Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery

by Martin, Monique

  He almost laughed and then rose from the chair. “Good lord, I thought it was something dire.”

  “It isn’t?”

  He grinned and sat next to her on the bed. “Comparatively? No.”

  “Really?” That wasn’t quite the reaction she’d expected. He seemed almost nonplussed. She’d expected him to be plussed all over the place.

  Seeming to think the issue was finished, he slipped off his shoes and tugged off his socks. “You’re a beautiful woman. He’s a man completely without a shred of decency. I’m actually surprised it took him this long. How did he take it when you refused?”

  That explained the reaction, or lack thereof.

  “I can’t imagine he was too pleased,” Simon said with a small smile. “I wish I could have seen it.”

  “I accepted.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it like that, but the words came out in a big, fat, ugly blob.

  His hands stopped in mid-motion and his head snapped up. “You what?”

  For all the time she’d had to come up with a plausible story, everything slipped out of her mind at the anger and betrayal in his eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then you’re not having dinner with him?”

  “No, I am. It’s—”

  “What the hell can you be thinking?” he shouted and stood, towering menacingly over her.

  Even though that was the reaction she’d expected, it frightened her. “If you’d let me explain.”

  He glared at her for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working feverishly. “By all means,” he said sharply. “Enlighten me.”

  She tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze and to sort out her thoughts. “He saved my life,” she said, ignoring his derisive snort. “I owe him for that.”

  “And I’m sure dinner is all he wants.”

  “Simon—”

  “Don’t be naïve. Do you really think all he wants is the pleasure of your company? At worst, he’s a vampire and you won’t live the night. Or he’s a gangster, hardly better. At best, he’s a man whose interest in you goes far beyond dinner conversation, I can assure you. How can you possibly expect me to roll on my back while this creature, this man, goes after my wife!” His expression faltered and he turned away.

  She moved to stand behind him, but he moved away before she could reach out to touch him. “Simon, please?”

  The desperation in her voice must have penetrated his anger, because when he turned around his eyes softened for a moment, and the Simon she loved peeked through. He looked as if he were about to touch her but thought better of it.

  She closed her eyes. She’d been hoping, stupidly hoping, she wouldn’t have to tell him the whole of it, but there didn’t seem any other way now. “Do you really think I’d do this if I had a choice?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a step closer. “Did he threaten you?”

  “No,” she said, and let her shoulders sag under the weight they’d been carrying. “Not me.”

  “Me then?”

  She nodded. “You and Charlie. Oh, he didn’t say it flat out, but it was clear enough.”

  “I see.”

  “So, I go.”

  “Don’t be absurd. You’re not going to dinner with that man. My God. What if he really is a vampire? How can you even consider this?”

  “Maybe you missed the whole threatening part, but that sort of made it a lock for me.”

  Simon walked over to the armoire, took out their suitcase and set it on the bed. “We’ll leave immediately. If his threats are legitimate, and we have to assume they are, we can be miles away before he suspects.”

  “We can’t leave.”

  He ignored her and took their clothes from the hangers and tossed them into the case. “Perhaps Philadelphia,” he said to himself. “Or maybe a small town. We’ll see what tickets are available at the train station for the money we have.”

  “I can’t leave,” she said in a mixture of defeat and resoluteness.

  Simon crossed to the dresser and pulled open the drawers. “Of course you can. What choice is there?”

  “Staying.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She bristled at his tone and moved into his path. “I’m not being ridiculous, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “How could we? What about Charlie? How can you turn your back on him?”

  Simon tossed the clothes he had in his hands onto the bed and sighed heavily. “With surprising ease. When it comes to a question of your safety or his.”

  “I’m not the one in danger.”

  He looked at her as if she were one of his more backward students.

  “If he wanted to hurt me, why would he save my life? Or have you forgotten that?”

  “No,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not when you keep throwing it in my face.”

  She refused to take the bait and closed her eyes for a moment. “I am not going to run away and leave others holding the bag. You think this is what I want? You think this is easy for me? If I don’t go to dinner with King, good people will be hurt and I can’t live with that and I’d expect you to know me well enough to know that. I won’t let that happen.”

  “And when the eclipse comes? And King finds you’re gone? What happens to Charlie then? One way or the other, we’re leaving town, Elizabeth. There’s no reason to wait. The outcome is the same either way.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so caught up in the here and now, what happened after they went back to their time didn’t even cross her mind. “All I know is, right now, I can keep Charlie and you safe by going. So, I go.”

  “It’s insane.”

  Elizabeth let out a shuddering sigh. “I know.”

  He grunted and moved to the window. “How can you possibly be considering this after what I told you last night?”

  “Because this isn’t a dream. This is real. What King does to people is real. You think the men who mugged me were killed by some random murderer? It was King.”

  Simon whirled around. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t considered that every waking moment? Even if he isn’t a demon, he’s a killer. Didn’t you listen to anything I said last night? How can you expect me to let you go when you know what I dreamt.” He crossed the room in three long strides and gripped her arms tightly. “You may think they’re just dreams, but I know what they are. They’re as real to me as you are right now.”

  His grip loosened and his hands slid up her arms, and then cupped her cheeks. “Losing you is real to me.”

  “And losing you is real to me.”

  He let go of her and shook his head. “You can’t do this, Elizabeth.”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. I won’t have you going off with that man to protect me. It’s madness.”

  “And if I don’t go and something happens to you, what then?”

  “We should run. Now, while we have a chance.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “But you can. You can leave. Maybe go upstate and when it’s time for the eclipse we can meet somewhere. King couldn’t find you and you’d be safe.”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “It makes sense. King hasn’t threatened me, he’s threatened you. If you went somewhere—”

  “No! Absolutely not. Impossible.”

  “Then I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “You damn well know you do.”

  She clenched her fists. Why was he being so damn stubborn? “I’m not going over this again. You can deal with it or not. I hoped you might be supportive.”

  “Supportive? Of what? This idiocy?”

  She looked at him stonily. “Of me.” She turned and walked to the door. Her hand stilled on the doorknob. “I’ll have King’s car drop me off at the club.”

  “Elizabeth...”

  She shook her head. “I think you’ve said enough,” she said and closed the door behind her.

&
nbsp; * * *

  Bloody, fucking hell.

  The harder he tried to hold her, the further he pushed her away. But this was madness. The idea of her going to dinner with that man to protect him. Could she possibly find a better way to emasculate him? Good God, was that what this was really about? His male pride. Was he that selfish? Yes, he was. He was a selfish bastard. A complete idiot who’d somehow cleverly managed to hurt the one person in the world he wanted to protect.

  She’d come back not long after storming out. No words were exchanged. They shared the bed, but nothing else. They were two people separated by a chasm of inches. His sleep had been fitful at best, a few uneasy hours tossing and turning, before he gave up.

  They spent the morning sharing a tense silence. The afternoon scratched along, until it was nearly time for the dinner. Everything that could be said, had been.

  Elizabeth dressed quietly and left. He ground his teeth and stood stupidly in their small room. He knew he couldn’t stop her, but damn well had to at least try. He grabbed his coat and bolted out of the apartment.

  She was standing in front of the club waiting for King’s car when he found her.

  “Elizabeth, I...”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You what?”

  “I came to say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Honestly, I hate this. I detest the very idea.”

  “Thanks for rushing down and sharing that.”

  “You’re not making this any easier.”

  “Making what easier? You’ve made it clear where you stand—this is stupid and I’m stupid for doing it.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Just when the words he’d struggled to find were almost in his reach, King’s two-tone sedan pulled up to the curb, and the driver stepped out. A hundred protestations, a thousand pleadings choked his throat. All that came out was one simple word. “Please?”

  The driver opened the door and waited.

  Elizabeth smiled sadly and touched his cheek. “I’ll be back,” she said and then stepped into the car.

  He watched numbly as the sedan pulled away, slipped into traffic and disappeared. He stood on the sidewalk long after it had gone, staring down the busy city street.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Twilight blanketed the city. Dull, gray light swallowed the afternoon shadows. Depth and perspective muted into a flat, colorless world. Simon stood motionless, only dimly aware of the city bustling around him. Cars, no more than blurs of black, crowded the street. People, hurried and faceless, wove their way around him. And he stood.

  He’d let her go. It all seemed an impossible dream, a scene from one of his nightmares. Perhaps it was. His heart thrummed against his ribs, every sinew in his body taut, and yet, he couldn’t move. He vaguely wondered if he was suffering from apoplexy.

  He was a fool. A simple, excruciating answer to a complex question. The constant barrage of his nightmares had somehow left him in submission to fate. An entropy of will in the face of the inevitable.

  But what could he have done? Thrown her over his shoulder and carted her off to parts unknown? She would have hated him for it, but she would have been safe. Did he really need her love and acceptance more than her life itself?

  He’d been so dazed by the revelation that she loved him, that he could be loved, that he’d accepted the transience of it all. After all, to love someone was to lose them. But now that he’d tasted what life could be like, there was no going back. The few weeks they’d shared weren’t enough. A lifetime with Elizabeth wouldn’t be enough.

  It was a graceless epiphany, but one nonetheless. Invigorated with a purpose, Simon turned on his heels and marched to the door of Charlie’s Blues in the Night. He pushed past Lester and called out to Charlie. Charlie leaned against the cash register talking to Dix when he noticed Simon. “Professor, what can I—”

  “King,” Simon interrupted. “Where can I find King Kashian?”

  “Ah, you don’t need to—”

  “Where?”

  Charlie cast a quick, nervous glance at Dix and then rubbed his nose. “I don’t know, Professor.”

  Simon grunted impatiently. “Then I’ll ask elsewhere.”

  “Wait!” Charlie said, as he came out from behind the bar. “Why do you want to find King?”

  Simon hesitated, but then what was the point in lying now? They’d hear about it sooner or later. “Elizabeth’s gone to dinner with him,” he said. “And I plan on interrupting.”

  Charlie’s eyes went round with alarm. “Lizzy? Why would she do that?”

  As if he weren’t worried enough, Charlie’s near panicked voice sent Simon into overdrive. “Where does he live?”

  “You can’t just go bustin’ in. King’s not a man you wanna cross.”

  “Neither am I.”

  They stood at an impasse. The silence in the room stretched out between them until it was paper thin.

  Charlie gave him a measured look. “There’s somethin’ you need to know, Professor.”

  Dix paled and gripped his arm. “Charlie.”

  “Get me a bottle of the good stuff,” he said without looking away from Simon.

  Didn’t this buffoon realize every minute was precious?

  “I don’t want a drink.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Ain’t for you. Come on,” he said. “Give it over, Dix.”

  Her hands trembled as she held the bottle, her eyes beseeching. “We ain’t supposed to say nothin’, Charlie.”

  Charlie took the whiskey from her hand and then opened the door to the storeroom. “You might think I’m one stop from Bellevue, but...there’s something you need to know.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth had never been claustrophobic before, but she had the feeling the walls of the elevator were closing in on her as she neared King’s penthouse. She took a few deep, calming breaths and swallowed the urge to make inane small talk with the elevator operator. Not that he would have responded. He hadn’t met her eyes once since she’d gotten in. He looked straight ahead like a soldier, working the car’s levers with quick, sure movements. He brought the car to a stop and the doors opened to reveal a lavish foyer.

  Art deco moldings circled the high, arched ceiling of the rotunda. Stark, white, Greek marble statues stood sentinel to over-sized doubled doors. She hesitated and then stepped off the elevator. The doors shut quickly behind her.

  She was debating whether to knock or run away when the double doors opened inward. For a second, she thought they’d opened by themselves. Then she saw one of King’s men standing there, devoid of expression. He stepped back and gestured for her to enter. A ghostly butler would have been better.

  There was no turning back now, Elizabeth realized as she steadied her jangled nerves and walked inside. She flexed her hands and tried to relax. The last thing she needed was to go into dinner already on edge.

  Antiquities from every imaginable period lined the walls of the main hall. Cloisonné vases, intricately carved ivory statues mingled with marble busts and classic paintings. Thick tapestries covered most of the walls. There wasn’t an empty space to be found. It wasn’t exactly cluttered, but full. Too full. The overly ornate chandelier hung overhead like a crystalline storm cloud. Candlelight reflected in jumbled prismatic colors. She shuddered; it wasn’t the cold room temperature, but the impersonal chill of things to be admired, but never touched. Oppressively rich and heavy fabrics covered the windows.

  Lines from Coleridge’s “Kubla Kahn” came to her mind: “In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure dome decree: where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea.”

  The henchman gestured for her to follow, and she trailed along behind him down the hall. She’d never seen such an ostentatious display of wealth. In spite of her nerves, she couldn’t help but stare. An exquisite soft-paste porcelain vase painted with Roman soldiers and Cleopatra sat nestled on a glass case. Under the glass was row after row of jewelry. Jade, gold, eve
ry kind of stone imaginable rested in ornate settings.

  To the left was a brown ink drawing of a woman holding the hands of small children. She stopped walking, drawn in by innocence of the piece, so atypical to what she knew of King.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  She jumped back and crashed into King, who’d silently moved behind her. “S-sorry. I...Quite a collection.”

  He smiled down at her before turning his attention back to the artwork. “I’ve always collected beautiful things.”

  She smoothed down her already smooth hair in an attempt to gather her composure. “One of the perks of being richer than God, I guess.”

  He laughed easily and looked at her. “Money has its benefits, but there are some things beyond price.”

  Small talk. Small talk was safe. She gestured to the drawing. “Rubens, huh?”

  “Yes. I prefer his animals. They’re majestic and powerful. The essence of life.”

  Her art history class knowledge was quickly running out. “So, you bought all these?” she asked lamely.

  “A little money. A little creativity.”

  “You mean you stole them?” It was a stupid thing to say, but her foot was lodged firmly in place.

  He didn’t seem offended at all, in fact, he looked amused. “I paid people to steal them. It’s entirely different. Would you like a tour?”

  She didn’t. She wanted to wolf down whatever passed for dinner and run like hell. And where had that bodyguard gone? They were alone now, and she swallowed nervously.

  “There’s something I’d like to show you,” he added.

  That sounded ominous. “You do know this is only dinner, right?”

  “You wound me,” he said with a mocking grin, placing a hand over his heart.

  “I just want us to lay our cards on the table. I’m here because, well, because you coerced me. And because I do owe you for saving my life. But that’s it,” she said and lifted her chin defiantly. “Nothing more.”

  His eyes flashed briefly and a smile crept to his lips. “Of course.”

  With that vague assurance, he led her down the main hall. The tour was blessedly brief, and he completely ignored one wing of the penthouse. She figured it must have been his private chambers and felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t asked her if she wanted to see his etchings. King was a cad, but so far at least, he was behaving like a gentleman.