“No, I need to get out of here now.” She resumed pacing. “I have spent enough time performing Hunter duties. I, too, have a life and it calls to me. Maybe I would like to get married some day. Maybe I would like to have my own child instead of dealing with everyone else’s.”
“Of course,” I said. “Then make this simple. Let Dario and I go and return to your life.”
“I cannot.” She sighed. “I already killed Jorge. That was not easy, you know. He was a fighter, and most of you Messengers are not. But you, Nadja, Madeline, whatever your name is, you are a loose end, an accident waiting to happen. And I do not leave loose ends; I am not that sloppy.”
“What’s to prevent me from leaving?” I asked.
“This.” She pointed out a window cut into the wall at eye level.
I walked the few steps and peered out. Giulia, a few guards, and a monk wearing long robes with a hood over his head were fleeing the fire, making their way toward the gates. The man shook off his hood. It was Samuel, his face desperate as his eyes swept the crowds practically trampling each other to leave the royal grounds. “Madeline!” he yelled.
“Sam—”
Ana clamped her hand over my mouth. “You hold his life in your hands.”
He was safe. My Samuel was safe!
Giulia raced to Samuel’s side, yanked the hood back up, and whispered into his ear. He followed her reluctantly.
“The Hunter girl wants him. She told him you already escaped and that you are waiting for him outside of Coimbra. He will survive if he goes with her. Send the right message today, Messenger, and for a change, you could save a life.”
I spotted Tomasis pushing through the crowds like an enraged bull who’d just been jabbed during a fight in a ring. “Dario!” He screamed. “Dario, where are you?”
The boy raced to the window but I scooped him up in my arms, held him tight against me and muffled his cries as he flailed. “I choose life. Give me a moment to calm the boy.” I kissed the top of his tousled head and whispered sweet nothings into his ear as Sister Ana paced.
“I am weary,” she said. “Let me go home.” She squinted and rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands.
I lowered Dario carefully to the ground and pointed my finger at him. “Remember that you promised to be a good boy,” I said, “and do what I say.”
He nodded.
I walked toward Ana, but passed her and made my way toward the altar. “You killed Jorge on an altar. He was brave, a warrior. If I’m going to let you take my life I want to be sacrificed on one as well. Be done with it.” I pushed up my sleeves and held my bared wrists toward her.
“You will bleed out more slowly if I cut your wrists. Much quicker if I slice your throat.”
I shrugged. “I’m attached to my head. Sorry,” I said. “ Besides, does it really matter?”
She sighed. “You are right. It no longer matters. I am done; I am going home. Of course someone will complain that I did not do my job. Probably Malachi. Whatever did you do to make him so invested in you?”
“I’m the reason his son was killed.”
“Oh, foolish me. I really do have to kill you.”
“Of course you do. It’s the Hunter’s way. You should see half the things they make you do when you’re a Messenger.” I smiled sweetly. “It’s not pretty, I guarantee you. All the lessons and the books and the studying.”
She clutched her head and frowned. “Oh God, I will never forget all the studying. Which weapon to use in what time. The art of deception. How to kill someone twice your size. My head. My head is killing me.” She ground her teeth and hummed under her breath.
“’Learn this, perfect that. Can you pick up the pace? Come on, you can do better than that,’” I said. “Do they nag you like that, too?”
She rocked backward and forward, grimacing.
“And then there’s always the totally random thing they make you perfect—Dario… run!” I said.
Sister Ana swiveled toward Dario but he was already racing out of the room with Scout on his tail.
I’d sprinted the few yards toward her and when she turned back, I nailed her with a jab and an uppercut. She reeled, twisted toward the altar, still clutching the knife. She pulled herself upright and staggered toward me muttering, “Home,” she spoke more gibberish. “Home.” She grasped the knife high in the air with both hands and smashed it down toward my heart with a fury. But I latched onto her arms and we crashed onto the floor and wrestled for control of the weapon.
But control, as always, is fleeting.
I suddenly grew cold and felt nauseous. The chapel started spinning and my soul ripped out of my body.
~ ~ ~
I came to but I so felt weak. I lay next to Ana on a field immersed in a chilly fog so thick I could barely see her face. I had no idea where I was.
She pulled away from me and knelt on the ground, tilted her head back, and sniffed the air. She held the knife in one hand and ran her other across the earth. “Home,” she said and laughed. “I know this land anywhere. I am home!”
I backpedaled away from her, clawing against the torn up ground that felt so very different from Portugal’s soil. But I saw no way out, no easy escape, and so I begged. “Ana, do not kill me here. I’m not supposed to be in this time. There’s been a mistake. Please don’t take my life here.”
“I know. Hunters would say that you ‘hitched a ride.’” She stood up. “Welcome to Austria!” She held out her hand, I reluctantly accepted it and she hoisted me to standing. “I am home and you are no longer my problem. Best of luck and I sincerely hope I never see you again.” She threw me a kiss, turned, strode off, and disappeared into the mist.
I panted from exhaustion. I was in Austria—but when? Ana said she found out she was a Hunter ten years ago in the year 1795. Which meant that it was now 1805.
Sweat dripped down my forehead and I swiped the back of my muddy hand across it. I no longer wore my beautiful red dress but a simple peasant top and a plain skirt; my hair hung loose and bedraggled down my shoulders. The wind picked up just enough to ruffle my long sleeves and I smelled metal and dirt, blood and fear. Then I heard men shouting at each other and a loud crack of gunfire pierced the air.
I started shaking as I remembered that I had been here before. I time traveled here when I was writing my history term paper.
The top half of a soldier wearing a muddied strange uniform and carrying a rifle materialized through the fog yards in front of me. He eyed me, perplexed. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said. “I saw you get shot. You collapsed just yards away from me.”
I looked down and spotted a red stain on my white blouse over my shoulder. It looked caked for the most part, but with the soldier’s words, it cracked open and seeped fresh blood. I gazed back up at him and panicked. “No!” I said. “No!”
I pressed my hand over the bullet hole and stumbled away from him as blood trickled around my fingers.
A woman whispered, “Come to me, Madeline. Run. Now.”
But I couldn’t run. I could barely walk.
I staggered forward mumbling, “Sa. Ta. Na. Ma. Sa. Ta. Na. Ma.” I tripped over a body lying lifeless on the ground but managed to stay upright. “Sa. Ta. Na. Ma. Sa. Ta. Na. Ma.” My vision blurred, my breath was leaving this body along with my blood, and I sank to my knees.
I didn’t want to die in a field in Austria in the year 1805 in a war that I knew nothing about. And so I prayed to my non-denominational gods and goddesses. “Please don’t leave me die here. Please let me go home. Please, please, send help. I will be grateful, I promise.”
“Madeline!” A man exclaimed and scooped me up in his arms. “Shh, shh, Madeline,” he comforted me. “I’m going to get you out of here. Hold as tight to me as you can, yes?”
“Yes,” I said and wept.
He carried me in his arms and jogged. Each step hurt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home. “Thank you, Ryan,” I said. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“You’re welcome. But I’m not Ryan. I was just stopping by another one of my holes in time, spotted you, and thought you might need a ride back home.”
I blinked my eyes open, and saw the hand that held me as well as the glint from its large silver ring. And I peered up into Malachi’s face as we spiraled high into the air, as the field below us disappeared from sight, and all that remained was the mist and the stench of death.
~ thirty-six ~
I felt the blood thump in my ears, smelled a heady mixture of perfume and men’s cologne, and a little weed.
Ro-boy sang “I’ll Be Missing You” by Puff Daddy and Faith Evans. I opened my eyes. I was back at Club Magique in the red leather booth with Chaka on my left, Ryan on my right, and Aaron sitting next to him.
I glanced down at my dress and panicked when I spotted a red spot on my chest where I’d been shot. But the spot vanished; it was simply light from the reflective disco ball hanging over the stage.
Ryan took my hand and squeezed it. “Welcome home,” he said.
“Holy crap!” Aaron said. “You’re back!”
“Oh my God!” Chaka squealed and threw herself on me, hugging me too tight. “I am so excited!”
I winced but then realized I didn’t need to. I hadn’t been shot in this life and didn’t feel like I had broken bones or sported any new scars.
“Where did you go? What did you do?” Aaron asked.
“Did you see anything interesting?” Chaka said. “Or was it just blah old history stuff? What was the fashion like?”
Ryan handed me a glass of water. “Drink it down.”
I did. “What are you doing here?”
“I texted him as soon as you shut your eyes, and, well you know, went somewhere.” Aaron said. “I was scared. At least he knows what he’s doing.”
“More water please?” I asked.
Ryan poured me another glass and I guzzled it. “How long was I out?”
“Hour and a half,” Chaka said. “And you’re never going to believe who’s here!”
“Oprah,” I said.
“What?” Chaka asked.
“I’ve decided if I wanted to talk to someone very wise while I time traveled it would be Oprah when she was in her twenties.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think Oprah’s here tonight.” Aaron pointed across the club where I spotted Samuel staring at me.
His gaze was intense, curious, and a little overwhelming. It made me want to wrap my arms around his neck, stand on my tiptoes, gaze up into his very hazel eyes, and kiss him. But I didn’t think that would be happening tonight.
Standing next to him with her back turned to me was a girl with gorgeous hair, a smoking body, dressed in expensive skin-tight clothes that screamed ‘Look at me!’ She stomped her five-inch heel on the ground and tossed her hair. “I’m done!” She hollered. “I can’t take it anymore. What is your problem?”
“Things haven’t been working out between us for months,” Samuel said. “Let’s talk about this outside.” He took her arm and led her toward the exit. But not before she swiveled and glared at me.
And I shivered, because if looks could kill, I’d have been a goner from the firestorm of fury that poured off Giulia’s face in present day Chicago.
“So where did you go?” Chaka asked.
“Tomorrow.” I stood up, kissed her on the cheek, and hugged her. “I’m exhausted. I want to go home.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day Club Magique!” Ro-Boy said into the mic.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” The crowd yelled back at him.
Ryan stood up. “I’ll give you a ride.”
~ ~ ~
We waited on the curb outside the club for the valet to pull up Ryan’s Jeep.
“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“Actually he does, Madeline.” Malachi stepped out Club Magique’s front door and shivered. “Chilly tonight.”
I stared at him dumfounded. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
He nodded. “You can start with thank you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Does this mean we forgive and forget and we just move on with life?”
“I’ll let you have first crack at this one, Ryan.” Malachi strode off into the cold night air, then swiveled and waved at me. “Looking forward to seeing you again, Madeline! It’s always an adventure.” He rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
I glared up at Ryan. “What did he mean by that?”
The Valet pulled up with his Jeep and attendants hurried to open both doors.
“Get in,” Ryan said.
~ ~ ~
Snow fell as we sat parked outside my house. I slumped back in the passenger seat completely exhausted, perplexed, and sad. “You’re saying someone or something has been monitoring me. So I was never in any danger?”
Ryan shook his head. “You’re always in danger. You can get killed in any time, but when you go off the grid during a travel is when all the attention gets fired up and the message boards light up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. I thought I’d never hear the end of it after you hitched a ride to 1945.”
“So that’s how Malachi landed where he did and when he did,” I said, “and saved my life. How do you know this stuff?”
“I heard rumors,” Ryan said, blew on his hands, and rubbed them together.
“How come you didn’t share those rumors with me?” I asked.
“How come you took off on your own journey when I distinctly said that you needed to wait and learn more?” Ryan stared down at me, his blue eyes turning gray under the light of clouds that drifted in front of the moon.
“I had to. My heart’s desire called to me. It’s been calling to me for a while now,” I said. “I can’t wait forever for yours and everyone else’s permission to live my life.” I leaned over and kissed him on his cheek: sweetly, softly. And then I pulled away, opened the passenger door, and stepped out of the car.
“Right,” Ryan said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow during the,” I air quoted, “‘debriefing’ with Chaka and Aaron.”
“Actually, no you won’t.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been given another task. I’m leaving tonight.”
I inhaled sharply. “But—”
“This is how it is.” He shrugged. “You travel to deliver a message. Sometimes it all works out really well, sometimes it doesn’t. If you live through it, congratulations, Messenger. Mission accomplished. Then you move onto the next one.” He looked up at me and smiled ruefully.
“Oh,” I said and hugged myself. “Oh.” I wiped away a tear. “Thank you for everything, Ryan.”
“It was my honor, Madeline. I’ll see you again.” He slipped the stick shift into drive and gazed up at me. “I know I will. Certain people—you just have a feeling about them.”
He drove off into the night as the breath hitched in my chest.
~ ~ ~
I lay on my bed and stared up at the map of stars on the ceiling. I missed Miri. She was so funny, devoted, and kind. I hoped she had lived a long life filled with happiness no matter where her cleaver as well as her cleavage took her. I missed Scout, the first dog I ever had.
And I longed to see Samuel, touch his face, hold his hand, and kiss him under a moonlit sky in any time to which I journeyed. I hope he survived the fire and followed his purpose to be a Healer. Whether we were together or apart, he’d always be my Samuel and would forever be in my heart.
There was a curt knock on my door. “You were out pretty late tonight, Madeline,” Dad said.
I glanced at my clock. “It’s 10:30 pm. I’m sixteen, not six.”
“Right,” he said. “Did you survive Valentine’s Day?”
“It was touch and go there for a while,” I said.
“Valentine’s Day always is,” he said. “The nonsensical pressure surrounding this overly-commercialized holiday is ridicul
ous. Get some sleep. See you in the morning.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, Dad. Can we get a dog?”
“No dog,” he said. “We already have another mouth to feed with the new baby on the way.”
“Seriously, the right dog would be super great for all of us. I’ll do all the work, I promise. I’ll even find a part-time job.” I crossed my fingers.
He grumbled. “I’ll think about it.
“I love you, Dad!”
“I love you more! Stop stalling and hit the sack.”
I thought 1675 and King Philip’s War was the trip of a lifetime but perhaps 1355 and the saga of Pedro and Inêz rivaled that. I was starting to wonder where Samuel and I stood in this equation. I’d met him in four lifetimes now including present day. How many times did you have to meet someone before they remembered? Five? A hundred and five? I wondered if my handbook had any new clues…
I jumped out of bed, knelt, and pulled it out from underneath. I dusted off the silk fabrics that covered it and carefully unwrapped them. I laid my beautiful book on my desk and quickly turned the pages until I hit the one with the newspaper headline from VJ Day 1945.
The last time I looked at the book, the bottom half of this page was blank. Now there were mottled stains and what looked like dried herbs that formed a strange pattern. I ran my hands lightly over them and a few flaked up. I pressed my index finger to one, lifted it closer to my face, and gently sniffed: it smelled vaguely like tea.
My tea leaf reading that I gave Prince Pedro had found its way into my handbook! I stifled a giggle, and then I spotted a small line of cursive underneath the blotchy stains. I leaned in and read the words inscribed:
“Até o fim do mundo...”
That’s how Inêz de Castro described her love with Prince Pedro, “Until the end of the world.”
Is that what Samuel and I would have? And if so, at what cost?
I couldn’t resist turning to the handbook’s next page, and flinched when I saw the fire-licked charred edges that had burnt almost half the page. I leaned in and read the words that remained,
The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2) Page 22
