Christy Poff [Internet Bonds 09] Terms of Surrender [WCP] (pdf)
Leigh Lora Twelve Quickies of Christmas 04 Sarah's Seduction
Christopher Moore The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove (v5.0) (pdf)
Agata Christie BoĹźe Narodzenie Herkulesa Poirot
Christie, Agata Hercule Poirot 21 Morphium
Christenberry Jude WybraĹcy losu Zapach luksusu
Christie Agatha DwanaĹcie prac Herkulesa
Christie Agatha Pora przypĹywu
Agata Christie Entliczek pentliczek
Schaller Christian Pius IX(1)
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
grinding painfully against his. If we were to separate he d spin off into
oblivion, to no place and no time. But there was hardly a moment to fear
it before we were off again, whirling like a top. Hurtling backward, to-
ward Bacon.
As we slowed, my stomach gave a twirl. This should ve been the scari-
est part. We could just as easily have been barreling headlong into a
skull-crushing battle between rival Scottish clans as interrupting a tea
party for the Queen. But the fact that Dev s hand was still clutched in
mine made either option seem less daunting than it should have. We just
had to hope Grubb was a good enough time traveler that he d chosen
somewhere secluded to land.
We slowed to a stop. The vague sense of weightlessness abated. I d
barely managed a sigh of relief when an icy gust tore the breath from me.
Flinching, I burrowed into Dev, dimly noting the crunch of snow beneath
my feet.
It s bloody freezing, I gasped.
I fought the stinging wind to open my eyes. The sun was so bright it
took a moment for my pupils to adjust. As clarity returned, I noted with
relief that we were on a bluff overlooking a large village with big, snow-
clogged homes sprinkled around. Although the cold was unpleasant, it
was a blessing in disguise as, despite the fact that it was a reasonably
populated area, the residents were all indoors. It was likely our arrival
hadn t been witnessed, which was ideal. Less ideal was that although
there was a thick blanket of crusty snow on the ground, it was unmarred
by visible footprints. I swallowed my disappointment.
The snow was at least a few days old, maybe more. So while we d man-
aged to grab Grubb s tail, we d ended up arriving at least that far behind
them. The extra time we d taken on the other side had cost us some ac-
curacy. Now we needed to figure out how much.
The other thing immediately clear was that we d gone pretty far back in
time and wherever we were, it certainly wasn t London.
40/124
Dev released my hand and did a three-sixty, taking in the landscape.
Hard to say where this is. I ve been all over the world, but with the trees
all dead and the snow on the ground it s impossible to tell. Judging by the
architecture, I d say America. New England?
That had been my initial impression as well, but until we came across
something definitive, we d have to live with the not knowing. I shivered
as I dug through the carpetbag, pulling out Dev s coat and my woefully
insufficient cape, grateful that I d at least worn my boots. A moment later
we started slogging toward the nearest house.
It was a large, staid monstrosity, as well-made as it was plain. Despite
the unwelcoming aura of the house itself, gray smoke curled invitingly
from the chimney and the amber light of a lantern flickered through a
small window. We approached and knocked on the heavy door. A man
with a thick beard opened it and peered out with suspicious eyes. He was
dressed in garb similar to what Bacon wore as Pilgrim Number Three in
his elementary school s production of The First Thanksgiving.
Hello, sir. We ve traveled from London and seem to have lost our way.
We hoped you would be so kind as to tell us if there is a boarding house
nearby in which we might pass the night, I said with a smile.
I m unable to assist you, travelers. Continue due east, less than an
hour s walk even in this deep snow. You ll find lodging when you reach
Ipswitch Road.
He began to close the door but I stuck out a foot, wedging it open. Sir,
I apologize for the trouble, but we ve been traveling for some time now,
and our horses have succumbed to the cold. I don t even know how long
we ve been traveling. Can you tell me the date?
The twelfth of March.
Sixteen& I coached him, trying to look faint and addled.
His fierce scowl grew fiercer as he stared down at me. Hundred and
ninety-eight.
Okay, so that narrowed it down. From his accent, manner and mode of
dress I was fairly certain he was a Puritan. I racked my brain trying to
think where the Puritans lived, but realized that Dev was probably right.
Where the hell else did it snow like this in March, besides in New
England?
The man at the door let out an impatient grunt and eyed my foot as if it
were a viper. I ignored him and continued. A member of our party had
gone ahead. Have you seen him? Tall man, ginger hair?
41/124
Something flashed on his face but disappeared a second later as his
scowl deepened. It is time for you to leave. Tis cold enough without the
door opened. The people of Salem Town, past Ipswitch, will assist you.
This time, his face was set and I knew the situation with my foot had
escalated to move it or lose it. I moved it with a smile but my Sorry to
trouble you bounced off the door he d slammed in my face.
If you re ever looking for a new investment opportunity, I m going
with Charm School, center of wherever the hell we are right now, I
muttered to Dev through the side of my mouth.
He didn t respond with the expected chuckle. In fact, he hadn t said
much at all besides commenting on the weather since we d arrived.
You feel okay?
He gave me a grim nod and I realized he was still pissed at me for even
thinking about leaving him behind. I had nothing for him on that. The si-
lence hung heavy between us as we schlepped through the snow, hope-
fully toward shelter.
By the time we arrived, night had begun to fall, dragging the temperat-
ure down to five below snot-freezingly cold. Halfway into our thirty-
minute walk, Dev had wordlessly wrapped his greatcoat around me. I
couldn t move my lips to even argue with him. My whole body quaked
and I was no longer sure whether my nose was still attached to my face.
Right about the time I thought we might be in danger of some serious
hypothermia, there it was. Ipswitch Road. Beyond it lay what appeared to
be a prosperous port town. Shops and smiths dotted the area and the
large homes were more elaborate than those in the village we d first
stopped off in.
We bypassed a tavern that appeared to be closed and approached a
large structure marked Inn. This time Dev didn t give me the opportunity
to knock. He rapped on the door twice and waited.
Ten minutes later, we were seated in front of a roaring fire. The propri-
etor handed us mugs filled with blessedly warm cider as we sat on un-
comfortable chairs, waiting for the servant to make up our bed. I gulped
down the first swallow of sweet, hot liquid, ignoring needles that jabbed
my frozen lips as they came back to life. Once I d managed to thaw a
little, I risked a glance at Dev s stony face.
Fact was, I d underestimated how valuable his very presence could be.
Had I gone alone, I might not have been able to walk around the town on
my own, never mind secure lodgings.
42/124
Just then, a young maid scurried past with a log to add to the fire. Dev
gave her a sweet smile, holding out his now-empty cup. She blushed and
bolted away, only to return with a fresh mug less than a minute later.
Damn if that man couldn t charm the habit off a nun. Add that to his
rock-solid confidence and worldly air, and the people of Salem were
already flitting around like hummingbirds to do his bidding. I had to ad-
mit, he stood to be a great asset on this mission.
More than that, though, I wanted him there. Not only logistically, but
emotionally. He was my rock and somehow over the past five years, I d
come to rely on him& need him. I d been on my own for a long time, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
