Bound by Time: A Bound Novel

by A. D. Trosper

  Damien watched Aiden pace the length of the living room. Though his body didn’t show the heavy signs of advanced age, Damien knew Aiden’s time approached. The older man turned to face him. “He is becoming active again. You must keep a close watch.”

  Damien dragged a hand through his hair. “I can do nothing until she accepts what she is.”

  Aiden sent him a sharp look. “You can protect her from him. At least for a while. Help her to accept it. Do what you must. If we fail, he will be free to do as he wishes once more. The result will be as disastrous as it once was.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Damien shot him a glare. “I know exactly what he is capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand too many times.”

  Aiden sank into a chair. “I know, I know. We’ve done this enough times haven’t we?”

  Damien nodded. “Too many, my old friend.”

  Aiden sighed. “I will be of no use to you this time. My end nears once more. You are going to have to help her face this on your own.”

  “I’m quite capable of performing this task. Any one of us is,” Damien said with a tight-lipped smile.

  Aiden nodded. “We can’t risk losing her again. Especially not at his hand.”

  A deep, haunting sadness washed through Damien. “Isobel.” He said the familiar name. Nearly gained and then lost so many times. “I won’t let him have her, and I won’t lose her again.”

  Aiden rose and clapped a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I know you won’t. In some ways, I think this task has always been hardest on you.” He walked away. “I must rest now.”

  Isobel woke to a phone call from her parents singing Happy Birthday. It was nice to catch up with them if only for a few moments. She crawled out of bed, stretching. Her phone immediately chimed. Amelia had texted her happy birthday. Nineteen was one step closer to twenty. Something about having the number two as the leading number seemed more adult. Isobel couldn’t wait to get there. One more year.

  Isobel showered quickly then paused to look at her reflection. Normally, she had a great complexion; however, the sleepless nights and strange dreams were starting to take their toll. Maybe a little makeup was called for. Enough to hopefully cover up the dark circles under her eyes.

  Isobel pulled on a short-sleeved shirt the same shade of green as her eyes, a pair of white shorts, and slipped her feet into a pair of green flip flops. Her parents had deposited money in her bank account that morning, and she had every intention of getting away from the house for part of the day. It had been forever since she’d been to the bookstore. She adored her e-reader, but there was something about the atmosphere in the small, independent store on the island that she loved. And any place was better than the house.

  She grabbed her phone off the bed, yanked open her door and strode across the landing. The quiet, dark laughter followed her as it had every morning since her parents left. Except this morning icy fingers trailed over her skin. Isobel ran through the foyer, snatched her purse, and rushed out the door, slamming it behind her.

  Without looking back at the house, Isobel slid behind the wheel. Her hands shook as she shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. Throwing it in gear, she shoved the accelerator down, barely making it safely out of the driveway.

  When the road finally took her to the town square, she smiled, enjoying the look of the old- fashioned buildings. And it was a square, with a low wall surrounding a grassy area planted with pretty trees in the middle and a small, three-tiered fountain at its heart.

  The buildings surrounded the square. A small grocery store that had more selection than one would have thought possible for its size. A pizza place that delivered to the island. Perks, the little coffee shop with the best coffee in the world. There were fast food places and more trendy stores on the main road coming in from Savannah, but Isobel had no interest in them. She preferred to give her business to the local shops.

  The bookstore was on the other end of the block from the coffee shop, so she pulled into a parking spot midway between the two.

  A light, fresh breeze carried the scent of flowers in full bloom and the smell of the ocean only a few miles away when she stepped from the car. Tossing the slim strap of her purse over her shoulder, Isobel walked to Perks. The sun and the freedom away from the house lightened her step.

  When she stepped through the door the aroma of fresh coffee and just-baked pastries greeted her. Greg, the older man behind the counter, looked up. “Morning, Isobel. Good to see you. Do you want your usual?”

  “Yes, please.”

  As he made the double vanilla latte he glanced at her. “You home for the summer?”

  “Yep. Today’s my birthday, and I’m looking forward to spending some time at the bookstore.” And away from my house, she finished in her head.

  Greg raised his eyebrows. “Your birthday? How old are you now?”

  “Nineteen.”

  Greg’s face fell. “Already? I remember when you first came here all gangly and with braces on your teeth.” He shook his head. “You make me feel old.”

  “Ah, Greg, you aren’t that old.” Isobel couldn’t help smiling. “Besides, my mother says age is a state of mind.”

  “Ha!” He barked a short laugh. “Elizabeth is ever youthful. I can see where she would think that.” He finished her coffee, capped the cup, and handed it to her.

  Isobel took a deep sniff of the steam rising through the small drinking hole. “Nobody makes coffee like you. How much?” She glanced at the register, waiting for him to ring it up.

  He shook his head. “Not today, sweetie. Happy Birthday.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Now Isobel—”

  “I mean it, Greg.”

  He moved to the register. “You are too stubborn for your own good.”

  Isobel flashed him a smile and paid for the coffee. “Have a great day, Greg.”

  “You too, Isobel.”

  She wandered down the sidewalk, sipping at the hot liquid. It felt good to be out among normal people with normal lives. The bell over the door jingled as she entered the bookstore. Isobel breathed in the smell, absorbing the atmosphere. The tension in her body eased and for the first time since she came home, she felt happy. She moved down the aisles, heading unerringly through them. Isobel knew the place like the back of her hand. The owner saw her and waved but left her alone to browse.

  As Isobel read through the titles waiting for one to jump out at her, she looked up and saw Damien standing at the far end of the row. Her eyes skimmed over his body of their own accord. Admiring the way his blue jeans hugged his lean hips and the way his broad shoulders shifted as he flipped through the pages of a book.

  Her heart did a flip. So the gorgeous guy next door liked books? Isobel took a sip of her coffee and turned her attention back to the shelf in front of her. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t for her. Nobody was. She browsed through the titles trying to decide if she wanted to read a horror about zombies or the one with werewolves. Maybe she would get both.

  “You like books?”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin though her mind registered the voice immediately. Somehow Isobel knew she would recognize it anywhere.

  Placing her hand over her startled heart Isobel looked up and her breath caught. No, she hadn’t imagined it. His eyes really were that beautiful. And so familiar. It was more than just glimpsing them the week before. More like she should know him, even though that was impossible. Isobel knew without a doubt if she had seen him before she would remember it. A slight shadow of dark stubble ran along his jaw, and she resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his face.

  “I’m sorry. It seems I have a penchant for startling you.” A slight smile touched his lips.

  “No.” Isobel shook her head. “I mean yes, you did. But you don’t have to apologize. I get so involved in the books anyone would have startled me.” She smiled. “Damien, right?”

  Damien nodded. “What do you like to read?” He glanced at the b
ooks in her hand.

  Isobel shrugged. “Pretty much anything.”

  He cocked his head so he could read the titles. “I would skip the zombie one.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s okay if you aren’t looking for creepy, which I personally am when hunting for zombie stories. This one is rather boring, and the attempted twist at the end is a complete failure.”

  “I see.” Isobel regarded the book and set it back. “I prefer creepy with my zombies. They weren’t ever meant to be anything else.”

  Damien flashed her a full smile that showed his perfect white teeth. If there was a God, he was intentionally torturing her. No man should look that good. Not to mention they had the same taste in books. Talk about a double whammy. Yes, Damien should definitely be illegal.

  “What about this one? Have you read it?” Isobel handed him the book.

  She studied him as he read the back of it. Her surroundings shifted and he stood smiling at her in a field. A cluster of old, thatch-roofed houses rose in the distance. Chainmail stretched across his chest and shoulders, metal gauntlets encased his forearms, and a sword hung at his hip. It lasted less than a minute and then the world snapped back. Disoriented, she grabbed the shelf to keep her balance.

  “Isobel?” Damien’s hand was warm on her arm as he steadied her.

  “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. What the heck was wrong with her? “What did you say?”

  Concern filled his eyes. “I said I haven’t read this one yet, but it sounds good so I think I’ll buy myself a copy… Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Sorry about that.” Isobel stared at the book as he handed it back, still trying to figure out what happened. “Maybe I need to eat.” She glanced back at Damien. “Thanks for your help. I need to go.”

  He followed her through the store. “Let me take you to lunch.” Damien wasn’t ready to let her walk away. He wanted more time to lose himself in her beautiful green eyes. It was all he could have for now and he needed it, craved it.

  Isobel hesitated, running her teeth lightly across her lower lip as she thought about it. She shouldn’t. It couldn’t go anywhere. Isobel gazed up into those blue eyes again and something stirred in her. The deep sense of familiarity came back full force. Oh Isobel, just have lunch with him, she chided herself.

  “All right. I just want something simple.”

  Damien gave her that killer smile again. “Simple sounds great to me.”

  After they paid for their books, they headed down the street for a couple of sandwiches from one of the shops and sat at a table in the grassy square. Damien gave her a strange look. Isobel frowned, “What?”

  “I’m just surprised you didn’t want to go to one of the fast food places up on the main road.”

  Isobel shrugged. “I prefer the little independent places when I can find them. Besides, I love the square.”

  They spent another hour discussing the pros and cons of various books and authors. When the conversation started to turn more personal, Isobel told him she needed to get home. He walked her back to her car, and Isobel couldn’t decide if she was surprised or not to see his black motorcycle in the next space over.

  It really was a sick twist of fate that placed the perfect guy in her path. Perfect, except she couldn’t tell him about the creepy laughter and icy fingers that chased her through the house. Or that a headless man wasn’t always the worst of her dreams now. Or that her mom’s new window watched her and to top it off, a strange power that had killed her birth mother was trying to break loose from inside her.

  Damien watched her car back out and drive away. He hadn’t missed the barely visible dark smudges under her eyes or how she nervously steered the conversation away from anything personal. How much was she hiding? The energy level in the house had stayed fairly constant. Was the low level just enough to terrorize her? He would have to keep a closer eye on it.

  Isobel drove slowly back to her house with a deep sense of regret, wishing there could be more between her and Damien, but things were just too strange. When she pulled down the drive, the house seemed to be waiting for her. The sun reflected off the huge, round window and for a moment she saw a white veil covering it again. Something dark moved within the colored glass. Then it was gone.

  Isobel exhaled and parked the car. A trick of the light, that was all. She stepped out into the warm afternoon, picked her book up, and stared at the house. Why did they have such a big house anyway? It was only the three of them. Even Elizabeth had thought it excessive, but her father insisted because he liked the island. If they had a smaller house the window wouldn’t have fit and it wouldn’t be there.

  Hot air brushed past her face as she pushed the front door shut. Isobel leaned against the smooth wood and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart.

  Another hot breeze brushed her cheek followed by laughter. Her eyes snapped open. A large, bent shape of smoky shadows stood in front of her. A scream strangled in her throat. Isobel stood frozen as it reached for her. It melted away before the shadowy claws could touch her.

  Her legs trembled as fear clawed at her insides. Casting a frightened look at the stairs, Isobel ran into the family room. It was the farthest point from the window when she was inside the house.

  The laughter followed her. Isobel turned the stereo on and cranked the volume until the bass rattled her chest and drowned out the laughter. She hugged her arms around her middle. Could malicious spirits do that? Could they make people see things? Sleep deprivation caused hallucinations. Was the lack of restful sleep, not to mention the dreams, affecting her mind?

  The pounding music was her only answer.

  It felt like a lifetime since her parents had left, but it was only three weeks. Isobel stood at the large windows in the family room and watched dark, heavy clouds smother the evening sky as a rumble of thunder rolled across the house.

  There would be no reading outside this evening. Fat drops of rain splattered across the deck, growing heavier. The sky darkened as rain poured down. Isobel shoved her hand through her hair. After a hot, humid day spent outside she needed a shower.

  Isobel climbed the stairs with heavy steps, reluctant as always to be near the window. The feeling of being watched settled over her immediately. She showered and pulled on clean clothes as fast as she could, anxious to get back downstairs.

  “Isobel.”

  She froze in the act of running the brush through her hair as her heart slammed in her chest.

  “Isobel.” The silky whisper called her again.

  Isobel trembled at the sinister sound. and fear laced the blood rushing through her veins. In the mirror her reflection warped and changed as if melting. Isobel’s throat constricted, strangling the scream that tried to tear from it. Stumbling, she threw herself from the bathroom and bolted through the bedroom.

  On the landing, the crimson eye glared balefully at her. Malevolence radiated from it. She backed away until she hit the wall then walked sideways, sliding along it until she felt the smooth wood of the short banister. Terrified to look at the window, Isobel was more afraid to look away. It wasn’t just a window. There was something very wrong with it, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn her back.

  When Isobel reached the stairs, she ran down them and threw open the front door. A loud crack of thunder made her flinch back. The rain poured down in curtains so heavy she couldn’t even see her car. Where was she going to go in this? Did she really think she could go to the police and tell them her mom’s window was evil? They would think she was on drugs, crazy, or both. Isobel shut the door.

  Isobel turned to face the house. The sound of the pounding rain seemed distant somehow. She stood perfectly still, listening as her pulse pounded in her ears. Outside, lightning flashed bright, illuminating the rooms. Nothing moved—nothing spoke.

  After several long moments, she let out a shaky breath. What was she going to do, huddle by the front door all summer? Movi
ng as quietly as possible, she crept through the living room toward the kitchen to retrieve her phone. She had to call Amelia. She needed a friend; someone who would listen and maybe help stop this.

  The darkness seemed thicker in the kitchen. Her bare foot stepped in something warm and wet. “What the—” Isobel flipped on the light. A man in dark robes lay on the floor; his head rolled and came to a rest, empty eyes staring at her. Blood spread out from the gaping neck. Her head swam and black edged her vision. Her reoccurring nightmare lay on her kitchen floor.

  “Oh God.” Isobel clamped a hand over her mouth as her stomach lurched. She backed away, her foot leaving a smear of blood on the tile. She stared at the dead man in horror, her body shaking all over.

  Lightning flashed followed by a crash of thunder. The house plunged into darkness; the power was out. Isobel bolted for the front door, yanked it open, and ran straight into Damien’s solid body.

  “Isobel?” He reached out to steady her, but she pushed past him and ran off the porch. Isobel sank to her knees on the pavement. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, her tears mixing with the rain that still came in a torrent.

  Damien knelt beside her. “I came to check on you since the power is out. Did something happen? Are you hurt?” He tried to calm the pounding of his heart.

  Her teeth chattered as she shook her head. “D…dead man,” Isobel gasped. “In the…in the k…kitchen. Blood…everywhere.”

  Damien stood in a smooth movement. Not bothering to turn on the flashlight in his hand, he strolled into the house. He sensed the evil retreat from him. Wary of the protective powers he wielded. It didn’t take Damien long to find the kitchen. A quick search revealed nothing. Xapar was growing stronger as the seal weakened. It was never meant to last so long and the danger to Isobel grew. Damien walked back through the house, casting a glare up the stairs. He would deal with that later; right now he needed to get Isobel out of the rain.