Michael left the hall, eyeing the way she had gone. She was a thief. Who did she stick close to? Preston Bristol III, Viscount of Sutton.
He hurried out of the large manor house and called for a stable hand to get him a horse. He’d get his attacker back and his friends as a bonus.
How was he going to get them without a gun…or rather, with only one bullet in his gun? What happened to his Glock? Was it with his other possessions? Was that guy Green holding on to them? How would he get them back?
The stable hand that brought him the horse was different than the first one. This guy looked like the owner of a well-polished genie lamp. He looked to be in his late forties-early fifties. He had long, black hair pulled into a ponytail and a beard that reached his collarbone. His eyes were large and dark. He was tall…or his demeanor exuded that of a big guy, not afraid of much.
“Ah, you wanted a horse?” he called out, reaching Michael.
Michael wondered if the horse was considered the first of his three wishes.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“What are you doing out here in the night, ready to ride off into the darkness?”
Michael stared at him. Who was this guy? “I’m going to catch a criminal.”
“Alone and with no weapon?”
Michael’s expression grew darker. “How do you know what I’m carrying?” He didn’t tell him he had a pistol with a bullet in it.
“I know many things, Detective Pendridge,” the man said with a side smile. “I know that you met Sir Gawaine, or as he prefers to call himself, Mr. Green, in this realm, and were brought here to the past.”
Michael forgot about everyone else but this guy. He knew! He knew the truth!
“Who are you?” He was tempted to grab him and shake him. “Who?”
“Why don’t we go to the stable. We can speak with less chance of being heard.”
Michael agreed and they walked together to the stable. “My name is Simeon. Roldan Simeon,” the man told him as they went. “I’m a time traveler.”
Michael laughed and threw his hands up in the air. Great. His first sign of hope is a nutcase.
“You don’t believe me?”
“That would be a no,” Michael replied, sobering as they entered the stable.
The man smiled, looking more like some weird version of Aladdin. And then he disappeared. There was nothing but air where he had just stood.
Michael blinked and rubbed his eyes. The man was gone. It was just Michael and the half-dozen horses lined up in their stalls. What? No. He was drunker than he thought. He ran his hand through the air and laughed at himself.
“Detective.”
Michael spun around, wide-eyed. “What are you doing? How did you do that?”
“I told you.” Simeon leaned in, wide grin intact. “I can flit through time, landing in this year or that. But I cannot stay in one place too long.”
Michael gave him an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”
“Detective, I’m telling you. I’m a time traveler, cursed by a hag to never settle down, to never have time for love.”
“This isn’t happening. I’m not standing here with a cursed genie who’s pining for love and who can disappear.”
The man laughed. “I’m not a genie. Would you like for me to get you something from the past or the present to prove to you the strength of my words?” Simeon asked, confident that he could, in fact, prove his words. “It can be nothing like a phone or something that could alter time.”
“I’m still wondering if I really traveled back—”
The man disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a well-worn bicorne hat in his hands. “Napoleon’s,” was all he said.
