by Amy Jarecki
He led her into a narrow stairwell and pulled her down the winding steps. Shoved into a dimly lit chamber, Eva crashed to the dirt floor.
Bracing herself with the heels of her hands, she blinked and forced her eyes to adjust. Then she wished she’d remained blind. Some of the torture devices she recognized from museums, like the rack, the iron branks and stocks. Lining the wall were whips, thumbscrews, even a heinous breast ripper. Beside them hung an assortment of deadly knives, saws and sharp axes—a torture chamber to rival any museum exhibit she’d ever seen.
But this was real.
The display of weapons made a cold shudder pulse through Eva’s veins. God help me.
Heselrig sauntered up to her, a sadistic sneer stretching his thin lips. Eva scooted away until she hit the wall. She flinched when he swung his foot back, but wasn’t fast enough to dodge the toe of his boot as he kicked her in the stomach.
“Gah!” Eva cried.
“I want his name.”
Sharp pain shot through her abdomen like shards of glass. Eva curled into a ball, sucking in gasps. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lurching forward, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Ye talk like a guttersnipe. Exactly what I’d expect from a backstabber’s whore.”
Clutching her arms around her gut, she glared at him through narrowed eyes. The man was shorter by at least three inches.
Eva twisted and struggled to wrench from his grasp. Fight. With another glance at the knives on the walls, she clenched her fists, threw back her shoulders and jerked her arms wide. As his grip released, she dashed for the stairs.
Guards crossed their poleaxes, blocking her escape.
She flung her arms over her head and prepared for impact.
Heselrig grabbed her from behind. Crushing her neck in his grip, Eva’s arms clamped harder as he drove her body against the wall.
The iron taste of blood slid across her tongue. Everything hurt. The sheriff pinned her in place with his disgusting, smelly body, oozing with male sweat covered by a sickly concoction of musk oil.
Cold steel pricked the side of her temple.
Eva drew in consecutive stuttered breaths. That damned knife was too sharp. One twitch and his dagger could cut out her eye. God, she hated knives.
He pressed his lips to her ear, the foul stench of decayed teeth nearly made her heave. “I’ll ask ye one more time afore I cut off your gown and take the lash to your bare flesh.” He chuckled and thrust his hips into her buttocks. “And then I’ll bend ye over and give ye a taste of King Edward’s elite.”
“You goddamn fucker.” Eva bucked, only to have her chin slammed into the wall. Gasping, she stretched her jaw to the side while shirking away from the dagger.
“Ye are a spirited bitch. I like that,” he cackled, rubbing his sickly erection across her buttocks. Sheathing his dirk, he whipped a rope around her wrists. “The giant phantom who descends from the darkness and murders my men. If ye want to live, ye’ll tell me his name.”
Eva regarded the brutish man over her shoulder and wrenched her arms against the grating rope. He’ll be dead soon and everyone will know William’s name no matter what I do. Then she pictured Walter Tennant’s big tent at the caravan park. Blinking, the image quickly faded. The medallion warmed.
Heselrig stepped away and studied the assortment of torture devices on the table. He picked up a headman’s axe and examined the blade.
“Stop this madness.” Eva faced the man’s back, emboldened by her knowledge of the past. “The man you fear will attack and cut you down in a matter of minutes. You want his name? Well, it’s William W…”
Before she blinked, everything went black, her body spinning as if being sucked into the depths of a whirlpool. A deafening rush filled her ears, so painful, she wanted to clap her hands over them to muffle the roar, but she couldn’t move even if she’d been untied.
As fast as it started, blackness turned to blinding light. The noise ebbed.
Eva drew in a sharp breath, recognition tickling the back of her mind. Tent walls flapped. Birds sang.
“Back so soon?”
Walter.
“Holy shit!” Standing in the center of the tent, she struggled against her bindings and stared at him wide-eyed. “W-what happened? One moment I was in Heselrig’s torture chamber and then everything went black.”
“Were you about to do or say something that could change the past?” He pulled out a pocketknife and opened the blade.
With a cry catching in her throat, Eva skittered away. Lord, she’d met with enough sharp objects for a lifetime.
He held up the knife. “To cut your bindings, unless you like being tied.”
“Right.” She forced herself to be rational, turned and presented her wrists. “Thank you.”
“Honestly, I thought you would have returned days ago.”
She eyed him over her shoulder. “I knew you and your medallion were behind this.”
“I merely acted on a hunch.” He ran his blade back and forth over the rope. “So, what’s happened?”
“God.” Her entire body shook. “Heselrig captured me and demanded I tell him the identity of the enormous phantom warrior who kept attacking his soldiers. I was about to reveal William Wallace’s name and, poof, everything went black.”
Her bindings released and Walter folded his pocketknife. “That must have been what did it.”
“But why would it matter?” Eva rubbed her wrists. “We know Wallace killed Heselrig in May of twelve ninety-seven—exactly the time I was there. Would it have made any difference if I told him?”
The professor shrugged, his rolling eyes ginormous behind his thick lenses. “I’ve no idea, but evidently it would have.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps it would have given him a chance to dispatch an army before Wallace attacked.”
Eva pressed her palms to her face. “This can’t end. Not now. I was just beginning to earn Wallace’s trust—providing I escape Heselrig’s sadistic torture.” She gave Walter a pointed look. “How do I get back?”
Walter spread his palms, a bewildered frown stretching his jowls. “I’ve no idea.” He offered her a folded handkerchief.
“What?” She wiped her bloody nose. Jeez it hurt. “You’re the mastermind who gave me the medallion.”
“Aye.” He scratched his head. “But I wasn’t sure it would work.”
Eva paced. He couldn’t be serious—playing with her life on a whim? “How long have I been gone?”
“A few days.”
“That means time passed here while I was there.”
Walter nodded.
“Where’s my car?”
“I moved it here—where you always park it.”
“Are the others worried?” She wrung her hands.
“Nah.” He waved his hand and batted the air as if she’d never been in an iota of danger. “I told the team you had a big story you were chasing.”
“Good…I think.” Eva’s mind raced. Wallace had looked directly at her before she was taken at Loudoun Hill. Never had she seen such a determined expression. Though in the midst of battle, she knew he’d ride after her. “I must return. William will come for me—I need to be there when he does or else he’ll think I’m a turncoat.”
The professor crossed his arms. “So it’s William is it now?”
“Oh, please.” She had to make Walter understand. “I’ve learned so much in such a short amount of time…” Eva quickly rattled off the details about Wallace’s father’s death, meeting Robert Boyd, Edward Little and John Blair. “Did you know Robbie was only twelve years old in twelve ninety-seven?”
Walter sat in a camp chair and gestured for her to do the same. “That stands to reason. As I recall he was still a young man when he rode for Bruce.”
Eva remained standing. “But the history books make out like Robbie was William’s right-hand man.”
“You are as aware as I the history books are of
ten mistaken. Besides, Sir Robert Boyd would have been a strong ally of Wallace in later years—perhaps even after William returned from mainland Europe.”
“Right.” Eva swiped a hand across her forehead. “Regardless of all this, I must return.”
Walter guffawed. “And end up dead?”
“Wouldn’t I hurtle through time before I got killed?” She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of all that had happened in the past five minutes. “Come on—tell me I’m immortal when traveling to the thirteenth century.”
Tennant threw up his hands. “How should I know?”
Holy shit. That made her gut clamp as she pictured Heselrig’s torture chamber. The madman wouldn’t think twice before he ran a blade across her throat. “What?” she shrieked. “You mean to say you picked me, knowing I could end up dead?”
Walter’s gaze trailed sideways. “Well not exactly—not when you put it like that.”
“Then why? Tell me, why did you give me the medallion?”
“Because you are a writer and a Wallace fanatic. I thought you’d have the best chance of staying alive and bringing back the truth—and then have the skills to tell the world about it. Besides, I honestly didn’t believe you’d spend more than two minutes there, just like...”
Pacing in a circle, a bazillion thoughts warred in Eva’s head. I can’t leave things with William thinking the worst. I must see him again. “I have to figure out how to get back.”
Walter removed his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know if you can.”
She gulped. “What are you saying?”
His exasperated mien grew more exaggerated when he repositioned his thick lenses. “You might have guessed that I’ve already tried.”
“Shit.” She plopped into the camp chair. “I figured you might have. What happened?”
“An old man gave me the medallion years ago at the Fail Monastery ruins. The only thing he said was the rule, the same one I told you.”
She shoved her hands against her temples and rocked back. “Where did he come from?”
“I’ve no idea. I was sitting on the wall, writing in my journal, and all of a sudden he was standing in front of me. I looked down at the medallion and read the inscription. When I looked back up he was gone—almost thought he was a ghost.”
“That’s creepy.” Eva shuddered. “Did you travel right then and there?”
Tennant nodded. “I landed in the midst of a battle, and fought for my life, shrieked when I was sure my head was about to be lopped off.” He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. “I was only there for a few minutes before I was catapulted back. It’s never happened for me again.”
Dropping her hands, she grasped the camp chair’s armrests. “So you traveled before you were killed?”
“Aye, I did.”
She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do you know if the traveler has any control over time and place?”
He shook his head. “You ken as much as I do, lass. And I’m not certain if Fail Monastery has anything to do with it or not.”
“Then why did I end up in your tent and not at the ruins?”
Shrugging, Walter had no answer.
With a drum of her fingers, Eva recalled that she’d pictured the tent—her mind must have some sort of control. But how?
Filled with growing confidence, she jumped to her feet. “I need a shower and to collect a few things. Then I’m heading back to Fail.”
Walter leaned forward in his chair. “Don’t you have enough material for a story? I’ll say it again, traveling back could be dangerous.”
And now he was worried about her safety? But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t. “Jeez. Did you think about that when you put the medallion around my neck?” She stopped at the tent flap and grinned. “Besides, I’ve got William Wallace watching my back.”
***
Eva stood under the shower, reveling beneath the luxurious hot water. To think, just a few days ago, she thought it a paltry stream. If only she could linger, but not now. Anxious to be on her way, she turned off the faucet and grabbed her towel. Earlier, she’d rinsed out her musty smelling clothes and thrown them in the caravan park dryer. Who knew when she’d have the chance to clean up again?
After toweling off, she donned a pair of black leggings, convinced they would be more comfortable under her gown and blend in better to medieval Scotland than her jeans. Then she put on wool socks, her boots and a bra. Dashing to the dryer, she removed the shift and tugged it over her head, followed by the blue gown, the apron and the veil—well, she tossed the veil over her arm and ran to the caravan.
Thank God her roommates Linsey and Chrissy weren’t there. Eva opened her laptop and quickly shot off an e-mail to her parents, telling them she’d found the story of a lifetime, and not to expect to hear from her for a while. Mom would have a gazillion questions, but Eva wouldn’t be online to answer.
She grabbed a worn leather satchel because it was the only bag she owned that would pass for medieval. The first thing she packed was a handful of panties. She might have to wear the same clothes for days, but she’d go crazy if she couldn’t change her underpants. Then she added her toiletries bag and her solar mobile phone charger. Without service, the phone could still be used as a camera and a recording device—as long as she could keep it hidden.
Money?
She plopped the satchel on the bench and turned in a circle. Opening the cupboard, she found a canister of salt and tossed it in, then opened her jewelry travel case and pulled out the gold band from her wedding set. She stared at the diamond engagement ring and matching earrings Steven had given her and opted to leave them behind. She could end up in more trouble than not with a couple of karats in diamonds…but she did pick out two silver rings and a silver pin in the shape of a thistle she’d had since high school.
If only I had a halfpenny or a few farthings dated 1297 or earlier.
She sighed, stood in front of the mirror and affixed the veil in place with the cord Wynda had given her.
The door swung open.
Eva whipped around and faced Linsey and Chrissy with her hands gripped behind her back as if she’d been caught stealing. “Hey! What have you two been up to?” She sounded like a cheerleader.
They exchanged exasperated looks. Chrissy with her brown hair and freckles stepped in and leaned against the counter. “The question is: where have you been?”
Eva shrugged into her down vest—Lord knew she needed it the most. “I wish I could say, but I’m following the story of my life, and its hush, hush.”
Linsey raked her gaze up then down. “Bloody Christmas, you look like you’re ready for a reenactment of the Battle of Bannockburn or something. I went to one last year and the women were dressed just like you are.”
“Oh this?” Eva held out her skirts. “It’s just part of my disguise.”
“Sounds like a weird story you’re writing,” Linsey said.
“I know, right?” After picking up her satchel, Eva slung it over her shoulder. “Hey, well, I guess I’ll see you later, then?”
“Yeah.” Still leaning against the counter, Chrissy crossed her arms and her ankles. “I hope you can tell us what’s going on when you get back.”
“I sure will, just as soon as I know it’s all right.” Before Eva walked out the door, she opened the cupboard and grabbed a box of granola bars she’d brought with her. “See ya.”
The girls hardly had a chance to say goodbye when she dashed out the door, running for her car. Hopefully Walter would bring it back again. Honestly, she had no idea if she could fling herself to the past from anywhere, or if she had to be at Fail Monastery. But this wasn’t the time to find out. She must return to Lanark before William arrived, else the trust she’d began to build would be ruined forever.
The Fiat engine revved, and though Fail was only a few miles away, she couldn’t drive fast enough. Skidding to a stop in the gravel, she ran to the old ruin and faced the
rose window. Breathing heavily, she looked up and grasped the medallion. “I swear I will never do anything to alter the past. Please, whatever force is out there, take me back.”
Eva stood staring at the window while the breeze picked up her veil. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Please. Before it starts to rain.
She stood in place for a good fifteen minutes. Gusts of wind swirled around the ruined walls, then a splash of water smacked her cheek. Lightning streaked overhead. Eva crossed her arms and hugged them tight to her chest. “I’m not leaving!”
The skies opened with a deluge. Eva glanced at the Fiat—if she made a run for it, she could wait out the storm. But something deep inside told her to stay.
When she blinked, an image of Heselrig’s back flashed through her mind’s eye. She shook her head.
“I will not fail,” she yelled at the gaping window. “I will do everything to bring back the truth.” She shook her fist. “You know what I’ve been through. You know how much I need this story. And most of all, you picked me because I will obey your code of honor. I swear this on my life!”
A bolt of lightning turned the sky above pure white. Eva threw up her hands as the brilliant light transformed into utter darkness. This time her heart soared at the piercingly agonizing noise and the sensation of falling through a bottomless abyss.
With a sudden rush that nearly burst her eardrums, Eva found herself against the torture chamber wall, looking at Sheriff Heselrig’s back—the same image she’d seen when she blinked.
Holy shit!
He regarded the battleax just as he had before everything went black…but Eva’s hands were no longer bound.
Chapter Ten
Dripping wet, she tugged on the satchel strap to conceal the bag in the small of her back. Eva hadn’t thought through exactly what might happen when she returned. She’d kind of assumed she might arrive in a dungeon cell. The last time she’d hurtled through time, she’d landed in the midst of life-threatening danger. Why on earth would she have anticipated differently now?
When Heselrig set down the unbelievably sharp battleaxe, Eva exhaled. She could only think of one thing he might do with that weapon and she was pretty sure head severing was involved. Regardless of her fear of sharp objects, now that she’d returned, she refused to allow terror to control her mind—the hard knot in her gut insisted this was not her time to die. She inched toward a dagger hanging in a line of weapons on the wall.
