Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) Nellie Steele (if you liked this book .TXT) 📖

Damien reflected for a moment. He shook his head. “No, nope. Nothing.”

“Okay, okay, let’s start with what we do remember and try to work forward. Perhaps then we’ll have an easier time remembering.”

“Good idea. What’s the last thing you remember clearly?” Damien inquired.

“You brought up going to 1791 to retrieve Celine’s painting. I remember that, do you?”

“Yes. Yes, I remember that. I remember that painter. The painting at the barn. The Duke broke Abbott’s hand. Celine pulled a second Celine from a mirror and we stole the painting from the Duke’s bedroom. And we hid it in another painting.”

“Right. Ships in the Harbor! That’s how I remember it too. And then the Duke caught us, and we thought we were doomed. Or at least, I did. Then Celine hit him with a fireball, and we ran.”

“Yeah, and she met us a few minutes later and sent us home.”

Damien nodded in agreement. “Then what?” Damien paced the floor, deep in thought. “We told everyone we found the painting.”

Michael considered it. “Yeah… no! Wait!”

“What is it?” Damien questioned.

“Was everyone there? We were in the unused wing. In that room the kids took us to when we first arrived at the house.”

“I remember Gray,” Damien paused. “And Alexander.”

“Yes, I remember both of them too. But where was Celine? She wasn’t there.”

Damien pondered. “She wasn’t?”

Michael reflected again. “No, I don’t remember her being there.”

“Where would she have been?” Damien questioned.

Michael paused. “Gone. She was gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“No one knew. Gray said she went missing right after we left. That same night.”

Damien shook his head. “No,” he paused. “No… oh wait. Wait, yes. Yes, you’re correct. Celine wasn’t there. She was missing.”

“Right. Then what?”

“I’m not sure,” Damien admitted.

“Me either,” Michael replied. “Umm.”

A knock sounded at the door. Damien opened the door. “Good morning,” Alexander greeted him. “I hope you slept well.”

“Good morning,” Damien answered, standing aside to allow him to enter the room. “The accommodations were most suitable, yes. Thank you.”

“Ah, and Michael. Good morning.”

“Good morning. Yes, we were just… brainstorming what happened, the best way to proceed.”

“Ah,” Alexander responded. “I hope I am able to assist you. However, I must admit I am quite at a loss.”

“So are we,” Damien informed him.

“My cousin, Grayson, arrived in the wee hours of the morning. It may help if you recount your tale to him. Perhaps we can solve something that way.”

“Gray’s here?” Damien asked.

“It’s not a tale,” Michael added before Alexander responded.

“Yes, Gray is here. If you’d like to join us for breakfast, you can relay the information to him.”

“We’d be happy to,” Damien answered. “Lead the way.”

Alexander showed them to the dining room downstairs. Gray sat at the dining table. He rose as they entered the room. “Gray, may I present Michael and Damien Carlyle? These are the men I told you about earlier.”

“Grayson Buckley,” Gray introduced himself, extending his hand. “A pleasure.” Michael and Damien each shook his hand. “My cousin tells me you have quite a unique story.”

“Please help yourselves to breakfast,” Alexander said, signaling to food on the sideboard. “We can discuss this over our meal.”

Michael and Damien helped themselves, sitting at the table across from Alexander and Gray. “So, what is this story?” Gray inquired.

“Ah, well,” Michael began, glancing around the table. “We don’t come from this era. Where we come from, we know you, all of you. But things are different there.”

“That sounds sufficiently vague. Care to give any details?”

Damien chimed in, “We’re from the future. I realize how crazy that might sound, but it’s true. We’re very good friends with Celine. She’s sent us into the past twice already. Both times we’ve remembered why we were there and had a clear goal to achieve. This time we don’t remember the events leading up to this or what we’re supposed to do here.”

“Tell Gray about the scenario you explained to me regarding Celine,” Alexander requested.

“About who she’s married to?” Damien inquired.

“Yes.”

“Where we come from Celine is married to you, Gray. She’s been married to you for a long while,” Damien explained.

“Me?” Gray questioned; his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Damien answered.

Gray roared with laughter. “I’ve never even met the woman. Nor do I imagine I would care for her at all if I did.”

“But…” Damien began.

“Any woman who can marry a man like Marcus Northcott would not be my cup of tea.”

“I don’t understand how that happened either, but it’s plausible. That night she became…” he paused, searching for the words, “a witch was horrible for her.”

Gray stared at Damien, unimpressed with the explanation. “Regardless, as is obvious, we are not married and never will be. This fantasy you have created, while you may find it amusing, is pointless.”

“It’s not a fantasy,” Michael countered.

“It is not reality,” Gray argued.

“In either case,” Alexander chimed in, “something must be done to assist you gentlemen to return to your proper place.”

“Thanks,” Damien said. “We appreciate your help. When do we leave to visit Celine?”

“You’re taking them to meet her?” Gray questioned.

“Yes. I promised to pay a call, allowing them to meet her.”

“That is unwise,” Gray counseled.

“I couldn’t see how it could hurt,” Alexander argued. “If my sources are correct, she accepts visits today between one and three in the afternoon. We shall try at half-past one.”

“Great,” Damien answered, finishing his breakfast. “We’ll work on trying to remember more in the meantime. Perhaps it will help when we speak with Celine.”

“Please feel free to use the sitting room. It should be available for the better part of the morning,” Alexander informed them.

“Thanks,” Damien answered. He and Michael stood and left the room, making their way to the sitting room where they met Alexander the night before.

“Interesting pair,” Gray remarked as they departed.

“Their story is fascinating,” Alexander answered.

“And untrue.”

“They disagree.”

“I don’t doubt it. Insane people tend to believe their stories are true.”

“They don’t seem insane.”

“Could have fooled me,” Gray replied.

“There is something about them that intrigues me. Something that draws me to believe them.”

Gray rolled his eyes. “You are too kind, Alexander. You aren’t serious about calling