Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A fter supper, the companionable little group slowly dispersed, with cheerful promises to meet back at the same table the following evening. Amelia was pleased to hear it. She’d been a little worried about feeling isolated out here — almost as worried as she had been about being mobbed by fans, which was an entertaining little irony. But knowing that there were a handful of solo travelers who’d welcome her back to their table made her feel good… as did the lingering gaze of the handsome young man who she bumped into at the bar, as if by accident. They shared a glass of wine and talked a little more, and though she studied his face closely when she told him she was a professional fighter, his flash of surprise seemed genuine.

Still, her most recent encounter with the opposite sex warned her strongly against taking things too far on this first night — so once she’d finished her drink, she bid Steven goodnight and made her way up to bed, hoping that the wine-related sleepiness she was feeling would be enough to overcome the strangeness of the time difference between this place and back home. It helped that the bed was one of the most comfortable she’d ever climbed into, of course. She had just enough presence of mind to remember to switch her mobile phone alarm off, and for the first time in months, drifted off to sleep without the knowledge that she’d be woken before dawn for a grueling workout.

But old habits died hard, and a well-rested Amelia was still among the first sleepy guests in the dining room for breakfast. She treated herself to exactly what she felt like, a carb-heavy plate of buttered toast and sweet breakfast pastries, then headed out onto the patio to eat them. It looked like they were in for some of that famous Scottish weather, she thought, looking thoughtfully up into the dark gray sky. A thin mist of rain was already falling over the grounds, giving everything a dim, romantic feel, and though she could hear the dismayed reactions of other guests through the patio doors behind her, it wasn’t enough to dim her good mood.

Her first scheduled activity of the tour would be taking place later that afternoon — a tour of what had once been the servants’ quarters, led by what the brochure claimed were actual time-travelers. It would be cheesy as hell, no doubt, having actors lead them around the manor, and Amelia couldn’t wait. She was on holiday — she was allowed to indulge in as much cheese as she liked. Besides, she was looking forward to exploring the building a little more. The grounds were beautiful, and the facade of the manor itself breathtaking, not to mention her room… she was looking forward to seeing the rest.

But that left the morning to kill, and she had a feeling she knew what she wanted to do. Last night at dinner, the history teacher — Margaret — had mentioned that there were all kinds of ruins in the area, many of which weren’t as well restored as Weatherby Manor. The biggest tourist attraction was the castle, of course, which stood about twenty miles away across the moors and through the forest — but there were smaller points of interest between here and there, much less frequented by tourists, which was a major draw for Amelia. And so, once she’d finished her breakfast, she set out on foot to explore, a map from the receptionist tucked under her arm. The woman had gone to such a lot of trouble to find it and give it to her that she hadn’t had the heart to tell her she’d most likely just navigate with her phone.

The light rain was still falling, but as a Seattle native, Amelia wouldn’t have gotten far in life if a bit of rain could stop her. She’d brought a lightweight, hooded rainproof jacket with her for just such an occasion, and she lifted the hood as she set off down the driveway, headed for the gates. There wouldn’t be enough time to get to the castle ruins today, so that particular trip would have to wait, but she was eager to explore what lay closer to Weatherby’s for the time being. Perhaps she could accompany Margaret to the castle, if the little friendship they’d struck up last night continued to grow. It would be nice to have a well-informed companion with her as she explored.

Amelia had been ready for the rain, but what she hadn’t expected was the fog. What had seemed like a light morning mist while she’d been eating her breakfast looked a lot more formidable on this side of the wall, and though the occasional patch of sunlight broke through the thick gray clouds above, it didn’t do much to the mist. She found herself checking and re-checking her phone, wary of how unreliable her signal was out here — and grateful, after all, for the physical map that the receptionist had fetched for her.

Her initial plan had been to wander from the path whenever she felt like it, but with the thick, ominous fog pressing in on her, Amelia quickly revised that plan. Stick to the paths, she told herself. There’d be plenty to see on the beaten track — she could worry about finding the more elusive spots when visibility was a little higher. Even on the path, though, the fog was formidable. She found herself losing track of time as she walked, her footsteps oddly loud, as though the fog was magnifying their volume — and oddly enough, making her feel even more alone than she was.

It wasn’t long before she decided to turn back. Jacket or not, the rain and mist were making this trip miserable, and she was already thinking fondly of the restored fireplace in her room and revising her plans to an afternoon spent reading by a crackling fire. There’d be plenty of time to explore later… and if there wasn’t, well, she’d come here to rest, not to map the whole of Scotland. She dropped into a light run as she turned back, eager to see the manor gates come into view.

But they didn’t. Amelia checked her phone a few times, frowning as she tried to remember exactly when she’d left the manor — surely she should have been back by now. She’d only followed this one path, and yet the trees just kept coming, wreathed in that thick, billowing fog that was beginning to press in on her face and throat, not just on the path ahead of her. Her maps app was struggling to update her location, and she grimaced at the endlessly spinning wheel — and the zero bars of service blinking at her from the toolbar. Annoyed, she jammed the phone back into her pocket and pulled out the map instead, but that wasn’t much help either — it only told her what she already knew. The path she’d come along was a straight line from the gates — she should have reached them by now. She thrust the map back into her pocket and ran for another ten minutes for good measure, an easy mile — and still, the horizon remained stubbornly free of manor gates.

Amelia was actively beginning to worry, now. It could only have been midmorning, and yet it felt strangely dark under the trees, for all the world as though the sun out there was setting. Perhaps her jetlag was to blame? She’d been feeling fine earlier, but they did say it came in waves sometimes… could delayed jetlag be responsible for her having somehow gotten lost on a straight path? Maybe she’d taken a weird turn without realizing it. Maybe she’d set off down a different path altogether. Maybe?—

And just as she was talking herself into a frenzy, as if in mockery of her rising panic, there they were. The gates to Weatherby Manor, looming proudly over the trees in the distance. Her relief was so sharp she let out a wild burst of laughter, before immediately clapping a hand over her mouth, embarrassed. Still, the uneasy feeling didn’t quite leave her… especially when she drew closer to the gates and realized that they were shut. They’d been wide open when she’d left, wide open the day before when she’d arrived… were they in the habit of closing them during the day, for some reason?

And that was the other thing. According to her phone, the last time she’d looked, it was barely past ten in the morning. But where the trees gave way to clear room for the gates, she could finally see the sky — and she didn’t like what she was seeing. Not only were the thick, gray clouds of that morning completely gone, something else had changed, too. The bright, clear sky above her was pitch dark and blanketed with stars.

What the hell was going on here? She’d been known to lose track of the time before, especially when she was interested in something, but she’d never walked into the woods in the morning and emerged well after nightfall. Amelia stood staring at the sky like a woman who’d never seen it before, her mind racing helplessly in an attempt to explain what was happening.

How could she have lost hours of her life without even noticing that something was wrong?