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

“Damien?” Millie inquired. “Can you hear us? Damien?” Damien did not respond. “I’d like to check Michael, just a moment.” Millie disappeared from the room, returning in minutes. “He is the same. Elevated heart rate, breathing and blood pressure with high levels of brain activity.”

“What does it mean, Millie?” Gray questioned.

“They’re experiencing something. A dream possibly,” she suggested.

“At the exact same time?” Celine queried.

“That is odd, I agree. Even if this is an effect from the shock wave, their bodies would respond and recuperate differently. It’s almost as though they are responding to a stimulus. Yet there is no stimulus in common. No similar lights, sounds, voices. They aren’t even in the same room.”

“Is there anything we can do to soothe them?”

“Continue to stay with them, talk to them,” Millie suggested. “I’d like to monitor them and note when this activity stops.”

“I will bring the rest of your dinner to you,” Alexander offered.

“Thank you. I’d prefer to stay near them in case anything changes.”

“Should we be concerned?” Celine asked.

“Not at this time. However, the elevated heart rate could lead to something more serious. I prefer to take no chances.”

Celine nodded in agreement. Gray placed his arm around her shoulders, steadying her as she gazed at Damien’s limp form, covered in two blankets. What is happening, Damien, she wondered?

Chapter 19

1812, London

Alexander departed from the house early the next morning, prior to breakfast. The scene the previous evening with Duchess Northcott had the potential to bring serious repercussions. If Duchess Northcott told her husband about the incident, he would exact revenge. Alexander hoped Marcus’ urgent business that drew him from the party lasted well into the evening, and Celine hadn’t the chance to speak with him about it yet.

This still allowed her the opportunity to discuss the subject over breakfast. He hoped she didn’t. He planned to call on her early and determine if there was any way to salvage the situation and avoid a confrontation with Duke Northcott. He would appeal to her good nature, throw himself on her mercy. With luck, he would convince her to forget the incident and make no mention of it to her husband.

He stationed himself down the street from the Northcott residence. Nervous energy filled him as he watched the house. By mid-morning, Duke Northcott emerged, strolling down the street. Alexander allowed him to pass before he hurried to the residence.

Knocking at the door, he waited for a response. The butler answered. “Yes?”

“Mr. Alexander Buckley to see Duchess Northcott,” Alexander presented himself.

“At this hour? The Duchess is still abed.”

“Please tell her I am here. It is quite urgent,” Alexander insisted.

“You should return at a decent hour with your business, sir,” the butler answered, swinging the door closed.

Alexander stopped him. “Please, sir, I would prefer that you announce me now. The business cannot wait. I believe the Duchess will appreciate your service in this matter.”

The butler considered it a moment, then widened the door’s opening. “Please come in, Mr. Buckley.” He led Alexander to the sitting room and requested he wait.

A tense few minutes passed as Alexander waited. After a time, he wondered if she would refuse to see him. If so, should he attempt a second visit? As he pondered his options, the door across the room opened. The Duchess strode in, still in her dressing gown. Alexander leapt to his feet.

“Mr. Buckley, I am surprised you would dare set foot in this house after the incident last night,” she said, stopping across the room from him.

“Duchess Northcott,” he greeted her, bowing, “it is that specific incident that propelled me to call upon you at this hour.”

“Do you wish to continue to defame my husband’s name?”

“No,” Alexander admitted. “I wish to beg your pardon for my cousins’ impropriety. I humbly throw myself on your mercy. I’m sorry to say my cousins may have enjoyed too much in the way of spirits last night. They spoke out of turn. I wish to apologize on their behalf and hope we may consider the incident concluded. In particular, I hoped to request your discretion, particularly where your husband is concerned.”

Celine smirked. “In other words, Mr. Buckley, you wish to learn if I have already discussed the matter with Duke Northcott.”

“I’ll confess that was one of my goals in speaking with you, yes,” Alexander admitted.

“My husband can be a harsh and unforgiving man,” Celine responded. Alexander nodded, fearing the worst. “But he knows nothing of the incident.”

Relief coursed through Alexander. A chance still remained for him to salvage the situation. He had only to convince Duchess Northcott to continue her silence on the subject.

“Do you plan to inform him?” he inquired.

“You have no right to stand in my home and ask me these questions, Mr. Buckley. But in answer, no, I do not.”

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. “Might we then consider the matter closed?” he questioned, hoping to be finished with the discussion soon.

“No, Mr. Buckley, we may not,” Celine answered. A lump formed in Alexander’s throat and his stomach turned over. He was glad he had chosen not to eat breakfast this morning, fearing he may not be able to keep it down. Celine made her way to the couch, perching on the edge. Alexander remained standing. “Please, Mr. Buckley, be seated.”

Alexander seated himself across from the duchess, unable to speak. He assumed she would lecture him on the incident, give him a tongue lashing before allowing him to leave. At least this was his sincere hope over something worse.

“In truth, Mr. Buckley, I am unable to forget the incident,” she began. “It has disturbed me to my core.”

“I understand, Duchess Northcott, I offer my most heartfelt apologies…”

Celine held up her hand, cutting him off. “I do not wish to entertain your heartfelt apologies, Mr. Buckley. I wish only to gain the truth.”

The words left Alexander speechless for a moment. What truth did she wish to gain?

“I’m not sure I understand,” Alexander responded.

“Your cousins accused my