by Sarah Raplee
“This time Mother
has gone too bloody far!” Sojie Headley slammed the cellar door behind her so
hard that windowpanes rattled throughout the first floor of Headley House. A
hairpin slipped from her upswept curls and plinked onto the floorboards, a victim
of her uncharacteristic violence.
Warmth and the
heavenly aroma of breakfast cooking in the Headley kitchen enfolded her. Her
stomach growled. Cookie finished spooning golden pancake batter next to hissing
bacon on the wood-fired range’s hot griddle before casting a reproving glance
her way.
“I’ll thank you to
watch your language in my kitchen, Miss Sojie,” the tall, dark-skinned woman
said. Lowering her brows with mock ferocity, she lifted her batter-covered
wooden spoon and pointed it at Sojie. “Get ahold of yourself, now. What’s the
missus done to rile you up?”
Heat rose in
Sojie’s face at the gentle rebuke. Dredging up a modicum of common sense, she
refrained from elaborating on the reason for her temper. Cookie had no idea
that Mother was experimenting with a time machine in their basement.
She blew out a
frustrated sigh. Why did she let Mother’s ill-conceived actions provoke her as
if she were an ignorant eight-year-old instead of a young woman of eighteen?
“Please accept my
apology for using inappropriate language,” she said with a rueful smile.
The older woman
nodded. “Jus’ remember that buttin’ heads with your mother is no excuse to
disrespect her.”
The wind’s howl
had them both looking out at the storm that had raged in Portland since
yesterday afternoon. The streets had no doubt turned to rivers of mud by now,
making even local travel nigh unto impossible. Sojie was glad they were
well-stocked with supplies.
“March sho’ came
in like a lion this year,” Cookie said, shaking her head. She reached for her
spatula.
Still seething, Sojie
strode across the oil-clothed floor through the scullery and then lifted her
long skirts to climb the servants’ stairs. Despite her promise to care for
Mother until Father returned, she wanted nothing more than to be done with the
woman. If she didn’t speak to Mrs. Bell immediately, surely she’d boil her top
and end up on the front lawn, screeching like a deranged teakettle. Her
mother’s assistant’s calm demeanor and wise counsel had soothed Sojie’s inner
turmoil more than once over the years.
Mrs. Bell opened
the door to her small apartment on the first knock. The clockwork privacy lock
must not have been set. Whilst amazingly secure, the newfangled devices took
time to undo.
The petite blond woman
was dressed for the day in a serviceable brown muslin frock, but she hadn’t yet
donned her laboratory coat. She looked up into Sojie’s face and her welcoming
smile faded. Taking Sojie’s arm, she pulled her into the tiny, lavender-scented
sitting room. A silver tea tray sat on a polished cherry table between two
chairs facing the cheery fire. “Please sit down, dear. I’ll pour the tea.”
Sojie suspected
she would need something stronger than tea to calm her, but she chose her usual
worn blue velvet chair with Egyptian hieroglyphics carved into the wooden arms.
Tracing the indentations in the wood with her fingers, she waited for Mrs. Bell
to pour the steaming brew into flowered china cups. Then she picked up the
nearest cup and saucer and sipped carefully before launching into a description
of her scientist mother’s latest escapade.
“A poor, half-grown
kitten, Mrs. Bell. How could Mother justify experimenting on such a helpless
creature?
Mrs. Bell pressed
her pretty lips into a disapproving line, but her green eyes crinkled slightly
at the corners. “It’s not as if she dissected the little animal,” Mrs. Bell
said. “The kitten is fine. I examined him myself. And I wouldn’t characterize
him as helpless. He’s quite energetic, in fact.” She turned her head to one
side to reveal an angry red scratch marring the milky white skin of her throat.
Sojie’s stomach
tightened. She set down her beverage with a clink. “Your injury only proves
Mouser is not fine at all. I’ve tamed him and his brother. They’re as gentle
as—as kittens, for heaven’s sake. Cookie
invites them into the kitchen for a few hours a day to catch vermin. Now
Mouser’s wild again. I swear he doesn’t even remember me, but Hunter is fine.”
Sojie swallowed
the lump that had formed in her throat. “When I confronted Mother about Mouser’s
change in behavior, she admitted she'd sent him forward a day in that infernal
time machine, the one she was ordered to scrap. She’s secretly pursuing an
illegal project, putting us all at risk. I fear this goes beyond eccentricity
into the realm of madness. Her behavior has grown significantly more erratic of
late, wouldn’t you agree?”
She’d a good mind
to contact General Morgan herself. The general had oversight of Mother’s
government-funded research. Sojie knew for a fact that the time machine project
was forbidden after the accident that tore her family apart. The general had
assured the family that given time, Dr. Headley and her brother, Lincoln, would
reappear. Unfortunately, not even Mother could predict the date with any real
accuracy. Five to eight years in the future, give or take was as close as she
could come. Only more than ten years had passed since the accident with no
trace of them.
Mrs. Bell gave her
a considering look. Then she set down her teacup and stared into Sojie’s eyes
as if searching for the answer to an unvoiced question. Goosebumps pricked
Sojie’s skin.
At last, seemingly
satisfied, Mrs. Bell spoke. “I’m going to tell you something that no one knows
outside this house, not even the United States Government. Repeating the
information outside these walls could get you or someone you love killed. Do
you understand?”
Sojie blinked at
the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. Then she sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised,
considering this had always been a house of intrigue. “I’m sworn to secrecy. I
understand.”
“You may find what
I have to say disturbing, but it’s vital that you understand your mother’s
motivations in attempting what we must over the next months. These experiments
have far-reaching moral as well as practical implications. Things will become
even more strange than usual at Headley House, and more dangerous.”
Sojie shivered at
the prospect, then nodded. She needed to know what was going on.
A tap on the door
made them jump. “Mum?” said a deep male voice Sojie hadn’t heard in nearly a
year. Her breath quickened and her hands fisted at her sides. Jett Bell was the
last person she wanted see, especially when she was already upset, but his
presence offered some small comfort. He had the most analytical mind of anyone
she’d ever met besides her mother. If there was to be more than the usual trouble
at Headley House, they could use his help.
Mrs. Bell smiled
and rose to answer the door. “Jett arrived home from University late last
night. I’d hoped he would join us.”
Sojie smiled. Mrs.
Bell had an uncanny ability to attract the visitors she needed whenever she wanted
them. That explained Jett’s unscheduled arrival.
“Good morning,
son.”
An olive-skinned
young man so tall he had to duck under the lintel bent to kiss Mrs. Bell’s
cheek. His physique had transformed from a boy’s into a man’s,
with broad shoulders and a deep chest. Before Sojie had time to adjust to the
change in his appearance, he turned his mother’s chin to examine the long, deep
scratch on her neck. His black brows drew together slightly over wide-set blue eyes
that flicked first to Sojie, then back to his mother.
Sojie’s ears
burned. She feigned interest in the flames dancing in the fireplace. After
growing up in this household, one would think Jett would look to her mother for
an explanation whenever someone got hurt. Ever since the accident, he always seemed to blame
her.
“It’s nothing,”
Mrs. Bell said. “Come sit with us.” She returned to her seat across the small
table from Sojie.
Jett folded his
lanky frame into the large oak rocker by the hearth. A lock of straight raven
hair fell onto his forehead. His gaze settled on Sojie’s heated face. The
corners of his wide mouth lifted and he dipped his rather pointed chin. “It’s good to
see you again, Miss Sojie. You are looking—” His startlingly-blue eyes moved to
her hair, her lips, back to her eyes. “—well, if a little perturbed. I hope my
arrival isn’t interrupting anything?”
Startled by his sudden interest in her appearance, she searched his familiar, exotic features
for clues to his wordiness. His normal greeting had always been a nod
followed by her name, nothing more. Had his time at University changed his
character as much as it had his appearance? It was an unsettling thought.
“I prefer to speak
with both of you,” Mrs. Bell said. “What I have to tell you is information best
not repeated.”
Her focus shifted
to Mrs. Bell’s grave demeanor. “Rumor has it that the Prussians have developed
a long-distance listening device. The less said about these matters, the
better. These are dangerous times. You must both be cognizant of the risks Mrs.
Headley and I are taking in attempting to find Dr. Headley and Lincoln.”
Sojie choked on
her tea. Jett materialized at her side and relieved her of her cup and saucer
while she continued to cough and splutter. Being Jett, he handed her his
handkerchief and returned to the rocking chair as soon as he’d ascertained she
would recover.
Her breathing
eased and she dabbed her eyes. Had they developed a theory about what might
have gone wrong in the accident? From what Mrs. Bell had said, they must have a
plan of action. Dare she hope there was a possibility of finding Father and
Link?
She blew her nose
and balled the soiled linen in her hands.
Mrs. Bell caught her
gaze and continued. “We’re all at risk. Many would kill for the plans for a
working temporal vehicle, even an imperfect and dangerous prototype.”
“How can sending
poor helpless creatures into the future help us find Father and Link?” Sojie
said.
“You spoke of
strangeness, Mum,” Jett said, locking his gaze to his mother’s. He placed his
elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “Please elaborate.”
Sojie glared at
him for interrupting. He gave no indication of having noticed.
“The strangeness
and the temporal travel are interrelated,” Mrs. Bell said. Her gaze dropped and
for a brief moment rested on the hands she’d folded in her lap. Then she drew a
deep breath and stared into the flames. “Ten years ago we found evidence that
temporal travel into the future heals, and in effect re-animates newly-deceased
organisms. We theorize a similar rejuvenating effect on the living, which might
lead to disorientation and quite possibly memory loss upon arrival in the future. We are continuing the line
of experimentation we were pursuing when the project was canceled after the
unfortunate accident.”
“That explains the
kitten,” Sojie said. No wonder Mouser hadn’t recognized her. Traveling forward
in time had scrambled his memory. He’d been confused and frightened and—
Sojie gasped. If Father and Link had arrived in the future as
upset and bewildered as Mouser, there was no telling what they might have done
or where they would have gone. But they might still be alive somewhere.
Now, in the present day.
Alive! She must be grinning like a fool.
“Well,” Jett said,
gripping the wooden arms of his chair and rocking forward.
She beamed at him,
sure that his first-ever utterance of a meaningless word indicated he was as
overjoyed as she at the prospect of finding Link and Father.
Jett glanced at her
and frowned, then settled back in his chair and shook his head. “That explains
the zombie.”
