Chasing Shadows

by Ashley Townsend

  “I didn’t technically see it happen,” Sarah admitted. “But I did hear the two of them arguing about something, and it was pretty obvious what the physician had done.”

  The gray in the man’s eyes sparkled in the light. “Ah, so you did not see it with your own eyes.” He paused. “Are you quite sure they were having a disagreement?”

  Sarah thought back. Had it been only just this morning? “I didn’t catch all of it. But the physician sounded peeved about something, and they were definitely arguing.”

  Stroking his beard thoughtfully, he asked, “Is it possible that someone put him up to it?”

  Sarah thought about that and then shrugged her shoulders, wondering what he was implying. “I didn’t see anyone else, if that’s what you mean.”

  “The eyes can be deceptive,” he murmured. For whatever reason, the corner of his mouth tipped, as if he were holding a secret.

  “Your name, child?”

  “Sarah. I’m one of the—” She halted, remembering that she was no longer a maid. “I’m staying at the castle.”

  He smiled with pleasure that wasn’t fabricated. “The honor is mine.” He dipped his head. “Charles Ashmore, at your disposal.”

  ~Chapter 17~

  Sarah gaped at him, mentally slapping herself on the forehead for her stupidity. “Professor?” she whispered when she found her voice.

  Charles started, appearing alarmed at the use of his adopted daughter’s name for him. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  Automatically glancing at the door to make sure they were alone, Sarah suddenly wondered when she’d become so paranoid. Was this what it was like for Karen, constantly looking over her shoulder and wondering if the next person she encountered would turn her in?

  And Will. He must live with the same kind of anxiety that someone might uncover his secret. Sarah began to understand the closed-off, stony-faced Will she originally met. But he had to know it was inevitable—someone would eventually discover who he was, and Sarah was fearful that even with all the good he had done, there were those who would see him hanged without a second thought.

  Sarah realized that the professor was gripping her shoulders. “Child, where did you hear that name?”

  She blinked at his intensity and underlying excitement. “You are the professor, aren’t you?”

  Even in the silence, the look on his face was enough of an answer. Sarah could hardly believe she had found him and that she might have walked away without ever realizing who he was. Though Charles Ashmore and Karen were not related by blood, somehow she had expected them to resemble each other. But the only similarity between the two was their slight figures and penchant for science, though even that was far more extreme on the professor’s part.

  Inclining her head toward him, she held up the hand with the watch on it and whispered, “I’m a friend of Karen’s. You know, a friend of Karen’s.”

  The light in the professor’s eyes seemed to brighten as he examined the watch, though he was careful to keep his expression even. She could tell he was practically bursting with excitement, but his voice was controlled as he hedged, “Are you saying that you are from . . .?”

  He let the question hang, and Sarah grinned at the game he was playing, though she couldn’t fault his caution. “I’m from Oklahoma, in the twenty-first century,” she whispered.

  Charles let out a hearty laugh that startled her. “I knew there was something strange about you! How on earth did my dear girl manage such a feat? Were you in the lab with her? Have you come to this country before? Are you showing any side affects yet? Come, come—sit down and tell me everything!”

  Sarah felt a little overwhelmed with all of his questions as he guided her to a stool behind the table. She watched the man open the only drawer built into the table, quickly pulling her knees up as he jerked the compartment open. Charles hardly seemed to notice her, nor did he appear to realize that she hadn’t answered a single one of his questions.

  His eyes were almost feverish in light of this possible “discovery,” and Sarah could almost see the wheels in his scientifically inclined mind spinning wildly. Now that he was no longer in character, she was able to see the eccentricities that Karen had alluded to before, and the fact that the professor had neglected to ask after Karen’s welfare wasn’t lost on her, either.

  Charles produced a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from the drawer and slid them on. “There, now!” he exclaimed, sounding surprised. “Aren’t you a young thing?”

  Sarah couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult. “I’m eighteen, Mr. Ashmore—just a little younger than Karen.” The hint fell flat, and she sighed. Pointing at the glasses with a lone finger, she asked, “Why did you stash those before I came in?”

  He smiled at her. “You are astute, aren’t you? My dear girl has found herself a like-minded ally, I see.” Waving to his glasses, he replied, “I hid these because I assumed you were one of the guards, and we don’t want to introduce spectacles into society too early now, do we?” His English accent became more apparent as he spoke, and Sarah vaguely recalled Karen mentioning that he taught at Oxford for a time.

  His eyes drifted to the open doorway, and he frowned deeply, muttering, “Now I have to be especially careful of guards walking in on me unannounced, since Cadius ordered the door removed. I would hate for my research to be interrupted by a trip to the gallows for witchcraft if they saw my spectacles as a threat. Though I am nearly blind without them,” he continued unhappily, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

  “That’s kind of why I’ve been helping Karen out,” Sarah baited.

  He blinked. “So I won’t be sent to the gallows?”

  Sarah resisted an exasperated sigh. Charles might be intelligent enough to unearth a notch in time, but he was completely oblivious when it came to human subtly. “Nooo. I tried to help Karen when she was in prison on the charge of being a witch.”

  She was rewarded with a flash of worry lines across his forehead. She wouldn’t normally put so much effort into drawing a negative response from someone, but Sarah felt that her friend deserved some concern for all she had been through, especially from the man who had raised her after her parents died.

  “Is she all right?” he asked. His eyes flickered to the doorway, and Sarah could almost see his mind going to the dungeons. “Is she still here?”

  “No, the Shadow saved her just before she was supposed to hang.”

  The professor’s head whipped around to face her. “The legend? He’s real? Have you seen him yourself?”

  This time she sighed aloud. Charles’ attention span was like that of a four-year-old. “Yes, he’s real. He and I are sort of friends,” she answered honestly. At least, she hoped they were still friends after today.

  “Fascinating,” Charles murmured, stroking his bearded-chin. “I so wish I could observe him, but without my eyeglasses . . .”

  “Why don’t you just wear your glasses so you can see him for yourself?” Sarah asked, a little more curtly than she had intended. He didn’t seem to notice her sharp tone, but she softened it anyway. “It doesn’t really matter if someone sees them or not. It’s not like it can affect the future, or anything.”

  His hand fell away from his chin. “Oh, child, we can’t be certain of that. There are far too many variables to take into account.” Now the hand was waving in the air to exaggerate his point, and he motioned to the vials, tubes, and pouches littering the table and shelves. “That is why I am doing so much research here, and also around the castle when I am permitted—to see if I can find any correlation between the future where we live, the past we know from there, and this time where we currently abide. Then perhaps . . .” His voice faded as his eyes drifted to the shelves lining the walls around the small room. Sarah could tell his mind was already working around the complications.

  “But I could help you escape,” she volunteered, surprising herself. But now that the option was out there, it made more sense than
Charles remaining here as Cadius’ puppet. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do your research from outside the castle?”

  She watched him shake his graying head. “I must stay here and find out all that I can.”

  Sarah stared at him dubiously. “Don’t you want to be free and see Karen again?”

  “I must finish my studies here,” he replied firmly, lifting his sleeve to expose a time watch of his own. “I can leave anytime; I choose to stay. Karen knows of my devotion to my creations, my discoveries. She understands why I must remain here.”

  Karen had once explained that the professor wanted to remain at the castle with his research, rather than be free with her, though Sarah had assumed that the situation was only temporary. But after meeting Charles for herself, she realized why her friend had longed to be a part of a tight-knit family like the Joneses. The eccentric professor might love Karen and be her last surviving relation, but Sarah could imagine why it had never felt like home with Charles Ashmore.

  “It’s quite the little ruse you have going on here.” Sarah swirled her index finger in the air to indicate the room.

  Charles smiled as if they shared some great secret. “I was quite fortunate to have been caught when I was. Look at me!” She tried to return his enthusiasm, but her smile was weak. He didn’t appear to notice, anyway. “And the master Cadius takes such fascination in my work and has readily financed all of my studies, even providing tests for me to conduct. It is so refreshing to be appreciated for my talents.”

  “I’d imagine so,” Sarah murmured, though she wasn’t sure a response was necessary.

  “So!” He clapped his hands together, startling her. She was having a difficult time keeping up with him. Sarah watched as he rubbed his palms together eagerly, staring at her like she was an appetizing dish that he was preparing to dive into. “You never did say how you came to be here.”

  With a sigh, she told him about the watch being damaged and the storm at her house that had pulled her and Lilly back in time, and then she relayed how Karen had found them.

  “And you say it deposited you at Karen’s exact location?” the professor interrupted.

  Sarah thought back. “Yeah, I would say we were pretty close to each other.”

  “Fascinating.” Charles went back to stroking his short beard, and she could tell he was no longer talking to her as he mused, “Obviously, the damage done to the timepiece did not disable the GPS, or they would not have arrived in such close proximity to the watch.” He motioned for her to continue. “What happened after that?”

  Surprised to be addressed again, Sarah blinked and then continued with her story, watching his eyes widen enthusiastically when she talked about encountering Gabriel Dunlivey and the Shadow in the forest, but he managed not to interrupt this time. “Then Karen said that the watch had enough energy to transport, so I sent my sister back.”

  “So it did lose power when it was damaged?” he clarified.

  “Yeah. Karen mentioned that something similar happened before.”

  Charles nodded. His expression turned suddenly grave “Yes. After the disloyalty of a colleague of mine, I brought into our confidence one of my students, a rather young man with a brilliant mind for science and history. We experienced a similar event, though he recovered enough power to return.” He swallowed thickly. “After nearly losing him, we managed to protect most of the system from multiple types of destruction—water damage, heat exposure, etcetera—but we never discovered how to maintain the energy store once it had been damaged, without returning to the lab for modifications, that is.”

  Sarah didn’t waste her breath telling him that he could go home and work on the issue. The professor seemed lost to his own thoughts and didn’t pose any more questions, but now her own curiosity was longing to be satisfied.

  “Mr. Ashmore?”

  He blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Yes, child? Is there more?”

  She cleared her throat quietly. “Well, I really haven’t talked to Karen that much about this whole thing—you know, wormholes and continuums, and all—but earlier you asked me if I was showing any side affects. What did you mean by that?”

  The man appeared baffled. “You mean Karen did not discuss it with you?” Sarah shook her head, and he mimicked the movement. “Just after we replaced the machine with the more convenient watches, we three were able to travel quite frequently and with great ease, so we never bothered to stay in one place and time for very long. But then we began to notice . . . changes,” he answered carefully.

  Sarah narrowed an eye. “What kind of changes?”

  He seemed hesitant to answer, and Sarah felt her trepidation return. “You must understand that time travel is no simple feat. Your body is solid mass and does not simply reside somewhere one moment and then—poof!—appear in another the next instant. It must first be broken down, every molecule disintegrated and altered into transferable atoms that can . . . float through time and space, so to speak.”

  He held his hands in front of him, palms-up, the expression on his face almost apologetic. “For a few brief moments, you cease to exist. It’s the only possible way to move through the fabric of time—to be broken down on a molecular level. But the alteration of the genome is so severe that sometimes it cannot be properly reformed when a jumper is dropped and pieced together again.” The professor smiled slightly at a memory. “That is what my student called us—jumpers.”

  With a blink that pulled him from his spell, his hands started moving again as he became more animated in his explanation. “The alterations and degeneration of atoms is a highly extreme process—fragmentation of ones very genetic makeup is hardly natural.” Charles laughed as thought he’d made a joke. Sarah blinked, and he went on, straight-faced once more. “Thus they are unnaturally reformed, sometimes erroneously and haphazardly when ones organs become exhausted from scrambling to piece together a human being.”

  She snapped her mouth closed. “So, you’re saying that I could grow an extra toe, or something?”

  Charles actually laughed at this, though she was being completely serious. “An additional appendage—what an idea! I would very much like to see that.” Sarah gaped at him, but he didn’t appear to notice as he resumed waving his hands expressively before him. “I suppose it’s possible, if given enough time. Eventually, the genome alterations would be irreversible, though we have yet to experience so extreme a change.”

  Yet. Sarah grimaced.

  “But my girl and I took trips less frequently when we noticed highly unique changes such as this”—he pointed to his gray-specked eyes—“that appeared a little over a year ago. Some cases were more or less severe, regardless of whether the subject had traveled five times or fifty. Even inanimate objects were affected over time.”

  The last part really caught her attention and managed to distract her from the image of an extra eye in the center of her forehead. “Other subjects? Like the guinea pig?” She felt her stomach coil. “Or your assistant and Karen?”

  Through the scruff on his neck, Sarah caught the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Nervousness. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, and the lord will be in need of his poultice by now, I believe.”

  He stood, snatched an empty wooden bowl from the table, and walked away from her to sift through the vials and other containers on the shelves before Sarah could voice her objections. She watched as he collected herbs and tossed them into the bowl, adding liquids and powders to the mix.

  Charles brought the bowl back to the table and ground everything together until it resembled a thick paste. Pouring the contents into a leather pouch, he said, “Apply a very thin layer of this to the wound. Make sure your hands are properly washed before doing so, and let the poultice air-dry a few moments before wrapping the wound with a fresh bandage. It will need to be changed twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, to keep the wound clean. You must also gently wash the wound each time before reapplying the poultice. This will last y
ou until it is no longer needed.” He cinched the top of the pouch and handed it to her, along with a stack of fresh bandages from one of the shelves. She didn’t attempt to tell him that she had bandages back in her room.

  Holding another small pouch out to her, he explained, “A salve of my own invention that should prevent scarring. Two days with the poultice to pack the wound and seal it, and then a fortnight with the salve. Do you understand my instructions?”

  “I think so,” Sarah answered with a nod, trying to recall everything he’d said.

  With a curt nod of approval, Charles reached for a tall candle on the table and lit the wick by the flame of one of the stumpy candles littering the surface. Offering her a smile and a bob of his head, he held the slender stick of wax out to her. “Best wishes, and it was delightful to meet you, Sarah.”

  She readjusted her armload to accept the proffered item, feeling the ridges of dried wax trails along the sides. “You too,” she answered absently, watching the candle to make sure she didn’t drip any wax on herself. She turned and walked toward the hallway, gripping the stack of bandages that she didn’t really need a little tighter and leaning back when her load tipped precariously.

  “Sarah?”

  She turned around in the doorway. Charles hesitated, wringing his hands and looking uncomfortable. “Tell Karen . . . Tell her to take care.”

  A small smile tipped her lips. “I will, Professor.”

  Then she turned and went back the way she’d come, treading the hall slowly, hoping that with two different sets of instructions running through her head, she would be able to find her way out of this maze. But when that same chilling wind caressed her skin in the outer passageway, her only thought was to find the quickest route out of there. She bolted for the closest staircase, scampering across the stones like the mouse she had frightened earlier, not pausing for a moment to see if she could find the candle she had lost.