“Touché,” Marcus answered. “However…”
“Let’s not discuss it,” Celine interrupted.
“Have it your way. We seem to be approaching the end of their trail, we should arrive soon. I’ll warn you, entering the Alterra world may be a bit painful.”
“As long as we find Michael and Damien, I don’t care.”
“Here,” Marcus said, pointing to a shimmer appearing in front of them. He removed the vial of Damien’s blood from his pocket. The particles were nearly formed into a complete droplet. “This is the edge of the world they are in. Now we must pass through. You first, I shall follow. Whatever you do, do not stop, continue forward until you are in the Alterra world. Do you understand?”
Celine nodded. “Yes. I understand.”
“All right, Celine. Walk straight through,” he said, turning her toward the rainbow shimmer.
Celine took a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. “Okay. See you on the other side.”
He nodded. She stepped forward, walking into the dancing colors. As she began to pass through the glistening rainbow barrier, her skin began to crawl. As she entered it fully, it felt as though needles raked across her body. Each movement required great exertion. Within moments, the sensation began to wane, replaced again with the crawling skin sensation. As she approached the other side of the barrier, even this waned, leaving her skin pocked with only goosebumps.
She emerged in an alleyway near a broader street. Daylight waned as twilight approached. She glanced around, searching for a clue to her location. Her clothing was from another era, she placed it in the early nineteenth century.
Within moments, Marcus arrived next to her. She breathed a slight sigh of relief. “You know, this might be the first time I’ve ever been happy to see you,” she joked.
“Wonders never cease, I suppose,” he answered. “Have you identified where we are? Or when?”
“Judging from the clothes I’m wearing, which I have no idea how I got, I’d say early 1800s. Location is London,” she answered, pointing to Buckingham Palace.
“Ah, so it is,” Marcus agreed. “Any idea where Michael and Damien may be in nineteenth century London?”
Celine considered the question, shaking her head. She pondered a few moments, then replied, “Damien is good friends with Alexander. Perhaps they’ve discussed the London house. If so, Damien may have gone there to seek help.”
“Let us try there first, then,” Marcus agreed.
Celine glanced at him. “Perhaps I should go alone.”
“No,” Marcus argued. “I will not allow you to wander around this world alone. You’ve no idea the circumstances that exist. Alexander may not be your friend here.”
“Wow! You won’t allow me? And you say Gray treats me like a child,” Celine commented.
“That is completely different. Now, do you know the way?”
“It’s been a while, but I should be able to find it.”
Celine set off toward the Buckleys’ London house. After twenty minutes of walking, she approached the correct street. “Yes, this is right… I think,” she murmured. “It should be near the end of the street. Number four.”
They continued down the street, stopping outside of the number four house. Celine took a deep breath, lifting her skirts and climbing the stairs. “I hope they still own it in this time band,” she commented, knocking on the door.
Within moments, a tall butler opened it. He gaped at them a moment before Celine spoke. “Alexander Buckley, please,” she requested.
Without a word, the man motioned for them to enter, his eyes still wide. “If you’ll wait here,” he managed, showing them to the sitting room. He disappeared, closing the doors behind them.
Celine sat on the couch. “That seemed an odd reaction,” she noted.
It did not take long before the doors burst open again. Alexander rushed into the room. “Celine?” he gasped, his eyes wide. His coloring turned ghost white as he glanced at Marcus. He swallowed hard, wishing in an instant he had left with Gray this morning.
Celine stood from the couch. “Oh, Alexander, thank goodness you recognize me,” she stated, relief washing over her.
He continued to stare at her, confusion and trepidation on this face. He shook his head. “No, it can’t be. This is impossible. You can’t be here. And with him?”
Celine furrowed her brow. “Please, Alex, let me explain,” she stated, in an attempt to calm him. “This may be difficult to understand but…”
“Wait,” he interrupted her, shaking his head, “your accent…”
Celine glanced around, attempting to understand. “What about it?” she asked.
“It’s… American.” Realization began to dawn on his face as the pieces fell into place. “You must be…” Celine stared at him as he paused. “You must be the Celine Michael and Damien talked about, but… how? Are you from another time?”
Celine took a deep breath, preparing to explain. “Yes and no. We,” she said, motioning to encompass Marcus, “are from another time band altogether, an Alterra to this world. I realize this may not make sense to you but…”
“Oh, no, no,” Alexander answered, collapsing into an armchair, “it makes a great deal of sense. More than you realize. An alternate time band, yes.” Alexander stared into space, contemplating it.
“You mentioned a Michael and Damien,” Celine responded. “Are they here?”
“No. You, rather, the Celine from this time band sent them back to their own time last night.”
“Their own time? As in the future?”
“Yes. They said they came from the future. They told quite a fantastical tale about a Celine who had been married to my cousin, Grayson, since the 1700s. I thought them mad at first, but they insisted. You must be the Celine they spoke of.”
Celine nodded. “Yes, I believe so. We’ve come in search of them.”
“But…” Alexander began, glancing between Celine and Marcus, “the story Michael and Damien told me… Forgive me, my mind cannot encompass this.”
Celine sat on the couch. “In our time band, Michael and Damien are good friends of mine.”
“But you are married to my cousin, Grayson Buckley, are you not?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Yet you travel here with Duke Northcott. Michael and Damien were adamant that he was
