Shadows of the Past: A Supernatural Suspense Mystery (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 1)

by Nellie H. Steele

  “So, exactly how do you propose we travel back in time?” Damien asked, as they followed Celine down the hall.

  “Through a time portal,” Celine said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact to them as possible.

  “Oh, yeah, right, a time portal. What was I thinking? That was on an episode of Star Trek,” Damien said.

  Celine glanced back, rolling her eyes at him. Michael added, “Of course! So do you have a key? Is there a special door?”

  “She’s not a normal person like you,” Gray said, following behind them. “None of us are. This isn’t a joke. Celine has the ability to open a time portal.”

  “How does anyone have that ability?” Damien said, stopping dead in the hall they were walking down.

  “I told you,” Gray said, stopping and facing him, “she’s not a normal person like you.”

  “So, what is she?” he asked Gray.

  “She’s a woman with unique and exceptional skills,” Gray answered.

  “Unique and exceptional skills?” Damien asked, “what does that even mean?”

  Celine returned to him, Michael following her. “I think the layperson’s term would be a ‘witch,’” Celine said to Damien. “Now, come on.”

  “Witch? WITCH? Are you kidding me, Jos?” he said, following her as she continued down the hall and stairway. “Do you fly on broomsticks and have a black cat? I’ve never seen you boiling any potions in cauldrons.”

  “It’s not like that. I can’t explain it and we don’t have time,” she said, as they reached the living room where Alexander was waiting. “Please, just trust me. You’ll understand soon enough. Then we’ll talk.”

  “If this isn’t legit, it’s one hell of a prank, I guess,” Michael said, clapping Damien on the shoulder.

  “Oh, it’s no prank,” Gray said.

  “Ok, I’ll open the time portal, when I do, go through it. Immediately! Gray, make sure they do. I won’t be able to hold this open for more than a few moments. Any longer and Marcus will discover what we are doing.”

  “Don’t worry, Celine,” Alexander said, “I’ll cover you as best I can so any disturbance he senses won’t give us away.”

  “Thanks,” she said, nodding to him, “ready?”

  “Ready,” he responded.

  “Okay, here we go,” Celine said, placing both of her hands straight out in front of her. She spread her fingers out, closing her eyes. Her brows knit and she squeezed her lips together, holding her breath. At first, it appeared as though nothing was happening. Then Damien felt a slight breeze circle around him, as though a window was open.

  He glanced around the room, noting all the windows were closed. He also regarded Alexander in a similar stance, facing one of the windows. Within seconds, the slight breeze became a windstorm. There was a shimmer in front of him that drew his eye. Thunder crashed overhead, and the windows blew open. Wind whipped through the room from the outside, joining the gale forces that were blowing inside the room. Books and papers blew around in circles. The shimmer in front of them grew stronger until it was a large oval obscuring the wall behind it.

  “That’s it, the portal is open, go!” Gray yelled over the wind, shoving them both forward.

  Damien and Michael glanced at each other, afraid to move. “GO!” Gray yelled, shoving them again.

  They moved forward and stepped into the shimmer. Within an instant they disappeared. Gray placed his hand on Celine’s shoulder. She collapsed to the floor, out of breath with the effort. “Did they go?” she asked between gulps of air.

  “Yes, they went.” Gray answered, as Alexander joined them, helping Gray get Celine to her feet.

  Looking between Gray and Alexander, Celine said, “Now we wait.”

  Chapter 25

  1786, Martinique

  Michael and Damien stepped through the shimmer into blackness. Within an instant, the scene transformed from pitch black to a blinding bright light. Shielding his face, he squinted his eyes open, blinking several times. “Michael,” he exclaimed, “Michael, look!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I see. I don’t believe it, but I see it.”

  The pair looked around. It was broad daylight, the bright sun shone overhead. They were standing on a dirt alleyway near a building. In front of them, another dirt road crossed. Horses and carriages traversed the street. People dressed in clothing from another century bustled about. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Damien began, swallowing hard before continuing, “but I think we just traveled back in time.”

  Michael didn’t answer, trying to take everything in and make sense of it. After a moment, he became cognizant of the letters he held in his hand. “Maybe we should look for the big white house on the edge of town,” he said, trying to focus on the mission at hand rather than the incredulousness of what had just happened to them.

  “Yeah, I mean, yes, we should say yes not yeah. Okay, lead the way,” Damien said.

  The pair walked out of the alley toward the main road. Various small buildings lined the street. They looked right and left. “There!” Damien said, pointing to the left. “That huge white house there has to be it.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll head there,” Michael answered, moving toward it. Damien followed him. It took them only a few minutes to walk to the property. They approached the front door. Michael swallowed hard. “Here goes nothing,” he said, using the doorknocker.

  A maid opened the door. “Michael and Damien Carlyle to see Marquis Devereaux,” Michael said, as formally as he could muster.

  “Oui, monsieur, s'il vous plaît,” she said, standing aside and motioning into the house. The two stepped inside, marveling at the grandeur of the house. The maid disappeared down the hall. Within a few minutes, she returned and motioned for them to follow her. She led them to an office down the hall. A rotund man sat behind a desk reviewing paperwork. As they entered, she introduced them and he stood to greet them. “I am Marquis Devereaux. You asked to see me?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. “I’m Michael Carlyle, and this is my brother, Damien. We’ve traveled from America, er, the States. I have a letter of introduction here, sir.” He handed the paper to the man who opened it and read it.

  “Ah, you are acquainted with Lord Blackburn. Well, any friend of his is a friend of mine. Welcome, what brings you to our humble island?”

  “Well, sir, I was hoping to court your daughter, should you and she allow it. In the meantime, I thought I may provide her with instruction in the English language.”

  “Ah.” He chuckled. “You’ve heard of my daughter’s beauty. Well, my dear fellow, you are not the first suitor to call at my door. You’ve heard tales of my daughter’s disinterest in all of them? That girl will send me to an early grave.”

  “Yes, sir, I have. And I intend to change her mind,” Michael said, trying to match the man’s posture and gait as best as possible to appear legitimate.

  “Well, I wish you luck there, it appears you’d be a fine match for her. And I’m pleased with the notion of her learning to speak English. I think I will take you up on your proposition, sir. You may start this afternoon.”

  “Excellent,” Michael said in what he hoped was a stately manner.

  “Just a moment, I’ll have the maid fetch my daughter and you can make her acquaintance.” He rang a bell, and the maid returned. He instructed her to bring Celine to his office straight away to meet Mr. Carlyle. Michael and Damien exchanged a glance at the mention of the girl’s name.

  “So, you’re in the shipping business, are you, Carlyle?” Marquis Devereaux said as they waited.

  “That’s correct, yes. We have quite a fleet.” Relief washed over Michael as the door opened, quashing the need for further conversation. The maid appeared, followed by a young woman. The appearance of Celine stunned Michael and Damien into silence.

  “Papa, vous m’avez appelé?” the girl said.

  “Oui, Céline, est-ce que je peux présenter Michael Carlyle et son frère Damien,” he said to her.


  She looked toward the two men, holding her hand out, palm down for them to greet her. Michael took her hand first, kissing it lightly, Damien followed. Damien was in disbelief as he took her hand. He stared down at a young version of Josie. She was identical to what she had looked like in high school minus the eighteenth century dress and hair piled on her head. Michael had a similar reaction despite not having known her at this age. The resemblance was amazing.

  “Bonjour,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  “Celine,” Marquis Devereaux said to her, continuing in French, “Mr. Carlyle has traveled from the States. I’ve hired him on to be your English tutor.”

  “Oh, Papa!” she answered in French, clasping her hands together in excitement, “I am to learn English?”

  “So, this pleases you, my dear?”

  “Oh, yes, Papa!”

  “Excellent. You will start this afternoon; please meet Mr. Carlyle in the foyer upon finishing lunch. Now be a good student and pay careful attention.”

  “Oh, I promise I will, Papa!

  “You may go, I will see you at dinner.”

  Michael and Damien watched the exchange, Michael understanding some of what was being said, Damien understanding none of it. After Celine had exited the room, the Marquis addressed them. “I am encouraged, she was quite cordial. I trust my daughter will be a good student for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have Amelie settle you into your rooms.” He rang the bell again, and the maid returned. He spoke to her in French to which she nodded and motioned for the men to follow her. “Good morning, sirs, I’ll see you both at dinner. And I expect my daughter to greet me in English,” he said, in an amusing fashion.

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Michael said with a smile.

  The two followed the maid upstairs to their bedrooms. Damien quickly found his way from his room to Michael’s room. “Okay, this is officially bizarre,” he said, entering the room.

  “Yeah, that’s for sure. She’s like Josie but it can’t be. It’s the 1700s. So is Celine actually Josie later? How is that possible? That would mean she’s over two hundred years old.”

  “I’m trying not to think my cousin is that old. Let’s not talk about that, it’s just too weird. So, what’s the plan?”

  “Well, I guess we teach Celine English and try to find out when her birthday is so we can give her this letter,” Michael said, pulling the letter from his pocket, “and then try to find this book. Do you think there’s a library in the house? We should have asked the maid.”

  “Yeah, oh, perhaps we can ask Celine. Josie said she should give it to us.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather find the book and get the hell home. We can try to see if she has any information. How much do you think she knows?”

  “About how she’s going to live to be a few hundred years old and can open time portals and kill people with her mind and stuff?”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “No idea, but maybe we shouldn’t give away too much until we figure out how much she knows.”

  “Yeah, I agree. Okay, the maid said she’d see about getting us a tray for lunch. Then we’re supposed to meet Celine after so I guess we’ve got lunch to figure out how to approach this.”

  As they were talking, the maid knocked, bringing a tray of lunch and asking if she should leave both men’s meals here. Michael motioned for her to do so, and they resumed talking once she left. Both of them stopped their conversation though as they looked at their water glasses. The less-than-clear, murky water filled the glass. Michael made a disgusted face then said, “Yeah, I’m not drinking this.”

  “Hello, dehydration,” Damien followed up with, pouring his water in a nearby plant.

  They finished the rest of their meals then made their way back downstairs to the foyer. Within a few minutes, Celine appeared in the hallway, twirling a parasol.

  “Ah, bonjour, Celine,” Michael said, bowing and smiling.

  “Bonjour!” Celine said, smiling at them.

  They stood in silence for a few moments before Celine said, “Marcher?”

  “Ah, walk?” Michael asked.

  “Marcher, oui?” Celine made a walking motion then pointed to herself and the two men.

  “Oh, oh, you want to walk. Yes, sure, we can walk, marcher, yes.” He nodded his head. “Ah, oui, on peut marcher.”

  Celine nodded her head and smiled, approaching the door and waiting for him to open it for her. Michael opened it, allowing her to exit first, Damien followed behind them. Celine walked them toward the gardens. She pointed to a few flowers, requesting Michael give her the name of them. He obliged, telling her their English names with her practicing each afterwards. Michael corrected her pronunciations when necessary. Halfway through their walk through the garden, Damien noticed the Marquis looking on from a second-story balcony, watching his daughter’s progress. Celine noticed him and waved to him. He waved back before turning to enter the house again.

  Afterwards, Celine led them down a path that led to the beach. She smiled at them and looked out over the ocean. “Oh, uh, ocean,” Michael said, pointing to the water. She giggled. “Ocean,” he repeated, looking at her to mimic him.

  She glanced at him then looked back at the ocean, “Yes,” she said in a thick French accent, “that is the ocean.”

  Michael’s face was struck with astonishment, as was Damien’s. Damien said, “Wait, you speak English?”

  “Yes, I speak English.”

  “So, why did your father ask me to teach you English?”

  “He isn’t aware and I would be grateful if you played along.”

  “He isn’t aware? How did you learn?”

  “I taught myself. I’m quite clever, you know.”

  “Seems so,” Damien said.

  “Do I have your cooperation?” she asked, facing them.

  “Yeah, I mean, yes, we won’t give you away,” Michael agreed.

  “Good.”

  “As long as you help us,” Damien said.

  “Help you?” Celine looked puzzled.

  “Yes, we’re new here and we know very little about, well, anything, do you mind telling us a little about yourself, your father, your family?”

  Celine continued to look puzzled. “My name is Celine Devereaux, I am the second daughter of Marquis Gaspard Devereaux. My mother died giving birth to me. When I was a small child, we moved here from Lyon. I don’t understand how this is helping you?”

  “Second daughter? So, you have a brother or sister?” Damien asked.

  “I have an older sister, Celeste.”

  “Is she here?” Michael asked.

  “No, she lives in another town across the island. I don’t understand.”

  “One more question,” Michael said. “Is there a library in your home?”

  “Yes, it is the door across from Papa’s study, where we met. Why all these questions?”

  “Why not tell your father you speak English?” Damien said.

  “Touché,” Celine said, holding her hands up in defeat. “We should go back.”

  The three turned back toward the house. “So, Celine, you’re how old now?”

  “I am fifteen, I will be sixteen in four days. Yes, I realize I’m almost a spinster, but I just have no interest in suitors. They all are such a bore. I assume my Papa is hoping you will be the next in line to court me?”

  “He mentioned your rather particular taste, yes. And I admit to asking him if I may court you.”

  “You can try,” Celine said, stalking off ahead of them and into the house.

  The two exchanged a glance. “Let’s try that library,” Michael said. The two made their way to the library, following Celine’s directions. Many books lined the shelves. “Let’s split up and look around.”

  “Okay. Oh, how are we supposed to recognize it if we find it? I mean what are the chances it says Book of the Dead on the spine? We should have asked Josie what this book looked like.”

  “I don’t know, but it
can’t hurt.” They spent hours pouring over every book in the library without finding the specific book. Most of the books were in French. Damien asked Michael the French version of the title before looking over the books. They were just giving up when a gong rang. “What the hell was that?” Michael asked.

  “Dinner gong. It announces that it’s time to dress for dinner. We will have to excuse ourselves and say our luggage was lost or something since this is all we have.”

  “Okay, with any luck, we won’t need these for much longer,” Michael said, pulling at his collar. “And if we’re really lucky, we won’t have to drink any of that nasty water at dinner.”

  At 7 p.m., dinner was served in the house. Michael and Damien enjoyed a cocktail with the Marquis after apologizing for their lack of formal dinner wear and before Celine joined them for the meal.

  “Hello, Papa,” Celine said, feigning struggling to get the words out, “how you are?”

  “How are you,” Michael corrected and Celine parroted him.

  “Ah, very good, my dear, very good,” the Marquis answered in French, beaming with pride over his daughter’s progress.

  As they were seated for dinner, a man entered the room in a servant’s uniform, excusing himself and handing a note to the Marquis. The Marquis opened it and read it, surprise apparent on his face. After reading it, he stood abruptly. He muttered a few words to Celine in French then turned to Michael and Damien and said, “My apologies, I have rather urgent business. It appears that I have been called back home by the Crown sooner than I expected. I must prepare to leave at once. I will make arrangements for my daughter to travel early to stay with her sister and her husband. Of course, I would be most grateful if you would accompany her with her nanny on the journey. I will send a rider with a letter to Celeste’s husband, Mr. VanWoodsen, to explain and make sure you are appropriately received.”

  Michael and Damien both stood. “Of course, sir. We would be happy to accompany her.”