His stomach twisted as he thought about her standing alone, listening to some stranger spout off about how she was a pure one, whatever that meant. Gemma hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with her explanation and she’d pretty much refused to talk about it.
How the hell did the guy even know her?
He wished he could have been beside her, protecting her, giving the guy a piece of his mind. He slid his hand around the small of Gemma’s back as she listened to Bryan’s instructions. As angry as he was at the man for ambushing her, he had a feeling that his message was important. He had been trying to persuade Gemma for over a month to give the guy a call, but she was standing firm. She didn’t want to heed any warnings about her future. Harrison could only hope that she wasn’t turning a blind eye to something dire. He determined to keep her as close as possible over the summer. If trouble did catch up with her, he was going to be there.
The morning was spent retuning the engine of a 1950s Corvette Roadster. As his hands became embedded with grease, he listened to the sound of Rosie and Gemma’s hysterical laughter as they cleaned and buffed the red paint of a 1969 Mach One Mustang. Lifting his head from beneath the hood, his lips quivered with laughter as his younger stepbrother, Justin, stomped into the garage, his clothes sodden and his face livid.
Harrison quelled his chuckle after a death ray was fired his way.
“Get a little wet, Just?”
A low growl reverberated from the pubescent teen as he stalked past. Harrison cringed as the bathroom door shuddered to a close, no doubt bruised after its brutal throw back. Wiping his hands with the grimy rag from his back pocket he sauntered into the sunshine and was greeted with a delightful sight. His mother, her head thrown back in laughter, had her arm around Gemma’s shoulders. Rosie was on the other side, thoroughly saturated, her blonde pigtails swishing.
He stopped to admire the scene. Gemma had tried to resist his family’s envelopment, but had been unable to counter it. Her walls of self-defence had crumbled after her hospital stay. His family had been so worried about her. As she had recovered from her “stab” wounds, they had wrapped her within their net of safety. She had been unable to fight it. Not that she’d tried very hard.
Harrison loved the development. More than anything he wanted his mother to see why he adored Gemma so much. He just wished Gemma’s parents would feel the same way about him. He had been trying to subtly wheedle his way into her family, but the roadblocks were firmly erected and he wasn’t quite brave enough to smash his way through. Dom and Ruby had definitely lightened up. They had all gone to the movies together a couple of weeks ago and had a great time, but when it came to Gemma’s parents he may as well not exist. To them he was a virus that was tearing their family apart. He knew they were trying to find the perfect pesticide to get rid of him, but so far Gemma had stood firm. Alistair and Penelope Hart just didn’t get it. Their daughter loved him as much as he loved her and nothing was going to change that.
He sensed Gemma’s eyes on him and looked up to greet her gooey gaze. They silently sent a few words of affection before he watched her face crease with disappointment. Untangling herself from her co-worker and the “lunch lady,” she excused herself to the bathroom. Harrison ran his hand down her arm as she passed him, squeezing her hand in a light farewell. He watched her perfect frame walk away and sent up his regular prayer for her safety.
He hated it when she was called across the line. He wished he could go with her, but knew it would never happen again. He hated knowing she was about to feel her body break into a thousand pieces and be sewn back together in another time and place. He hated that it caused her pain. He hated that she was no doubt putting herself in danger for the sake of others and he hated that there was nothing he could do about it.
He knew the next ten minutes were going to suck as he waited for her to return and tried to force her from his mind as he looked back to his mother. She was staring after Gemma. Her face was unreadable, a distant memory obviously flickering through her mind. Harrison often wondered if his relationship with Gemma reminded his mother of her relationship with his father. He wished he could have known him; could have spoken to the man that made his mother’s eyes seep with longing. He would have asked him why he didn’t have the strength to stay alive and how he could have slipped away from a woman who obviously loved him more than anything else.
Chapter Three
London, England – 1820 AD
Gemma buttoned the waistcoat with agile fingers. Braiding her hair, she slung it over her back before covering it with the long coat. Flexing her shoulders, she made sure it sat comfortably before slipping her stockinged feet into a pair of square-toed leather shoes.
She was grateful her father insisted they wear men’s clothing. It was so much easier to move without layers of petticoats. Standing straight, she turned to her father for further instruction while Ruby and Dominic finished attiring themselves in clothing “borrowed” from a nearby Victorian manor. How her father managed to get in and out of these places with piles of clothing was beyond her. He always came in advance, setting up the details so that when his children arrived they would be here for the shortest time possible.
“Right, 19th Century London guys. We’re looking for a man named Arthur Paulson. He is a writer trying to publish an important piece of work that will expose the true injustices of child labor in this country. Some of the factory owners got wind of this and are after his blood.”
“Did they kill him?”
“No, but they beat him so badly he suffered brain damage and was unable to write again. They also destroyed his work before shoving him into a mental institution where he spent the better part of his life dribbling and occasionally spouting off about an unjust society.
“If we can save him and get his work out there we might bring an end to these terrible conditions just a few years earlier. He is a passionate man, if he doesn’t achieve change now, he will keep campaigning until it happens.”
“So, how do you want to do this then?”
“Okay.” Alistair breathed in. “Dom, I want you and Gemma to head over to Mr. Paulson’s apartment and collect all the pieces of literature you can find before they set it alight.
“Ruby, you’re coming with Mom and me to stop this man getting pummelled and give him a swift warning. Everyone clear?”
Four heads nodded.
After quick directions from their father, Gemma followed Dom out of the narrow alleyway and onto the paved streets of London’s west end.
She tried to keep her head down as she wandered through the crowd, hoping no one would notice her feminine form gliding past them in men’s clothing. It was times like these, she was grateful for her tiny curves.
Dom walked tall, oozing a confidence that no one dared counter, or notice for that matter. Her brother had a magic way of fitting in to any situation. He always went on about how “if you look like you’re supposed to be there, no one will even notice you.” He was right of course, but Gemma always found her “nerves of steel” bank too depleted to pull it off.
At their quick pace, it didn’t take long for them to reach the poorer side of town. The stench of garbage thrown from open windows onto the pavement below had Gemma fighting to keep her expression bland. Even after five years of traveling she could not get over how people had had to live throughout history. The filth and disease in these cities were rife. It certainly made her appreciate life in 21st Century Florida.
Turning the corner, the duo entered another run down street. The squawk of greedy seagulls reached Gemma’s ears. They were nearing the docks. The squalor around them increased as warehouses began to loom beside them, creating a dingy pathway to the River Thames.
Gemma held in a gasp as they rounded another corner and noticed a dirt clad boy huddled in the gutter next to his beat up sister. Gemma’s eyes glistened at the heart-wrenching scene. She wanted to lift them into her arms, promise them everything would be fine and carry them back to Florida. A
strong tug on her arm reminded her she couldn’t.
Stepping around their shrunken bodies, Dom pulled her into an alley and stopped in front of a rickety, wooden door.
“This is it.” He shoved the door open.
Taking the stairs, two at a time, they quickly found the room they were looking for. It was cramped with a small table consisting of two burned down candles, piles of scrappy paper and an ink well. On the floor, in the corner, was a crumple of dirty bedding and a pile of well-read newspapers. Gemma wrinkled her nose at the stale odor as she clambered over the crate posing as a chair and began rifling through the pages.
Clumping them into a manageable pile, she grabbed the satchel resting on the floor and shoved them inside. Slinging the bag over her head and across her chest, she nodded to Dom and they headed back down the stairs.
Thankfully the entrance was clear as they exited the building and the only thing that stopped Gemma from taking off after her brother was a high-pitched squeal that raced from the gutter. Spinning around, she noticed the boy flaying his little arms as he tried to defend his older sister from the groping hands of a smelly dockworker.
Gemma’s gut twisted as she watched the sweating man grab at her scant clothing while pulling her into the alley. Swinging a hand behind him, he sent the weak boy flying.
Dom’s heavy breathing was soon behind her as he’d retraced his steps in order to retrieve his frozen sister. She heard his breathing grow rapid as he took in the scene.
“We can’t let this happen, Dom. Please?” Gemma felt a surge of relief as he gave a stone-faced nod and stepped around her.
She nearly cheered when her brother landed a solid fist in the man’s face, knocking him unconscious. The whimpering girl shuffled away from him. She curled into a ball against the wall, grabbing at her tattered clothing in a bid for decency. Gemma dropped the satchel and shook her way out of her jacket. Kneeling beside the wounded prey, she draped the jacket over her shoulders and smoothed back the girls matted hair.
The girl quivered beneath her touch, her eyes wide with terror as she watched Dom cradle her bruised brother in his arms.
“It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you. Let us help you out of here.”
The girl gave a shaky nod and let Gemma help her to her feet. Grabbing up the satchel once more, they set a slow pace down the alley, Gemma supporting the limping girl.
“Oi!” The sound made Gemma’s insides freeze. “Who the hell are they? Jack? Jack’s been hit!”
Turning, Gemma soaked in the scene of five angry workers approaching their fallen comrade. Their eyes were turning red with fury as they figured out what had happened.
The burly redhead with missing front teeth caught her eye and let out a low growl. That’s all it took to get her legs moving. Hauling the stick figure into her arms, she raced down the alley, sensing her brother’s swift feet behind her.
Doorways and empty rooms flashed by them as they sought a quick escape. The sound of yelling men grew nearer, sending the girl into a frenzied panic. She struggled in Gemma’s arms, crying for her mother and clawing for a way out.
“It’s okay,” Gemma tried to soothe through her paced breathing. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“Here!”
She followed Dom down another stinking alley. Racing around a pile of barrels, she crouched next to her brother and tried to slow her breathing. Clamping a hand over the girl’s mouth, she muffled the wails and looked to Dom, desperate for inspiration.
Her brother loosened his grip on the boy and gave him room to crawl over to his sister. He brushed a comforting hand down her cheek. The girl’s sobs ebbed to silent tears. Gemma removed her hand and began stroking the girl’s back the way her mother used to when she'd had a bad dream.
The sound of pounding feet flew past them.
“What do we do now?”
Dom peeked around the barrels.
“They’re going to come back after us. It won’t take them long to search this area. We can’t stay. I just need to figure out where we are.” He glanced at her, indecision riding over his face like a maelstrom. Finally his eyes cleared and he gave a nod. “You stay here with the kids. I’m going to head back and see if I can figure a way out of this maze.”
“But what if...” Gemma grabbed his arm.
“I can look after myself Gemma, but I can’t look after two kids and you as well.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said a little defensively.
He shook his head. “I know you can, you idiot.” His eyes softened as they wandered to the children. “But these guys need a safe trip out of here and we can’t give them that if we’re busy fighting.”
Gemma relented with a small nod.
“Just let me do a little surveillance, okay? I’ll be back in sec.” He threw the last comment over his shoulder as he snuck out from their hiding spot and disappeared back down the alley.
Gemma clung to the children huddled at her feet. Her father was going to kill them for this detour. She just prayed he wouldn’t bring them home before they had a chance to get the children away from the docks and to a boarding house or orphanage of some kind. She wished for a watch as she waited for Dom’s return. Her father was giving them four hours to complete the task, she wondered how much time they had left.
A soft tap on her shoulder made her whip around with a gasp. She had been so lost in thought trying to figure out how much time they had used up, she hadn’t even heard the man approaching.
Her muscles tensed as she assessed the crouched man beside her, but her mouth was soon hanging open in horror.
“Harrison? What are you doing here?”
“Who’s Harrison?” The man’s brows wrinkled with confusion before straightening out to their original urgency. “Quickly, you must come with me. I can get you out of here.”
Grabbing the boy, he jumped to his feet and shot around the corner. Gemma snaffled the girl into her arms and chased after him.
“But my brother.” Gemma began her protest as soon as she was alongside the agile man.
“He’ll be fine once my servant finds him. I’ve been watching from my upstairs window. As soon as I saw him take a wrong turn I sent my man after him and decided to come for you three myself.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you up to my apartment.” The man stepped through a narrow doorway and began ascending a crumbling staircase.
“You look way too wealthy to be living here.” Gemma took in his fine stitched clothing and found her suspicions rise.
“I don’t live here. I simply work here.”
Gemma followed him through the doorway and into a room on the top floor. It was more spacious than that of Arthur Paulson’s and substantially brighter. Gemma gently placed the shivering girl in a nearby chair and walked to the windows as the man tended to the children with cups of water and a wet rag. Staring down at the alley, Gemma tried to glimpse her brother, but could not spot his bulky frame. She felt the frustration glowering inside her and realized it was fueled by fear. She paced the apartment, studying its messy contents and trying to decipher who this man might be.
Man, you look like Harrison. It’s freaky!
He was probably some distant relative, twice removed. Gemma would ask to see her boyfriend’s genealogy again when she got back. With his passion for history and his skill with research, they would no doubt find something on this peculiar man. He looked as though he was rich enough to be a prince, yet worked in the grimy docks of London.
“Why do you work down here, when you could stay in your no doubt luxurious manor and do…” Gemma flicked her arms towards his desk. “Whatever it is you do?”
The man’s lips rose with a slight smile before shooting her a dry look.
Man, you look even more like Harrison when you do that!
“My business here is my own, young lady.”
Gemma twitched her shoulders, feigning indifference.
“Unless, of course, you
’d like to tell me why a woman, such as yourself, is dressed like a man?”
Her cheeks flared as she shook her head with a smile. Usually a statement like that would send her into a frozen panic, but there was a sense of serenity about this man. She felt a pull towards him, a curiosity to find out more. Leaning against his desk, she watched him soothe the children’s fears with a few whispered words, before lying them down on a make shift bed of blankets. After a few hummed notes of a tune Gemma vaguely recognized, the children were drifting into sleep. Gemma felt her heart squeeze as she watched their pale faces.
“My brother will have room for them on his staff. You do not need to fear for their safety.”
Gemma met the man’s steady gaze and knew she could trust him. She mouthed a quick thank you. Lifting the satchel over her shoulder, she dumped it at her feet and let a smile wisp over her features.
“Why are you helping us, Mr…”
The man’s eyes softened as he came forward with an extended hand. “Clayton. Nathaniel Clayton.” Pulling out the chair beside his desk, he plopped into it with a relaxed sigh. “I’m helping you because you look like you needed it and because…” His eyes dropped to his hands before gazing up at her with intensity. “You remind me of her.”
“Of who?”
His eyes deepened to a rich chocolate as he spoke. “My love.” The whispered words were like sweet perfume. Gemma felt her body warm with the scent.
“Was she your wife?”
The man blushed as he smiled and shook his head.
“She was my morning star, my jewel. I could not keep her, but I could never love another now.”
His fingers ran around his neck and pulled out a leather necklace, swinging from it was a round stone disk that looked a little like a cogwheel.
Gemma stepped forward and examined it. It was smooth and cold to the touch. “Did she give you this?”
Black Blood (Time Spirit Trilogy, #2) Page 2
