There was an outlandish cry high above them and when she looked up there was a huge bird in the sky, banking his enormous blue banded wings on the warm updrafts of air.
Surrounding them were trees with succulent, oddly colored leaves, and bright, ripe fruit she couldn’t identify. The plants encircling them were pretty colors and unusual shapes, heavy with shiny purple berries. Insects hung in the air, bigger than usual with translucent wings and electric colored bodies of blue, red, and magenta.
Everything about the garden was foreign yet inviting and so vivid in color that it felt as if she’d stepped inside an oil painting.
‘Welcome,’ a smooth female voice greeted.
They both turned around to see a woman watching them. She wore an iridescent robe which shimmered in the warm light, her hair was pale blonde, long and straight and she sat at a heavy wooden table which had moss and flowers growing from the cracks.
‘Olivia, Scarlett,’ she spoke calmly, ‘please.’
She indicated two tree stumps beside the table which looked like stools. Seeing no reason not to, Olivia sank down, the skirts of her gown pooling around her as she perched on the stump. Feeling Scarlett take a seat next to her, she turned her attention back to the woman. Her eyes were a color Olivia had never seen before. They were a light amber, almost bordering on yellow as her gaze fixed on Olivia’s face.
‘You know who we are then?’ Olivia replied.
She nodded.
‘Scarlett and I have met before, but I have waited a long time to meet you, Olivia West.’
‘Why?’
‘You have questions,’ she replied.
‘That was a question,’ Olivia countered.
The woman smiled slowly.
‘But you have to ask the right ones.’
Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she studied her. The woman spoke slowly and with great articulation as if she had all the time in the world, but there was something about her, something that nagged at the very edges of Olivia’s consciousness. When she spoke, there was an unusual affectation to her pronunciation, a slight elongating of certain vowels, almost like a reptilian hiss and when she turned her face and the sunlight caught her pale skin, it almost had a faint green sheen to it.
‘What is this place?’ Olivia glanced around.
‘I think you already know.’
She wasn’t sure entirely, but she had a good idea.
‘They call you Eden?’ Olivia stated.
‘They have called me many things,’ she replied, tilting her head as she studied Olivia. ‘They once called me the original sin.’
‘Is it true?’ Olivia whispered, ‘did you tempt Eve?’
‘I opened her eyes,’ Eden spoke softly, ‘I gave her truth. That is what I do.’
‘Because of you they were expelled from paradise.’
‘Paradise is overrated,’ her mouth curved. ‘Humans cannot survive without knowing the difference between good and evil, without that knowledge they cannot grow, they cannot evolve. Who’s to say that wasn’t God’s plan all along?’
‘God wanted them to disobey?’
‘Why put a huge tree with mouth-wateringly tempting fruit in the middle of a garden with a ‘do not touch’ sign on it? It would be like handing a child a candied sweet and expecting them not to eat it.’
‘But you’re the one who gave them the idea to do it.’
‘Did I?’ Eden raised a brow. ‘I bring truth, like I said. I gave them the knowledge of good and evil because there must be balance.’
Olivia frowned thoughtfully.
‘Now,’ Eden leaned back in her chair, ‘ask me what you really want to know, the one question deepest in your heart.’
Olivia drew in a shaky breath, all thoughts of time travel fleeing from her mind as she spoke the words that had been echoing in her mind, since the moment she’d left Mercy.
‘Are my children safe?’
‘Yes, little mother,’ she replied, her peculiar colored eyes softening slightly, ‘your children are safe and will remain so.’
‘What about my husband? Is Theo alive?’
‘He is alive,’ Eden nodded, ‘and safe… for the moment.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Olivia frowned.
‘Theodore has a long and difficult path ahead of him.’
‘Where is he?’ she breathed heavily.
Eden shook her head.
‘Balance Olivia,’ she reminded her, ‘I cannot tip the scales too far in either direction. You must ask the right questions.’
Eden’s gaze slid across to Scarlett who’d been content to sit silently while Olivia spoke.
‘What about you Scarlett?’ Eden asked, her eyes flicking to Scarlett’s belly for a fraction of a second before returning to her face. ‘Is there not something you wish to ask me?’
Scarlett’s mouth tightened, she was under no illusions that Eden knew about the child growing in her womb but there was no way she was bringing up the subject in front of Olivia, so she merely shook her head and declined to ask anything.
‘Are you certain?’ Eden asked again, almost in amusement as her gaze once again dropped to Scarlett’s belly and paused there a moment longer. ‘Not even about Sam?’
Scarlett’s stormy gray eyes snapped up to meet her curious amber gaze, a hint of anger in their smoky depths.
‘I do not wish to discuss Sam,’ she replied tightly.
‘As you wish,’ Eden’s mouth twitched as she turned back to Olivia, ‘then I suppose we should address the reason you sought me out in the first place. You are looking for a way back to your own time.’
Olivia wasn’t even surprised that Eden knew what they wanted before she’d even spoken the words aloud.
‘Is there a way?’ Olivia asked.
‘There are many,’ Eden murmured as she sat quietly watching Olivia, her eyes thoughtful. ‘You need to find the Hourglass.’
‘What’s the Hourglass?’ Olivia asked curiously.
‘Like your compass, it is capable of traveling through time. It is not as reliable, but it will get you home.’
‘Okay,’ Olivia blew out a breath, ‘so we need to find the Hourglass. I don’t suppose you want to save time and just tell us where it is?’
Eden smiled slowed.
‘There is a man, newly arrived in London from the old world. It is his help you seek.’
‘Why?’
‘He will lead you to the Hourglass,’ Eden replied.
‘Who is he?’
‘You will know him when you see him.’
‘Okay, that’s vague,’ Olivia frowned. ‘Can you at least tell us where to find him?’
‘He is in the place where all lost souls go when they want to forget.’
‘Am I supposed to know where that is?’
‘I know where he is,’ Scarlett replied quietly, her gaze locked on Eden.
‘Well okay then,’ Olivia stood and brushed off her skirt.
She stared at Eden for a moment in consideration, then impulsively she removed one of her gloves and tightened her palm into a fist. She felt her heat and magic pulsing down her arm to her hand. It felt strange, almost magnified in the strange atmosphere of the garden. When she finally unfurled her hand there was a tiny object which she offered to Eden.
Eden took it, laying it in the palm of her hand, her expression slightly startled. It was a small glass apple, the size of a plum. Made from deep, dark red glass, a small flame pulsed and flickered deep within its heart.
‘It’s Earth fire,’ Olivia told her quietly, ‘a light in dark places and warmth in the cold. It will never burn out, never fade and the glass will never break.’
Eden looked up at Olivia the small glowing apple cradled gently in her palm, her eyes troubled.
‘Thank you,’ she replied softly.
Olivia nodded, she couldn’t say why she’d felt the need to give such a gift to the enigmatic woman, or why the gift had taken the particular form it did, only that it was right.
‘Olivia,’
Eden called to her as Scarlett moved to stand beside her.
Olivia turned her gaze back.
‘Beware the man in black,’ Eden warned, ‘he is not who you think he is.’
The garden swirled and melted, disappearing before their eyes until they found themselves once again standing in the bare parlor of number 34 Garden Square, with the old butler staring at them placidly.
‘Thank you for stopping by and good evening to you both,’ he bowed by way of dismissal.
Olivia replaced her glove as they headed back to the heavy black door and once again stepped out into the cold night air.
‘So where to?’ she turned to Scarlett as the sound of the bolts rattled behind them.
‘Sally Street,’ Scarlett replied.
‘You’re sure?’
Scarlett nodded.
‘It’s known to the locals as the alley of lost souls, due to the fact that it is home to a rather notorious opium den called The Lotus Flower. It’s where everyone goes to forget.’
‘Okay,’ Olivia nodded as her stomach rumbled loudly. It seemed like a lifetime ago since her soup and sandwiches, and she was starving.
Scarlett started walking again as Olivia fell into step beside her.
‘We’ll get a meal and lodgings for the night as soon as we’ve found this man, whoever he is.’
‘Do you have any idea who he might be?’ Olivia asked.
‘No idea,’ Scarlett shook her head.
They walked in companionable silence, leaving Garden Square far behind them, and as they ventured into the more populated area the streets began to fill with people. Most of them were dressed more commonly, in rough well-worn clothes. There were, however, several gents, and a few ladies, attired in finer, more expensive clothes. No doubt with demons of their own to forget as they circulated around the outskirts of Sally Street.
The doorway when they reached it was unremarkable, with no address and no identifying marks, just a red painted door with a small brass knocker. Sandwiched between two shop fronts, an apothecary to the right and a tobacconist to the left.
Scarlett knocked firmly and within seconds the door creaked open a fraction and a round face peered through the gap.
Reaching into her bag Scarlett produced a small card and handed it to the man on the other side of the door. He glanced down at the card and then back to Scarlett’s face, his eyes swept across to Olivia before he finally stepped back and allowed the door to open fully so they could step through.
He wore a heavily embroidered tunic which buttoned up to his throat and fell to his knees. Beneath he wore loose fitting black pants, white stockings and black silk slippers. His head was shaved bald, save for a thick, black scalp lock which was tightly braided and fell down his back almost to the backs of his knees.
He turned away from them and descended into the darkness beyond. They followed down a long, steep flight of steps taking them deep underground. As they reached the bottom it opened out into a huge cavernous room, decorated in richly draped fabrics.
There were beds, couches and sleeping pallets everywhere. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling on chains, emitting a low glow rather than a light. Visibility in the room was poor due to the cloud of sweet-smelling smoke hanging in the air like a low-lying cloud.
‘We’re looking for a friend,’ Scarlett murmured to the man in a low voice, pressing several coins into his hand. ‘We’d prefer not to be disturbed.’
He took the coins, nodding and bowing before retreating to a distance and watching them. They wandered around the room. Everywhere they looked were men and women reclining in chairs or on beds inhaling from long pipes.
They passed by a young man as he giggled quietly, his eyes filled with unfocused euphoria. They continued on, weaving between splayed out patrons. A more mature woman leaned forward and inhaled from one of the long pipes before falling back against the couch and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, her eyes slumberous as her companion lay with his head rested on her bosom and his hand moving rhythmically between her spread legs, buried beneath her skirts and petticoats.
Olivia averted her eyes with a frown.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she muttered, ‘how are we supposed to find him?’
But even as the words left her lips, her gaze was drawn to a lone figure in the corner of the room. He was slumped along a couch, his head drooping forward with an opium pipe propped between his legs, grasped loosely with lax fingers.
Olivia crossed the room and knelt in front of him, her heart thudding in her chest as she reached out with shaky fingers, grasping his chin gently and lifting his face. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. Even with the shaggy hair and unkempt beard, the face bore such a striking similarity to her husband that her stomach clenched painfully.
‘My god,’ she whispered to herself.
She reached out with shaking fingers and drew an errant lock of hair from his forehead and found herself staring into the semi-conscious face of her brother in law… Logan Beckett.
5
Olivia sat, silently staring at the barely conscious man sitting opposite her in the tiny wooden booth. He was slumped forward with his face buried in his folded arms, shaggy hair falling forward and a half empty glass of whiskey at his elbow.
She studied him carefully, trying to readjust her thinking. The man in front of her was not the polished and urbane Elias Black she’d encountered back in Mercy. Nor was he the young and idealistic Logan Beckett from 17th century Salem, who had turned his back on his vows as a witchfinder and instead founded the Veritas with his friend Justin Gilbert as a means of protecting people of magical descent.
The man in front of her, practically drooling onto the worn sleeve of his coat, looked… damaged.
She wondered if Eden had somehow made a mistake, or maybe she had. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out how he was supposed to help them locate the Hourglass. He didn’t look as if he could help himself, much less anyone else.
‘Logan,’ she spoke softly.
He grunted and glanced up through bleary, bloodshot eyes, scowling at her as he grabbed the glass and lifted it to his lips, draining the amber liquid in one hit.
‘Logan Beckett is dead,’ he replied flatly.
His rough voice cracked as if he hadn’t used it in some time, or maybe it was from too much use of the opium pipe, she wasn’t exactly sure.
‘Logan,’ she tried again.
‘I said…’ he glared at her darkly, ‘Logan Beckett is dead. He was pulled from a burning barn with a knife between his ribs. That name no longer has any meaning for me.’
‘Elias then,’ she conceded.
His eyes sharpened.
‘How do you know that name?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed, as she watched him carefully. ‘Do you know who I am? Do you remember me?’
His mouth tightened and his eyes closed briefly as the dark memories washed over him. A phantom pain deep in his chest pulsed and ached from an injury long since physically healed but far from forgotten, the image of his brother holding him in his arms while he choked on his own blood burned into his mind.
‘I know who you are Olivia,’ he replied flatly.
‘I know what happened to you,’ she whispered, and his gaze snapped to hers, his eyes dark and dangerous. ‘I know you died, I know you woke up in pain, all alone and clawing your way out of your own grave and that you don’t know how or why you were brought back.’
‘What do you want Olivia?’ he snapped as he reached for the bottle with trembling hands and poured himself another drink.
She let out a long, resigned breath; he wasn’t going to make this easy. Although he’d cast his eyes down, concentrating on the glass clutched tightly in his fist, she’d seen the pain in his eyes. Something was really wrong. For a moment she forgot all about Eden and the Hourglass and all she wanted to do was soothe whatever it was that was hurting him so profoundly.
‘Logan.’
‘I said do
n’t call me that,’ he answered as he drank deeply.
‘Elias then,’ she nodded, her voice gentle, ‘let me help you.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ she repeated.
‘Yes,’ he glared at her, ‘why do you want to help me? We don’t know each other. We met in Salem, a lifetime ago and believe me, that time is something I have tried very hard to forget.’
‘I can understand why. One minute you were Logan Beckett, you had friends, you had a purpose, you had a life. What you did mattered. Then in an instant it was all taken away, you had to leave the only home you’d ever known. I can imagine life since then hasn’t been easy but trust me, drugging yourself unconscious and drinking your way through every bottle you come across isn’t going to make the pain go away.’
‘That is not your concern,’ he replied coolly as he lifted the bottle once again to refill his glass.
‘You are my concern,’ she took the bottle off him irritably. He was going to pickle his liver at this rate, if he hadn’t already.
‘Why the hell do you care what I do?’ he demanded crossly.
‘Why?’ she answered, ‘because we’re family, that’s why.’
‘What are you talking about?’ his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘I married your brother,’ she told him earnestly.
‘What?’
‘Theo and I are married,’ she clarified. ‘We have two children, twins… a boy and a girl, so you’re an uncle,’ she offered a small smile. ‘Surprise!’
He sat back in his seat, regarding her with unreadable eyes as he slowly and deliberately raised the glass to his lips and downed the contents, coughing slightly as the harsh liquor burned his raw throat. His lips twisted into a bitter, self-loathing smile.
‘Well, I’m glad everything worked out for Theo,’ he replied, barely masking the sarcasm.
‘Loga…’ she stopped and corrected herself again. It was difficult for her to see him as Elias, the powerful and confident witch who’d taken her to London in present day Mercy. Seeing him like this, so rough and wounded, reminded her too much of the Logan she’d met back in Salem, the one who’d constantly wrestled with his demons. ‘Elias,’ she began.
‘Where is Theo?’ he asked cutting her off and glancing around.
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