~*~
No sooner had I finished my cup of tea, than a small whirlwind of a woman blew into the room. I didn’t know what I’d expected the owner of Howell Home to look like, but this petite, blonde-haired woman with piercing blue eyes was definitely not it. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old, although it was hard to tell with those small spectacles perched on her nose.
“Please close your mouth,” she snapped. “It’s impolite to have your mouth flapping open, imitating a fish out of water.”
My mouth closed with an audible snap, and I bit back a smart-assed retort. Instead, I fixed a scowl on my face and crossed my arms, hoping I came off as nonchalant and tough. I was pretty sure lying in bed, wearing ruffles, and sporting bandages ruined the effect, though. I sighed.
“Phoebe told me your name is Sage Hannigan,” she commented.
I nodded my head.
“And may I presume, Miss Hannigan, that you have no idea what you are or what is going on?” she asked with a delicately raised brow.
“What I am? What do you mean ‘what I am’?” I asked in utter confusion.
“It’s just as I thought,” she murmured to herself. “With everything else that’s going on, I get someone who doesn’t even know her own powers.” She scowled at the ceiling.
“Hello! Remember me? Could you please tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”
“Watch your language and your tone, Sage. You are a warper, and it seems you have no idea what that even means,” she chided. “Oh well! All in due course. I’ll have Phoebe come up with your lunch and some suitable clothing. Then, we’ll have a nice long chat in the library.” She held up a hand to silence my protests.
“You will feel much more clearheaded after you get some food in your system and freshen up a bit.” She paused, and when I didn’t object, she continued, “Once you are ready, I’ll try and answer all the questions you have.”
I reluctantly agreed. I mean, what else was I going to do, click my heels three times and say, ‘There’s no place like home’?
When Phoebe returned, and after I had devoured a lunch of chicken soup and freshly baked bread, the fun began.
Phoebe helped me dress in the clothing appropriate for the time period. I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world women walked around all day in a corset—it was a freaking torture device! After refusing to let her tighten the stays any more for fear of cracking a rib, I dressed in clothing I was definitely not used to. The blouse was an antique cream color, high-necked, with pretty lace trim, and it had very full sleeves that gathered just above the elbow and then tightly followed my forearms. The dark green skirt was full and flowed all the way to my ankles.
Phoebe changed my bandages to smaller ones that couldn’t be seen under my new clothing, and I tucked my necklace under my blouse, inexplicably pleased with its familiar warmth on my skin. Phoebe wanted to put my hair up into a bun, but I pled a headache and she opted to braid it down my back instead. I stepped in front of the full-length mirror to see if I looked as foolish as I felt. My eyes widened. If it weren’t for the cut lip and scrapes on my cheek, I’d have looked quite respectable.
I snorted at my reflection. Respectable, my ass!
“All right, Phoebe, let’s do this!” I squared my shoulders and headed out to talk with the woman who knew what was going on, and who I hoped would give me some answers.
A gentleman I’d not seen before was sitting with Mrs. Howell and Travis in front of a large fireplace in the library. When I was finally noticed, Travis and the other gentleman stood as I made my way over to the trio.
I plastered a smile on my face. No need to be hostile, I told myself. Not yet, anyway.
“Sage, this is Travis Connely, whom you’ve inadvertently met.”
He grasped my hand in a warm, firm handshake. I looked up into his now-familiar green eyes and smiled warmly at him. He had a handsome face with a slightly crooked nose, which only added to his rugged charm.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Connely. For saving my life, I mean.”
He dipped his head slightly in an embarrassed gesture. “Oh, it was nothing, Miss Hannigan. You seemed to be holding your own against the vampire,” he said with a grin.
Holding my own? Is he serious?
“I came around the corner just as you froze her mid-attack, and when I mentioned the scene to Dr. Blake, well, he knew immediately what you were.”
“Speaking of Dr. Blake,” added Mrs. Howell, “Sage, this is Dr. Aldwin Blake. He is an instructor here at Howell Home, and he is going to try and explain some things to you.”
I turned to greet the doctor and barely caught a gasp before it left my throat. He was several inches taller than I and cut a very fine figure in a black coat. His hair, so black it almost seemed to have blue highlights, fell in thick waves haphazardly over his ears, almost covering one eye. The half-covered eye was primarily what had caused my reaction to him… mainly. His right eye, so pale blue it seemed more silver than blue, was covered in a milky film. I assumed he was blind in that eye.
A scar ran from his eyebrow to the top of his cheekbone on the same side of his face. It looked as if someone had cut him with the intent not only to maim his eye, but also to mar his good looks. The scar had the opposite effect, though; instead, it enhanced his fiercely good looks. His other eye, a perfect and brilliant cornflower-blue, was fixed on my face. Something like disappointment and resignation flickered there.
I realized belatedly that I’d been staring too long, so I thrust my hand out and spoke softly. “Very nice to meet you, Dr. Blake. I’d appreciate any help you can give me with all that is going on.”
He settled his marred features into an indifferent mask and grasped my hand in his. It was just as warm as Travis’ hand had been, but his touch sent a shiver of delight up my arm.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied in a clipped tone. When he pulled his hand from my grasp, his jaw clenched.
“Now that all the pleasantries have been made,” Mrs. Howell intoned, “let’s get down to the reason for our visit, shall we?”
I sat on a loveseat next to Travis while Mrs. Howell and Dr. Blake took the armchairs opposite us.
“Sage, as I mentioned before, we are all of the opinion that you are a warper. We hope to help you understand what that means and to assist with anything in our power.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, so what is a warper, and why do you think I am one? Does it have to do with time travel?” The last was barely a whisper for fear of being thought crazy.
My eyes rounded in shock when Mrs. Howell laughed loudly.
“Yes, of course it has to do with time travel, and so much more! Tell me,” her eyes were wide with anticipation, “what year do you come from?”
Encouraged by her easy acceptance, I told her, "I live—or did—in the year 2004."
The silence was deafening.
I glanced down at the carpet, suddenly less sure of myself, and peeked at everyone from under my lashes. Their expressions ranged from amazement to astonishment and then to wariness from Dr. Blake.
“I’d love to tell you all about the twenty-first century,” I said, “but could we do it later? I would appreciate it if you could explain the whole warper thing to me for now.”
Mrs. Howell shook her head as if to clear it. “We certainly can.” She motioned for Dr. Blake to take over the discussion.
Dr. Blake stood and asked questions as he paced in front of the fireplace. “Sage, what do you know about your family, your ancestry?”
I unclenched my teeth to answer. “I don’t really know anything about my heritage. My mother and father were both killed in a car accident when I was five. I didn’t have any other family, so I lived in several foster homes until my eighteenth birthday.”
His features softened a bit, and I turned my face away to hide the emotions I felt well up.
“Did you happen to find an o
bject recently that you were mysteriously attracted to or felt a magnetic draw toward?” he asked softly.
Involuntarily, my hand flew to my chest, where the stone pendant lay warm against my skin. He noticed the gesture, so I pulled out the necklace to show him. Mrs. Howell and Travis sucked in a loud breath, and Dr. Blake’s eyes lit up.
“What is it?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
“It’s a piece of the ancient druid standing stones from Scotland. This stone, in particular, was said to be blessed by the druid priestess Amerach, giving its wearer special abilities.”
“So, if I take it off, would I be sent back home?” I wasn’t able to mask the excitement in my voice.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Mrs. Howell answered.
“It never freaking is,” I mumbled under my breath.
“It isn’t the stone that made you a warper, Miss Hannigan,” Dr. Blake replied. “You were already marked—or chosen, if you will—to be one. The necklace is just a talisman to help you tap into your abilities and to help a handler find you to activate your dormant mark and powers.”
“My mark?” I asked. And then, like a puzzle, everything clicked into place. Not an old trinket, a talisman. Not a crazy old lady, a handler. Not a burn, a mark. Nausea overwhelmed me, and the room swayed a bit—or was that me? Warm hands were at my elbows, and as I looked into Dr. Blake’s face, I felt myself calm. A moment later, Mrs. Howell put a glass of water in my hand, and I drank it gratefully.
“May I see it?” he asked softly.
He didn’t need to explain. For some reason, I knew he was asking about the mark. I nodded and turned my head to look over my right shoulder. I felt the barest feather of a touch over the spot, and a delicious shiver danced up my spine. The heat radiating from his body made me want to lean into him; instead, I held myself rigid.
“Yes,” he said briskly, turning to the others. “She has the white spiral-of-life tattoo, the mark of Amerach, behind her ear.”
Clearly, he was not as affected by our proximity as I was. Mrs. Howell and Travis both came to exclaim over the mark I had yet to see for myself, and I started to squirm with everyone standing so close, studying me like a science experiment. Dr. Blake cleared his throat, and they shuffled off to take their seats once more.
“So, what else can you tell me?” I asked.
Dr. Blake gave me the condensed version of “Warper History 101.” There were only a handful of instances recorded in history in which a warper had been chosen. It was a rare occurrence, a rare gift bestowed upon chosen young women of Celtic ancestry. All records indicated that the warper had no control over the actual time warp, and in every instance, there had been some impending crisis that only a time warper could address in order to prevent irreversible damage to the human and preternatural worlds.
Preternatural. I wondered exactly what kind of creatures existed in my newly realized world. I mean, here I was, discussing druid priestesses, time travel, and vampires. It wouldn’t be too much of a leap to imagine the preternatural community consisted of a whole lot more. I shivered.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Dr. Blake continued his lesson.
“Warpers also have individual powers that vary from person to person. The powers must be honed to become effective in self-defense during combat.”
It was too much to take in; my head spun with the flood of information.
“Do you have any books or anything that can tell me how I can get back to my own time? Or what would happen if I just chose not to be a warper?” Panic laced my voice, but I couldn’t help it.
“Our books are very limited when it comes to warpers, but I’ll study them more thoroughly to see if I can find anything about returning to your time. As for the other… no one can force you to do anything; but not doing what you were destined to do won’t get you home any faster. It may even be catastrophic to our time, sending out a ripple that distorts yours.”
Sheesh, no pressure there! I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the mounting tension headache.
“Maybe we should all take a break before dinner,” Travis suggested, his concerned eyes searching mine.
I smiled in thanks.
“We can all rest, freshen up, and meet for dinner in two hours. Sage, I’ll send Phoebe up to help you later.” Mrs. Howell ended the meeting as abruptly as it had begun.
Everyone left the library and headed in different directions, leaving me in the center of my own little tornado of emotions.
Time Warper: Fated, A Sage Hannigan Novel Page 4
