Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II (15 page)

As they proceeded over several blocks, Ettie began to suspect where he was heading. She remembered following her mother in a somewhat similar fashion to the same location. The crowded sidewalks had thinned of people going about their business, and she feared her presence would be noted. But Charlie looked neither left nor right much less behind him as he turned into the alleyway from Second Avenue.

Fortunately, a group of well-to-do young ladies, city guides gripped firmly in their gloved hands, was intent on exploring the secret cemetery. They were accompanied by a well-armed guard who wore the standard earpiece for emergency communication. It was common practice for wealthy female denizens of such a crime-ridden city to be escorted by one or more guards when out on the town. Ettie’s non-threatening appearance didn’t set off any alarm bells, and she had little problem slipping in behind them as they entered through the gated wall.

Ettie was just in time to see Charlie disappear behind an ornate obelisk she was sure had not been there in the prime timeline. Ignoring a mistrustful sidelong look from the guard, Ettie requested of one of the young women an extra guide. The girl handed hers over saying with a dimpled smile, “Here, take mine. We have plenty among us.”

Ettie nodded gratefully and walked toward the obelisk, her face obscured behind the city guide. She sidled around the far end and stopped just short of revealing herself to the two people who stood not six feet away under the heavy boughs of a large oak tree.

“How could she possibly know who you are?
You
didn’t even know who you were until recently. Or at least,
all
that you were.” This statement was made by a tall, elegant woman whose dark hair was elaborately done up beneath a large straw hat with several ostrich plumes.

He waved her words away impatiently. “I thought, at the very least,
you
would listen to me! She is suspicious, and I am sure she is aware of the time shifts.”

“Impossible,” the woman declared, lifting up her arm to display a large, watch-like device strapped to her wrist. “Only those of us with access to a chromaticon retain this knowledge.”

Charlie shook his head. “She’s different, like her brother.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask yourself this, how did Odell become aware of the time shifts? We know he did.
She
…” He worked hard to eliminate the distaste from his voice. “…knows he did. We know he’s made a jump. He’s done this to some purpose. We just don’t know what.”

“
You
don’t know to what purpose,” the woman emphasized in a hard voice. She looked up at him and seemed to relent a little saying less harshly, “And neither do I. At least you are spared from having to extract the information from the girl.”

“What do you mean?” his voice held a note of relief.

“It’s why I was to meet you here. He feels that Odell’s destination can be determined from the reverberations of… um… something about trace particles in the flux…”

He raised his eyebrows mockingly.

She sighed irritably. “Oh, all right. I don’t understand it either. But the good news is your job is no more arduous than it was before. Just keep an eye on the girl, and let us know if Odell tries to contact her.”

She moved to brush past him, but he grabbed her forearm and said through gritted teeth, “Has he told her they don’t need Ettie anymore? Because
She’s
sick… out of her mind…
She
may do something. Surely, he can control her…” Charlie leaned toward her urgently. “I feel certain she had something to do with the mother’s—”

“For God’s sake, stop your mewling!” The woman looked around furtively.

At the mention of her mother, Ettie froze barely breathing with her back pressed hard against the marble monument.

“Mewling!” Charlie replied with suppressed fury, “We are talking about murder!”

“Something you apparently were not so squeamish about at one time,” she shot back at him, while wrenching her arm out of his grip. “Just do what you are told, and we may both get out of this alive.”

She swept past him, making a show of admiring the gardens while heading for the exit. Charlie engaged in no such niceties and strode within a bare two feet of Ettie as he hurriedly left the cemetery.

Ettie finally let out her pent-up breath and slumped back against the obelisk. She relaxed for a split second before standing up straight again. The woman! She needed to find out who she was.

Ettie looked quickly around and saw her back as she passed through the gate. Throwing caution to the wind, she sped after her. Unfortunately in her haste, Ettie had incorrectly determined that the woman had come to the cemetery alone.

From a discreet distance, a guard had observed Ettie closely. He had noted her rapt expression as she overheard the private conversation and hung back from following his employer. When Ettie rounded the gate, he caught her roughly by the shoulder and threw her against the wall of the alleyway. The back of her head hit hard against the brickwork. Her vision blurred, and she slumped to the ground as the guard tried to jerk her roughly to her feet.

“Hey! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”

The girl stood breathless at the cemetery entrance, skirts bunched up in clutched hands as if she had lifted them to run across the grassy enclosure. An angry, determined expression thinned her full lips, and she strode over declaring, “How dare you assault this boy! It is outside your purview to take such drastic action!”

She knelt down and reached her hand to touch gently the back of Ettie’s head. Ettie hissed at the pressure, and the girl drew her hand away to reveal blood staining her kid glove.

“He was followin’ me mistress,” the man replied belligerently.

The girl looked down the alleyway toward Second Avenue and retorted sarcastically, “Well if so, it wasn’t too closely, for I don’t see anyone, much less your mistress.”

By this time, the other girls had gathered at the gate and were whispering intently to each other behind gloved hands. Their guard approached and quickly surveyed the situation.

“Can I be of assistance, miss?” he said while eyeing the other man.

“Yes, Jasper, thank you. This man… guard, attacked this boy for following his employer, and now the boy is injured,” she replied, holding up her hand to show the bloodstain. “We need to get him some medical help.”

“No, really… I’m fine.” Ettie struggled to stand only to lean heavily against the wall as her head swam.

The girl grasped her arm to steady her, and Ettie nodded her thanks. She responded with a dimpled smile, and Ettie recognized the girl who had given her the city guide.

Ettie saw the earpiece worn by the girls’ guard blink blue and knew he had already alerted the police. It wouldn’t be long now. The other guard had seen it too and fled down the alleyway and out onto the crowded sidewalk.

“After him, Jasper!” the girl cried.

Jasper looked at her calmly. “Can’t, miss. Wouldn’t be right leaving you girls alone. The police will be here soon. Anyway, I got a good look at him, and it’s for certain sure he isn’t with any of the guard guilds in the city.”

She looked at him questioningly.

He tapped the insignia sewn onto the sleeve of his jacket. It bore the embroidered design of a citadel with two lightning bolts crossed over it.

“There are five guilds operating in the city. Perhaps none so fine as my own Castle Guards, but not one of them would accept a man like that,” he concluded disdainfully.

From the group of girls, a tall, willowy brunette detached herself and approached saying in the wispy tones of a well-bred lady, “Clementine, come away. If you must be getting into these uncouth situations, at the very least, try to reduce the embarrassment to the rest of us.”

Clementine barely suppressed an eye roll. “We’re not in a ballroom, Helena. None of the
ton
will even know I stopped to help this boy.”

Helena leaned in close to Clementine and whispered fiercely in her ear, “Stopped to help? You practically flew across the grounds yelling, your skirts almost over your head. If you think none of those tattle-mongers over there…” She indicated the group of girls by the gate. “…will pass up the opportunity of spreading your little misadventure about—”

Ettie, who had been listening to this exchange, interrupted, “It’s quite all right. I’m feeling much better. Thank you so much for your timely intervention, but I really don’t need the police or medical—”

It was too late. Ettie saw the flashing lights and the police cruiser screech to a halt at the corner. A uniformed officer got out and, to her surprise, a plainclothes inspector. She drew her breath in sharply and knew she had to act quickly.

Pulling the cap off her head, she said hurriedly, “I think you have all been laboring under the gravest misconception. I’m afraid the blow to my head rather addled my brain, or I would have corrected you earlier.”

The girls and guard stood dumbfounded as the police approached. Ettie recognized immediately the tall, gaunt figure of Inspector Hamilton. His double-breasted woolen overcoat hung open, and a black scarf was loosely tied about his neck.

He stopped in front of the four grouped together against the wall, and his eyes were intently trained on Ettie.

“Miss Speex, I’ve been looking for you.”

Twelve

HER HEAD WOUND cleaned and stitched, Ettie sat in the hospital waiting room. It was unlike any she was accustomed to. Instead of stark lighting and utilitarian plastic chairs, the room was decorated in the warm tones and comfortable furnishings one might find in a private club at the turn of the twentieth century.

It was late, and no one else was about. Her head hurt like the very devil, and she sat with eyes closed leaning back against the cushions of an overstuffed armchair.

She heard the swish of soft fabric and opened her eyes to find Clementine—Clem, as she preferred to be called—standing in front of her with two cups of hot tea.

“Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you.” Clem sat down in the chair opposite and handed Ettie one of the cups.

Ettie took it and replied, “Thanks. And, no, I wasn’t sleeping. I don’t think I could get much rest with this headache.”

“Can’t they give you anything for the pain?”

“Yes. But then it would
make
me sleep, and… well, I really don’t want to until I get some news.” She smiled ruefully. “So I guess the pain is good for something.”

Clem returned her smile and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid.

When Inspector Hamilton had identified Ettie as Odette Speex, a ripple of exclamations swept through the group of girls standing at the gate. Ettie was still unused to her status as minor celebrity in this timeline. The fact that she was a soloist at the King George Ballet and the current paramour of the infamous Earl of Westchester made her a person of intense, if not entirely respectable, interest. Even Helena had inched a bit closer to be privy to any small dollop of gossip that might be forthcoming.

No one besides Ettie seemed to have noticed the earl’s presence at the cemetery. All the same, this story was definitely going to make it into the tabloids. That Odette Speex was accosted near Second Avenue essentially dressed up as a boy, would alert Charlie to her activities and, more importantly, the woman he was meeting and whomever else was involved in the plot.

It had surprised everybody when, instead of taking an incident report or making an arrest, Inspector Hamilton had said in an unexpectedly gentle tone, “Miss Speex, your father was attacked this afternoon and is in serious condition at Saint Mary’s. Officer Guzman will stay and take statements. If you’ll come with me, please.”

They sped away in the police cruiser, and Ettie couldn’t help but be reminded of the last time she had ridden with him to a hospital. She had only hoped that it wouldn’t be to say good-bye to her only surviving parent.

“I’m sorry… what?” Ettie looked up jerkily from her reverie, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her head. “Ouch.” She reached up to massage the back of her neck, tentatively touching the bandaged stitches.

“I said, I saw the Earl of Westchester at the cemetery,” Clem repeated.

Ettie looked at her steadily for a moment before saying, “Do you think anyone else noticed?”

“No.” Clem flashed her dimpled smile. “Believe me, if Helena or the rest of the gang had seen him, there would have been a multitude of furtively cast glances, overloud laughter, and perhaps a turned ankle or two in his vicinity.”

Ettie smiled. The girl was amusing. She had shown up at the hospital a mere twenty minutes or so after Ettie, apparently over the strenuous objections of Helena, who seemed to be the self-appointed ringleader of their particular set of friends.

“Also, I heard the others give their statements to Officer Guzman. No one mentioned him, or the woman.”

“You are certainly very observant,” Ettie replied, sipping her tea.

“One has to be as a poor relation,” she explained, a touch of acid in her usually chipper tone, “and a mixup.”

Ettie looked at the girl with a furrowed brow. She had heard that term bandied about, typically as a pejorative descriptor of the lower classes. It referred to the general mixed-race background of the majority of the poor. The aristocracy and upper classes worked hard to maintain as much of a pale complexion among their number as was biologically possible. Ettie found it nauseating.

She looked hard at Clem and could only see a very pretty girl with large, dark almond-shaped eyes, brown hair, and skin tinged with olive. “You look just like the others to me.”

“It was my grandmother. She was the foreign fruit that polluted the orchard, as I’ve heard some not so delicately put it,” she replied with weary bitterness. “My great-grandfather was vice-ambassador to China. He took his whole family with him to the posting. His youngest son, my grandfather, fell in love with one of the Chinese nannies they employed for the younger children.” Clem smiled with painful self-awareness. “She wasn’t even a noblewoman. Something I’m never allowed to forget.”