“How would that even work?” Gray questioned. “He existed then. Were there two of him?”
“Perhaps?” Damien answered. “Or perhaps he melds into his own body back then?”
“This is a rather far-fetched theory if you ask me,” Gray concluded.
“Seriously? You and your wife have both lived for centuries and have strange powers and you find THIS far-fetched?” Damien asked.
“What makes you sure this is what happened, D?” Celine prompted him back to the subject at hand.
“I researched everything I could about the Duke, the painter, the painting, the house, art, everything. There is no reference to that painting anywhere after its completion. It’s like it never saw the light of day. No one mentions the portrait, it’s not listed as an official work of Benjamin Abbott, and when I checked pictures of the foyer in any family albums or histories, the painting’s never there.”
“Wait, wait, wait, it was there in the pictures. We saw it,” Michael said. “When we first got here, we saw that painting, we remarked about how it looked just like Josie, eh Celine, her,” he said, pointing at Celine.
“Yes, I know. That’s the first place I searched when I started my research. But look at the album now.” Damien grabbed a photo album from the midst of the books and plopped it in front of them. “This is the picture in its place. And the caption now says Painting of Ships in the Harbor.”
“This makes no sense, that painting isn’t there now. The wall is empty. And how did you find a picture of Celine’s portrait when you first came?” Gray pressed.
“I’m not sure. Were we seeing what the Duke wanted us to see? Now that he’s gone maybe he can’t cover his tracks anymore.”
“Why would he want you to see the painting of Celine when she was Mina?” Gray questioned.
“So, no one realized WHEN the painting went missing. Everyone here assumed it was stolen and hidden in this time period. That notion stopped everyone from realizing when the painting actually went missing and searching for it when and where it could be found.”
“How does this help us find the painting, D?” Celine asked.
“Well, we now realize when your portrait went missing…”
“In theory,” Gray added.
“We can go back and retrieve it before he steals it,” Damien finished.
“This is the most ridiculous theory and plan I have ever heard,” Gray said, crossing his arms. “We have no confirmation this happened, he’s guessing. And there are some fairly sizable gaps in his theory. Is it possible for the Duke to send himself back in time? And even if he stole her portrait then, wouldn’t the painting be around somewhere, wherever he put it? How does everyone remember the painting despite it being stolen immediately after it was created?”
“Just because we don’t know the answers doesn’t mean he’s wrong,” Celine said.
“I’m with Gray on this one,” Michael chimed in. “And I’m not going to travel back in time for some half-baked theory.”
“Come on, Michael,” Damien argued, “even if I’m wrong, the painting existed back then, we can 'steal’ it before it’s stolen. It’s not like we’re getting anywhere pursuing any other avenues.”
“No way, I’m out,” Michael answered.
“Okay, I’ll go myself,” Damien said.
“No.” Celine shook her head. “I’m not sending you alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“What about Gray? Or Alexander?”
“They both existed in that time. We do not understand what ramifications, if any, there are to sending someone to a time they existed in already. We can’t risk it,” Celine explained
“The Duke did.”
“According to you,” Gray retorted.
“Even if you are correct, Marcus has no regard for consequences. I wouldn’t follow his example on anything,” Celine responded.
Frustrated, Damien appealed to Michael once more. “Come on, buddy. Just one quick trip.”
“I told you,” Michael said, annoyance plain in his voice, “I’m out. No way.”
“Why? Are you having luck finding the painting with your investigation in abandoned houses?” Damien countered.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really? You don’t? I saw you. Last night at the...”
“Look, man.” Michael cut him off. “I don’t know what you imagine you saw but I’m not doing anything in any abandoned houses. Come talk to me when you have a real theory.” Michael turned on his heel and exited the room.
“I’d agree with Michael. Come back with solid evidence,” Gray added, following Michael out of the room.
Celine and Damien were left alone. Celine eyed Damien, filled with concern for his feelings. Damien stared at the floor, his theory shredded by both Michael and Gray. “Sorry, D,” Celine said, grabbing his hand. “I don’t assume you’re wrong. I’m not dismissing your theory out of hand, but we need more proof before we do anything as dangerous as sending you back in time.” Damien didn’t respond. “Listen, tomorrow, we’ll start fresh. I’ll help, we’ll go over everything. Determine if we can find more proof of your theory or another hypothesis. If we can prove you’re right, then we’ll talk about sending you back to find it. Okay?”
Damien sighed, squeezing her hand. “Okay, yeah. Thanks, Celine.”
“I appreciate all your work on this. We’ll find the painting, D. Now, how about some dinner?”
“I’m going to turn in for the night. I’m exhausted, and I ate a ton of junk food already. I’m not hungry.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay, Celine,” he assured her. “I’m just tired.”
She smiled at him. “Okay, D. Get some rest, see you in the morning.” She embraced him in a tight hug before he slogged out of the room. She sighed as she watched him leave. He tried so hard and all his attempt earned him was grief from both Gray and Michael. While she wasn’t on board with sending Damien and Michael to the past again, especially if it was a wild goose chase, Michael and Gray had overreacted. His theory wasn’t that far-fetched. And she knew Damien well. He didn’t float rough theories. He had researched this, he had vetted this theory through his mind, considering it from various angles, playing devil’s advocate to himself, he wasn’t proposing an ill-conceived postulate. Perhaps with her help, they could iron this out and either find the painting or obtain real proof of when it disappeared.
Celine strode to the door, entering the hallway. A gust of icy air rushed past her. Celine froze as the icy sensation seemed to penetrate through her and race through her veins. She shuddered as the sense of foreboding settled over her again.
Chapter 7
Damien turned toward the foyer as he exited the library. He didn’t intend on going to bed, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. His mind churned, the last conversation playing on a continual loop in his head. How could they dismiss his theory so easily? What other theory made sense? Why did Michael refuse to help him? And why did he lie about his whereabouts last night? Not even Celine seemed to believe him. She said she did, but she didn’t defend him. Why?
He pushed through the front door into the cool night air. The air remained damp even though the storm had passed. The trees still dripped with rain. Damien shoved his hands into his pockets and strode down the path with no destination in mind. He roamed around the property without aim, lost in contemplation.
As he approached the overlook near the cliffs, he spotted Michael standing near the edge. Damien had no inclination to speak with him. He was about to veer off to another path to avoid meeting Michael when he discerned movement ahead. He paused as he strained his eyes to identify the person approaching. His eyes widened as he recognized the individual. “Celeste?” he whispered.
Celeste, her blond hair pulled into a high bun, approached the cliffs where Michael stood. Was she meeting Michael, he wondered? That was unlikely. There was no love lost between Michael and Celeste and that was putting it mildl
y. She closed the gap between her and Michael. Damien slinked behind a tree, surveying the two as Michael turned to greet her.
The two exchanged a brief greeting. Damien couldn’t make out the conversation. But he witnessed the two embrace before engaging in a passionate kiss. Shock coursed through Damien. What was he witnessing? Michael and Celeste? Were they engaged in an affair? The proof seemed irrefutable.
Damien fled the scene, not wanting to witness any more. Confusion and dismay flowed through him as he raced to the house. He entered the house, proceeding straight up the stairs to his room. He locked the door behind him. He would never sleep tonight. Disappointment from his theory presentation and astonishment at the scene he witnessed on the cliffs would keep him tossing and turning.
Celine sat across from an empty chair the following morning at breakfast. Damien had been a no-show, along with Michael. Celine picked at the food on her plate. Things were falling apart here faster than she expected. Damien had thrown himself into the search for the missing painting and, having had his idea rejected by Gray and Michael, became dejected. When Damien perceived rejection, he climbed back into his shell, alienating himself from the world. Michael had been moody for the past week, snapping at anyone who offered concern.
Gray, who joined Celine for breakfast, noted their absence also. “Looks like your two buddies are having a rough morning,” he commented.
“No wonder,” Celine answered. “You could have been a tad nicer last evening.”
Gray rolled his eyes. “His theory is ridiculous, and it’s a terrible idea for them to travel back in time, again. Especially when it may not be necessary.”
“I realize that, and I agree. I don’t want to send either of them back to 1791, but his theory wasn’t that ridiculous.”
“It’s a stretch.”
“It’s not, Gray. Most of the issues you and Michael brought up he had an answer for. It’s no less plausible than any other hypothesis. And he makes an excellent point, we have had no luck here locating the painting.”
Gray sighed, pondering a moment before answering. “Okay, okay. It’s not a terrible theory in retrospect. But I still think we shouldn’t do anything rash until we learn more.”
“I agree.”
“Besides, there is no rush.”
“I suspect Damien just wants to solve the problem, so in his estimation he’s contributing something.”
“I understand, but we don’t need the painting. We already have the real thing.” Gray stood from the table and kissed her on the top of her head. “I’ll be in the study, reading the morning paper.”
She smiled at him. “Okay, I’ll check in with you later after I finish some work.”
“I’m still trying to get accustomed to you as a business woman,” Gray replied.
“Yes, I found I quite liked running my own business when I was Josie. Who knew?” she joked. Gray smiled at her then strolled toward the door. “Oh, Gray?” He turned to face her. “If you see Damien…”
“I’ll try to be a little nicer,” he finished for her.
She smiled at him, offering a wink. “Thanks.”
That addressed one concern. Damien’s theory wasn’t terrible, and it was the only thing that made sense given all the information. At least if Gray ran into Damien, he might be more encouraging this time.
She stared at the other empty chair. One other problem remained, one that she couldn’t solve by asking Gray to be nicer. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could solve it at all. Michael may need to come around on his own, she surmised. She hoped Damien was still on board with helping Michael despite their minor argument last night.
Celine spent the morning taking a long walk, unable to concentrate on work much. She wandered through the wooded areas of the property, hidden by the trees for much of her walk. As she emerged from the forest to approach the rocky cliffs, she experienced a strange sensation. She stood on the cliff’s edge, staring at the sea when the hairs on her neck raised. Discomfort washed through her and she developed goosebumps. She experienced the distinct sensation that someone was watching her. She whipped around to face the trees behind her, scanning the area for any sign of a person. “Hello?” she called into the darkened area.
Movement caught her eye to the left. She swiveled her head toward it. A deer sprung from the camouflage of the trees, staring at her for a moment before racing past her. Celine breathed a sigh of relief. The deer must have been the source of her ominous feeling of being watched. Paranoia from centuries of being chased and tormented was getting the better of her. She gave one last glance at the woods. Not spotting anything else, she left her cliff side perch, traveling back to the house.
As she approached the grandiose structure, she spotted Alexander making his way toward the house on another path. “Hello, Celine,” he called from across the yard. They met in front of the house before entering together.
“Hi, Alex,” she answered. “Enjoying a walk before lunch?”
“I’m on a mission. I hoped to speak with Damien.”
Celine smiled, realizing he was following up on their discussion yesterday. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning, he missed breakfast. However, I’ve been out most of the morning, so he may be here. Will you join us for lunch first? Perhaps we’ll see him there.”
“I’d love to, thank you.”
They left their coats in the entryway and navigated to the dining room. Gray, Damien, Charlotte and Avery joined them. Celine was pleased to see Damien in attendance, relieved that he wasn’t avoiding the family.
Celine chose a seat next to him, putting her arm around him in a half hug. “We missed you this morning,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I slept in. I was beat after those two research days, more tired than I realized,” he responded. The explanation didn’t sit well with Celine. She always had a way of telling when he wasn’t being totally truthful. This, she judged, was one of those times. Something was still bothering Damien. Perhaps it was only residual disappointment from the critical reception his hypothesis received.
“Too tired for more research this afternoon?” Celine pushed.
“Umm…” Damien hedged.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, Celine,” Alexander interrupted, overhearing their conversation, “but I was hoping for a conversation with Damien after lunch.”
“Of course,” Celine answered, “first access granted. We can talk afterwards, D.”
“Ah, what about tomorrow?” Damien answered. “Perhaps everyone is right. Maybe we should let it cool off. Revisit it and determine what we come up with.”
“Oh, sure. Tomorrow’s great, we’ll attack it tomorrow. Together,” Celine acquiesced, giving his knee a squeeze. Yes, she reflected, this was classic Damien Sherwood avoidance. She wouldn’t push it, instead hoping his conversation with Alexander helped the situation.
After lunch, Alexander and Damien disappeared to the library. “I’m glad we have a moment to chat, Damien,” Alexander said.
“Anytime,” Damien answered, “is there something I can help with?” Damien drummed his fingers on his leg, a nervous habit. Alexander’s sudden appearance and interest in a private conversation made him edgy. Did he, too, want to discount any conjectures about the missing painting?
“I was hoping there may be something I can help with,” Alexander countered.
“What do you mean?” Damien inquired, still jittery.
“Well, since our conversation, I was curious to know if any of the information helped you. I’m interested to know if you’ve made any progress.”
Damien made a face. “Oh,” he said, staring at the floor as he scuffed his shoe against it, assuming Alexander was here to further devalue his theory.
“It appears the answer is ‘no.’ Am I correct?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
“Heard? Heard what?”
“No one told you about my incredibly stupid theory?”
“No?” Alexander said, phrasing it as a questi
on.
“Well, long story short. I’ve made no progress except one spectacular fail at a hypothesis that everyone laughed at.”
“I cannot believe Celine laughed.”
“Well, no, she didn’t. She agreed it was possible, perhaps even probable.”
“What was the theory?”
“Forget it. Thanks for checking in though,” Damien said, nodding to him.
“I’d rather not forget it. I’d like to hear your theory myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Umm…” Damien hesitated.
“I promise not to laugh. I’m sure it’s not, as you say, ‘a fail.’ If Celine didn’t deduce it was, I’m betting it has merit. Perhaps a fresh mind can help you tweak any minor issues that may exist with it.”
Damien shrugged his shoulders. “My idea was that the Duke didn’t steal the painting in this time, that he went back to when it was painted and stole it then.”
“And what makes you suppose this to be the case?”
“Well,” Damien said, warming up to the conversation, “I researched everywhere possible. I examined every photo album here, scrutinized the painter’s life and listed works, dissected every resource I could to find even a trace of this painting and never found one.”
“But there are photographs of it,” Alexander contended.
“There WERE photographs of it,” Damien refuted. “Here, take a peek in the album where the picture of the painting used to be.” Damien handed him the open photo album he had used as evidence the night before.
Alexander furrowed his brow in confusion. “Ships in the Harbor?” he read from the caption below the photo.
“Yep. That’s not what Michael and I saw in this book when we arrived weeks ago. We saw a painting of a woman, identical to Celine, with a caption that read ‘Portrait of Wilhelmina something-or-other Buckley.’”
“Laurent,” Alexander added. “Wilhelmina Laurent Buckley.”
“Yes, that’s it!” Damien exclaimed.
“But the painting was already missing then. Why has the photograph changed only now?”
Stolen Portrait Stolen Soul: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 2) Page 6
