Time After Time

by Wendy Godding

  The whole room consisted of a massive bed, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf that was stacked with an array of books and CDs. That was it. There were no pictures on the wall, nor were there any personal items such as photos or sports memorabilia. Nothing that could mark the room as his.

  ‘Wow,’ I commented. ‘Where’s all your stuff?’

  ‘I don’t need much.’ He sat on the edge of the bed. I eyed it warily—was that a king-size bed?—before moving to examine the bookshelf. Much safer territory.

  ‘What do you read? Classics?’ I murmured. ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Wuthering Heights. 1984. All different stuff.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t forget Jane Eyre.’

  ‘You like it?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘Yeah. I do. The mad woman in the attic gets me every time.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ I said, ignoring the perplexed frown he gave me as I examined his CDs. I’m not snooping, I told myself, I’m just curious to get to know him, to know the new, modern Heath Lockwood.

  ‘Wow, you certainly have a varied taste in music, too,’ I said. He had a collection of CDs ranging from the Beatles and the Rolling Stones through to opera and classical.

  ‘I like what I like. I don’t care what people say or think.’

  I glanced at him, the double entendre quite clear in his tone. He liked me, despite what people thought or said, and I could imagine they’d said quite a lot. Particularly Lilly Hamilton. But I didn’t want to think about her, not tonight, and not when I was with Marcus and he was looking so gorgeous in his black jeans and t-shirt.

  I turned back to the bookshelf, all too aware of him and the devastating heat emanating from him. When he moved to stand behind me I stiffened automatically, the warmth from his body infusing into my own, impinging in my personal space. But it wasn’t unwelcome, not at all.

  ‘Abbie,’ he murmured in my ear, sending hot shivers down my spine as solid arms encircled my waist. I leaned back into him, into his amazing warmth, feeling my muscles relax and my knees give way slightly. His arm around my waist tightened, drawing me against him. He pressed his lips to the spot under my ear—the spot that made me shiver—and inhaled deeply.

  I tilted my head back, enjoying the delicious, wet kisses he traced down my neck. My own lips were dry, and I licked them, imagining the feel of his mouth on mine. Anticipating it. I was just about to turn around when a knock on the door interrupted us.

  At the same time my phone beeped.

  Marcus sighed, stepping away to answer the door, whilst I took a moment to quiet my wavering emotions, disappointed that the magic had been broken. I checked my phone. It was a text from Beth. She was outside to pick us up. Either her mother had either given up or Beth now wore an ensemble of cute jeans and top, à la Lilly Hamilton or Barbie.

  I was texting back when Marcus spoke. ‘Abbie, this is my brother.’ A dramatic pause filled the air before he continued, his voice grave. ‘Rem, this is Abbie.’

  ‘Hello, Abbie.’

  The phone fell from my hands. Landing on the carpeted floor, it disappeared under the bed.

  Looking up, unable to breathe, I met familiar, silver grey eyes. They sparkled in the light, with amusement or excitement I couldn’t tell, but all the same, my heart froze.

  The tear-shaped pupils seemed to dilate, growing bigger as his gaze wandered over me slowly from head to toe.

  ‘How are you…Abbie?’ Rem asked innocuously.

  ‘Fine,’ I ground out, unsure how I even managed to speak. He’s here. He’s here in Marcus’ room, my mind screamed at me, roared, but my body remained frozen to the spot.

  I had suspected. Had suspected Marcus’ elusive brother was Sebastian. But now that he was here…now that he was right here in front of me, the murderer from my nightmares, the man who stared at Penelope with such intensity, who touched her…I didn’t know what to think.

  It seemed as if the icy chill that wafted from him froze me to the spot.

  ‘It’s very nice to finally meet you,’ he continued, his voice filled with an inflection I didn’t recognise, his eyes never breaking their hold on mine. ‘Marcus has told me so much about you.’

  ‘What?’ I blinked at him, not understanding. This cannot be happening, I told myself, He can’t be real.

  ‘Abbie, you okay?’ Marcus asked, stepping close.

  ‘Abbie?’ Rem stepped forward, his eyes concerned and puzzled, but another emotion flashing in them too.

  Instinctively, I staggered back, away from him. He looked strangely normal in dark denim jeans, a black vest open over a white t-shirt, a thick silver chain looped around his throat. He was older than Marcus and me, as I’d expected, and his hair was cut short and neat around his face, the same dark brown I remembered from my dream last night, although more modern and trendy.

  Twenty-first-century Sebastian.

  Twenty-first-century Heath.

  Twenty-first-century Penelope.

  Blinking at Marcus, I could see him watching me carefully, his eyes assessing and gauging me.

  ‘Abbie?’ Marcus said again, reaching out to me.

  ‘I, ah—Beth’s downstairs,’ I said and pushed past them both, blood pounding in my ears as I raced downstairs, ignoring Sebastian—Rem—and his God-awful scrutiny.

  ‘Hey, wait up!’ Marcus bounded behind me but I didn’t dare look back, knowing that not only would I see Marcus but I’d see him, too.

  ‘Abbie…what’s the matter?’ Marcus caught my arm just as I felt the cool evening air on my cheeks, reminding me of Penelope and Heath last night in the gardens at Broadhurst.

  ‘Beth’s waiting,’ I replied feebly, the desperate need to run thrumming through my veins.

  ‘Is it okay if Rem comes still? You were kinda rude.’

  Well, he’s kinda killed me, I wanted to retort, but I didn’t, biting my tongue instead. How could I tell Marcus about him? How would I even find the words to explain that his brother had been reincarnated throughout history for the sole purpose of killing me? It didn’t make any sense, and it would only further label me a freak.

  ‘Actually no,’ I said, my voice tight as I mustered as much hostility as possible. ‘I would prefer it if neither of you came.’

  Silence.

  ‘Me too?’ He looked hurt and confused.

  I couldn’t look at him. ‘You too. Actually…I think it’s probably best if you stay away from me, Marcus. You and your brother.’

  Glancing beyond Marcus to the house, I saw Sebastian leaning against the doorway. Rem, I corrected.

  His large silhouette blocked the light from the house, and I remembered him on the hill that day, and the way he’d blocked the light then, too.

  Stumbling back, I turned to go, walking stiffly over to where Beth waited, resisting my strong, instinctive desire to run. Behind me I heard Sebastian—Rem—laugh. Fisting my hands, I didn’t look around, although I wanted to. He’s laughing at me?

  ‘Abbie, you could at least tell me what’s going on,’ Marcus said, following me.

  ‘I’ve told you. Do you need your ears checked?’

  ‘You’ve told me nothing!’

  ‘I’ve told you to stay away from me. I’m not sure I can make it any plainer than that, Marcus. You want a letter? An email? You want me to get a t-shirt made or send you a text?’

  Stunned silence greeted my tirade, and I didn’t dare look at him, knowing that just one peek at his dark eyes and I’d falter. And I couldn’t falter. Penelope, unaware and naive, had made the mistake of falling in love with Heath and allowing Sebastian access to her life. I would not be making the same mistake.

  Although, truth be told, I’d already made it.

  Climbing into the car, ignoring the perplexed look Beth shot me and purposely not looking at their house, I blinked away the wetness in my eyes.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Beth asked as we drove away.

  ‘Nothing,’ I mumbled, feeling very, very cold.

  ‘Did you gu
ys have a fight or something?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘His brother’s cute.’

  I snorted.

  ‘What? He is. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. You said that about Marcus and now look at you.’

  ‘His brother’s an ass.’

  Beth shot me a look. ‘You know him?

  ‘Hardly.’ Turning away, I stared out at the darkness, at the passing cars and houses. I didn’t want to think about Marcus. Or Sebastian and Rem. All I wanted to do was get to Hurricanes and get blind, rotten drunk.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Three cocktails and four shooters later, I felt much better. The music grew foggier with each drink, Beth and Laura became a blur of black and silver, and I focused my attention on the music and dancing, not thinking about anything else. My feet began to hurt—they were unused to so much exercise and my boots were cutting into my ankles painfully—and I felt a trickle of perspiration down my spine. But I kept dancing.

  ‘I’m going up there.’ I pointed at a cage with a heavily pierced, scantily clad girl dancing in it.

  ‘Really?’ Beth asked, looking doubtful. ‘You sure?’

  I nodded, and I climbed up the ladder to the cage. The girl graciously moved over.

  Moving and swaying to the music, I pushed away all thoughts of Marcus. I didn’t think about who or what he could be. What he wanted. Who his brother was. What he wanted. Most importantly, I didn’t think about the glaring fact that I’d fallen in love with Marcus. And it was me in love this time, not Penelope.

  All this time Sebastian, Rem, had been living in the house next door. Actually, that wasn’t true, was it? Hadn’t Marcus said he’d only just returned from the air force?

  Vaguely, I remembered the motorcycle I’d noticed outside the Knight residence a few times. Then there’d been that incident in the library when I crashed a trolley into Rem. Not to mention when I’d first seen him at the carnival.

  But that is what he always did. Impinged on my life from the fringes first, before pouncing at me.

  I wasn’t doing a very good job of not thinking about him.

  Lifting my arms over my head, I closed my eyes, allowing the music to wash over me, clearing away the worries and nightmares. A crude form of baptism. I didn’t recognise the artist or the song but soon decided it was the most beautiful song I’d ever heard. It was so funky to dance to, and had a great rhythm and great beat. I could stay up here forever above the people, the crowds, safe in my little cage.

  Slowly, like the moon emerging from behind a dark cloud, I became aware of someone watching me. My skin prickled with the sensation.

  Despite the copious amount of alcohol I’d consumed, my senses weren’t as numbed as I thought. I’d have to drink more.

  My blurry eyes scanned the crowd, but whilst there were a few faces looking up from the sea of black and silver, I instinctively knew none of them was the cause of my fear.

  And fear it was.

  ‘Ooh la la,’ called Laura up to me. I flashed her a wicked grin despite my growing unease. My instincts were screaming at me. Was it Rem? Had he followed me? Did Marcus tell him where to find me? I wouldn’t be surprised; how could I ever trust him?

  Was this it? Would Rem kill me here and now, in front of all these people?

  My veins pulsed as I searched frantically for the cause of my distress. Over by the entrance I spied Marcus. He’d paused just inside the doorway, and he watched me, his body unnaturally still. Like he was a statue. Even the people milling past him manoeuvred themselves around him like he was part of the fixtures.

  Scurrying out of the cage, I stumbled down the ladder, my feet not quite working the way they were supposed to. Strong arms caught me and a sickly, pungent odour filled my nostrils. Jerking upright, I stumbled backwards before looking up to meet the brilliant silver grey eyes of Rem.

  He winked at me, his smile perfectly insincere.

  ‘Abbie, Abbie, Abbie,’ he crooned, tilting forward, leaning over me. ‘We play these games over and over again.’

  I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Bizarrely, I had an urge to poke him with my finger and see if he was real.

  ‘I’ve read your journal,’ he continued, leaning closer. ‘You are a clever thing this time.’

  Swallowing hard, I staggered through the crowd, pushing roughly past people in a desperate attempt to get away. I began to regret drinking the shooters.

  Finally I stood in front of Marcus, who I assumed was safer than Rem. Although truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure about that.

  ‘Abbie,’ Marcus gasped, visibly relieved. He pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me firm against his hard chest. I could hear the rapid thump of his heartbeat, which was oddly comforting. ‘God, I was so worried. The way you just stormed off like that. You at least owe me an explanation.’

  I didn’t think I owed him anything, but was too numbed by alcohol and fearful of Rem, lurking somewhere in the room, to argue. Nodding pliantly, I let him lead me from the club. I did glance around for Beth or Laura to tell them I was leaving, but I couldn’t see them. The rational me would have insisted, would have at least sent Beth a text message. But this was drunk me and my phone was lying on Marcus’ bedroom floor under his bed.

  He led me out to his car.

  ‘Wow,’ I commented. ‘How’d you get such a great parking spot?’

  ‘Luck,’ he shrugged, opening the passenger door for me.

  I slid in, snuggling down into the seat whilst he went to his side. ‘You sure are lucky!’ I said, then hiccupped. ‘I thought you were lucky because you didn’t know everything and now I think you’re lucky because,’ hiccup, ‘Rem is your brother…and now I think you are the very luckiest person in the world,’ hiccup, ‘because you got the best parking spot!’

  Marcus glanced at me sideways as he started the engine. ‘Are you drunk?’

  I shrugged before hiccupping in confirmation. ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Abbie. Since when do you drink so much?’ He frowned.

  ‘Since now!’ Another hiccup.

  ‘How am I supposed to talk to you like this?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk, Marcus,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t want to think. I don’t want to think about anything, and I don’t want to remember anything.’ The last part was said so softly I wondered if I’d said it aloud or merely thought it.

  Marcus, though, was looking at me so intently that I must have said it. His eyes were large and round, darker and more chocolate than ever, and they were full of sadness. Like he was sorry for me. Like he pitied me.

  I turned my face away. Pity was not what I wanted him to feel.

  ‘Abbie, look at me,’ he said, his voice low but insistent. ‘Tell me what is going on. Tell me so I can help you.’

  I shook my head. Something in my chest twisted at the pity I heard in his voice.

  ‘Is it something to do with Rem?’ he asked.

  My throat constricted of its own accord, and still I couldn’t look at Marcus. Suddenly I was so caught up in an overwhelming sadness that I couldn’t move, didn’t dare move. If I did, I would find it too much. I would break. I would be the fragile victim I never wanted to be in this life, and he would get me.

  I was seventeen.

  He always got to me.

  ‘Abbie…’ Marcus touched me and I flinched back, jerking my face around to see him.

  ‘Take me home, please,’ I said quietly.

  Marcus stared at me a long moment before he nodded and started the engine.

  I turned my face to the window just in time to see Rem emerge from Hurricanes, his face a picture of pure fury as he watched us drive away.

  I had fallen asleep by the time we pulled into my driveway. Marcus carried me up to the house and I let him. I was too exhausted to bother arguing. I snuggled against his chest, thinking how nice it would be if I could stay like this forever. How much nicer this dream was than my regular ones.

  The front door opened and I heard Mer
edith’s frantic voice. ‘Oh my god! Is she okay? What happened? Abbie? Abbie can you hear me?’

  I nodded but couldn’t speak.

  ‘She’s okay,’ Marcus said dryly. ‘She’s drunk.’

  ‘Drunk,’ Meredith replied, stunned. ‘Abbie doesn’t drink.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Well,’ Meredith said slowly, ‘bring her in. Can she walk?’

  I groaned at the very idea. Marcus replied, ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Oh. Can you bring her upstairs?’

  Marcus followed Meredith up to my room and laid me on the bed. I rolled over onto my side and willed them all to go away. I was tired and exhausted, and I wanted to sleep. Plus, I felt a little queasy.

  Meredith began tugging on my heavy black boots. ‘Marcus?’ she said questioningly.

  ‘Oh. Right,’ I heard him as if he spoke from a million miles away, ‘Tell Abbie I’ll come by tomorrow.’

  I wanted to ask him to stay but didn’t have the energy, and I soon felt myself being sucked into a dream. Another dream, another memory of Penelope’s.

  Of mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  1806

  Penelope wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing but didn’t feel as if she had any other choice. Since Sebastian’s arrival, since seeing him that day on the hill, she’d felt as if she traversed a dangerous path. As though her feet carried her in a direction she didn’t want to be led. And there were other things that confused her as well: the orange flowers, the way she trembled and her nerves scattered whenever Sebastian was close.

  Secretly she was terrified she was going mad.

  Closing the door behind her, she was careful not to make any noise as she tiptoed quietly through the manor house. Dawn was breaking outside, but she’d barely been asleep.

  Making her way through the wide corridors of Broadhurst Manor, she kept glancing around to make sure no one saw her. It would be most improper if they did, and she would find little way of explaining herself. How could she explain that in the dead of the night, dressed in a nightgown and robe, she made her way to the chamber of Sebastian, her fiancé’s brother?