Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (24 page)

Julia tried to relax and slow the car down. Everything was risky now. She would have to be careful. She turned into a public parking lot, parked the car and got out. Her high heels clicked across the pavement as she made her way to the nearest building.

And what of Shona herself? She agreed with Kitty. What should she do about her? Perhaps it was aga
in time to slip her some
persuasive medication?
Probably the best solution.
Keep Shona controllable and
submissive,
tie her to more feelings of helplessness and dependence. Maybe even call on the extra help she’d hired before to keep the girl where she wanted her.
Under control.

When the time was right, the controller would change. For now, she was the one holding all the power. As far as Julia Dawson was concerned, she owned Shona Whittard. And if she were double crossed, she could easily take and keep her to herself for a time, see how far the girl could go. If her suspicions were correct, she may even be able to sell Shona and her ‘talents’
t
o certain parties. She suspected Shona could do much more than sing.

Julia smiled as she imagined the furious bidd
ing, then thoug
ht of something else.  What if
Shona was … no, it couldn't be.  Julia
suddenly stopped and stared at the front entrance
of
her destination.  W
hat if
, she mused
… just what if Shona was what she'd been searching for all this time? 

But no.
  That would surely be impossible
.  And at this point Julia wasn't even sure of what it was she'd been so desperate to find.  Her memories were all mixed up
prior to the last twelve years.
All thanks to a stupid accident. Julia shook herself.  She couldn't afford to think about her past, most of which seemed lost to her.  What she did need to think about was how Shona Whittard
would benefit her
.
Julia's employer would see to that.

She smiled wickedly to herself
as s
he entered the building and m
arched up to the front counter.
A wiry little man with glasses too big for his face looked up at her from his perch atop a stool. “May I help you?”

“I want to send a telegram.” Julia spoke coldly.

The man peered at her through his glasses, not intimidated. “
Oh, you like doing things the old fashioned way.
  You know there's talk about shutting
this whole thing down?  End of an era it is."  He shook his head sadly and sighed. "
Where to?”

“London, England.”

“All right, the charge per word…”

“I’m quite familiar with the cost. I’ve sent telegrams there before from this office.”

The man squinted at her. “Oh, I thought you looked familiar. Okay, shoot.”

Julia pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. “Here’s the name and address I want it sent to.”

The man scribbled it down. “And what would you like to say?”

She looked down her nose at him and smiled sadistically. “It’s a short message this time. Two words.”

He looked at her impatiently. “Yes?”

Julia smiled a
gain, this time to herself. “Th
e message is… ‘She’s ready.’”

* * *

“Do you need anything else, Mr. MacNab?”

Angus MacNab looked up from his small kitchen table to see Tomika Ashby, his mother’s part-time nurs
e. “Nay, lass, everything is fi
ne. Ye can go on home if ye likes. I can manage things th
e rest o’ the day.”

Tomika, aff
ectionately known as Tomy, turned to Mother MacNab sitting in her wheelchair in front of the television. “I’m leaving now, Mrs. MacNab!” She told the woman in a loud voice.

“Yer grieving? Whatever for?” the old lady barked back as she stared past Tomy to the wall beyond.

“Leaving!” Angus yelled. “She said she be leaving now!”

Mother MacNab turned toward her son’s voice. “Leaving?”

“Aye! Go back to yer box!” Angus told her, waving a hand at the television.

The old woman looked back to the TV, stared at it intently, leaned forward, and passed wind.

Tomy sighed, walked over to the TV and switched it on. “Better?” she yelled as she wrinkled her nose at the old woman.

Mother MacNab ignored her.

“Pay no mind, Tomy, she hasna been herself lately.”

Tomy sighed again and turned to leave. “I put your dinner in the refrigerator. All you have to do is heat it up later.”

“Ah, lass,” Angus beamed. “Ye didna ha’ to go through all that trouble. But, as ye did, I’ll ha’ to honor ye by eating every bite!”

Tomy smiled and winked at him. “See that you do. Make sure she eats all hers too, and don’t forget to give her that new medicine or she’ll keep you awake all night with that gas of hers.”

Angus nodded, grimacing at the thought. “
Aye,
I’ll see that I do.”

Tomy headed for the door.

“Ha’ ye any good news on yer other job? Ha’ they hired ye on for more hours?”

She turned back, disappointment on her pretty black face. “I don’t know what those people
want. Shona and I get along fi
ne. I don’t see why they don’t let me take over some of the other subjects too. For now,
it’s
just math.”

Angus nodded. “Ah, will ye be getting to spend another play-day with the lass this week?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Why do you ask?”

Angus shrugged. “I just think it nice ye gets to go out now and then, ha’ a wee bit o’ fun. Yer too young to work yer life away.” He smiled and waited for her reaction.

“Ain’
t
that the
truth.
Lord knows I need it!” She smiled back. “I can’t thank you enough for getting me that job. It’s been a blessing.”

 
Angus nodded and chuckled to himself. “Where might ye be off to this time?”

“To a place with dancing.”

“Dan
cing, ye say? Weel, that’s diff
erent.”

“Come to think of it, it is, isn’t it? Usually it’s some art exhibit. Julia wanted someplace that had
music and I guess it was the fi
rst place that came to mind. I’m surprised she agreed.
That woman don’t
like much of anything I suggest.”

Angus leaned forward in his chair nodding and smiling at her, a knowing look on his face. “What sort o’ place is it?”

Tomy began to put on her sweater. “It’s called Stan’s.
A country-western place.
Live bands, D.J.’s, that sort of thing.” She picked up a small backpack, slung it over one shoulder and turned again to go.

Angus’s smile vanished, replaced by a face full of worry as he looked to the door. “And when might ye be going to this place? Do I need to gets help
wi
’ Mother?”

“Oh no, we’re going tomorrow night. I’m not here this Monday,
remember
?”

Angus smiled again and nodded. “Aye, I remember. Ye ha’ a good time then, lass.”

“I’m sure I will, even though we won’t be out that late. Shona and I have a lot of work to do Tuesday morning and want to spend some time at the library. It’s going to be a busy day!”

“Best ye makes the most of yer time out then.”

“Oh you can bet I will! See you later. Bye!” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

Angus sat back in his chair, ran a gnarled hand through his silver-gray hair and let go a weary sigh. He was getting too old for this. A
t age sixty-fi
ve he always thought he would be something other than what he was. But who was he to complain? He had his health, he had his mother, sans her hearing,
both
of them were well fed and clothed. Ten years ago he’d been cold, starving and had a noose about his neck. Angus shivered at the thought, then put it aside.

He got up and headed for the refrigerator. What a wonderful thing, refrigerators. Almost as wonderful as the microwave, though he was still leery when he used it. After living over a year in the small apartment, he thought he’d be comfortable with the various wonders surrounding him, but some things were still strange, like heating food in seconds instead of an hour. Unnatural. However, appetite sometimes had a way of convincing a person otherwise.

He carefully opened the microwave and placed a plate of spaghetti into it, closing one eye as he pressed the buttons, both eyes when he pressed
start.
The microwave whirred to life, and he sighed in relief. Once again, he’d lived; the microwave was cooking only the food and not him.

When the meal was heated he removed the plate and placed it on the table. He turned to his mother who sat watching the potted palm rather than the TV. “D’ye wants to eat?” He asked loudly.

She peered at the TV. “What’s wrong with his feet?”

“Eat! D’ye wants to eat?” Angus repeated, louder this time.

“Nay.” Her gaze wandered back to the plant.

Angus sighed and sat down at the table. The food in front of him
looked and smelled wonderful. He breathed deeply of the spicy aroma before reaching for his fork. No one made spaghetti like Tomy! Well, not that he’d ever had anyone else’s. He began to dig in.

The lights fl
ickered.

“The box! Dinna turn off the box!” His mother cried.

Disgusted, he put down his fork and got up to check the TV. “No one is going to turn off the box. The wind must be interfering with the
electrical again.”

Mother MacNab said nothing and instead passed more wind of her own.

He grimaced an
d looked at the set. It was off
. He turned it back on, wondering why it would shut down. He sat once more and returned to his meal.

Th
e lights fl
ickered again. The table began to shake.

“The box! Someone turned off the box!”

Angus ignored his mother’s cry and looked about nervously. He pulled his lower lip into his teeth a few times, a nervous tic, and glanced again around the apartment.

The clean dishes drying on the kitchen counter rattled, the light above the table swung and the table itself was walking away with his dinner.

“
Ahhhhrrgg
!” Angus screamed as he jumped to his feet. He raced for the dishes on the counter, put them into the sink where they’d be safer, ran to the table, grabbed his dinner and threw it into the refrigerator.

“The sky is falling!” Mother MacNab cried out woefully.

“I wish it were!” He grumbled as he hurriedly began to put anything breakable within reach out of sight. He stumbled into the living room and grabbed the kitchen table before it walked right over his mother, dragged it back to i
ts corner and dove for the coff
e
e table to catch a porcelain fi
gurine of a Scottish dancer
before it could crash to the fl
oor. Th
e whole apartment
shook as if in an earthquake, but he knew well it was no earthquake.

Angus contemplated what to tell the neighbors this time when his face contorted w
ith terror as he looked horrifi
ed across the room. “Me darling! Saints alive, I forgot me darling!” He raced across the room to rescue his most prized possession, an ancient, chipped and very badly stained teapot.
His only possession from the past.
He nearly fell over in his haste to reach his cherished treasure, grabbed it and clutched the teapot close to his chest.

He looked frantically at the walls and ceiling. “De’il take y
e!” He shouted as he shook a fi
st at the wall in front of him. “Yer ruining me house ye de’il heathen!”

Th
e room shook one fi
nal time before
a piercing yellow light illumi
nated everything, outlining the various pieces of worn furniture as if an artist were tracing their lines.

Mother MacN
ab turned to the light, horrifi
ed. “It’s the English!”

Angus huddled in a corner, his teapot clutched tightly against him, face etched with dread. “Worse.”

The light broke, peeling away the outline of the furniture it had just drawn to reveal another source of light. Sunshine poured into Angus’s apartment from the direction of his bathroom as an entire wall of the room peeled away and disappeared, leaving in its wake the village of Genis Lee.

* * *

“Happy day to you, little bro-dar!” Kwaku sauntered out of the bright sunshine of Genis Lee and into Angus’s living room.