The Curse of Time

by Andreea Pryde

“Do you like cats?”

  “Cats? Yeah, I mean not in a special way, but I don’t have anything against them.” I scratched my head at the random question.

  “I see . . . do you mind if I come over later this evening?”

  “Not at all,” I jumped, excited. “I could use a bit of company.”

  “Thank you.”

  She left the workshop without adding another word.

  She acted oddly, and it wasn’t just my imagination. I couldn't deny that she was indeed tired, the unhealthy colour of her skin and the shadows under her eyes confirmed it, but there was something else. It felt as if something was pressing her, and if she wanted to come over, maybe she needed to talk somewhere privately, but perhaps I read too much in her behaviour. She was tired and possibly lonely. I don’t think I’d ever heard her speak about her family, except for the day when I discovered her powers, yet the only thing she said then was that they were inherited through the bloodline. But if so; then why did she say she went through the period of discovery and development of powers alone? That she didn't have anyone around her? Could she really be alone?

  The phone began to buzz on the desk, resonating on the hardwood like an inexperienced drummer. An email from Matteo. I think it was the first one I’d ever received from him, and I saw him so rarely that I almost forgot about his existence.

  To the Department of Restoration and Classification,

  Seriously?

  By this email, I inform you that the date for the quarterly meeting regarding the analysis and comparison of the results of the last six months was decided for Wednesday, May 24th at 8:00 am.

  But that is only three days away!

  The presence of all employees of the museum is mandatory. Please confirm by replying to this email.

  Respectfully,

  The Secretary

  I understood that it was essential to have a professional appearance, but this was way too much. Damn it; I was the only member of the 'Restoration and Classification Department', he could’ve used my name, mainly since he chose to use my personal email address, and not the work one. Oh please, not that it mattered anymore; I had work to do.

  ***

  When I finally got home, I collapsed on the couch. It was too hot for public transportation; not to mention, the air conditioning didn't work, either. I got up with some effort and opened all the windows, letting the cold air of the evening flood the small flat.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, letting the fresh air currents caress it. I completely forgot about Laura's twine, and without wanting to, I pulled it together with a few strands of hair. Silly me, but that would've probably happened anyway when I combed my hair. Fortunately, it did not seem to be broken. Maybe than tying it would have been better to attach it with a hairpin; just in case I forget again about it.

  I pulled out the phone to call Laura. She said she wanted to come over later in the evening but didn't say when. When I left work, she was already gone. We could have come together. What was the point of having to go home and then come all the way to my place? Well, apparently, Laura didn't see things the same way.

  I didn't even get to dial the number before I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, I couldn't see anyone. A prank? Busy looking left and right down the hall, I didn't notice the small fluffy animal that slipped through the open door and probably wouldn't have seen it, if it hadn't started rubbing itself against my ankles.

  A small, black kitten, not much bigger than my palm. I picked him up and looked at his innocent little face, his round, green eyes and tiny, pink nose, and the red bow, tied around his neck made him look like a small, fluffy present. He was so sweet that I risked getting diabetes just by looking at him, but there was a problem; if I started getting attached, I had no chance to give up on him when I would've found him a proper home. Why do people always do this? They take in pets only to abandon them later; and why at my door? There were enough centres where they could leave him.

  I sat on the couch, still holding the little fluffy being in my arms, which began to lick his paws. “Are you hungry, lil’ guy?”

  I wasn’t expecting the half-asleep fluffiness to answer me, but I thought he would like some milk. I left him on the couch pillows and went to the fridge. Unsurprisingly, I’d run out of milk, and there was nothing else that could be given to such a small kitten. I think this required an exit to the store, but what if Laura arrived before I came back? I picked up the phone again to call her, but before I even got to unlock it, the screen lit up, receiving a message.

  I'm sorry, sweets, but something urgent came up, and I had to leave town for a few days. Please take care of my little friend until I get back. I know it's a big favour, but I really need help, and I don't know who else I could call.

  By the way, I know she looks small, but she's big enough to eat anything, so you don't have to worry about food.

  Thanks, and I'm sorry, Laura.

  Oh, so it’s a girl! But seriously . . . you could bring her all the way to the door, but couldn't wait a few more minutes to explain your situation face to face?

  But that confirmed my suspicion. Something wasn't right.

  It didn't take long until a second message came in.

  There would be one more thing . . . I didn't have time to do it before I left, but I need you to give her a name. You see, a cat that stays unnamed for too long becomes a nest for spirits; not too nice ones if you get what I mean.

  It doesn't matter how you name her, but it is VERY IMPORTANT to do it tonight.

  With love, Laura.

  Awesome! A possessed kitten is just the thing I need in my house, but how in the world am I supposed to name another person’s pet?

  For the third time in the last half hour, I tried to dial Laura's number but without success. Either she turned off her phone, or she had no signal. In any case, I had no means of contacting her.

  I sat on the couch next to the kitten who was now fighting her tail. The little creature rolled on her back and with her tail between her teeth, reminded me of a sketch from an art atlas. Represented in ink, were three fox cubs. Two of them slept quietly in the background, but the third fought the same unsuccessful battle. The artist was unknown, but the sketch had been found in an abandoned temple in the south of Japan.

  I found it hard to choose a name, but what if I let her choose one herself?

  Moving to the kitchen table with a sheet of paper and a pen, I divided it into a few squares and wrote the first names that came to mind while looking at her. I turned each one into a ball, then returned to the playground.

  "Okay, so these are the rules," I told her in a tone as serious as possible. "I'll let go of the papers, and you have to choose one. The one you choose will become your name."

  I released the paper balls near the kitten who without waiting another second too long, jumped to attack. She ran from one to the other, without grabbing or touching any. After a few minutes of running between them, she picked her prey and attacked it with all her might. I managed to retrieve the paper before she could eat it, and opening it carefully, so as not to break it, I read aloud the name that was scribbled inside.

  “Midnight! Your name will be Midnight,” I told her, smiling.

  As if assuming the name, she looked up at me briefly, only to yawn sleepily.

  A problem was solved, for the moment. If Laura didn’t like the name, she could always change it.

  Probably.

  Chapter 14

  “Scarlett!”

  The panicky voice that rang in my mind startled me. I subtly checked the twine in my hair, which was fortunately in its place, and the strand I held continuously over the shoulder, when I was in the presence of other people, showed no sign of changing. I moved my eyes through the small room with white walls, from the Director–who sat back in his office chair, looking relaxed–to Matteo, who drew with a marker two graphics on a whiteboard, to Silvia who was filing her nails, and up to the simple window, newly fitted, which gave view to
a world of freedom. In fact, it was facing the tiny courtyard behind the museum. A yard full of useless scraps, but everything was better than the boredom that pressed me now.

  “Scarlett, please!” Leah spoke again, this time even more anxious than before.

  It made it almost impossible for me to focus on Matteo's presentation. I wasn't interested in any way in the profit registered in the last three months, and Leah's cries didn't help either.

  “I need your help. Please, Scarlett!”

  Good gods, what has happened so seriously?

  “Is everything alright, Scarlett?” a timid voice, asked. “Is there something you don’t understand?”

  I raised my eyes from the papers in front of me and realised that both the Director and Matteo were looking at me.

  “No, everything is alright. Why?” I answer a bit staggered.

  “You kept frowning at the report, so I thought maybe there’s something you don’t understand.”

  “Ah, no, sorry. Everything is self-explanatory. I just have a slight headache.”

  “Well, if there is something you don’t understand, don’t hesitate to ask me. Now, if we compare the graphics from the last two thematic exhibits, we can notice a significant growth, comparing to . . .,” he continued undisturbed, turning back to the whiteboard he drew his graphics on.

  “Please, Scarlett, I’m begging you. I don’t know what to do. You are the only one I can talk to right now.”

  “Calm down, Leah! What happened?” I finally answered, attempting to maintain a neutral expression.

  “Something odd is going on,” she said, trying to temper her tone, but still sounding scared.

  “What do you mean, odd?”

  “Do you remember finding that strange room?”

  “Yes.” How was I supposed to forget?

  “Shortly after, Lord Conwell ordered me to be moved from the servant’s chambers, in one of the guest rooms. I am not allowed to do anything anymore, and what’s more, no one is allowed to talk to me, and I don’t know why,” she let it out in one breath.

  “What about Chance? You can’t talk to him, either?”

  “He’s not here. He was sent to London a little while before all this happened,” Leah said disappointed.

  “Isn’t there anyone else you could talk to?” I frowned.

  “No . . .,” she answered, sadly. “No one at all. Scarlett, what will happen to me?”

  “I don’t know, Leah. The only thing I can think of right now is that you should wait for Chance to return. I’m sure he’ll be able to explain a thing or two.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but I feel so lonely.”

  “I can try and visit you a bit later, though I can’t say for sure what that means in your time.”

  “I’d love that.” I felt a faint smile from her.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”

  “Thank you.”

  The situation was, indeed, strange, and that wasn’t all. Surely, there was much more hidden behind her words, after all, why would an Earl do something like that? Maybe I didn’t know much about the aristocratic behaviour from that time, but I was sure it wasn’t common to move a simple maid into one of the guest rooms, and not allow her to move a straw. But the fact that no one was allowed to talk to her, was way more concerning.

  After another ten minutes, the meeting reached its conclusion, and as soon as Matteo thanked us for attending, Silvia hurtled through the door, leaving us baffled.

  “Scarlett,” the Director approached me as I collected my stuff. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

  “Perhaps it was only my conclusion,” he frowned his stuffy eyebrows, “But most of the meeting it seemed as if you were thinking at something else. Are you sure you’re fine?” he repeated concerned.

  “I’m sorry. I, indeed, have a minor headache, but that’s about it.”

  “Is that so? Because from time to time, your whole expression changed. It looked like you were thinking about something rather important.”

  So much for my attempt to maintain a neutral expression.

  “About that . . . I need to apologise. I kept thinking about Laura,” I lied. “She acted very strangely the last time I saw her, and I still haven’t managed to contact her. I just hope she’s alright.

  Although I was genuinely worried about Laura, I had to use her as an excuse in front of the Director. There was no way I could tell him I was in an important conversation inside my head, with a young woman who lived two hundred years ago.

  “Is Laura someone from your family?” he asked me thoughtfully.

  “No, no, no. I mean our Laura,” I answered, confused, shaking my head.

  “Sorry, but I’m not following you.”

  “Laura Morgan, the museum’s guide.” I grimaced. “She’s worked here for over twenty years . . . black hair, black clothes, awfully white skin, optimistic, and super friendly. . .”

  “I don’t have the slightest clue who you’re talking about, but with an image like that she certainly would fit in just fine.”

  “But how can it be . . .?” The blood drained from my face, and my head started spinning.

  “Matteo!” the Director shouted. “Did we ever have someone called Laura Morgan in our team?”

  Matteo came closer while looking for something on a tablet. He quickly surveyed the results showing on the screen, but his answer made me more confused than I’ve ever been.

  “There is no file under that name in my records–”

  “Maybe you put it somewhere else,” I interrupted him, raising my voice accidentally.

  “Impossible,” he answered calmly. “I just completed a full search of all the files, including the archived ones. No one worked within the museum under this name. Ever.”

  My fictional headache became suddenly more real than I would have liked, causing me to bring my hand to my temple, and my eyes scrunched closed under the shock that threatened to split my skull in two. Leaning against the edge of the desk, my sense of balance seemed to have evaporated. I found myself supported from both sides. On one by the Director, and from the other by Matteo. Seating me carefully on the chair, they continued to look at me.

  “How can it be?” I asked, holding my head between my palms. “She worked here since she was sixteen. How can none of you remember her?”

  “Scarlett, I don’t know what is going on here, but I think it should be best for you to go home for the day.”

  The Director’s tone was cold, and so was the look in his eyes. Both he and Matteo looked at me as if I were insane, and maybe I was. None of them remembered Laura, and her name was nowhere to be found in the employees’ records, not to mention her phone was disconnected. Maybe, by the time I got home, even the kitten would have vanished.

  I ran my hand over the ponytail, smoothing it over my shoulder. Wait a second; I had proof that Laura was not just in my imagination, although I couldn't say anything about it. The little twine I had in my hair was all the evidence I needed to know I wasn’t crazy. Laura was real, and although for some unknown reason, the two men seemed to have forgotten her, I knew the truth; or at least some of it.

  "That won't be necessary. As soon as my pain goes away, I will be able to go back to work. I just need a pill, and I'll be like new." I tried to smile, but because of the constant pain waves I felt, it appeared more like a leer.

  The Director looked at me for a few seconds then left, followed closely by Matteo, throwing me a few more words over his shoulder.

  "Do what you want."

  ***

  When the clock in the great hall beat six o'clock, I put everything down from my hand and ran out the door. I got home faster than ever, and in the privacy of my own house, I could be as crazy as I wanted. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I pulled out the phone and dialled Laura's number.

  It rung! After a few days, it finally rung!

  Someone answered afte
r the second ring, but on the other side of the receiver was not Laura, but the harsh voice of a man.

  "What?" he yelled, almost breaking my eardrum.

  "I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for Laura–"

  "Wrong number..." and he closed.

  Wrong number?

  I double-checked the number before I called again, but the same voice answered me on the phone, this time somewhat quieter but equally rude.

  "What?"

  "I'm looking for Laura, Laura Morgan . . ."

  "What? Do you not understand that you got the number wrong?" he barked.

  "I don't understand because I have talked to her on this number before, and I checked several times before calling if I typed it correctly," I said in one breath, thus avoiding getting cut off again.

  "Look, kid," he said with a bit more understanding. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I've had this number for years, and there is no Laura in this house. Do yourself a favour, and me, and delete this number permanently."

  Once again, the man ended the call before I could add anything else. Confused, disappointed, and tired, I crouched on the couch, sulking.

  "Oh, Laura, where are you?" I whispered toward the living room ceiling, closing my eyes.

  "I'm here."

  The unfamiliar voice I heard from nearby made my eyelids snap open. I looked around, startled, but there was no one besides Midnight and me. With my heart beating like crazy, I tried to tell myself that it was just my imagination, but the thin and childish voice was heard again, only from beside me.

  "You're not going to faint, are you?"

  Midnight sat next to me and gazed at me with her head slightly tilted to the left. Was I really losing my mind?

  "How long are you going to stare?" she spoke again.

  My eyes widened, and a burst of nervous laughter fled my lips. I automatically got up from the couch and put a little distance between the talkative and possibly possessed kitten and me. Why was this happening to me?