Thunder clapped loudly in the distance.
“Oh great, just what I need,” he let out a bitter laugh. “Another storm…perfect.”
Not surprisingly, the last time Lucian went missing was in the midst of a storm much like this one. The memory came forward like a box of forgotten keepsakes pulled from the back of a closet.
MEMORYTHE PASTRAVENHURST
“Father,” he huffed out, stopping on the threshold of the library, his breath stilted from running back from the stables. While he was in residence, it was where their father spent most of his time, which was not that often. No. Their father preferred to travel to unknown places where he commissioned expeditions. Actually, the more accurate word to describe his father was treasure hunter.
Drake Scott lifted his head and stared blankly at Reed as though he did not see him, his brows meeting in the middle. Then he let his gaze drop back to the open book on his desk.
“Father!”
His father exhaled noisily, not bothering to look up this time. “What, Reed?”
“Lucian is gone.”
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “So what of it?”
Reed flinched. It was not the first time their father had been callous about Lucian. “We must go look for him.”
“Why?”
“A storm’s brewing and we only have a short time to look before it is upon us.”
“Reed, I am not going anywhere and neither should you.”
“What of Lucian…surely…”
His father silenced him with a look. “Either he will come home or he will not.”
Reed fisted his hands at his sides, so angry with their father for his lackadaisical attitude. “What if he is hurt?”
“Not my problem,” his father had said with an icy edge to his voice. The one he often used when he wanted to be left alone.
“Father?”
He exhaled. “What, Reed?” Lifting another rare book off the stack at his side, he placed it carefully on his desk and opened it up.
“That is all you have to say on the matter?”
“Yes, Reed,” he deadpanned. “Now run along and leave me be, I have things I need to research.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No Reed. I am not kidding.” He lifted his brow. “Now you are trying my patience. I suggest you run along now and do something to occupy yourself.”
A sick feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach as her turned to leave.
“Reed,” his father called.
Standing on the threshold of the library, he turned. “Yes,” he asked, hoping he had changed his mind.
“We all have to live with the choices we make. If Lucian wants to leave there is nothing I can do or say to stop him.”
“No, father, I do not think that is the case.” He shook his head. “I think he may have gotten lost…or perhaps something else happened. Maybe he was swimming in the lake…or …”
“No.” Drake Scott shook his head muttering under his breath staring at the pages of an ancient book. “I am simply too busy.”
Reed wanted to knock that damn book off his desk. Make him see his son was more important than the damn elusive treasure his father looked for and all he seemed to care about, all he ever seemed to care about.
Once again, Reed turned to leave.
“Reed,” his father called.
Reed stopped, but did not bother turning around.
“Tell cook I want to be served dinner in the library this evening, would you?”
A surge of anger shot through his veins. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, Reed. I can assure you I am not kidding.” Exhaling heavily, his father braced his hands on the desk in front of him. “Stupid boy,” he muttered.
Reed had no idea if he was talking about him or Lucian. It didn’t matter. They were an afterthought, a bother, burden, and his father was a jackass.
He stormed out of the room, never bothering to tell cook about the meal. His father could do it his damn self. Throwing on his jacket, he headed out doors in the midst of a thunderstorm.
A clap of thunder brought Reed back from the long buried memory. Frustrated, he walked over to the window and pulled apart the heavy draperies, looking out into the dark night, the velvet stiff against his hand from age. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and then it darkened once more. He sighed wearily once again, recalling a past he would rather forget. Turns out the search had been a vain one anyway. Lucian showed back up the following morning, acting as though he had never been gone in the first place. Again, his mind strayed back to the past…
MEMORYTHE PASTRAVENHURST
“Lucian!” Reed jumped and ran to his brother when he walked through the front door. He gave him a big hug. “What happened to you?” A strange odor clung to his clothing.
Lucian pushed Reed off and stepped away. “What is wrong with you?”
Reed, taken aback, gaped stupidly. “I was looking for you…” he tried to explain.
“You were spying on me?” Lucian accused, fisting his hands at his sides.
“No. I was worried about you.”
“Well don’t. I am not a child, Reed. I can take care of myself.”
Reed flummoxed. “I know… but the storm.”
“What of it Reed?” he asked interrupting him. “A little rain won’t melt me you know.” He laughed and pushed past Reed to climb the stairs.
“Where have you been?” Reed stepped forward about to follow him. “I tried to look for you.”
Abruptly Lucian turned, his darkened gaze ignited in anger. “Don’t spy on me again,” he warned. “Or you will live to regret it.”
“I wasn’t… I won’t.”
“Good.” And with that, Lucian climbed the stairs, leaving Reed staring stupidly after him.
“I told you not to bother.”
Reed turned at the sound of his father’s voice. He didn’t know he was even in the room. He had been so quiet. His father gave him another “I told you so” smirk and went back to reading the pages of one of his precious books.
That wasn’t the end of Lucian’s mysterious disappearances though. After that day they became more frequent and for longer bouts of time. Reed didn’t bother mentioning it to their father, it would do no good anyway. Of course, Reed was never one to let sleeping dogs lie so when he saw his brother sneaking out of the house, he decided to follow.
It was long ago, that day, but in truth, it seemed like only yesterday. The air was crisp, and most of the leaves had deserted the heavy limbs of trees that surrounded one side of the property, covering the ground like a colorful blanket. He followed Lucian at a distance, keeping off the path that wound through the trees around the perimeter of the property. Unfortunately, he stayed too far back and ended up losing him, but instead, he found something else. In a small clearing sat a cottage. One he never even knew existed. At the time, he thought it was dilapidated and ill repair but upon closer inspection, he realized it was only made to look that way.
Was this where Lucian disappeared to? He couldn’t help but wonder. Stepping up on the porch, he walked over to the crude wood door and tried the handle, but it was locked tight. The windows had boards over the top, and even though he tried to look through the small cracks, he still couldn’t see inside.
Not giving up he walked around the back. There was a door there too. He tried that one as well. This one was unlocked. Slipping inside, it took him a few minutes to get his bearings. It was dim inside at best. Only a little light from the setting sun slanted through the cracks in the boarded windows. The sun’s rays slanted in, revealing dust motes gathering in the stream of light. It smelled surprisingly fresh, not musty and unused like he expected it would.
Pulling a small flashlight out of his pocket, he turned it on. The small beam of light did not do much to illuminate the room either but he could see that there was an ample amount of wood stacked beside the stone fireplace situated on the back wall. A large cast iron pot hung inside.
Shelves were against one wall lined with several old books. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling. His boots echoed eerily on the wood floor as he looked around the room. An elaborately carved chair placed in front of a crude wooden table. An ancient looking book with odd symbols inside was lying open on the top. A shiver of dread raced up his spine. The place looked like it was from a forgotten time.
Another clap of thunder brought him back from the memory. Rolling his broad shoulders, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over on the bed. The heavy velvet coverlet, also stiff with age, was turned down for the evening. Reaching up, he unknotted his tie. The slick material slid from around his neck, dropping to the floor. He didn’t bother picking it up. He scrubbed his hands over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. Raven’s scent clung to his clothing. It was floral and light, reminding him of warm summer nights, stolen kisses under twinkling stars, happier times. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end while questions without answers volleyed back and forth in his mind.
Who was this Cecily exactly? And what did she have to do with his brother? Was she the person Lucian had been talking with on his phone in the library when Reed was under the desk eavesdropping? What of her friendship with Raven? He didn’t know why, but he didn’t think it was merely a coincidence that they were both here now. And what of the fantastical tale, she told him about Lucian disappearing? He snorted in derision. Right. Who did she take him for? A Fool?
Turning from the window, he paced back and forth across his room. “Find the treasure?” he scoffed. “How in the hell am I supposed to do that?” Irritated, he pulled the paper from his pants pocket and unfolded it. The words left a bad taste on his tongue as he read them aloud once again.
“Until the key is found
The door of time will be bound
Locked within for all time
May no other be allowed piece of mind”
A ripple of dread slid down his spine. Was this the same treasure their father had disappeared looking for? Would Reed disappear too, if he tried to look? Lucian was probably hoping for that and then Ravenhurst would be his, even though he always said he wanted no parts of it. “Right.” Reed didn’t believe that for a minute. Why else would he come back?
The lights flickered.
He undid the small onyx buttons of his shirt and pulled it from his trousers, letting it hang open.
“What are you up to this time, Lucian?” he asked the empty air. As if in reply to his question, the lights went out.
Left in ruins
THE AGE OF CHIVALRYRAVENHURST
THE door made a splintering sound when Jayce slammed his fist against the wood for the second time.
“Enter,” a muffled voice called out from the other side.
Slowly pushing the door open, Jayce looked toward the bed but it was empty. The chamber was dim, but in the corner, near the fire, he could make out his brothers form. Pushing the door open further, light spilled in from the passageway, illuminating the room.
Darias stared blankly past his brother as though he was not even standing there. Jayce reflexively looked over his shoulder, but as he expected, no one was there. Turning back, he took in his brother’s appearance. Silver streaks glinted in his long bluish black hair. Dark circles hung under his eyes making him look sickly and old. The angry welt under his chin where the knife Milford wielded had sliced it open stood out in stark contrast. Of course, he had seen many such wounds but there was something unholy different about the one Darias had. He shuddered involuntarily.
“What do you want?” Darias asked finally, a gruffness lingering in his throat. He stood from the chair, crossed the room, and sat down at the crude table in the corner he used to write missives. A lone piece of parchment was lying on the top. He looked down at the parchment, his hand barely legible scrawled across. “I beg of you, please bring her back to me.” He looked oddly at the parchment not remembering writing such a thing and yet it was indeed written in his own hand. “Jayce when did I write this?”
Jayce walked forward and peered at the paper. The words made his stomach tighten. “I do not know.”
“Oh.” Darias rubbed his hand over his brow. Suddenly, something jabbed painfully into his mind…a vision. He looked to the bed and for a brief moment, he saw himself in another time, happy, smiling lovingly into violet eyes of a girl who haunted his dreams and waking thoughts.
Jayce watched the play of emotions on his brother’s face. He didn’t know what to do to help and yet at the same time he wanted to be as far from his brother as possible. A putrid smell hung in the air. It was like death itself was hovering closely to his brother, ready to lay claim to him for escaping his grasp the first time. He swallowed hard and tugged on his tunic, sweat blistering out across his brow. “I didn’t want to tell the others, but the girl, the one you found… ah, had locked up down in the bailey…”
“Yes,” Darias sighed wearily.
“She is gone.”
“So what of it,” he asked unfazed.
Jayce shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I thought you would want to know.”
“Why would I care?” he asked. There was no inflection in his voice, he sounded like death had already come and laid claim to his soul.
“Hells teeth Darias, would you look at yourself.”
“I cannot.”
Jayce exhaled and swiped his hand over his face. His hand was drenched when he pulled it away. “Why can’t you?” he asked brusquely, his emotions getting the better of him.
“Because…” He shook his head, his long hair spilled forward.
“Brother, tell me,” Jayce pleaded, his voice straining with desperation. “So I may help you.”
Darias turned his deathly haunted gaze on Jayce. “I cannot because I do not recognize myself any longer.”
A surge of fear rippled through him and his innards twisted in knots. He felt sick. “Oh,” he said. It was
was the only word he could manage. Now what was he to do? The only person, who could help Darias remember, had disappeared ….again.
Young Milford scurried down the halls, through the underground tunnels, sliding his hands over the mud-laden walls to help guide him through the darkness. Desperation fueled his every step. He needed to fix Darias. Once he made it to the secret chamber, he looked up at the massive crude door and started to second-guess his decision. What would he do? Morrigan had already conjured spells that made him not able to control his own body, and she was not half as powerful as the man he needed to see.
Pressing back his thin shoulders, he gathered his resolve and lifted his hand to knock on the door. A loud screeching noise made him pull his hand away. The door swung open of its own accord. Fear gripped his body, freezing him in place.
“Well…what are you waiting for,” a deep voice boomed from inside the dimly lit chamber.
Taking a tentative step, he crossed the threshold. At once, the putrid smell of burning brimstone assailed him. “I have done something …ah…inexcusable…something terrible,” he said, his voice quivering, yanking on his tunic. It felt too hot suddenly and he was finding it hard to take a breath.
The man standing in the corner of the room lifted his hand and slid it down the sleek feathers of the Raven perched on the edge of the table. Exhaling heavily, he lifted his light gray eyes to the boy in the doorway. Letting out a world-weary sigh he sat down at the table and steeped his fingers in front of him.
“So have you come to confess your sins to me?” He gave him a pointed look. “I am not a priest lad. I cannot give you penance to relieve the burden that you carry with you.”
Milford twisted his hands together. “I know. I am not here to seek you out so I may breathe a little easier. I need your help.”
Merlin rubbed his hand between his brows and then ran a finger down his patrician nose. “Sit,” he commanded.
Young Milford did as he was bade, scuffing his boots across the stone floor, and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. The
Raven swooped down in front of him and he cried out, covering his face with his arms, sure he was about to get his eyes pecked out. The Raven cawed loudly, making him flinch. He reached up and wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, his hand shaking.
“Care to elaborate,” Merlin, said, his smooth rich voice eerily enticing.
“I have done something horrible…unforgiveable,” Milford said, casting his eyes down.
“Well, that is obvious,” said Merlin. “Go on,”
Milford lifted his gaze in shock. “How…
Merlin waved his hand dismissively. “You are wondering how I know?”
Milford nodded his head vigorously, too afraid to voice his concerns out loud.
“You are afraid of me, are you not?”
Again, Milford nodded his head, swallowing hard.
“There you have it.”
“I have wh—what exactly?” Milford squeaked, his voice catching.
“The answer to your own question,” he elaborated.
“I …I do not understand.”
Merlin exhaled heavily. “It is simple really. Whatever plagues you must be dire because why else would you venture all the way down here to see me? I am assuming it is because you have no other alternative. Am I right in this assumption?” Merlin lifted a dark brow at him in question.
Again, Young Milford nodded.
“Then speak your mind boy and tell me what is bothering you.” When Milford did not answer, he sighed and then added, “I see your confusion on the matter. I am powerful, this is true, but unfortunately, I cannot read your thoughts. You will have to clarify your actions to me….understand?”
Young Milford shook his head in acknowledgement.
A slithering noise made Milford jump in his seat. He looked down. A long black snake moved across the stone at his feet. “There’s a snake,” he squeaked, pointing down to the floor.
“Oh good,” Merlin said looking under the table. “I had wondered where Gwen had gotten too.”
Now and Forever:: A NEW ADULT TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE NOVEL (RAVENHURST SERIES Book 5) Page 5
