her being taken. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t stop it though. I was powerless. I stayed next to her as the man forced her through the mountains at gunpoint, but the scene zipped by so quickly, and suddenly we weren’t outside anymore.” I stop speaking, remembering the next terrifying part with such clarity, it sends a violent shiver through my entire body.

  Samuel’s inquisitive gaze is hanging on my last words. “What happened next?”

  “We were in a nursery. The same nursery you and I were just in at the cabin, only an updated version seventy-five years in the future.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispers. “Was she okay?”

  “She was tied up to a chair, her mouth covered with tape. But that time, she saw me, and she could hear me. I told her I was coming for her, and I made her promise not to give up. Then, as quickly as I’d found her, I felt myself being pulled away. That was when I woke up back in the old nursery…in 1937, with you.”

  Samuel stays silent for a few moments as he helps me climb over a massive tree trunk lying on its side in the snow. Once we both make it over, he looks me straight in the eye. “I do think Frédéric had something to do with Isla’s abduction, and of course we can’t rule out possible involvement from Senator Williams because he certainly had motive. But if Isla really is being held in that same nursery in the future, Hélène Morel could have something to do with this too. After all, we know now that she had motive.”

  “She lost her baby girl,” I say quietly.

  Samuel nods. “The Morels want Isla’s baby. They took Madeleine from Rosie, and they’re going to do the same to your sister. Unless we can stop them first.”

  The winding path we are following around this colossal mountain seems to be never-ending. A deep-seated exhaustion like nothing I’ve experienced before settles into my bones, each strenuous step in the snow making my legs scream in pain.

  Samuel powers ahead, each stride more determined than the last. If he is as tired and worn down as I feel, he certainly isn’t showing it.

  “What if that map was just a decoy to lead us deeper into the mountains and ensure that we would never find the girls?” I say in between labored breaths.

  “I don’t think those men were expecting company last night, so I believe the map is real. It can’t be far now,” Samuel assures me as he leads us confidently through this abyss of trees, snow, and nothingness.

  I ignore the grumbling of my empty stomach as we wade through the snow in silence, and Samuel keeps an eye on our surroundings to make sure we don’t have any company.

  Just as we round a bend in the mountain, a splash of red on the trunk of a large oak tree catches my eye. As I blink, more flashes of red appear before my eyes—this time forming a trail of scarlet drops in the snow.

  “Samuel, do you see that?” I ask as the flashes come more violently, faster than before.

  “What is it, Jill?”

  I barely hear Samuel’s voice as a vivid, gruesome scene unfolds before me.

  A tall, angry looking man is hiking over this same snow-covered path with a woman thrown over his shoulder. Her long, silky black hair swishes over his back as drops of blood trickle from her head, staining the snow crimson. He grunts as he shoves her limp body off his shoulder, slamming her back against the trunk of the towering oak tree.

  She slides down the tree, landing on the ground with a thump, leaving a mess of blood on the trunk. Her chin falls to her chest as her long black hair sticks to the blood speckling her olive skin.

  The girl’s almond-shaped eyes are closed, and there is no sign of life in her beaten, slumped body, but I recognize her immediately. “Francesca Rossi,” I whisper. Twenty-six years old. Italian. The third girl taken in Isla’s abduction, and the one who had no known connection to the Morels. I can only assume that poor Francesca was taken for the same reason as I was—for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The hefty man who was carrying her lifeless body bends over, hands on his knees, sucking in a long, deep breath.

  Just as I envision pushing him over and shoving the barrel of my gun into his temple, a piercing cry breaks the silence in these frozen mountains.

  Isla.

  In an instan
t, Isla and her abductor appear before me. Her mouth is still covered in a thick piece of duct tape, but she isn’t being quiet anymore. Fire blazes in her violet eyes as she spots a lifeless Francesca, bloody and fallen against the tree. Isla’s captor keeps her moving though, prodding her through the snow at the command of his gun.

  “Isla!” I scream into the forest.

  My sister’s eyes dart frantically in circles until suddenly they lock with mine.

  “Isla, show me where they’re taking you,” I tell her. “Calm down and show me, okay?”

  She nods in understanding, silencing her stifled cries and picking up her pace.

  She disappears around the next bend in the path, and as I try to follow her, my vision refocuses on the concerned face squared two inches in front of me—Samuel.

  “Jill, come back! It’s me, Samuel. What’s happening to you?”

  I grab his shoulders. “They’ve already killed Francesca Rossi in the future. Isla is the only one left. Follow me. We don’t have much time.”

  I take off running past the looming oak tree and around the same bend that Isla just took. Samuel’s footsteps follow close behind as I pump my knees and charge ahead, not allowing the deep snowdrifts to break my pace.

  Suddenly the path we were following around the mountain disappears into a sea of pine trees that soar so high into the sky, they block almost all light from breaking through. I stop running, my heavy breath forming puffs of icy white air at my lips as my heart thumps in my ears.

  Come on, Isla. Show me where they’re taking you.

  I comb the wall of pines surrounding us, searching for an opening, for the path that will lead us to my sister and to the young, innocent Rosie Delaney. To the path that will help us stop this vicious crime from going any further.

  Samuel’s hand lands on my shoulder just as Isla’s voice soars into my consciousness.

  “Look to the right.”

  I follow her instructions, flicking my gaze over my right shoulder. At first, all I see are two more massive trees blocking my view. But as I take a few steps closer, a glistening, pointy white spiral off in the distance comes into focus.