He smiled to himself, thinking how dumb and trusting people could be. Then, feeling something push his legs, he jerked back and nearly fell over. He looked down. A cat. Her black cat. He stared at the creature, reached for it. He gripped it tightly. The animal began purring softly. “Pretty kitty,” he said, stroking the animal. He glared at it with hatred. “So trusting!” he repeated, his tone soothing, his teeth gritted together. He gently stroked it one last time.
The room was busy for a late-summer afternoon.
“Sophia, did you find that insect book for the boy in aisle four?”
“Done. Just helping someone with technical issues, but I need that one pulled,” I said, pointing to a piece of paper. “Do you have a sec?”
“No problem, I’ll do it—as long as you agree to stop smacking your gum,” she replied with a high-pitched chuckle.
Leslie’s voice was completely unique. It sort of reminded me of a violin out of tune. She was monotone and bubbly all at once and delivered her comments with a slightly nervous laugh.
“What’s the matter, anyway? You seem kind of lost in thought today.”
“I was just trying to remember whether I saw Daphne this morning. She didn’t come back last night. I left the terrace door open this morning while I got ready, but I don’t remember seeing her.”
“That cat practically lives outside.”
“I’m just concerned ’cause of the storm last night. You never know,” I said, walking back to the row of computers.
“Found it! It’s an oldie! It’s in the back,” she called, brushing traces of old leather from the front of her bright green sweater.
“Thanks,” I said, beaming as I returned.
“Who needs a book on alchemy anyway?”
I followed her inside the dust-free zone of the special collections room. She disappeared for a moment and returned with a beat-up book bound in marbled calfskin.
She laid it on top of the desk and bent over to inspect it. I watched as strands of auburn hair broke free from her ponytail to tumble over her forehead.
“Who did you say needed it?”
“I didn’t,” I said, distracted by the muted voice whispering in my ear. “Did you hear that?” I inspected the room, mystified by the strange chatter.
“What?” Leslie replied, scrutinizing me.
The book sent shivers down my backbone. Stamped in gilt on the spine was a familiar design. I reached out, touching the light brown leather.
A benign tremor shot up my fingers into my arm, making me pull back. Heat and goose flesh erupted on my skin and then spread across my shoulders, straining the muscles in my neck. The sensation died quickly but left unease in its wake. I rubbed my eyes.
“Never mind.” I hastily opened the volume, my skin tingling as it connected with the leather.
“Sophia? Are you okay?” Leslie asked with a furrowed brow.
“Fine. Just a bit tired,” I replied, flipping through the delicate pages. “I think I’ll come back and check this out again later.”
“No problem,” Leslie replied, leading the way out.
Taking a deep breath, I returned to the main desk and looked out the drafty arched window. The book was still beckoning to me in a voice I recognized. Rochus.
“It’s almost time to head home. I’m gonna go check the washrooms and lock up.”
I watched Leslie until she was out of sight.
I felt a sharp anticipation to learn what was in those pages twirl down my spine. I hurried into the special collections room and reached for the book. The ache in my head flared into a painful jab. Traces of gilt twinkled along the edge, catching my attention. But the worn golden touches didn’t explain the faint, lustrous shimmer that seemed to be fleeing from inside the pages. Rochus. This was the book Rochus had read from before mixing that potion. I opened the volume, my skin tingling as it connected with the leather.
My world spun, as if I was caught once again in the ocean, pulling me deep into a whirlpool. I was spinning and twirling like a washing machine. When the motion ceased, I opened my eyes. I floated in a stone room, surrounded by shelves lined with books and jars. Iridescent colours swirled around me, reminding me of blowing bubbles as a child. I wondered if I were inside one. Past the translucent wall, Rochus sat at his wooden table, the fire burning merrily in the hearth by his side—just as it had when I had last been there.
“Sophia, you must come back now,” he said.
“Sophia… Sophia… You all right?”
The words hissed in my ears. Leslie’s nose hovered inches from mine. I sighed with relief, glad to be back in the library, even if I was lying on the floor, exhausted. “What happened?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Leslie said. “I left to lock up, and when I got back you were lying on the ground.”
As she helped me to my feet, I glanced at the book, still lying open on the table.
“Did you come back here to look at that book? Sophia, is it for you? Are you suddenly going all black magic on me?”
It was an effort to speak.
“No. Of course not. I just wanted to check something out, something to do with a family heirloom. You remember the other day when I phoned you about researching the Temple of Indra Sapphire for me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, did you find anything?”
“Not yet, nothing recent. Just the really old facts about the emperor.”
“That’s what this is about? Your Gigi’s ring?”
My legs wobbled.
Leslie’s grip on my arm tightened.
“Sort of. This is going to sound crazy, but there’s no real way to say it and sound sane. When I fell into the sea off that island near Cannes, there was a swirling vortex—and I think it was a passage through time.”
“I think you should lie down. I think you hit your head.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m serious. I woke up, and everyone in this palace thought I was the Princess of Monaco. And there was this alchemist, Rochus. This was his book, and he used it to send me back here.”
Leslie had that look on her face. I knew it well. I’d seen it in the hospital. I started to cry. “Oh, Leslie, I can’t be going crazy. This really happened. I mean, look at this book. It’s real. It all has to be real, doesn’t it?”
“Well, you do work here, and you were back here before you went on vacation. Did you see it then?”
“No, of course not. I mean, I don’t think so.”
“We see a lot of books every day. Maybe you looked at it and forgot and then when you hit your head, maybe you dreamed about it. I know I’ve dreamed about work before.”
“This was different,” I said, but it wasn’t worth arguing about just then, so I pushed it aside. “Never mind. Let’s just go. I want to curl up in front of my fire and relax.”
We locked up and headed to her car; we carpooled on days we worked the same shift. It was still warm, but the clouds had rolled in, and it was starting to spit.
“You know, I was talking to Jan this morning. She was kind of shocked that you decided to come back to work so quick, knowing how close you and Gigi were. Do you think maybe you should reconsider? Maybe take a trip. Go lie on a beach and drink margaritas somewhere.”
“No. Of course not. I just got back from vacation. If you’ll remember, that didn’t pan out too well for me.”
The windshield wipers slapped against the glass. The sky was darkening.
“Well, fine, don’t go to the beach then. What about going to meet that guy who pulled you out of the water?”
“Cullen?”
“Cullen, yeah—you liked him and his family. Didn’t you say they asked you to come visit?”
“Yeah, they did.”
“And you have always talked about going to Ireland.”
“I know, but they were probably j
ust being polite, and I don’t know anyone else there. What would I do?”
She pulled up to my house and I opened the car door. The rain was starting to fall a little harder.
“Same thing you do here, except you’ll have a fine Irish lad to take your mind off things.”
I smiled. That did sound pretty nice.
“I don’t know if I should leave you alone.” She frowned.
“No. I’m fine, really. I want to be alone. I need to rest.”
Leslie looked sceptical, but she let me go.
I ran through the drizzle, wishing I’d worn a coat with a hood. I shook the raindrops away and quickly closed the door behind me, locking it. But I couldn’t escape the feeling that I wasn’t alone. I went to the kitchen and picked up an empty pot I’d left sitting on the stove. I wasn’t sure how great a weapon it would make, but I once heard a statistic that most weapons were turned on the victims. I just couldn’t bear the thought of a knife at my throat. A quick walk through the house convinced me I was entirely on my own. My sanity was wavering. It had all started when Nick pushed me. Then waking up in the body of the Princess, being confined and chased and then once again jumping into a watery time portal and waking up in a hospital… And then there was Gigi’s reaction and death. How much was real?
It was all too much. As I threw on an oversized sweater and a pair of tights, I wondered if maybe I should have stayed in the hospital and let them run some tests. Nick and maybe even Leslie thought I was suffering from a nervous breakdown. Was I?
I poured myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon, heated up a stir fry, switched the fireplace on and picked up my kobo. When I looked up again, I was surprised to find that it was almost nine. The rain had stopped.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eyes sore, I blinked, and I stood when the phone rang.
Who could be calling right now? Cullen would be on a plane heading back from his meeting in New York.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?” I repeated. “Who is this?” I demanded, more irritable this time.
No reply.
“If you’re playing a prank, I’m afraid you’re not funny.”
My hands were shaking as I clicked the phone off. I considered calling Leslie and then scolded myself for being so childish. No need to worry, I thought, about something so—
Someone pounded on the front door.
I got to my feet, staring down the hall beyond the living room. I could see a dark silhouette behind the frosted glass around the front door.
I backed up to the fireplace, my heart hammering.
The pounding stopped, and I saw the shadow move away. Who was that? I thought of the French doors—were they locked? Of course they should be, but I wasn’t sure. I grabbed a poker from the fireplace and reached for the phone. Then I heard a knock on the window beside me.
His fuzzy image stared back at me through my reflection.
“Cullen!” I said. I gestured and then ran to open the front door. Oh my God, I’m such an idiot! That must have been him on the phone; the storm probably interfered with the phone lines.
“Cullen, I’m so sorry,” I said as he whisked me into his arms and twirled me around.
“Did I frighten ya, luv?”
“Yes, half to death, but I’m so happy you’re here. What are you doing here?”
“My meeting in New York got delayed so I switched flights. Surprise!”
“That’s amazing. I was just talking about you after work today,” I whispered, burying my face in his neck as he continued to hug me.
“Really?”
“Nothing bad. Leslie—that’s my friend from work—she just thinks I’m too stressed and that I came back to work too soon. She suggested I visit you, and now here you are. This is awesome.”
“It is. Unfortunately I can only stay the one night.”
My face fell.
“Aw, don’t look so down, luv. That’s why I’m here at your door so suddenly. I don’t mean to be so forward. I should have gone to a hotel—and I still can—but I just thought, since it’s only the one night I wanted as much time with you as possible.”
“Well, of course you’ll stay here. I mean, I have a guest bedro—”
He me cut off by kissing me hard on the mouth.
Chills ran up my spine. He was such a good kisser.
I awoke with a sudden jolt, automatically groped for Cullen and realized it was seven in the morning. He was in the shower. I lay on the couch, my arm stretched lazily above my head, blanket tangled around my waist. We’d stayed up talking almost all night. I must have dozed off at some point around four.
The water stopped. Cullen casually strutted back into the living room, his bronzed skin still dripping as he towel-dried his shaggy golden-red mane.
“I hope it’s all right. I took the liberty of using your shower.”
“Of course. Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
“No, that’s all right. I have to get back to the airport.”
Leaning back against the couch, I scrutinized him intently. Goodness! I was so attracted to him. He didn’t have the kind of body that took hours in the gym to achieve. He was a natural athlete with a slim build on a wiry frame, and it suited him. There was something about him that just connected with me, and it wasn’t purely animal—although we’d made out pretty hardcore. It had been hard to stop.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“Come with you? Now?” I stood up, folded the blanket and set it on the arm of the couch. Then I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the water to the tub on my way to the fridge. I returned with a glass of orange juice.
“Your friend may be right. You don’t need to be mopin’ around here, dealing with your grief alone. Come to Ireland. You know the old ones’ll love to see you, an’ you can stay with me. I have to work, but I don’t have any trips now for ’bout a month.”
“That’s very sweet, but—”
“What’s stopping you? It’s just a mini vacation—you don’t have to stay forever. I won’t hand ye over to the fairies, I promise. Come have some fun.”
“I can’t just leave without speaking to my boss, but I’ll think about it.”
I kissed him good-bye and returned to the tub. The water was so hot steam permeated every surface, leaving the mirror over the little white pedestal sink completely fogged. I dipped my toes in. The sensation travelled up my thighs into my belly, lifting my skin into tiny goose pimples, spreading across my shoulder blades and into my hairline. I submerged myself into the giant Jacuzzi tub, enjoying the feeling of the water’s warm beads penetrating my pores always produced. Oil floated on the surface, subtly fragrant and soothing, leaving me with that easy, peaceful feeling. I lost track of how long I lay there, soaking, recharging, when I heard the phone ringing. I was glad to hear it was working again. Then it occurred to me. Why had Cullen called the house phone instead of my cell phone?
Actually, come to think of it, he didn’t have my home number.
It was listed, but why didn’t he just text me like usual?
At last he left.
The stalker knew, because he watched.
She bathed. Forever and ever it seemed, just letting the bubbles from the tub jets wash over her. She was totally unaware that he stood outside her window. She believed she should have been safe from prying eyes because of the fence and bushes that surrounded the house, but he knew how to move around without being scene.
What had the Irish golden boy been doing here?
No matter. He’d take care of him too if he had to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Getting through the airport was a tedious process. I hoped the flight to Dublin went smoother. I sat on the plane awaiting takeoff, thinking about the article I’d read on a temple in Cawnpore and sipping Timmy’s coff
ee. I was growing restless. The captain announced a delay. Checking the time, I realized it would probably be another 40 minutes before we were in the air.
I scrolled through an article on Nadir Shah and his 1738 invasion into Delhi. Legend had it he heard the emperor had a jewel so powerful that possession of it meant control of the empire. Intrigued by mythology as a child, I possessed some knowledge on the supposed magical gemstones; but I assumed that was the stuff of legend, children’s bedtime stories told by Gigi to spark my imagination. Not theology. Mythically speaking, whoever possessed the magic gained the power to time travel. Which to the logical mind sounded nuts, but then again, there was me—unless I was going nuts? Leslie assumed I was still confused from the bump on my head. Even Gigi had seemed shocked by what I told her.
I tucked my tablet away, exhaustion setting in. Life had become a whirlwind. Leslie and my very understanding boss had helped me arrange my sabbatical in a matter of days. The three of us had shared a tearful good-bye last night, leaving me emotionally drained.
I slept most of the flight, waking only briefly to let the girl beside me out. This time, instead of dreams filled with jewels and murder, I lusted after Cullen sometimes melding into Viktor. The eyes never changed—almost as if they were one and the same.
After seven hours of travel from Toronto, I should have been beat, but an equal measure of exhilaration and apprehension forced me to hurry from customs to baggage. I tightened my grip on my purse and strolled into the arrivals area of the Dublin airport. I was in Ireland, albeit still in the airport—which was totally foreign, with signs in Gaelic and chatter I didn’t comprehend. The place was exotic, noisy and bustling.
I stepped outside, and my heart raced as I scanned the crowd of strangers. With relief, I spotted an older man in a green vest bearing the name of the aircoach service Cullen had suggested. The dazzling sunshine brought me to an abrupt stop. For some reason I was expecting rain in Ireland. I lifted my face to the sun’s kiss and greedily sucked in air that hadn’t been climate controlled and recycled. Slipping on sunglasses and savouring the warmth on my shoulders, I waved, wheeling my luggage toward him.
The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: Page 10