My phone, pictures, the jewels, and spare bullets will go in my pockets and the gun and my switchblade will be strapped to my thighs under the long skirt I’ll be wearing over another set of black leggings. With the bag packed and the night getting later I strip down and shower under the hot spray until the water runs cold. I take my time covering my skin with the body lotion that Finn and Bas couldn’t stop smelling when we first met and defuse dry my hair until the mass of it ripples down my back in soft red and gold waves. I anchor the crown section of my hair back with bobby pins to keep it free from my eyes and swipe on the lightest touch of mascara to frame my green eyes. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror as nerves battle with excitement. It’s almost time.
I dress in black leggings and a white tank top over my matching bra and underwear, strap the gun holster to my right thigh and knife to my left before stepping into the full navy skirt of the dress I’ll be wearing and zip the hidden bodice on the side, carefully smoothing over the fabric that covers it. I bounce a few times to make sure it’s still tight enough to hold the girls in place, tuck the tank and bra straps in so they don’t show, and stuff the small velvet bag of jewels down in between my breasts into the bra. All that’s left is to slide on my shoes and add the full cloak that’s waiting upstairs in the turret room. The phone, bullets, and pictures go into the deep pockets of the dress’s skirt and then I’m heaving the heavy bag up over my shoulder and leaving my room, hopefully for the last time.
I go around the house, shutting off all the lights, check that all the locks are secured and then haul the bag up the stairs to the turret. As soon as I step into the room, I know the mirror is awake. There’s a soft glow coming around the edges of the heavy blanket draped over it and I suck in a gasp at the thought that this is really happening. It’s been thirty long miserable days since I was snatched away from the men I love and tonight I take the first step to be reunited with them.
I stay back from the mirror even though it’s covered and grab the cloak I had made, swishing it around my shoulders and buttoning it closed. The thick leather strap of the bag goes crosswise over my body and I position it in front of me so I can hold on to it with both hands once I uncover the mirror and step in front of it. God, I’m terrified and thrilled all at the same time. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know if I will be spit out at the same place as I was last time or in a different location. The only thing I can do as I yank the blanket off the mirror and step in front of it is to firmly fix Sebastian, Luca, Cade, and Finn’s faces in my mind like a beacon and pray the magic takes me to them.
My hair lifts in a sudden wind and I’m locked into place as a harsh white light blinds me and a roar fills my ears, then I’m tumbling over and over again until I hit the ground and my breath leaves me with a dramatic sounding “Oomph.”
I flinch at the crack that sounds all around me and then I’m heaving my guts out into the tall grass I’ve landed in. When I can finally breathe again, I spit the last of the foulness from my mouth and try to push to my feet as I stagger sideways from the heavy bag still over my shoulder. I blink my eyes a few times against the afternoon sun and spin around looking to see where I’ve landed. Forest and long grass in one direction and more grass in the other but no sign of any type of civilization.
I sigh and crouch back down in the grass so I can open the carpetbag and pull the wooden box from it. I uncork the bottle with toothpaste in it and using my finger run some over my teeth and then spit it out to get the awful takes from my mouth and wish I had thought to bring some kind of water with me. With nothing else to do, I pack the box away, reposition the heavy bag on my shoulder and start walking away from the forest through the grass. Twenty minutes later I top a rise and spot a dirt track with clear wagon wheel impressions on it. Bingo! I make my way carefully down the incline and reach the bottom just as a horse-drawn wagon comes into view. I swallow down my nerves and raise a hand once it gets close enough. There’s a grizzled, rough-looking man holding the horse’s reins and a middle-aged woman sitting next to him who looks me over from head to toe with a frown when they pull to a stop beside me.
“Bonjour, pouvez-vous me dire dans quelle direction le palais est, s’il vous plait?” I ask in my newly learned French.
The man grimaces and the woman’s eyebrows shoot up.
“It’s one of those Frenchies, I reckon but I haven’t the faintest what she just said.” The man says to his wife, causing me to grin.
“English! You speak English, perfect! Would you be able to tell me which direction I would go to reach the palace, please?” It’s my best bet to find someone who would know how to get me to the Duc de Gaul and his home but they both look at me blankly so I try,
“Versailles? The palace at Versailles?”
When they still look at me like I’m speaking a foreign language instead of English and my heartbeat picks up and my shoulders tense as I squeak out, “France?”
Surprise flashes across both their faces as the man harrumphs and shakes his head tossing a thumb over his shoulder.
“If it’s France you’re wanting, you’ll have to go back that way to find a port and a ship to take you. You’ll find that to be a challenge with the blockade but best of luck with you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where the hell am I? I try and keep a steady tone as I ask, “There’s a city that way with ships?”
He nods slowly and says out of the side of his mouth to his wife, “I think she’s daft.” And then tells me, “Aye, Portsmouth be ten miles back that way.”
I choke on my surprise and gasp out, “Virginia? Portsmouth, Virginia?”
The woman finally leans in my direction and asks in concern, “Mistress, are you alright, then? You seem addled.”
I huff out a laugh, “Yes, no, I mean, I…I fell and struck my head so I’m just trying to get my bearings but I’m fine. Please, this is Virginia and there’s a blockade?”
When they both nod, I swallow hard and ask, “Would you be so kind as to tell me what…what year this is?”
The man scoffs. “Yup, she’s daft alright!”
The woman swats him on the arm and looks down at me with pity.
“It’s the year of our Lord, 1775.”
I stumble back from them as tears fill my eyes. Not only am I half a world away from the men I love, I’m over a century too late.
Sebastian – 1747
Iwalk through the Manor, room by room, taking in the sheet-covered furniture as the servants load the last of the baggage onto the wagons. I’ve lived in many residences in my long life and never have I both loved and hated a place as much as this one. One brief month of happiness snatched away has left it a cold and soulless building that only holds despair and misery. It has been eighty-one years since she died in front of us and the pain of that moment is as fresh for all of us decades later as it was when it happened. It’s time to leave this place and forge ahead to somewhere we won’t see her ghost or hear her laugh around every corner. I owe it to my brothers to make this change so they might finally find some semblance of peace.
I throw open the double doors to Luca’s studio and take in the destruction that fills it. Heaps of shattered statues lay forgotten and litter the floor in all areas of the room except for the small cleared circle he stands in. His latest work was completed three days ago and he’s been sitting in front of it ever since with the heavy sledgehammer in his lap, waiting for the moment he can’t bear to look at it any longer. It’s a toxic cycle for him. He creates, stares, and then destroys only to start all over again. As much as I don’t want to look, to see, my eyes go to her. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy as her glorious hair falls like a waterfall behind her. She’s clutching at Luca’s head as he buries his face against her while laying between her legs. It’s soul-destroying to see her again and it brings back every moment we had her, loved her, and all the pain that came from losing her.
I’m so lost in the memories and feelings of Eden that I don’t notice Luca getting to his feet and lifting the heavy hammer until he’s poised to swing it forward to destroy that which torments him. My hand flashes out and latches onto the hammer’s handle, preventing it from completing its arc. Luca whirls on me, red-eyed and snarling but I just pluck the hammer from his grasp and place my hand on his chest until the flames in his eyes cool from red to gray and his tense muscles relax. I look past him again to her face and let the hammer slide from my fingers to fall to the marble.
“Not this one. This one stays, Luca,” I tell him and move my hand from his chest to grip his shoulder. “It has been eighty-one years. It’s time. Time to leave here, this place, this land, and her - behind. Leave her here, Luca and we will go and start again.”
