Time Weaver

by Jacinta Maree

  He remembered it, vaguely. The image of Elizabeth on the platform, pacing to and fro as though in distress. The moment he approached, a pain knocked him out and he awoke inside a cold, brick room. His wrists bound behind his back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Moisture dampened the walls, leaving puddles beneath the leaking pipes. He groaned and jerked against the chains, the noise no doubt alerting his kidnappers.

  He didn’t expect to see Elizabeth there, and she seemed just as confused to see him. Behind her, approached the corrupted Time Collector, Nikolas, and Hudson’s back tensed with apprehension. Nikolas’ face remained untouched by time, keeping him as young as the day Dennis’ grandfather tried shooting him down seventy years ago. The Collector, Juliet, then cut him with her fingernail and a deep darkness pulled him down. The nightmares tore into him. He couldn’t wake. He couldn’t escape. He knew he must be dreaming. There were monsters he had never seen before. Creatures as large as houses. Swords for legs, eight eyes, and black, scaled bodies. He was weightless, his hands numbed to the touch of the world built around him, but nevertheless the fear was real. He was trapped inside his own mind and became convinced he would never to see Catherine again. And slowly, bit by bit, the dream world became the only world he understood. Fear eroded his identity away, eroded his name, his memories of his friends and family. He crumbled beneath the terror until suddenly, the spell broke.

  A white fire tore up the front of his mind, throwing him back and jolting him awake. He scrambled up, dazed, but his head still pulsated with the remains of his torment. Hudson glanced around the dark cell to find himself curled up on a mattress. Old wounds marred his wrists and ankles, signs of being restrained.

  “You’re finally awake?” A voice called across to him. Hudson turned toward two men huddled around a bonfire, their hands held up against the breath of the flame. Layers of dirty, ripped clothes covered them. “That was quite some dream you had there. What type of drug could induce that?”

  “That’s no drug, Fred, that’s witchcraft, I tell ya.” The second man nudged him, his front missing teeth creating a whistle when he spoke. “You’ve been here for weeks, boy. Tossing ‘n turning, rambling ‘bout monsters and death. Weren’t sure you were gonna wake.”

  Hudson tried to stand, but he stumbled. His body felt weak, starved of nourishment. “Where am I?”

  “The slums, lad.” The younger of the two homeless men walked to him. He knelt beside him and pushed over some canned food. “Hungry?”

  “Starved.” Hudson took the beans and shovelled the food in. His stomach twisted painfully. The spell had kept him alive against starvation and dehydration. Now it was broken, he felt every painful cry of his body.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Only witchcraft could do this to a man,” the toothless man suggested again. “Mark my words, witchcraft.”

  “I can tell by your clothes you’re not one of us,” Fred went on, “What brought you here?”

  “I can’t remember,” Hudson admitted. He rolled over onto his back, the heaviness from the induced coma keeping him anchored to the floor. “I can’t remember anything.”

  “It messed you up good. I’m Fred Cooper, and this is Earl Wells. You can stay here with us as long as you need, Grumbles.” He clapped Hudson on the shoulder and stood.

  “Grumbles?”

  “It’s what we called you. You grumble in your sleep.”

  Hudson relaxed into the mattress. Grumbles, a name he could use. “Thank you.”

  Beyond the spurs of his nightmares, he couldn’t remember anything. Every night when he slept, small sections of his past resurfaced. The smell of gunpowder. A woman’s smile. Brown hair, long and curled down her side. Words started to reappear, attaching names to faces. Small details sharpened. Bits and pieces returned in disjointed sequences, like his name, Hudson. The memories recoiled painfully like a snapping band. Among his flashbacks there were scenes he couldn’t understand. A different time. A different place where he was called by a different name. He couldn’t help but feel trapped when he slept, as though his skin had hardened into clay.

  He lived among the underground network of homeless, rebuilding his forgotten past when a hand came down on top of his shoulder, waking Hudson up. He turned around to a stranger’s face leaning over him.

  “Hudson?” the man asked, his voice slurred with a German accent.

  Hudson’s tired eyes widened. “You know me?”

  Confusion crossed the man’s face. He reached forward and touched the mark on Hudson’s forehead. “Looks like I found you just in time. What do you remember?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Your guardian angel. Now, what do you remember?”

  Hudson struggled up onto his elbow. His sluggish words jumbled together in his exhaustion. “How do you know me?”

  “Does the name Juliet Christ ring any bells?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “You’ve been poisoned. Listen, my name is Klaus and I am a friend of yours. Plainly speaking. You’ve been caught up in one of Juliet’s spells, I’m afraid. Come, I’m required to bring you home.”

  “Home?”

  Klaus nodded and helped heaved Hudson up. His month-long stay in the slums had thickened his beard and teased the brown curls into knotted tangles. His skin glistened with the mixed smells of sweat and sewer. “First a shower, then back to Gothsworth. I dare say you’ll need to see a doctor too. Lady Catherine is waiting for you.”

  #

  Realization dawned on Klaus with a single look. It wasn’t the look of shock at seeing Hudson’s deterioration after weeks of silence—his face narrowed, his arms thinned, and his skin paled by illness. It was the lack of recognition. The cold welcome of a stranger. Lady Rose, Catherine, Dennis and Elizabeth all met up with Klaus and Hudson on their arrival to Gothsworth hospital. Doctors admitted him straight away, and fed fluid into his body through a tube into his veins.

  “I’ve contacted his family. They are on their way.” Lady Rose settled down in a chair beside his bed.

  Reaching over him, Catherine gently cupped his slack hand. “Hudson? Can you hear me?” She gently ran her thumb over the new scar on his forehead. His eyebrows pinched, pained by the touch.

  “It’s a miracle he’s even alive, look at the poor boy,” Lady Rose said.

  Dennis glanced out into the hallway toward Klaus and then back at Catherine. She looked away from him guiltily. “Yes, a miracle.” Elizabeth caught the brief exchange, and tenderly smiled to herself.

  Klaus ensured to stay out of the room, but he remained close enough to overhear the conversation. He sat on one of the benches along the hallway, his hands poised nervously beneath his chin. Catherine appeared from the doorway and joined him.

  “He’ll be alright now,” Klaus spoke first said without looking up. “I found him out in the slums. A bit malnourished and dehydrated, but nothing fatal.”

  “Thank you, Klaus,” she whispered. “I know you risk a lot being here with us, but I really am grateful for your help.”

  Klaus weakly smiled. Behind them, Hudson stirred awake and the room soon filled with excited chatter. Catherine turned to walk back in, but Klaus quickly snatched her hand to prevent her from leaving. “Just a moment…” he started, but the words swelled on his tongue. Catherine looked down at his hand and back at him. He quickly released her. “No, nothing, sorry.”

  Chatter turned Catherine around and she joined the others inside Hudson’s room. Hudson’s blue eyes fluttered open. He glanced around, his expression confused and slightly alarmed.

  “Welcome back, Hudson.” Dennis smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

  Hudson gently smiled back. “Where am I?”

  “Gothsworth hospital,” Dennis explained. Hudson glanced at Catherin and fell into a hysterical panic.

  “No! No! Don’t you come any closer!” Hastily, he grabbed the vase of flowers set up on the bedside table, and tried
to hit her with it. His reaction startled everyone. Dennis grabbed his wrist to subdue him.

  “Hudson? What’s the matter with you?”

  Hudson’s eyes didn’t leave Catherine’s face. “Get away from me. Get away,” he screamed, fear cracking his voice. Catherine stumbled back. Frantically, he tried to unhook the tubes to his arms, but the nurses managed to repress him.

  “You should leave,” the nurse said and pushed everyone out into the hallway. As soon as Catherine was gone, Hudson collapsed back against the mattress.

  “What happened?” Catherine demanded. Klaus looked down as she stormed closer to grab his attention. “Why did he react like that?”

  “Juliet Christ…” he whispered. “That mark on Hudson’s forehead is the scar she leaves with her victims.”

  “What? What victims?” Lady Rose gasped. Dennis stepped around Klaus, his face reddening with rage. His fists bunched, and Elizabeth felt a surge of panic for Klaus’ safety.

  “A Time Collector’s influence, I’m afraid,” Klaus explained. “She’s a mind breaker. She destroys memories and replaces them with new ones. Often terrifying memories of familiar faces.”

  Catherine stumbled back into a chair. “Can we fix him?”

  “Not through magical means.”

  “But can he be fixed?”

  Klaus slowly glanced up. “I don’t know.”

  “A Collector did this?” Lady Rose walked angrily forward. “Heartless creatures like yourself?” The word heartless stabbed at Klaus. “William warned me of you. Said you weren’t to be trusted.”

  Klaus glanced up as though he had just been slapped. Even though Klaus couldn’t control his Collector side, he had thought at least with William, he had been seen as a companion. Someone to trust.

  “That’s what they do. They only care about themselves,” Dennis added. Catherine buried her head in her hands. Lady Rose crossed her arms, matching the aggression from Dennis. All the while Klaus sat back. His eyes cast down as though accustomed to the hate.

  “Wait a moment.” Elizabeth stepped between them.

  Lady Rose quickly cut across her. “I said it once, I’ll say it again, I will not allow any more of my family be harmed by abominations—”

  “Aunt Rose, please.”

  “It’s not in good society to be running around with such a dishonourable man—”

  “Enough, Aunt Rose.” Elizabeth stepped between Lady Rose and Klaus protectively. Everyone went quiet. “The last scared words from my father won’t change all the wonderful things he said about Klaus, and it won’t change my mind either. He’s here, isn’t he?” She turned and looked at Dennis. “Even after everything you’ve put him through, he still came to your aid when you asked him. How is that anything less than admirable? You’re happy to use his powers and capabilities when it suits you, but you can’t blame him when things go wrong. You can’t condemn him for being what he is. He is a Collector yes, but he is also kind, brave, selfless, sometimes arrogant and rude, but that’s okay. He’s human, too.”

  Human. Klaus’ back tightened. She thinks I’m human, too.

  Lady Rose tenderly lowered her arms. “Miss Elizabeth, you speak wisdom beyond your years. I apologise, Sir Dietrich. I may have my objections to your kind, but clearly you’re one of the good people. William did speak kindly of you. Even before his death, he never blamed you. It was wrong of me to judge you so harshly.”

  Catherine rose from her seat and gently touched Klaus’ arm. “You did bring Hudson back, and I can’t thank you enough that. In any way I can help you, please just ask.”

  Dennis scoffed, “If you see fit to stand around and hug each other then so be it. Know my alliances is always on the human side, no matter what.” He stormed down the hallway and out of the hospital.

  Klaus looked from Lady Rose to Catherine and back to Elizabeth again. A sweet pain hit him. He looked down at his trembling hands. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear those words from her. And the realization of it scared the wits out of him.

  #

  They made it back to the mansion in silence. Relief lifted up his shoulders as he walked, but Klaus’ hands still trembled. They reached the front manor, and Lady Rose and Catherine walked on ahead as Klaus pulled Elizabeth back. He lingered by the doorway, waiting for the others to step out of ear shot. Her last words ran back and forth across his mind, leaving echoes in their wake. The more he thought about it the deeper the prints sank into his memory, making him agitated.

  “What’s the matter?” Elizabeth asked, reading into his stern expression.

  “What you said before…” he started in a whisper. “None of it is true, is it?”

  “Why? Did I insult you with my praise?” she tried to joke.

  Klaus shook his head. “But they are right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “About me.” Klaus turned and gestured outward. “Every bad thing that has happened to you is because of me. It is because you keep the company of Time Collectors.”

  Elizabeth’s smile dropped. “Since when has that bothered you?”

  “I am not kind. I am not generous or selfless. You use those words to try and make me out to be something I am not.”

  Elizabeth scoffed and turned away. “How fast you are to turn every conversation into a duel. Why not just tell me the truth? Clearly, it is my company you hate.”

  Hate? Klaus cringed at the word. “This is not hate. I am trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me? Or protect yourself?”

  He stepped back at her sharp, direct hit. What terrified him was how much she saw into him and how much others saw too. “How can you not understand?” He turned, frustrated.

  “How could I understand when you don’t tell me anything?”

  “Look at me. Just look.” He grabbed her hand and pressed her fingers to his neck. His heart raced against the tip of her fingers. Her cheeks warmed, startled by the gesture. “A creature as cold-blooded as I should not feel this.”

  “Well, clearly you are no cold-blooded creature.”

  Klaus’ head bowed. He gently let her hand slip through his grasp. “To be loved by a Collector is to be loved by death. It’s a curse, a burden. Who could possible want that?”

  “Is that how you truly feel?” She took a quivering breath. “And yet…isn’t love the unconditional acceptance of an imperfect person? Klaus, you save my life…and I owe you my heart.” She eased her fingers against his cheek, turning his face toward her own. But, again, he dropped his gaze. Beneath the cusp of his golden-brown eyes, Elizabeth could see the walls he’d built between them. The fear of vulnerability. The fear of pain, heartbreak.

  “You don’t owe it to me. I took it, and gave you a pocket watch instead.”

  “Lady Rose!? Lady Rose!?” A house maid called out as she dashed down the hallway. “It’s Lady French, she is missing!”

  Klaus and Elizabeth exchanged panicked looks before racing to the guest’s chambers. Inside Leah’s room, behind the flutter of white curtains, a window panel had been smashed and the silk sheets kicked back, revealing an empty, warm bed.

  #

  Dusk was upon him. As Nikolas turned the switch and killed the engine he slumped in the driver’s seat. His fingers tapped the steering wheel in an anxious beat. After a few breaths, he kicked open the car door and stepped out. The wind kicked up the dust, spinning the dirt into a miniature cone of leaves and twigs. He walked to the trunk of the car and heaved the body out.

  Working in the sunset’s red light, Nikolas understood he didn’t have much time left. He sat her upright on the edge of a well before taking the bag off her head.

  Leah remained in what appeared to be in a sleeping state, her chin pressed to her chest and her hair tumbled down her face. Nikolas wiped his mouth, swallowing his anxiety before he knelt beside her. Carefully, he reached out and tugged on the handle of Juliet’s Collector blade extending out of her chest.

  At the sudden jerk, Leah’s eyes snapped
open revealing a deep, cloudy orange gaze. Beneath her heated stare, he shivered. It was a strange sensation he hadn’t felt in years.

  “Mortalem,” he whispered her name, but the wind caught it and dragged it out across the dunes.

  Her expression remained dull, void of any emotion or thought. She merely nodded, acknowledging him. “Collector Nikolas Vorx. I wasn’t expecting you.” Leah’s voice had been ripped apart, no longer belonging to the female host. Accent curled her words and broke up her speech. To hear it speak pushed Nikolas back. “You’re nervous?” she noted.

  “I’m sure you understand why.”

  “I do, but you must agree I cannot remain in this vessel. It won’t be able to hold me, and if it breaks while I’m still inside—”

  Nikolas wrapped his arms around himself. “You want out? Okay, what’s in it for me?”

  Leah perked her eyebrow, her facial expressions seemingly the only muscles in her body capable of moving. Everything from the neck down remained rigid in attention. “What do you want?”

  He thought on it. “I want to break a bond.”

  “Destroy the contract at the blood source.”

  He quickly shook his head. “I can’t kill her. Her time can’t be touched. You can fix this, can’t you? I want this bond broken and I want a lost love to be returned to me. For that, I promise, I will give you your freedom.”

  Leah seemed to consider it for a moment, “The one you love is long gone, Nikolas. Not even my reach can bring her back. She belongs to Chronos now, down in the darkness with the other tainted. But you must have a heart as rotten as death to pursue her.”

  His face tightened. “Why would you say that?”

  “You seek love in the darkest of places. Your devotion to a woman set to betray you is amusing. Your new bond to the mortal girl, Elizabeth, was no accident. You chose her specifically because you know deep down she’ll never love you back.”

  “You make it sound like I enjoy being trampled on.”

  “It’s your fate,” she replied coolly.

  “What if I don’t want it to be my fate anymore? What if I don’t want to be haunted and condemned to a life of rejection?”