Boom Time

by Michelle E Lowe

  Kayden seemed rather keen on getting this over with. Her turquoise eyes radiated with anticipation, and a ravenous snarl curled her lips.

  “Throw it away,” she demanded.

  Pierce glanced down at the .38 still in his grasp. He wished he could take a shot at her, but Lucy was too damn close. He tossed the weapon onto a bundle of unwashed laundry. The game was over.

  The moment he was unarmed, Kayden pushed Lucy aside and came straight at him with the knife. Pierce quickly stepped back until his back slammed against the door. The sharp knifepoint pressed against his chest. She leaned in, shifting the knife sideways to press the blade under his jaw. With her prey back at her mercy, Kayden’s bloodlust had returned to those glowing eyes of hers. The predator in her had surfaced tenfold.

  “No, please,” Lucy pleaded. “Please don’t kill him!”

  Her loud cry caught the elf’s attention. She briefly looked at the weeping lass. “I’m sorry, child. But he’s too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

  Too dangerous to be allowed to live? What the bloody hell did he ever do? He wished that that blasted mare had explained it to him when he accidentally released her from her prison.

  He’d have asked Kayden—if she wasn’t about to murder him on the spot.

  “Please,” he whispered to her. “Don’t do this. Not here. Not in front of Lucy. Take me anywhere you want. Just don’t kill me with her around.”

  The elf considered him a moment.

  “I suppose. We are family, after all.”

  Before Pierce could even say goodbye, Kayden’s hold on him tightened and just like that, everything disappeared.

  The cold cut through his clothing, but that was a comfort compared to the crushing, grinding pains in his skull. He felt like hundreds of dagger points were poking into him, chewing up his internal organs. He could hardly see anything—only a haze of grey and white and the blurred shapes of trees. The pain tore at and strained every inch of him, inside and out, and a high-pitch ringing reverberated within his ears. He was unable to stay on his feet, and so, collapsed in the snow, clutching his head and stomach.

  “What’s happening to me?” he managed to say through a mouth that felt as if it had thorns inside it.

  “We left,” Kayden’s voice came from somewhere. “As you requested.”

  “Fuckin’ hell!” he shrieked, rocking from side to side in the snow. “It hurts!”

  She tutted at him. “The pain you feel is your body reassembling. It happens to those who are unable to vanish.”

  She gripped his shoulder in a firm hold and rolled him flat on his back. Pierce clutched his head with both hands and raised his chest to her. “Just get it over with!”

  She crouched over him with her knife. He shut his eyes tight, now welcoming the dagger through his heart.

  “Kayden!” yelled a man’s voice.

  Pierce opened his eyes a crack. If he opened them anymore, the world spun about in a whirling motion. The elf had twisted around and was staring at someone in the distance. The figure was blurry, like everything else. Only a blot against other blots.

  “Who are you?” Kayden demanded, sounding hesitant.

  It almost looked as though the stranger had removed his hat, but it was difficult to tell.

  “It’s me, lass. We need to have a chat.”

  “Little fox?” she uttered, rising.

  “Stop calling me that. Can we talk?”

  Kayden eyed Pierce.

  “C’mon. He ain’t going anywhere. Trust me.”

  She took a few ticks to mull it over before she rose and approached the stranger.

  Pierce could no longer keep his eyes open. He couldn’t hear anything they were discussing over the loud ringing in his ears. He rolled over onto his side and tried to concentrate on the bitterly cold snow, hoping it would numb at least some of his agony. Never in all his life had he experienced such torture. His entire body felt as if it had been ground up and then meshed back together, different parts working their way around as they tried to find their correct place.

  Five gunshots rang out. Pierce heard that clear enough. He opened his eyes, but his sight failed him. He couldn’t even sit up.

  After a few long moments had passed, the sound of snow crunching underfoot as someone walked toward him drew near.

  “Don’t try sitting up. You’ll only make it worse,” the man now standing over him advised.

  “It fuckin’ hurts!”

  “It’ll pass. Now, I have good news and bad news.”

  Pierce finally recognized the voice, but he kept his mouth shut, for whenever he spoke, it felt like needles were jabbing the inside of his throat.

  “The good news is that Kayden won’t be a problem anymore. The bad news is . . . well, not really bad from my point of view. But the Trickster is coming to bring you home.”

  “What about Lucy?” Pierce asked, realizing the stranger knew him quite well. “I want to take her with me.”

  “That’s not going to happen. This is where she and you part ways. You have another path to follow. A very long one, I might add.”

  Pierce rolled over, new pains spiking him everywhere. The old man kept staring down at him. “Bloody hell, was I ever so young?”

  “What?” Pierce asked as he watched the man walk off. “Oi! Wait!”

  His own loud tone banged against his skull, keeping him from uttering another word.

  Pierce lay in the snow for a long time. Eventually, the majority of the pain subsided and the cold had numbed the rest. He staggered to his feet, his joints stiff. He went over to where Kayden had gone to speak to the old man. He found blood but nothing more.

  What happened? Did he shoot her? Where’s the body?

  He left the small meadow and walked past the trees before coming out onto a path. New York high-rises appeared in the distance.

  Was he in Central Park?

  He followed the path leading out of the park. He was freezing from wearing only a shirt and vest, yet he welcomed it over the crushing pain. There weren’t many people about. The snow was coming down hard. Pierce hoped to see the old geezer again. He knew who he was, and if he were able to find him, maybe he’d be able to get some of his questions answered. However, he wasn’t about to search for him. He needed to return to Lucy.

  As he neared the edge of the park, he saw a person in a long coat strolling toward him.

  “There you are,” beamed the Trickster. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing out here without a coat?”

  “No,” Pierce protested, shaking his head. “I don’t want to leave. Please, let me stay here.”

  The Trickster cocked his head sideways, the feathers in his hat fluttering in the stinging cold breeze. “Gone native, have we? That’s a shame.”

  “Wait,” Pierce beseeched him as he felt the heaviness of exhaustion wash over him. “I have to . . . get ba . . . back to Lu . . .”

  Darkness took hold of him.

  The chirping of birds accompanied Pierce into the waking world. He opened his eyes to the feel of dew-drenched grass against his face. He rose to find himself in the middle of a field. A saddled horse stood nearby, grazing. The sky was the hazy blue of morning. The early birds chattered madly in the trees surrounding the field.

  “How did I get here?” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his head. “What the bloody hell happened to my hair?”

  What did happen? Flashes of different events revealed themselves to him. There were automobiles. A city. Airships. A Southerner with a mechanical arm. An elf woman. Robotic people called Machine Men. A woman . . . a beautiful redheaded lass. What was her name? What were any of their names? More came to him, but only in segments, and then . . . and then . . .

  . . . it was gone.

  All of it wiped completely out.

  Pierce sat in the field for a time, trying to sort it out, but his mind was blank. His last recollection was being in Blackpool and hustling when the Trickster had approached him. What did that cocker do
to him? He looked at his clothing. It wasn’t what he’d remembered wearing. He stood and went over to the horse. It didn’t belong to him, but no one was around to claim it. Draped over the saddle was a black dapper coat with slender sleeves and wide cuffs. He tried it on. A perfect fit.

  I think I’ll hang onto this for a while.

  He mounted the animal and rode steadily out of the field.

  Story of my bleedin’ life.

  “And there he goes,” Freya said with bile, watching Pierce slowly ride out of the field. “You had to give him a horse and a coat?”

  Njáll nodded. “I thought he could use it after everything he’s been through, even if he doesn’t remember it.” He looked at her. “Hating the boy is pointless.”

  The hard swell of anger burning in her very core cooled. It was easy to channel her rage into hating Pierce. Even so, Pierce hadn’t given himself a long Fate thread. Njáll was right. Hatred simply ate up too much energy, and she needed every ounce for the years ahead.

  “It’s not him I hate. It is the situation,” she admitted more reasonably. “And that anything worth having should take such a great deal of effort.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know,” the Trickster boasted, casually brushing the sleeve of his coat. “I obtain whatever I want fairly easily.”

  She looked at him. “I’m sure you have had your fair share of challenges, Njáll. Otherwise, everything you’ve gained, including one young nymph, would not mean much to you.”

  He gazed at her tenderly. She found the flash in his ancient eyes familiar. However the nymph had made him feel, it had certainly embedded an unbreakable fondness for her within him.

  “I should return to Lepe,” she said, breaking his moment. “Vela will be awake soon.”

  “Indeed,” Njáll agreed. “I shall take you there.”

  Freya glanced over at the field. Pierce was nowhere to be seen. Off on other adventures. Soon enough, it would be time for him to meet with Lord Tarquin Norwich, as well as be reunited with his estranged brother, Joaquin. A smile touched the corner of her lips.

  Njáll took her by the hands and they were gone.

  Thirty-Three

  The Explanation

  The sudden disappearance of Isaac and the woman defied all logic. It took Lucy time to digest it. Once she’d convinced herself that it really had happened and that she wasn’t going insane, Lucy did her best to put on her coat with a broken hand and fingers.

  When Kayden—as Isaac had called her—had demanded she help find him, Lucy had refused. She realized Kayden was there to do him harm. Her resistance ended when her bones had snapped. She felt cowardly for phoning up the diner and asking Ashley if she’d seen him, even if it was the last place she’d thought he’d be. Lucy could have called other places, but she had lied to the elf and claimed she didn’t know where else he could be. Kayden had decided to wait around until Isaac phoned her or showed up on his own, and that’s exactly what he had done.

  Lucy managed to get her coat on but was unable to button it. She left her apartment and headed down the stairs. She had no idea where the woman had taken Isaac, but she was determined to search the entire city until she found them.

  As she neared the bottom, an old man entered her building.

  “Oi, good, you’re still here,” he said to her, sounding relieved. “I drove like a mad hatter trying to make it here before you left. Fortunately, there aren’t many drivers on the road on a day like this.”

  Lucy took in some needy breaths before recognizing him. “You’re the man from the park.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to take you to hospital. You’re going to need treatment for those broken bones of yours.”

  She glanced down at her hand, now mostly tucked under her coat sleeve. The searing pain made her arm shake and cold sweat dappled her skin.

  “How do you know about my hand?”

  “Up until a half hour ago, I knew everything that happened between you and ol’ Isaac, love.”

  That struck Lucy as odd.

  “I have to find Isaac.”

  As she passed him, he said, “Lucy, look at me.”

  She stopped and did so. He removed his hat and brushed away a few long strands of grey hair. His green eyes were no longer hidden behind tinted eyeglasses.

  “You have found me, darling.”

  Looking at him more intently, she began recognizing more of his features.

  “It’s me, Luce.”

  The force of the shock knocked the breath out of her. Past the wrinkles and age spots was the young man she had known.

  “I . . . Isaac?”

  He shook his head. “Not Isaac.”

  Lucy mulled it over and reiterated, “Pierce?”

  Pierce reached over and buttoned up her coat. “Aye.”

  He drove her to the hospital in a shiny, top-of-the-line, black T-Model Ford. He promised to explain everything once she was cared for, and together, they listened to jazz on the radio.

  “The Train Way got raided,” he told her. “I took the liberty to inform Holly so she and her band wouldn’t show up. I advised her to audition at The Brass Ring since Zoe will likely be taking over. Hopefully, they’ll get the gig.”

  Pierce stayed by her side at the hospital, making certain she received all the best care and pain relievers. He then paid the bill and drove her to Jerry’s Diner.

  “Order whatever you want,” he offered. “It’s on me.”

  Lucy was very hungry, and it wasn’t until the pain meds had soothed her aches that she’d noticed.

  Ashley came over and smiled at Lucy. “Hey, hon. Did Isaac stop by?”

  Lucy glanced over at Pierce. Honestly, if she told Ashley the truth, she’d believe Lucy had been smoking the reefer.

  To keep any questions to a medium, she hid her cast under the table. “Yeah, he did. Thanks for relaying my message.”

  “No problem.” To Pierce, she said, “Well, hello, stranger. Haven’t seen you around for a couple of days.”

  “’Ello, love. Aye, been busy lately. Running about and such.” He glanced at Lucy. “I came across this young lady in the parking lot on my way in. Seems she and her feller had a bit of a falling out.”

  “Oh, no,” Ashley bleated, looking to Lucy. “That’s a shame, hon.”

  What Pierce had stated threw her for a loop. Why would he say that?

  “I’ve offered to buy her some comfort food.”

  “Well, isn’t that just the bee’s knees, Mr. Landcross?” Ashley cooed. “What can I get you?”

  “A hot cup of tea for me and coffee for the lady.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Lucy gawked at him. “You come here often?”

  “From time to time, even if the food is lousy. For nostalgic reasons.”

  “Nostalgic reasons?” she asked, feeling a surreal moment wash over her.

  “Go ahead,” he allowed. “Fire away. I can tell that you’re dying to ask.”

  Lucy had many questions. “Who exactly was that woman who was looking for you?”

  “Kayden, a wild elf. She’d been hunting for me.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you, remember? Er, I mean, Isaac did.”

  “The . . .” She began to remember. “The mare?”

  He nodded. “Everything Isaac said to you at the speakeasy was the truth.”

  The things that had happened to her after she had been taken hostage by the wild elf woman had turned out to be the strangest incidents of her entire life. How could any of it be real? Granted, she was aware, the same as everyone else, that beings other than humans roamed the planet. It just seemed that they preferred to keep to their own world, leaving people to theirs.

  Lucy reached for her cigarette pack inside her coat pocket. She was fumbling for one when it fell from her trembling grasp. Pierce grabbed the pack, gave her a cigarette and then lit it with Isaac’s copper lighter.

  Ashley brought th
em their drinks and jotted down their orders before she left.

  Something else came to mind. “You told me you were born in 1817. You look good for a 107-year-old man.”

  Pierce let out a sigh.

  “I was brought back from the dead. Stolen from the afterlife by a real wanker named Professor Duncan Hackett.”

  “You were what? Why?”

  A profound gloom came over him, darkening the light in his green eyes. He slumped, his face falling into sorrow, then tightening in a shrewd manner.

  “Duncan added me to his list of experiments. I wasn’t the only one he brought back, mind you, but that doesn’t make things any less infuriating.”

  “When was this?”

  “1888. Not long before the Second Machine War began.”

  “That was forty-seven years ago. You must have passed away young.”

  “The third time I died, I lived to be an old man, a tad older than I am now, actually. Duncan had the means to dial back time and returned me as a thirty-year-old man.”

  “When you say the third time, are telling me that you’ve died more than once and were returned to life?”

  “Pretty much, but it’s not as unusual as it sounds, love. Every one of us has lived more than one life since our own existence began. Only, for me, I’ve been the exact same person.”

  “How did you die?”

  “The first time I was twenty-seven. A wicked tosser named Tarquin Norwich shot me down. The Fates brought me back, then.”

  The Fates?

  “Second time, I was hanged in Lincoln Inn Fields in London.”

  “Oh, my!”

  “Aye. It was very unpleasant. Again, it wasn’t my time, so I returned to the land of the living—with help. The third was simply of old age.”

  How could any of this be true?

  “You sound bitter about what this Professor Hackett did,” Lucy noted.

  Pierce blinked slowly and picked up his teacup. “By returning my life to me, he separated me from someone very special. She and I will never again be reunited.”

  Lucy was about to ask what he meant when he cut in. “Best drink your coffee before it gets cold, eh?”