Beautiful, defiant and alive. Something stirred deep inside him. A cold, dead heart struggling to beat.
In that moment, her life meant more to him than his own. The battle was won.
King stepped into the flames.
* * *
“Grandfather,” Simon gasped as he pulled himself up and stumbled to Sebastian’s side.
The older man was alive, barely. He coughed as blood bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin.
“Why did you come here?” Simon asked desperately and tried in vain to stop the blood that oozed from the wound in his neck. “Don’t move. I’ll get help.”
Sebastian’s eyes focused on Simon, and he managed to lift his hand to touch Simon’s. “Too late for that, my boy.” “No!” He couldn’t watch him die. Not again.
Sebastian gasped for breath and another coughing jag wracked his body.
“Grandfather.”
Sebastian squeezed Simon’s hand. “My watch,” he said. “Put my watch in my hand.”
“No, you—”
“I can’t die here. I have to return to my own time.”
“You’re not going to die,” Simon said fiercely.
Sebastian managed a weak smile. “I wish I could have seen you grow into such a fine man.”
“Don’t say that.”
Sebastian’s eyes drifted over Simon’s shoulder, seeing something far off and undefined. “We’re running out of time. The watch.”
Simon’s hand trembled as he pulled the gold watch from Sebastian’s pocket. He placed the watch in one hand and saw the other held a scrap of black cloth torn from King’s suit and resting in his palm was the scarab ring. In that instant, he was that ten year old boy at the foot of the stairs again.
“Do you have your watch?” Sebastian asked. “You need to be ready. The eclipse is nearly here.”
Automatically, Simon pulled out his watch and showed his grandfather.
Sebastian nodded in approval. “Good lad.”
Simon dropped it back into his jacket pocket and covered Sebastian’s hand with his own. “I told you to stay in the room.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I’ve had a good life. Yours is just beginning.”
“No.”
“Running out of time,” Sebastian said, his eyes glassing over for a moment. “Simon...”
“Yes?” Simon said, leaning closer.
“You made a fine man. I’m so very proud of you.”
A sob escaped Simon’s throat.
“Now go,” Sebastian said his voice barely a rasping whisper.
Simon hesitated, his heart severed in two.
“Go.”
* * *
King stepped through the flames. Struggling to breathe, Elizabeth stepped back until she pressed herself against the wall and could go no further. Flames covered King’s arms. He quickly shed his burning coat and grabbed the comforter off the bed. Wrapping it around her, he lifted her into his arms. Elizabeth pushed weakly at his chest, but the smoke was too much for her and she started to lose consciousness.
Simon’s words echoed in his ears: “You may exist forever, but you’ll never live. Not even for a moment. You’ll never know how love feels.”
His existence hadn’t amounted to anything, until this one moment. The thing he’d been searching for wasn’t something to be taken at all, but something to be given.
King cradled her to his chest and plunged back through the wall of flame. Kicking the door open, he stepped out into the driving rain. The water slowly doused the small fires that burned away at his clothes.
His men shouted and tried in vain to put out the fire in the cabin, but it was too late. The flames had grown too strong. Soon they’d eat their way though the floor and ignite the barrels of rum in the ship’s hull.
King crossed the deck to the railing, his precious burden still in his arms. He pulled back the blanket from her face, and the cool rain began to bring her around. Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes bleary and unfocused.
For the first time in his life, as man or demon, he understood what it was to be alive—to love someone. “Tell him,” he said. “I do know how it feels.”
Without another word, he lifted her over the railing and tossed her into the sea.
* * *
Simon ran out of the warehouse. The boat was already a hundred yards from the dock and moving further into the night. Simon paused, his heart pounding against his ribs. How could he have waited so long?
A bright, orange flame shot up from the boat’s deck. And another. The boat was nearly engulfed in fire. Simon ran toward the water, tossing his jacket aside. Heavy waves broke against the sand, crashing down with a deafening roar. Icy cold spray stung his cheeks as he fought against the power of the sea. His legs felt like lead weights in the thick salt water. Just as in his dream, the boat drifted further away. This was the moment his nightmares became reality.
“Elizabeth!”
He was in up to his waist when a blinding light burst on the horizon, quickly followed by a thunderous boom. Simon’s heart stopped as the explosion shattered the night. Fire blossomed on the sea. Burning embers rained down, snuffed out as they hit the cold water. Waves crashed into his chest, and he stood too stunned to move. Flames engulfed the ship. Burnished scarlet flickered on the dark ocean—a bonfire slowly consumed by the watery depths beneath it.
His nightmare played out before his eyes in red and black. There was no past, no future, nothing by this endless abyss. He stared out blankly as the sea swallowed the fire and the remains of the ship sank below the waves.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there. It didn’t really matter anymore. Time ceased to have meaning. With nothing to look forward to and only regrets to look back on, Simon slowly turned back toward the shore.
Debris washed around him. Broken pieces of a life he might have had tumbled at his feet. His legs as numb as his heart, he stumbled on the sand. Was this what a living death was like? He’d been willing to die for her love, but he couldn’t face living without it. Gentle waves lapped at his feet, silently mocking his wish for a tidal wave to come and swallow him whole.
He looked out at the vast nothingness of a black sea at night. Random pieces of flotsam and jetsam bobbed the surface, only to disappear again. Brown, grey and green. Green. His head snapped around as the flash of color caught his eye. Not more than twenty yards away, a pale green shape floated in the water.
Elizabeth.
He ran toward her, his heart sinking with each step. She lay face down in the water, a broken plank of wood caught under her chest. Her hair streamed out like an angel’s halo in the dark water.
His hands shook as he reached out and took her by the shoulders. He knew what he’d find. He’d seen it a thousand times in his nightmares. Carefully, he turned her over. A gash sliced across her forehead, spilling blood down the side of her face.
“No,” he rasped, as he pulled her body to his.
He stood in the water holding her. The rain had stopped, but his tears fell.
Her head lolled back and he lifted it up, cradling her limp body so very carefully. His fingers trembled as he stroked her cheek.
“No.”
The waves buffeted against him as he carried her through the shallow water to the shore. Laying her down on the sand, he tilted her head back and leaned down until his cheek hovered over her mouth.
No breath.
His heart pounded in his chest as he blew two quick breaths into her lifeless body. He would bring her back. He’d shove his very soul into her if he could.
Still nothing. Her neck was ice cold, and he couldn’t feel a pulse. He laced his fingers over her chest and thrust down.
“Come back,” he said. “Damn it, you come back to me!”
More compressions and still her chest didn’t rise. He could feel her slipping away from him, but he be damned if he’d let her go.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought her eyes fluttered. His heart skipped a beat. H
e cupped her cheek, willing life into her. “Elizabeth!”
She coughed and water spilled out of her mouth. She gasped for breath, and Simon eased her head to the side. Finally, her eyes opened.
“I knew you’d find me.”
“Oh, love,” Simon gasped and gathered her into his arms.
He looked to the heavens in thanks. The clouds had parted, and the moonlight shone brightly now. A dark sliver grew larger across the face of the moon. The eclipse had begun. They didn’t have much time. Simon slipped his arms under her and stood. He carried her down the beach back to where he’d cast off his jacket. Kneeling down, he gently set Elizabeth on the sand. Simon’s hands trembled as he fumbled through his pockets. Where was it? Finally, his fingers brushed over the cold metal and he pulled out the watch. The black disc already partially covered the moon dial. Simon grasped her hand tightly.
“Don’t let go,” she said, and gripped his hand with both of her own.
Simon tightened his grip. “Never.”
The blue light sparked off the watch and snaked up his arm. Nothing would separate them now. Electric blue energy engulfed them. The world around them vibrated with frenetic energy. And they fell again into blackness.
* * *
Simon woke to the gentle sound of a crackling fire. He opened his eyes, and his living room coalesced around him. Two wine glasses sat on the coffee table on either side of a small mahogany box. His entire body ached, and he lifted a hand to massage the pain in his temple. Disorientation faded and the memories came back.
“Elizabeth.” Dear God, what if she hadn’t made it back?
He pushed himself up from the chair and saw her on the floor. She lay in heap, her legs and arms akimbo. His heart leapt into his throat. She moaned and opened her eyes. “Thank you God,” he said as he knelt down by her side.
“It’s all right,” he said as he stroked her cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Gonna have to try harder than that.” Her voice was soft and rasping, and the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
He gave a short laugh that made his ribs scream in protest. She closed her eyes and let out a breath.
“Did we make it? Or is this a dream?”
“No,” he said, brushing his fingers below the cut on her forehead. “Not a dream. Are you hurt badly?”
She shook her head and tried to sit up.
“You shouldn’t move,” he said, pushing back gently on her shoulders.
She wrinkled her forehead, grimacing in pain and bringing a shaky hand to touch the cut. He gripped her hand in his, reminded of a time a few weeks, or was it decades ago when he’d done the same thing.
“You look like hell,” she said, touching the bruise on his head.
Her clothes were soaked and sand covered her side. Blood trickled down her cheek and stained the collar of her dress. “You’re one to talk,” he said. “You should go to hospital.”
She shook her head. “I hate hospitals.”
“Elizabeth—”
“I’m too pooped to be prodded.”
“You’ll have a scar.”
“Give me character,” she mumbled.
“Elizabeth.”
She closed her eyes. “Can’t you kiss it and make it better?”
“You’re impossible.”
“And inclined to stay that way,” she said. “But if you don’t help me up, I’m gonna fall asleep on your floor.”
“No sleeping. Not yet. Take it slowly,” he said as he helped her sit up. “Good. We’ll move to the sofa now, all right?”
“I’m not an invalid,” she said, but swayed on her feet and gripped his arm. “Except for now.”
He maneuvered them to the sofa, and she sank down into the cushions with a groan. She nodded her head toward the coffee table. “I’d feel better if that thing were locked up.”
Following her gaze, he saw the watch resting on the floor under the table. “Agreed.”
Painfully, he leaned over and picked it up and quickly put it inside the box. He slammed the lid closed. If he never saw the damned thing again, it would be too soon.
“Much better,” she said and leaned her head back against the cushions.
“Right,” he said, turning his full attention back to her. Gently, he pulled her matted hair away from the cut.
“Is it really over?” she asked, wincing as he checked the depth of her wound.
“It seems so,” he said. “You really should have that tended to.”
“I know.”
It felt surreal to be back in the quiet of his house. The stormy beach and the fight for their lives seemed like a dream fading from reality into memory. The abrupt shift back to normalcy left him oddly ill at ease. The once familiar surroundings felt more foreign than comforting.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Elizabeth’s small fingers played over his, slowly tracing the tarnished band of gold on his ring finger. “What happens now?”
“We take you to hospital.”
“No, I meant, with us,” she said, her expression so endearingly unsure. “Everything’s different here.”
He covered her hand with his. “Not everything,” he said, gently cupping her cheek. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one thing that matters. Elizabeth, if I have you, the rest of the world can hang. It doesn’t matter what place, what time. 1929, 2029, nothing can change the way I feel.”
She smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Simon.”
“Welcome home, love.”
“It’s good to be home,” she said and leaned in to kiss him. He put his arms around her and gladly obliged.
** Thank you for reading OUT OF TIME. Please turn the page for an excerpt of the sequel WHEN THE WALLS FELL **
When the Walls Fell
by
Monique Martin
Elizabeth struggled against the disconnected feeling until she felt her head definitely connect with something. Something… leafy? Managing to right herself, she stared at the offending bush before remembering to check for any witnesses. Thankfully, she was alone. Very, very alone. Damn you, Simon.
She’d spent the last day and a half trying to soak up the reams of information Travers had given her and trying not to think about what she was leaving behind. Besides, if everything went well, it would be like she’d never left. Except for the arguing and gargantuan emotional chasm they’d have to cross. But she’d leap the Great Divide when she came to it. Right now she had a job to do, and twigs to get out of her hair. So much for the two hours she’d spent wrangling it into her best Gibson Girl imitation.
Travers had meticulously given her a crash course in Victorian society. Just the word society had been enough to make her pulse race. Living with Simon had given her a glimpse at how the better half lived, but they weren’t exactly on the social circuit. The closest she’d ever gotten to consorting with the horsey set was getting tips from the touts at the track. She was part of the great unwashed and had the dirt on her cheek to prove it. Thank God, Travers had insisted she stuff that kerchief into her sleeve. She glanced quickly around and spit into before wiping her cheek.
A smooth start. Taking a header into a hedge and spitting. Her head pounded, but it was heck of a lot better than the headbanger’s ball she’d suffered through last time. Taking a deep breath she felt her ribs squish her innards. The corset she could have done without. Torquemada had nothing on whatever sadist invented it. Compressing her breasts into some sort of one-eyed, monobosom monster, squeezing the life out of her stomach and thrusting her hips backward, it successfully contorted her body into what society of the early twentieth century deemed an acceptable shape. It was all she could do not to rip the dang laces and start the bra-burning age a few decades early.
Not being able to breathe was the least of her worries. She’d managed to arrive without passing out. Point one for her. But she hadn’t managed to move from that spot. Quickly, she took stock of her surroundings. Large oak trees canopied expansive, ou
tlandishly colorful flowerbeds. Flaming oranges and deep reds swirled in complicated pattern amongst a vibrant purple like some tapestry gone mad. Enclosing the entire thing was a large, boxwood hedge, with whom she was already well acquainted.
This looked like the right place. Travers had said that if everything went well she’d arrive in Mrs. Eldridge’s garden. It was secluded from the street, thanks to her friend the hedge, and she could arrive without scaring the living bejesus out of anyone. Herself notwithstanding.
Satisfied she was in one piece, and having stalled longer than was necessary, Elizabeth took a well-measured breath and headed for the front path. All she had to do was utter the simple code phrase Travers had given her and Mrs. Eldridge would give her whatever else she needed.
As she edged up the path, the mansion loomed even larger. Gothic and imposing. Steeply pitched gables and sharp arched windows made it look more like a cathedral than a home. The fleeting image of being held prisoner inside one of the pinnacle towers flashed in her mind. But she was no Rapunzel and her knight currently had his head up his ass. Just as she was having serious second thoughts, the front door opened and a young man and an elderly woman stepped out onto the porch.
“I’ll be sure to give Mother your regards,” the young man said as he bounded the down the stairs nearly crashing into Elizabeth. “I beg your pardon,” he said quickly taking off his goggles and cap. “Are you all right?”
“I’m… I’m fine,” Elizabeth managed. “Thank you.”
He smiled disarmingly. “The thanks is all mine,” he said and then turned back to the elderly woman. “Where have you been keeping her?”
The woman, who simply had to be Mrs. Eldridge, lifted her pince-nez and arched an eyebrow. “In the garden, it appears.”
The young man turned back to her and laughed. “You have,” he said and waved a hand in the general direction of her hair, “an intruder.”
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