“Nikolas, wait…”
He slowed at the door.
“Thank you.”
#
He heard concern in her voice, not anger. The way she gently touched the blemishes on her skin, the marks of his corruption, seemed grateful, not upset. Nikolas ran his fingers along the walls of the ballroom. The wallpaper peeled off and hung like stripes of skin, yet he still considered it beautiful. Lady Claudia hated it. Rotten, she’d called it.
“I would really rather it if I went to a proper doctor.” Elizabeth’s voice brought his attention back into the room. Nikolas dropped his hand as he walked closer.
“Why, are you embarrassed in front of me?”
“It’s not decent.”
“No one is here to judge.”
Elizabeth winced as she struggled onto her side. Her fingers shook as she tried to lift her top to check the bandages. Nikolas knelt beside her and she quickly retracted her hands, covering her stomach. “Excuse me!”
“Oh please, who do you think bandaged you up in the first place? Plus, I have no interest in your complete lack of curves.”
Her glare hardened. “And you called yourself a gentleman.”
Nikolas smirked and proceeded to carefully change over her bandages and help wash the wounds. Elizabeth looked away to hide her embarrassment. “You must be bored, sitting around here all day watching me sleep.”
“I don’t sit around here all day,” he said.
“Oh? Where do you go?”
“Nowhere of importance. Why are you telling me you’re bored?”
“I wouldn’t mind company.”
Nikolas smiled at the comment. She proceeded to pout. “You could at least give me a book to read?” she asked.
“Your wounds are healing quite nicely, I say you won’t be stuck here for too much longer.” Carefully, Nikolas secured the bandages and proceeded to clear Elizabeth’s breakfast from the floor. “I’m sure we’ll have you back into hiding in Rosefire in no time.”
“Rosefire? You’ve been watching me?”
“Of course, how else do you think I know how you like your tea?”
Elizabeth scoffed. “What an immoral thing to do.”
“Considering I steal time for a living, this isn’t exactly my darkest hour.”
She snickered and then winced at the sharp jabs to her stomach. “I honestly don’t know what you are. Sometimes I feel like I’m your hostage, sometimes I feel like I’m some trophy, and sometimes…” Nikolas glanced over at her hesitation. She sighed, followed by a shrug. “Sometimes I find it hard to hate you.”
He smiled warmly. “I must be doing something right, then.”
“Or I’m doing something wrong.”
His smile dropped. He knew in every relationship, be it in the making of an enemy, a friend, or a lover, there was a defining moment. His and Elizabeth’s moment presented itself in the silence of a room. They both sat on the unanswered question on how they fit into each other’s world. The enemy. The bait. Friend. Nikolas cleared his throat. “I am truly sorry you know,” he whispered, “about your mother.”
Elizabeth’s grip tightened on her blanket. It took her a few moments to speak, and when she did, rage-filled tears hazed over her eyesight. “Tell me…why?”
Why her? Why did she do it? Nikolas didn’t ask such questions when Lady Claudia pointed him Ana’s way. It didn’t matter. How ignorant he was to think it didn’t matter. Of course, it did. It mattered a lot, but it was too late now.
“Because…she asked me to.” His intention was not to shift the blame. It was the truth, after all. She wanted him to, and so, he obeyed. Elizabeth looked at him furiously.
“That’s not good enough.”
“I am sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. What he could say. “I didn’t mean to harm—”
“Stop it!” she snapped. “Just stop! Stop talking. Stop looking at me. Stop being nice.” She winced and grabbed her stomach. Nikolas didn’t move to help her, but dropped his head with guilt. Elizabeth continued through a whisper. “Stop trying to trick me.”
“It’s not a trick.”
“Yes, it is.”
Nikolas sighed softly. “I don’t blame you for feeling this way. But that’s what we are, Elizabeth. Klaus too, we are beings controlled by desires. We are controlled by words—”
Grief trembled her voice. “But you could have said no. Is that not what corrupted Collectors are capable of? You could have said no.”
Her words tore through him like bullets. He could have said no. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to. “Yes…” He took a shaky breath. “I guess…I could have.”
#
A storm passed over. Rain pelted down, darkening the sky and filling the garden with muddy water. Nikolas did what he could to stay out of Elizabeth’s sight. He brought her books to read—classics, his favorites—but he no longer sat down with her for meals. He did everything she asked, even fetching her a violin after hearing how she missed listening to the instrument.
“You’re bribing me now?”
“And failing, apparently.” Nikolas smiled. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and looked away. He stepped closer. “Let me guess, stop being nice to you?”
“I know you don’t find it difficult.”
“It’s not exactly in my nature.” He grinned.
Elizabeth reluctantly picked up the violin and looked over it. “You didn’t kill anyone to get this, did you?”
“I do know how to steal, you know.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” She smiled as she ran her fingers across the strings. A simple smile, yet it was genuine, sincere.
“Well, it’s there if you want it.” He left her alone to play. The bond was vicious. It was irrational, illogical, and without mercy. Considering Collectors work for masters by nature, to appease that instinct as a corrupted Collector meant seeking acceptance and worth from others. Lady Claudia rules were always strict, everything she did was controlled. But not with Elizabeth. With her, there were no boundaries. It was just the passing of time. Simple, unforced, as natural as breathing.
The sharp reminder that she wasn’t his came in the headlines of the newspaper. Nikolas went into town for supplies where he heard about the death of Arthur Beaumont. A mysterious disease had taken him. Nikolas recognized the symptoms immediately. Fossilized. Swollen glands. Black veins. A Time Collector.
He shoved the paper back on the rack. Klaus came back for her. His plan could work, would work. But suddenly, his priorities weren’t clear anymore. He hesitated. Stop it Nikolas. None of this is real. Just a crack in the mirror. It isn’t real.
Nikolas returned to Elizabeth plucking the strings of her violin absentmindedly. He recognized the chords from his childhood. Klaus’ chords. When they were young, Klaus used to practise the melody constantly on the piano. Nikolas hated it. Hearing it again caused him to slam the door on his entrance.
Elizabeth lowered the violin. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” he answered sharply, and dumped the shopping beside the door.
Elizabeth flinched. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.” Nikolas slumped into his chair with an irritated sigh. Elizabeth glanced back down, her expression pained.
“What? What’s with that look?” he asked.
“I’m just thinking…why didn’t he come?”
Nikolas immediately knew who she was talking about, but he cleared his throat as though it meant nothing. “I think you know why.”
She gently nodded. “I’m afraid I do.”
No, you don’t. His heart fluttered as he cleared his throat again. He did come. He’s here. He came for you. He couldn’t shake the panic from his voice. “You still haven’t answered me from before.”
“About what?”
“Why him?”
Elizabeth took a moment before answering with the exact words Nikolas didn’t want to hear. “I think you know why.”
/> He nodded. “I’m afraid I do.” His eyes trailed around the ballroom, picking out the flaws. Broken. Rotten. Falling apart. Dark thoughts clouded his mind. Being back here was poisonous. White rose, the smell of her perfume. Hot tea with a wedge of lemon. When she slept, she kicked the covers off to the left. These were things Nikolas shouldn’t know about her. The curve of her smile.
On a scrap piece of paper, Nikolas wrote the words: ‘R. Incognito Promenade.’ He folded the paper into his pocket. “But none of is real, is it? It’s time to move forward.”
Elizabeth gently touched her violin. “Yeah, it’s just a trick.”
Chapter Forty:
Arthur Beaumont sat alone. His hand gripped his cup. Scattered among his cold food were bits and pieces of old diaries, literature, plans, and newspapers. The only light within the dim room came from the flickers of a dying flame. Insomnia made him pale, leaving his eyes red and itchy and his mind burning for answers. His brother, Jeremy, limped across the room and sat on the other side of the table. He clasped his hands together beneath his chin, revealing scars that marred the length of his arms.
“So, what? Another night of silence?”
“If you don’t like it, then leave,” Arthur snarled. “I never invited you in the first place.”
Jeremy shuffled back into his seat with an exasperated sigh. “We have our real enemies outside that very door. You can’t let this obsession with mythical creatures distract you from the real battle.”
“You saw her for yourself.” Arthur motioned outward. “Tell me, what could make her transform into such a hideous creature?”
Jeremy bit his tongue. “I don’t know, but we need to concentrate on the things we do know.”
“And I know what I saw.”
“You haven’t seen anything. Nothing beyond these walls. I’ve seen the true face of battle.”
Arthur jumped and smacked his food clear off the table. “Stop with your lectures. You choose to go to war.”
“And it has turned me into a rational man. I have half the mind to enlist you, myself.” Jeremy ran his hands over his short hair. “This isn’t a game anymore, Arthur. You think the council are going to listen to you? You have to present yourself as a logical adult, not some traumatized child chasing after demons. And what of your wife?”
“What about her?”
“Where is she? People are talking.”
“Let them gossip about stupid women. I’m focused on what’s actually important.”
“Don’t say it—” Jeremy groaned.
“Time Collectors.”
Jeremy slammed his hands down. “That is enough. Tomorrow morning, I will attend the meetings alone. You will remain here where no one can listen to your psychotic ramblings. That’s an order.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Arthur said.
The shrill ring of an incoming phone call sounded before a maid rushed into the dining room. “Sir, it’s Heart’s hospital. It has to do with your mother.” Arthur didn’t budge. Jeremy stood to leave.
“I’ll be right there.” Jeremy nodded toward her before turning back to Arthur. “Listen to my wisdom, Arthur. Leave it be.” He then left for the hallway, leaving Arthur alone once more.
Arthur slumped back into his chair and ran his hands through his oily, black curls. Every time he closed his eyes, there it was. The memory. The moment his mother disintegrated into the burnt body of a shrivelled prawn. The moment the foreign doctor stabbed Timothy in the back. The shadows crept like living creatures, tearing down brick and wood around him. Arthur shook. He started to doubt his own mind, the evidence of his eyes. Crazy. I’m not crazy.
Pressed against the wall of the room, Klaus inspected the new hives on his arm. The steel taste had remained in his mouth for days. The evidence that Nikolas still had Elizabeth was as clear as from the red spots spreading across his body. He clenched his fist. What are you wishing for, Elizabeth?
Klaus stepped up behind Arthur and held the Collector’s blade to his neck. Arthur’s back tightened, fighting the instinct to spin around. His breath caught in his throat.
“Don’t try to call for help,” Klaus whispered. “If you do, I will kill you.”
Panic flooded Arthur’s body. He slowly straightened up. “So, I take it you’re not an assassin. Who sent you?”
“No one sent me.” Carefully, Klaus stepped around into view without lowering his blade.
Arthur’s eyes bulged, tracking Klaus as he sat down beside him. Hints of fear and joy crossed his expression, a confirmation of sanity, while still understanding the danger.
“We are going to have a little chat, you and I,” Klaus said.
“What do you want?” Sweat lined Arthur’s forehead. Klaus stabbed the Collector’s blade into the table between them, a constant reminder of danger and insurance of Arthur’s cooperation. Arthur eyed the weapon fearfully.
“Elizabeth Wicker…when was the last time you saw her?”
Arthur looked back confused. “Why? Why does she matter?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I haven’t seen her since the day you attacked us.” Arthur’s expression shifted as new memories resurfaced. “You rescued her at the markets, you came for her at my wedding too, and now…why are you so interested in my wife?”
Wife. The word strained from Arthur’s lips. Arthur wielded it as though the word could wound Klaus. Wife. Is that people are thinking now, that Klaus was interested in Elizabeth romantically? Klaus snarled, “What about Nikolas?”
“Is he one, too? Whatever you are?” Klaus glanced at his blade and Arthur’s eyes followed. He swallowed uneasily. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Do you want to find out?”
“How?”
“All you have to do is ask.”
Arthur broke out into laughter and wiped his pale lips with shaky hands. “They said I was crazy, you know. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”
“Well, you’re not.”
“No, no, because you’re going to convince them.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Arthur clasped his hands together. “You will help me. You must. I don’t know what you are or what you are capable of, but I do know you’re not human.”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
Arthur shook his head. Strings of salvia wedded his mouth as he spoke. “You must. You will. Just—just let Jeremy meet you.”
Klaus hardened his stubborn expression. He went to stand, which prompted Arthur to panic and leap across the table. “You can’t leave!” he said. At first, Klaus thought he was lunging to attack him, but noticed too late Arthur’s attention shift to the blade.
“Nein! Halt!” As soon as Arthur’s fingers curled around the blade, a sharp spark flew up into the air. Arthur’s body seized up. He tipped backwards onto his back as stiff as a plank of wood. Black veins pressed to the surface as the glands around his throat swelled. Decay reeked from his pores. Klaus ripped the knife out of the table and quickly pocketed it. Voices approached from the hallway and Klaus fled the room before Arthur’s body was discovered.
Klaus slipped back into the busy streets, his mind rattled. Elizabeth Wicker could be anywhere, and Arthur was his key to tracking her down. Klaus did consider Harry Smith to make the contract, but unfortunately, the old man couldn’t afford the wish. Only months left, he’ll live till Christmas at best. His older sister Doris was no better. Unsure whereas to go, Klaus worked his way back to Harry Smith’s house in Rosefire, but stumbled to a stop across the road. Elizabeth Wicker sat on the front steps wrapped in a blanket. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands and was reading over a note, her expression shielded by the wisps of her white hair. Doubt overshadowed his sense of relief. She’s here? It felt too neat, too convenient that Elizabeth appeared within his reach. Nikolas was always two steps ahead, leaving Klaus to play catch up.
She perked up as he approached cautiously. “Elizabeth…”
“Klaus? Yo
u’re here. I mean of course, I can see you but…” A soft pink touched her cheeks. “I’m glad to see you. It’s been…well, I’m just glad to see you.”
Klaus lingered back. He scanned the shadows warily. “Are…are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Was at the police station helping clear Harry’s name over a mix up but…” She slowly stood, noticing the shift in Klaus’ focus move along the shadows. Looking, no doubt, for Nikolas. She frowned softly. “He isn’t here.”
“Hmm?”
“Nikolas. He’s gone. He left Harry a note.” Klaus stepped closer and took the offered letter. On the front was the name of an old, deteriorating ballroom called the ‘R. Incognito Promenade.’ It was an ordinary place abandoned by the squabbles of a divorcing couple. On the back of the note was written, ‘She is safe. Please come,’ with a more personal message beneath: ‘Elizabeth. I’m sorry.’ Klaus squinted at the writing. Elizabeth sighed. “I must admit I was very surprised to see Mr. Smith come by to collect me. He said the note was left on his kitchen table. It scared the living daylights out of his sister. But, you know gremlins, they can get into anything.”
“Hmm…” Klaus read the passage a couple more times, but still couldn’t figure out Nikolas’ plan. “I’m sorry?” he questioned. “Sorry for what?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” A smile pulled on her lips despite her many attempts of trying to hide it. She stepped closer and touched his arm. “I was worried about you.”
Klaus handed her back the note. “Your cousin Catherine was kind enough to pierce my shoulder with the bone shard. It almost killed me. I was incapacitated for weeks.”
“Oh! I didn’t know, but you’re—”
“Fine? Yes, well a couple of witches helped. Took the poison out of my body and transferred it into the body of a young soldier, instead. Catherine did say the Moore family were the original creators of the weapon. They should know how to fix him.”
“Soldier? What solider? Is he okay?”
“He has been frozen back at the Bell Front Towers. The witches are friends of his, they are looking after him.”
Time Weaver Page 26
