The Source: Book III of the Holding Kate Series (35 page)

“Dunno.” Corey already had his sword drawn.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs a wide veranda opened up. They started forward, carefully passing room after room of empty living quarters full of cotton-draped furniture. No sounds came from within the castle.

“Is it abandoned?” Donnie asked.

Corey shook his head and pointed out toward a perfectly tended garden. A woman knelt down pruning bushes in one of the flowerbeds.

Donnie cast a curious glance to Corey who made a motion with his hands for them to continue.

They came to a corner room and stepped inside. The furniture in this room was not covered in dust cloths. It had a lived in feel to it, and the flowers on the table were wilting but fresh. Corey opened the armoire and saw multi colored gowns that appeared to be from the 18
^th
century.

Donnie stepped into the bath chamber and glanced around. Several containers of perfumed soaps lined a dressing table, but the tub was dry. It hadn’t been used in a while.

“Can you see anything that belongs to Kate?” Donnie asked.

Corey shook his head. He pulled back the silk drapes that framed the bed and stared at the satin blankets and pillows, wondering if Kate had laid her head on them. He picked one up and sniffed it.

There was a feminine floral scent, but nothing he recognized, nothing that would make him believe this was Kate’s room. It was bare. No journals, no artwork, nothing that had Kate’s signature.

He started to feel a bit like a creeper, but then a middle aged woman walked into the chambers with fresh linens, then jerked to a stop.

Corey thought she would scream, but she surprised him by putting her hand on her hip and scolding them. “She’s not here! You two can take your hormones and sniff up someone else’s skirts for a while! Go on! Out with you.” She waved them away like they were crows in her garden.

Corey’s surprise bloomed into a sheepish grin. Evidently the owner of this room was quite a trollop.

“Sorry, miss, we will just come back another time, then.” He bowed and started to back out the door.

“If the master knew the company she kept, he would be heartbroken for sure, the poor man!”

“Sorry.” Corey paused. He was obviously in the wrong place, but if Gregory came here often, this housekeeper might know of him. “Excuse me. Has the lady of the castle kept much company with a red-haired man?”

The woman paused and cast a suspicious eye at him. “Who are you?” she asked and scanned their clothes and weapons.

“We are friends of Gregory’s from a different place.” Corey pulled on his modern cut jump jacket to confirm his words.

“Friends, you say? I call sleeping with another man’s wife something else altogether.”

“So Gregory is the master here?” Donnie asked.

“I don’t know anyone named Gregory or any red-haired scoundrels.” She back stepped. “But if I find either of you in the lady’s chambers again, I will report you to the master. Is that clear?”

Corey took three great strides and towered over the matron. “Tell me!” he demanded. “Who is the master of this castle? And where can I find him? I have some things to report to him myself!”

The matron let out a small yelp at the forcefulness of Corey’s voice. “Sire, I am sorry, I did not recognize your nobility in those clothes.” She bowed. “The master is gone abroad. He will not return for many moons.”

“His name!” Corey barked.

The matron looked to the ground. “Petrick,” she said with her eyes down. “Son of Hamrick.”

Corey deflated. It was the wrong place. “Let’s go,” he said to Donnie. They stepped out on the veranda and activated the sphere, jumping to the next set of coordinates.

They found themselves in a smelly alley on the busy streets of a town in the 1800’s. They stepped into the street. At the end was the towering clock of Westminster Palace, nearly completed.

“Okay, this is definitely not Ampeliagia,” Donnie murmured. “London, right?”

Corey nodded. “We can’t stay here long. Not in these clothes.”

Horse drawn buggies clip clopped by. Men in stiff collars and women in bustles passed them, casting derisive and furtive glances toward them.

“His home has to be close if he came here often.”

“Or he liked mass at Westminster Abbey.” Corey shrugged. “We don’t know for sure he has a place here.”

“Let’s at least walk up and down the street,” Donnie suggested. “We should put these away.” He lifted his Taser, then secured it in his holster under his jacket. Corey shoved his sword into his pack and they stepped out into the hubbub.

They ambled along checking shingles and signs. They passed a bakery, a tailor, a shop with women’s hats, various esquires, a bookstore, an apothecary, several alleys, and a tanner before they crossed the street to ramble back to their starting point.

Corey peered into one window without any identifying marks and saw gadgets and spare parts scattered around on a cabinet. The next opening held a small black sign with faded gold lettering that said, Philosopher, Alchemist, and Doctor in small letters under a name that was illegible.

Corey lifted his eyebrows to Donnie. “Shall we give it a shot?”

“After you, my dear Watson.” Donnie gave a proper gentlemen’s bow and Corey snorted.

They climbed the stairs and opened a door with the same crackling black paint as the sign below. A tiny bell stationed above the door rang, announcing their entrance. A robust woman with thick freckles and white hair came out of the back room.

“The Doctor is out for another week. I will take your names and you can make an appointment for that time,” she clipped out in a Cockney British accent.

Corey smiled. “Thank you. But might we inquire as to the good doctor’s name. We were referred to a doctor on this street but we forgot his name.”

“Doctor Preston McGee.” She looked over the rim of her spectacles. “Do you want to make an appointment, then?” She licked the lead of her pencil and hovered it over the appointment book, then resumed peering over her wire rim glasses.

“Ah, no. So sorry to waste your time. That is not the name we were looking for.” Corey turned to leave. “Good day.”

“There’d be no other doctors on this street, lad,” she called after them.

They waved and left the building.

“Do you think he is using different names?”

“Probably, but Kate isn’t here. I can just feel it.”

Donnie nodded and they strolled in silence back to their alley and jumped home.

THE PALACE, DECKED
with garlands and silks, had a festive air to the grandeur and beauty. Tall marble columns, wrapped in streamers and fabrics, supported the arched ceilings. Candles and sconces sprouted from planters of ivy and cedars. The dinner, they had been invited to, turned out to be a ball with a buffet. Gregory escorted Kate to a crystal and china furnished table, then left to retrieve their dinner.

Kate gazed around at the beautiful and colorful gowns as an orchestra of strange instruments played from the garland bedecked balcony. Couples danced in the center of the room on a buffed and polished hardwood floor laid in a herringbone pattern.

The orchestra completed their song then played a fanfare. A herald took the stage.

“Excuse me honored guests and friends. I present to you Emeritus King Taraj and Emeritus Queen Tripka.” The crowd turned toward the stage as an elderly couple tottered out, holding hands. The guests all bowed and Kate bent quickly to imitate their actions. The King and Queen smiled and waved benevolently to their subjects, seating themselves in twin thrones on the upper stage.

“May I present the Monarch of The Crystal Islands, Krysallis the First.”

The guests once again bowed as a beautiful and stately woman entered from the side of the dais and waved at the audience. Her long blond hair hung straight down her back and her large eyes were brilliant blue as she smiled at the guests.

“Welcome friends, family, and honored guests. My parents and I hope you enjoy the festivities.” She raised a champagne glass to the audience. “To the One.”

“To the One,” the crowd repeated and they all took a sip of their drink.

The music started up again, filling the air with the sound of strings and flutes. The guests resumed their swirling of hooped skirts and tails or returned to their tables in swishes of satin and silk.

Kate rubbed at the injection site on her hip subconsciously while she watched the royals on their elevated seats of honor.

She ground her teeth together at the memory of Gregory’s sudden change of tactic toward her. Perhaps he had been play acting all along. Maybe he really was a villain with some ulterior motive to use her body to repopulate the world.

Ridiculous. She huffed out a laugh.

“Something funny, dear?” He appeared at her side and slid a plate of delicacies in front of her. He sat down and began nibbling at his own fare.

“No.” She pressed her lips together and turned her face away from him.

“Now, Kate. I hope you don’t hold our little misunderstanding from earlier against me.” He pitched his voice low for her ears only. “Surely, you can understand how distraught I am, knowing of your multiple indiscretions.”

Kate’s hand began shaking, so she put her fork down and clasped her hands together in her lap.

He leaned over and turned her chin toward him. His eyes were sincere and pooled with unshed tears. “You know I adore you, my love. I was just insane with jealousy.”

He really was trying to make amends. Of course he was jealous. She had slapped him in the face with her wantonness, repeatedly, and he was made to witness it all from the quantum wall.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked into his grief stained face. “I am so sorry, Gregory,” she whispered.

“I know, darling.” He reached for her hand in her lap and pulled it to the table and held it there. “I know your heart has not been whole. I know you have searched for something to fill the painful gaps.”

“Gregory, please.” Kate looked down and dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Not here.”

No. No. No! He can’t have this!
she screamed inside. She was not going to share these tender feelings with anyone. She refused to acknowledge them, much less share them.