Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

  Victoria irritably adjusted her clothing—which took her far beyond her comfort zone—until Andrew was finally satisfied, and then they were off.

  This time Andrew led her away from all the brightly lit streets and colourful lanterns and down a sloping, muddy side alley.

  Andrew had changed too, slightly. He wore his tweed coat with the collar turned up to block his face and a floppy, broad brimmed hat hung over, casting his face into dramatic shadow. Still, compared to Victoria, she hardly thought it was fair.

  ‘I look like a whore!’ she hissed to him.

  ‘That is the whole point!’ he whispered back. ‘To blend in!’

  She bit her bottom lip and kept close to him, trying to avoid the leers of the drunks that hollered at her as they passed. Finally, Andrew stopped in the darkness and waited. Victoria had never felt so vulnerable. Andrew snarled at her to keep still. A moment later a greasy, hairy man slunk out of the shadows.

  He cast a look to Victoria. ‘I thought you were coming alone.’ He sounded nervous.

  Andrew glanced to Victoria. ‘She’s my girlfriend. Don’t mind her. She doesn’t like being left alone and no doubt I’ll have to share the stuff with her. Thought she might as well come along.’

  Victoria flashed her most annoying smile. ‘You said you’d buy me my own bag!’ She grabbed Andrew’s arm. ‘I’m not sharing!’

  The man chuckled. ‘You’ve got a handful there, mate. Right, follow me.’

  The man trotted down a side street, leading them to the east and away from the centre of town. The buildings round them started to morph from flats and shops to derelict, darkened shells. They turned down a side street and were suddenly in a warehouse area. Several large structures were set up in a flat, sandy, fenced-in area. Boats were stored on large cradles, nets were draped over walls and each container and shed had a large padlocked door.

  The barn the man led them to was near the centre, but also situated near the back edge, in an easily overlooked spot. Victoria also noticed that from beneath the door, which was not locked, a yellow light was shining.

  Andrew stopped short. The stupid, innocent act gone, replaced with his cold, calculating self. He turned to the man. ‘This is the place?’ He already seemed to know where they were headed.

  The man shifted uneasily, sensing the chilling change in Andrew’s demeanour. ‘Yeah, time to pay up, then you can go inside and get your fix.’

  Andrew smirked. ‘Right. More likely so your friends can rob me. But fine, here’s your cut,’ Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather sack. Instead of handing it to the man though, he lunged forward and grabbed him, slamming the sack up against the man’s face. The man tried to cry out by was already losing consciousness fast. His legs buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground in a smelly heap. Andrew stuffed the sack back in his pocket and tugged his black gloves on tighter.

  ‘What did you do to him?’ Victoria gasped quietly.

  ‘Sleeping gas, comes naturally off of a type of rock found in the quarry,’ Andrew explained smugly. ‘Discovered that one back a while ago. Not to worry, it’s harmless. He’ll just wake up with a good headache in a few hours.’ Andrew searched the man, found nothing of interest, and stood. ‘Works better when it’s ignited, but just fine like that, if you’re close.’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘You have such a wicked mind.’

  Andrew smiled proudly, as if were the highest compliment he’d ever received, and waltzed over to the door of the barn. He rested his ear against it, frowning as he listened.

  ‘Where are we?’ Victoria asked, tiptoeing closer.

  ‘Gabbins’s storehouse,’ Andrew told her, eyes gleaming.

  Victoria frowned. ‘The police chief?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes.’ And with that, he pushed open the door and strode inside.

  Gabbins stood, hunched over a table, surrounded by mounds of guilt. Furs of poached animals hung on the walls; piles of money sat about gleaming and in the centre of it all was the table with at least fifty sacks on it, which Victoria realised could contain only one thing.

  Gabbins saw them and seemed to debate a moment about either bluffing his way out or making a run for it. He apparently came to the conclusion that bluffing past Andrew was about as likely as surviving a plunge off of a cliff and made a dodge for the door. Quick as a flash Andrew had his firearm invention out and pointed at the man.

  ‘Stop right there!’ he shouted in a voice that could freeze the blood of the most well composed individuals. Gabbins, hardly a man of good composure, froze dead still.

  ‘I haven’t yet gotten the chance to try out my new weapon on living flesh, so don’t tempt me to use it. I’m very curious to see just how damaging it can be.’

  Victoria cleared her throat. ‘Uh, Andrew, I’m not sure if being involved with the murder of the police chief is the best way to kick off the festival.’

  Andrew flashed a wicked grin, seemingly delighted at the prospect.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’ Gabbins snarled, hands in the air.

  Andrew circled him slowly and motioned for Victoria to close the doors to the barn. ‘You insulted me today. I don’t take well to that. Revenge is one of my strong suits. Not to mention I don’t like the fact that Flotsen’s police chief has been confiscating all of Flotsen’s crime scene contraband and selling it for profit.’

  The man let out a nervous laugh. ‘You don’t have proof of that!’

  Andrew rolled his yes. ‘Oh, please. We’re not getting into that. Look around you, man! Your log books says it all. Really rather stupid of you to put what was confiscated at the scene and the initials next to it of the buyer. You’ve certainly made a few sales in the last few months. Especially in the lucrative new trade of spores. You bought into that very quickly.’

  Victoria made her way over to the table and rifled through the sacks. ‘Yup! All of these have spores in them!’ she reported.

  ‘Didn’t take me long to figure out. I saw the yellow powder on your trousers and under your fingernails when we spoke this morning and once I got a look in your log book this afternoon I knew the truth. And now so does your understudy and the rest of the police force.’

  Andrew sidled up to the table with the sacks of spores on it and ran his hand over the bags, still keeping his eyes on Gabbins. ‘I’m afraid to say, you’re out of a job.’ He stuffed his free hand into his pocket and gave the man a nasty smile. ‘Pity.’

  Gabbins started to protest, but was drowned out by shouts from outside. Ten officers burst into the room and took in the situation with a glance.

  ‘Just in time, Captain,’ Andrew greeted. ‘I take it you can handle it from here?’

  The captain, an older man, smirked, the sight of such a young man in charge clearly amusing to him. ‘Sure we can, Andrew. Thanks.’

  Andrew sauntered over to Victoria, looking positively pleased over his responsibility for the downfall of Gabbins.

  He held out his arm to her. ‘Splendid. Victoria, shall we?’

  And with that, Victoria followed him out into the night, satisfied over their day’s work.

  * * * * *

  Molly pushed her way through the crowd, searching, face lit up by the colourful lanterns that were strung between the buildings. She’d always forgotten how lively festivals could be, and spending a good deal of it doing detective work with Tollin had made it all the better. The problem was, Tollin had an annoying habit of slipping off without warning and sometimes it took for ever for her to find him again—occasionally finding him in rather odd places, or situations. This was one of those times. Still, with Tollin gone she’d managed to find a good time knocking about with Thedric and his handsome friends.

  Flotsen was overwhelming, filled with life, despite the late hour. The city never slept. She wasn’t planning on sleeping, either.

  She dodged out of the way as a hansom cab rattled by, scanning the streets for any sign of her strange friend. For the life of her, she hadn’t be
en able to figure Tollin out. He was a wild, excitable man, overflowing with emotions and ideas and mystery. Molly couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to him, filled with desperation to be near him, help him. It was ridiculous, but Tollin had a power about him—a destiny that she could sense.

  She’d seen it in her dreams, which were becoming more vivid each night. They were always the same, filled with light, and the sad, beautiful woman Tollin would not speak of. Molly knew there was a supernatural force that connected the woman to him, a strong tie between them that made their existences inseparable. Perhaps she was Tollin’s lost lover, or his guardian angel. Either way, the curiosity was killing Molly and she was fighting to get to the bottom of the mystery every time she fell asleep.

  She pushed through the crowd, hardly realising where her feet were taking her. It didn’t really matter at this point.

  Her obsession with her dreams was growing stronger, twisting round her, empowering her. She was secretly taking potions for it now to increase them, pushing Tollin’s warnings from her mind further back every time she swallowed another concoction. It was obviously working. Molly’s dreams were gripping her tighter, pulling her willingly towards something. Something powerful and beautiful. And it wasn’t just in her dreams anymore. The visions lingered with her even now as she navigated the street, making everything round her seem pointless and trivial. Her heart beat with a new, strong purpose. A power was rising in her, and she liked it. Part of the thought terrified her. How could something she loved so greatly like the festival now be nothing but a blur of dull colour to her? What great splendour was out there that made where she was now so simple and disinteresting? Somehow she knew she was eventually going to discover it. The idea filled her with fear, but also anticipation. Something was going to happen to her, soon, and she was surprised she wasn’t afraid.

  ‘Molly!’ Tollin’s high pitched crow came from behind her and she turned to see him swaggering towards her. He’d evidently been having a good time. Several women’s scarves were wrapped round his head and arms and stuffed into his vest pockets and he held a cup of wine in one hand.

  ‘Hello Tollin, been having fun?’ she greeted him, knowing she shouldn’t feel left out, but still feeling the slight sting.

  He stuck out his lips in a thoughtful pucker and nodded his head. ‘It’s been interesting. I’ve been around a while but things here still surprise me, let me tell you!’

  Molly plucked a scarf from his trouser pocket and ran it through her fingers. ‘I can only imagine.’

  Tollin, oblivious, hopped up on a barrel and, swinging his legs, peered down to her. ‘So, when we get back to Miol Mor I say we take a wee trip out into the wood.’ He took a sip of wine.

  Molly frowned. ‘So you still want to go through with it, even if we don’t have a destination. Even after that man we met?’

  He leant forward on his hands. ‘Ah, but now we do! The Guardian’s Mountain on Blaiden land. That’s where the spores are! Plus, we need to find our antidote!’

  Molly didn’t exactly know what Tollin had in mind if they did indeed find the spores, but decided that was something best discussed at a more godly hour.

  ‘Can I count you in?’ he asked, eyes shining.

  Molly grinned. ‘Of course you can! I’ll always be here to help you.’

  Tollin flashed a huge smile. ‘That’s my girl!’ He hopped down and held out his hand for her to take. She tried to hide her smile as she felt his strong fingers wind round hers. ‘Now, let’s go see what else this fair has to offer us!’

  * * * * *

  Victoria walked back to her room on exhausted legs. Her eyes were at the point of refusing to stay open and she was hardly aware of the fact that she’d made it to the inn and up the stairs to her floor till she was in front of her door. She swayed, trying to fit the room key into the keyhole, ready for a good night’s sleep. She was surprised how exhausting running around after drug dealers could be. All she wanted was her questionably clean bed.

  She’d passed Molly as they’d walked through the streets and realised that the majority of the younger crowd had no intention of sleeping during the festival. She was not one of them. Keeping company with Andrew didn’t leave time—or energy—for things like that.

  The sound of a throat being cleared behind her caused her to turn. Andrew was leaning in his doorway, looking slightly awkward—an unusual state for him. His face worked as he fought for the right words.

  ‘I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind…’ He swallowed and glanced down at his feet. ‘Just…sleeping in my room tonight.’

  Victoria frowned and crossed over to him. She felt a strange flurry inside of her. ‘Oh?’

  He glanced up sharply at her, realising what his words had come across as. ‘Nothing like that. I just…’ He avoided her gaze and cleared his throat again. ‘I’m just…I don’t want to be alone again, not after what happened last night.’ A hint of fear tinged his words.

  She let out a breath, feeling sorry for him and nodded. ‘Sure, let me just go get a few things.’

  Again, he turned embarrassed. ‘I’ve already taken the liberty of having your things moved to my room earlier. Don’t worry, no-one noticed.’

  She crossed her arms across her chest. ‘What made you think I’d say yes?’

  ‘Because I know you care about me.’

  ‘Do you snore?’ She narrowed her eyes.

  ‘No.’

  Victoria bit her bottom lip and tilted her head, trying to keep her composure. ‘Good.’

  She knew she should be irritated—maybe offended—by his absolute conceitedness and his arrogant assumption that she’d just do anything he’d ask, but his request actually relieved her. After what had happened the previous night she wasn’t sure she wanted him to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to look after him. Andrew asking was a miracle in itself considering the amount of pride the man had.

  Andrew marched into his room, Victoria trailing behind; talking as if afraid the silence would cave in and suffocate him.

  ‘I’ve had the sheets washed, so they should be clean. Well, clean being a relative term. Useable might be better.’ He kicked off his shoes and sat down heavily. Victoria couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. The circles under his eyes were darker and his skin seemed even paler—if that were possible. And he was losing weight. His face was gaunter than ever, which was a feat in itself. Most worrisome was that he’d developed a cough over the day. Victoria hoped it was nothing more than a cold, but either way, something like that had to take a toll on him. She told herself then that she was going to make him take it easy tomorrow.

  Victoria dropped down onto the bed beside him and sighed. ‘Second night in a row where I’m not in my room. Molly’s going to notice. There will be talk.’

  Andrew’s brow dropped a bit. ‘I suppose that’s better than them thinking you’re here because I’m too concerned to sleep by myself.’

  She snorted. ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Both stories are equally improbable. I find it hard to imagine anyone would go for the story that we’re spending passionate nights together.’

  Victoria turned her eyes up to the dusty ceiling. ‘Hope you’re right.’

  He blew out the candle. ‘With all the excitement going on, there will probably be no talk anyhow. Thedric’s undoubtedly on the pull and Tollin will have Molly out all night doing who-knows-what.’

  His eyes were closed and he was already drifting off as he talked. Victoria realised that as tired as she was, he must really be exhausted. Andrew never slept well. He often kept the whole lodge up in the process, making as much noise as seemed humanly possible. She hoped he’d behave himself here at the inn. They didn’t need a hundred angry guests beating down their door.

  She rolled over to face him. ‘Andrew, if you feel anything coming on, wake me, yeah?’

  His eyes didn’t open but he nodded his head once. Curtly. And with that Victoria left him to drift off.

&n
bsp; She lay in the dark, unaware of the time. She could hear the sound of the younger generations outside, playing games and laughing. The pastel glow of the lanterns outside shone off of the grimy window and she watched the branches of a tree outside slowly toss in the cooling breeze.

  The great clock tower chimed the hour. It was well after midnight.

  Andrew’s gentle, steady breathing came beside her, reassuring her that all was still well with him. He twitched a few times in his sleep but after a long while Victoria finally relaxed to the thought that they were going to be fine. As alien as it felt, Victoria rested her head on Andrew’s shoulder and gave into the exhaustion that had been so eager to take her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They had been working hard all day putting the final touches on the book. Forgetting the festival entirely—for the third day straight.

  She’d opted to staying in Andrew’s room and writing for the most part, only pausing to order up tea and take quick stretches when they felt they could no longer sit still.

  Victoria felt a slight panic about finishing the book. Andrew was clearly getting worse. He was weak and moody—hardly a good combination. While he was not the most agreeable of people to keep company under pleasant circumstances, in the state he was in now he simply made all those around him miserable.

  After he collapsed twice in minor fits, and edging dangerously close to a nervous breakdown, Victoria finally called it quits on writing. It was growing dark and the strain of staring over flickering candles was getting to both of them. Not to mention the noise from the crowds below had started to bother Andrew. He’d been making up for it by humming loudly, seemingly unaware that he was doing so. It was his way of handling situations when he was especially stressed and it was enough of a clue for Victoria that she needed to get him away from everything.

  She finally wrapped him in his coat and the scarf Nan had knit for him, and led him outside. As she looked him over she couldn’t stop from frowning in frustration. He was unresponsive and downcast, quietly muttering chemical formulas for poisons to himself, so unaware of his surroundings Victoria wondered if he even realised he was outside. Still, as much as she didn’t know what to do for him, she doubted fresh air would hurt. Besides, Molly had announced that tonight would be a special night to be outside. Flotsen was shooting off waterworks and the best place to see them was the pier on the far side of town. It was a long walk without taking a cab, but in the setting sun with the cold breeze blowing, Victoria figured a walk would be just what Andrew needed. She promised Andrew, who was rather cross, that they’d take a cab home. By a glance at Andrew, she wasn’t sure if he’d make it there and back on foot.