“It’s bloody awful, is what it is. You have no idea the things I’ve...” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sebastian about the dreams. He turned back to the window. “I have to find Elizabeth. She’s...she’s everything to me.”
“She must be a remarkable woman.”
Simon closed his eyes for a brief second and then stared out into the darkening street below. “She’s stubborn beyond measure, thoroughly reckless and idiotically optimistic. All and all completely maddening.”
Sebastian chuckled.
Simon turned to face him. “And I love her more than I thought possible.”
“I know the feeling, lad. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of dear Nora. God rest her soul. Your grandmother was an angel that walked the earth. For too short a time.”
Simon had barely known his grandmother. She died in an accident when he was very small, but he remembered her voice and, of course, the stories Grandfather told over games of chess.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. It was so obvious he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He pulled his watch from his pocket. “The eclipse. When it comes, I can set the watch to the day before yesterday and save Elizabeth. It’s so simple.”
“Also impossible, I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
“A failsafe built into the watch. Once you travel through a time, you can never return to it. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe you’re wrong.”
“Don’t you think I tried when Nora was killed in the accident? No man can resist that temptation. The Council knows that. The failsafe is designed to protect the timeline. Certain things are meant to be.”
“Not this.”
“You have to consider the possibility. The Council—”
“Sod the Council and sod their bloody timelines!” Simon yelled as he slammed his fist down on the table. He took a breath and straightened. “This is Elizabeth. And I will do whatever I must to get her back.”
“Now, Simon—”
“Don’t coddle me! I’m not a child anymore.”
“No, you’re not. You’re man enough to know that what you want isn’t always what’s best. There are rules, Simon. I’m breaking the rules I’ve lived by for forty years just talking to you.”
“Why?” Simon demanded.
Sebastian cleared his throat and set down his teacup. “Because I couldn’t stand to see you lying in the gutter.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, of course.”
“And I love Elizabeth.”
Sebastian took a deep breath. “You should have been a barrister,” he said and then gestured to the chair.
Simon huffed out an impatient breath and then sat.
Sebastian ran his hand through his shock of white hair and sighed. “There’ll be hell to pay for this when I get back. The reports I have on King are detailed, but there are gaps. No one wrote a living history of events, so my information is bodged together from various sources. Not all of them necessarily reliable.” He paused and looked around the small room, clearly stalling for time.
“Go on.”
“It was reported that King died today. Some time this evening.”
“That’s the first good news I’ve had in a long time,” Simon said.
“Yes, well. It seems he was killed in some sort of explosion or fire. The details are rather sketchy. He was last seen this evening on a yacht, the Osiris, at a small marina in New Jersey.”
Unbidden, images from Simon’s nightmare of Elizabeth in her small rowboat flashed before him. “A yacht?”
“Yes, his destination wasn’t clear. But,” Sebastian said, his grey eyes growing troubled, “everyone on board perished.”
For the first time since Elizabeth had vanished, Simon felt a faint glimmer of hope. If only he could get there in time. “What marina? Do you know the specifics?”
“It isn’t necessarily reliable information, Simon,” Sebastian said as he plucked at the cuffs of his jacket.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Things will play out as they should. I’m only trying to spare you.”
“Tell me.”
Sebastian took a sip of tea and made a face. “Gone cold.”
“Grandfather, please? I have to know.”
“There was a report of a woman on board. It could have been someone else, there’s no guarantee it was your Elizabeth. Perhaps it was another body.”
Simon’s mind reeled. It was just as it had been in his dream.
Sebastian leaned forward and rested a hand on Simon’s knee. “There are certain things we have to accept, lad.”
“Not this,” Simon said and stood. “What marina?”
Sebastian sighed. “Brown’s Point Marina in Keysport,” he said as he got to his feet. “We’ll go together.”
“No. You have to promise you’ll stay here,” Simon said. “In this room until the eclipse.”
“Balderdash. I’m not letting you run off to face King alone. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You don’t understand. You have to stay here. Promise me you will?”
Sebastian squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin defiantly. “Out of the question.”
The unstoppable force glared at the immovable object. The future and the past pulled him in opposite directions, until Simon thought he would be split in two. “Don’t make me force you to stay. By God, I will if I have to. I can’t have your death...”
“My death?”
“Please? I couldn’t bear it if...Stay here.”
Sebastian released Simon, his eyes impenetrable. He stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. “You’d better hurry, son.”
“Thank you,” Simon said softly and then it dawned on him: this would be the last time he would see his grandfather. “There are so many things I wanted to say.”
“Consider them said,” Sebastian said and took Simon’s hand, covering it with both his own. “Now hurry, and for God’s sake, be careful.”
Simon studied the older man’s face for the last time. “I will,” he promised and squeezed Sebastian’s hand firmly before letting go. He nodded once and then turned on his heel and left the room without looking back.
Chapter Thirty
The only thing worse than a raging storm was a raging storm on the ocean. Even as Simon struggled to keep his footing on the muddy, treacherous slope, he could see the whitecaps whipped up into a frenzy by the fierce wind. The sea churned wave after merciless wave onto the shore, dragging out the sand into the murky, bone chilling depths beyond.
He’d paid a fortune to the cabbie to take him through the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey, but far more precious was the time it had taken. More than two hours eaten away, leaving one golden hour until the lunar eclipse. He looked up into the black sky and wondered if he’d even know when it came. The moon was blanketed behind an endless cloud that seemed to cover the whole of the earth. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered if he didn’t find Elizabeth.
He would find her; he was sure of that. His nightmares had led him to this place, to this moment in time, where the images that had tortured him would come to their inevitable end.
His foot slipped on some loose pebbles, and he grabbed the thorny edge of a bramble bush to keep from falling. The thorns dug into his palm. Fresh rivulets of blood mixed with the rain and puddled in his hand. His fingers curled into a fist. He wasn’t beaten yet. There was no power on this earth that could keep him from trying. Elizabeth was alive, and he’d pay whatever price that was asked to keep her that way.
The hillside he stood on gave him a good view of the marina below. It was a private dock, no more than five slips, surrounded on the shore by a chain link fence. Two men carried large casks out of a small warehouse at the base of the dock to a yacht sitting at the end of the pier. A third stood at the gangplank barking orders.
Simon crouched down into the undergrowth. If he was going to have a chance in hell o
f confronting King, it would have to be on the shore. There were too many men around the boat. But if they made any move to leave, he’d take his chances there.
Fate decided to throw him a crumb. Another man emerged on the gangplank and stopped to talk to the supervisor. A flash of lightning lit the night sky. King.
Simon hurried down the rest of the hill, skidding to a halt at the base of the fence. It would leave him exposed to climb over it, but there was nothing to be done for it. The gate was well secured with a heavy chain. Patting his jacket pockets, he felt the outline of the guns. They might not kill the bastard, but from what Elizabeth had said about that night in the storeroom, they would slow him down. He could feel the stake in his inner breast pocket, pressing against his chest, and he was warmed by the thought of shoving it into King’s heart.
The metal fence shook and rattled under his weight. He clambered up the side, but his jacket got snagged on one of the twisted ends of wire. He yanked at it, but he was still caught. He gave it another tug and the jacket came free, but one of the guns fell from his pocket and landed on the wrong side of the fence. Damn it. He was vulnerable enough without trying this stunt again. One would have to do. Easing over the fence, he landed in a crouch and crept to the back of the storehouse.
Pressing himself against the back door, he waited and listened. Muffled voices came from the other side. He strained to hear King’s among them. Then he heard the unmistakable voice that sounded like oil dripping on silk. Bastard.
The voices faded away as the men trundled another barrel back to the boat. The thin sliver of light shining under the door died. With the cover of darkness on his side, Simon gripped the rusty knob and eased it open. King stood silhouetted on the opposite side of the room and watched his men wheel the last barrel down the pier.
Simon eased the gun from his pocket and stepped into the room. He was sure the pounding of his heart would give him away, but King didn’t seem to take any notice of him. Simon took another tentative step forward and raised his gun.
“I was beginning to wonder,” King said calmly, his back still to Simon. “If you were ever going to arrive.”
He turned around slowly, his white teeth gleaming in a wickedly perfect smile. “Not that you would have been missed.”
Simon’s fingers tightened around the handle of the gun and he cocked the trigger. “Where is she?”
King laughed softly. “Waiting for me.”
“Waiting to tell you to go to hell, I’d imagine. In fact, it would be my pleasure to give you a hand with that,” Simon said and pulled the trigger.
The first bullet was high, and the door jam next to King’s shoulder exploded in a shower of splintered wood. King didn’t flinch and started forward. Simon strode forward meeting King step for step, the distance between them swiftly closed.
The second bullet hit King in the shoulder and knocked him off stride, but only for a moment. Simon fired again and again; both bullets hit King square in the chest. The impact stopped King in his tracks, and his shoulders rolled forward as he struggled to keep his legs under him.
The metallic click of trigger against empty chamber told Simon he’d run out of bullets. He tossed the gun aside and reached for his stake. King staggered, and Simon lunged forward, prepared to drive the wood into the bastard’s cold heart. But King’s reflexes were too fast, and his hand shot out and held Simon’s forearm in a crushing grip.
King’s face twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Pathetic,” he sneered and squeezed Simon’s wrist. The bones almost snapped under the pressure, the stake fell uselessly to the floor. An icy pain shot up his arm. King tossed him aside.
Simon crashed into the wall. Ignoring the screaming pain in his wrist, he pushed himself up.
King watched, clearly amused and pleased to have a chance to play with his prey before the kill. “I wasn’t going to kill you,” he said calmly, nearly recovered from the onslaught of bullets. “I thought it might curry favor with Elizabeth to keep you alive, but I think I’m going to enjoy listening to you beg for mercy. Not that you’ll get it,” he added with a grin.
He stepped forward and hit Simon with a brutal backhand that sent him rolling along the wall.
Spikes of pain lanced through Simon’s temples, but he regained his feet. He stood tall and as firmly as he could. “You do know you’ll never get what you want.”
King stalked closer. “I always get what I want.”
“You’ll never have Elizabeth.”
“I already have her,” King said, punctuating the statement with another cruel blow.
Simon could barely stand. It took all his energy to keep from giving in to the welcoming darkness that slowly pressed down on him. He lifted his chin and met King’s eyes. “You don’t. You might kill me—”
“I think I will.”
“But I’ll take the one thing you want with me to my grave,” Simon said, finding an untapped well of strength in the force of his words. All of his weapons had been useless against King, except for one. It was an astonishing epiphany—simple and pure. Father Cavanaugh had tried to tell him, and he’d been too stubborn to see it. Elizabeth had given it to him, and he’d denied its power. Until now. “Her love will always be mine.”
King’s mouth twitched with anger, and his fists clenched. Eyes once black now glowed an unearthly yellow. Bulging veins popped out on his neck and sharp white fangs curved over his lip. Face to face with one of the creatures he’d searched for all his life, Simon wanted nothing more than to destroy him, to obliterate the grotesque perversion of life.
“She will love me!” King snarled. “As I love her.” He grabbed Simon by the arms and held him in a vise-like grip.
Simon shook his head. “I feel sorry for you.”
“For me? You’re the one that’s about to die.”
Simon managed a weak smile. “But I’ll die for love.” King’s eyes flashed brighter, but Simon kept on. If this were his final piece, he would say it. “You’re not even capable of it. You may exist forever, but you’ll never live. Not even for a moment. You’ll never know how love feels.”
A deep, demonic growl rumbled in King’s chest and he bared his fangs, prepared for the kill, but drew up short as a voice rang out in the darkness.
“King!”
The vampire turned. Sebastian Cross stood only a few feet away. King threw Simon against the wall and then advanced on the old man. He’d barely taken a step when Sebastian tossed the contents of a glass jar at King. A wave of clear liquid splashed onto King’s face. Instantly, his skin began to burn from the powerful acid. Acrid smoke billowed off the burning flesh.
King roared in fury. With reflexes far too fast for the old man, he grabbed him and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of the man’s neck. Soft, gurgling sounds and the fetid smell of burned skin filled the small warehouse. Sebastian clutched the front of King’s jacket in a futile effort to push him away. Ever increasing splashes of blood fell at their feet.
The acid had burned away the side of King’s neck and the bulging vein ruptured. All the blood he drained from Sebastian poured out of the gaping hole.
With a furious snarl, King tossed Sebastian aside. Still gripped in the dying man’s hand, King’s front pocket tore away.
King stumbled toward the door. Smoke danced off his face as the acid continued to eat away at him. He pushed himself out the door and staggered into the driving rain.
Fueled by rage and unyielding pain, King made his way down the uneven planks of the dock.
“Jesus, Boss!” one of the henchman cried when he saw King through the rain.
“Get this thing moving!” King bellowed.
“What happened to you?”
“I said,” King raged, grabbing the man by his shirt, “get this thing moving.”
The man paled but quickly nodded and called out to the others. “Get the bow line! Cast off.”
King shoved him away and boarded the boat as the men set into action, untying the mooring lines and p
ulling in the gangplank. In a maniacal fury, he threw open the door to Elizabeth’s room. She whirled around and gasped at the sight of him.
“You will love me,” King growled as he stalked closer.
Disgust and fear flashed across her face, spurring his wrath. Her hand moved quickly to her throat. He saw the gleam of a jagged shard press against her neck.
She pushed the makeshift blade to her skin. A trickle of blood slid down her pale neck. “I’ll die first.”
King froze. The demon strained inside him, barely reined in. It could smell the blood. Wanted to taste it. But his soul still held on.
He lunged forward and gripped her wrist, wrenching her hand away from her neck. She struggled against him, and his mind clouded over as his own inner battle raged on. He shoved her away, and she fell back onto the bed. How easy it would be to take her now. To feel her pulse ebbing into his. To take what she wouldn’t give.
He looked away from her for a moment and caught sight of himself in the mirror. His soul gave him that gift. But now, it was more than a curse. There was no hint of the man he once was in his reflection. Grotesque burns left his skin slagging off the side of his face. The white of his cheek bone, scoured by the acid, shone through the blistered mass. The skeleton of the beast.
Elizabeth took advantage of his distraction and bolted for the door, but King grabbed her before she could make it past him. He spun her back into the room, but she wouldn’t stop fighting. She tried to get past him, hands clawing, grabbing for anything she could in a frantic attempt to escape. Her fingers curled around the base of the hurricane lamp, and she swung it at him. King pushed her back and leapt out of the way.
The lantern crashed to the floor. Oil spilled out onto the carpet and caught fire between them. The flames spread quickly, slithering along the floor like a mass of snakes. The wall of flame licked higher and higher between them. Thick smoke filled the tiny room.
Between the flashes of orange and red fire, King saw Elizabeth. She was trapped inside the room, imprisoned by a wall of flame.
She coughed and covered her mouth, but the smoke was too thick. Frantically, she tried to ward off the searing heat and find a way past the flames, but it was no use. The flames were too high, the fire too strong. There was no escape. She was going to die. She stopped struggling and lifted her head, and her eyes met his.
Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery Page 30