50. Chapter 50
Chapter 50
T he sun was rising over the buildings, engulfing the city in the golden light of a new day. The flags and banners fluttered in the breeze, half-forgotten memories of the celebrations. Brayden raced back to the hotel, practically flinging the money at the coachman as he rushed out of the cab. He jumped two stairs at a time, his heart pounding faster and louder as he neared the suite.
The bedroom was still empty. He ran to the other one and pounded on the door. Please let her be in there. “Fabienne? Fabienne!” He burst in.
Empty.
He stepped to the bed. Smooth covers, wrinkled on one end. And a folded piece of paper.
He grabbed it, reading so quickly he could barely catch the meaning of the words.
You know what I did. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you any of it. You told me the less one knows, the better…
He crumpled the paper in his hand. His gaze erratically flicked between various parts of the room, looking for more clues. Closet, the drawers, the writing desk—nothing suspicious. Most of her clothes were still here. She hadn’t packed and left.
Or… she hadn’t packed .
He rummaged through her jewelry box. No pin. The only dragonfly pin in the room was the one in his pocket.
I couldn’t tell you any of it…
In another drawer, he found a glass vial filled with a clear liquid. Medicine? He wasn’t aware she was using anything, but then, he had apparently not been aware of a lot of things. The substance smelled herbal, familiar.
The tea he’d had last evening.
He only had that one cup; fell asleep quickly after that…
Flashbacks came. Fabienne acting strange all those months. How she sometimes looked all wrapped up in her thoughts, preoccupied with something out of his reach, his way of understanding. The insisted walks to the woods, even when it was dangerous. Not a lover, she said, just a man offering her help. I may be immoral, a thief and a traitor …
Was she there? At Petersen’s boardinghouse?
Another image took over. Fabienne and Henson at the reception, talking alone in the corner. The wringing of her hands, her nervous smile—had she been uncomfortable because Brayden interrupted their meeting?
Nonsense. You did the same thing with Henson, suspected him without ultimate proof.
And he was right. He was right about Henson. But was he wrong, all this time, about Fabienne?
He ran to his room and found his watch. Damn the rules and the limitations—he needed answers, needed to know he was right in trusting her; that it wasn’t all one big deception. That he wasn’t in love with a ghost.
The backside of the watch was unnaturally warm. He tried his best to ignore the warning and set it to ten hours earlier. A hissing noise, a little shower of sparks, and a puff of smoke followed. No, no, it can’t be. He finished the activation. Nothing happened.
Broken.
Lincoln dead, Fabienne gone, and he—he was a time traveler , and he couldn’t fix it.
His hand closed around the useless watch, its heat igniting his determination. This wouldn’t be the end. He ran over the options. Find another Watcher with a device that worked? But if it wouldn’t, he’d be wasting precious time, and Fabienne was getting away. No, he’d try to find her first. If he failed, option one remained.
Where would she go? How would she leave? Carriages were more private, but trains were the fastest. The best way to quickly get out.
He’d go to the train station.
***
The cab pulled to a halt, and the strange girl helped Fabienne out. Fabienne straightened up, trying to clear her mind while the girl dealt with the cabbie. Ahead was a building with a steep roof and tall, arched windows. Wrought-iron letters, arranged in a semi-circle, proclaimed it as the Balt she blocked him. Left; again. “Really, you should read, it’s good for you. Or so my sister says.” She pushed the papers into his hand.
“I don’t—”
For a second, grass-green eyes met his. “This will tell you what you need to know. Use it for the Watchers.” She slipped past him and disappeared into the crowd.
Stunned, Brayden needed a few moments to remember what he was doing. He looked to the platform, and caught the last sight of the back of the train as it sped away. More ruckus around him rose as people discovered the city was closing down, and there would be no more trains out.
Too late. She got away. Brayden pocketed the paper roll and brought out the message Fabienne had left him. He stepped out of the crowd, stared at the tiny dot of the train in the distance, then lowered his eyes to Fabienne’s last words.
Remember the deal. You’ll keep me safe, I’ll keep you. Always.