Page 51 of The Girl Out of Time
Emmeline froze.
“Where’s the pendant? The two of you are after her. Did you get it already?”
What the hell was he talking about?
Emmeline tightened her grip on Theo’s arm. “De Villiers,” she whispered.
“What?” the man said.
“You’re not getting Starry Night!” Emmeline took a defensive stance. “Only over my dead body!”
The man twirled the cane, drawing a long, thin blade from it. “Thatcan be arranged.”
What in the Shakespearian drama was this?
Emmeline stepped forward, only to flinch away as the blade pierced the sleeve of her upper arm, red drops soaking the fabric. The man advanced a few more inches, keeping the weapon pointed at her. Emmeline pressed a hand on her wound.
Theo feverishly looked around for help—another person to call, to break up this insane situation, an exit, or … the pair of rapiers crossed over each other on the wall.
While the man’s eyes were on Emmeline, he grabbed one and pointed the blade at him. “Back. Off.”
Emmeline let out another gasp, this one sounding more of surprise.
“Are you insane?” the man said.
“I’m having an overwhelming night,” Theo responded with a scoffing smile.
The man’s eyes narrowed for a brief second—then he jumped forward into an attack. Theo parried, moving a step to the side, trying to get him away from Emmeline, who plastered herself against the wall and moved sideways.
He didn’t intend to hurt the man. Perhaps he’d had a drink too many and wasn’t quite in touch with reality. In that case, a scare would do. But the man kept pressing—another lunge there, a feint that nearly lured Theo into his trap, and another forced parry. With a light swishing motion, Theo deflected the blade and followed with a thrust, grazing the man’s neck.
It was a surface-level wound, only enough to draw blood and maybe bring the man back to his senses. Still holding his weapon, he grabbed his neck, then stared at the crimson drops left on his fingers. He looked up at Theo in disbelief. “You hit me.”
And then a dullthudsounded, and the man collapsed onto his knees. Emmeline stood behind him, a blue-and-white porcelain vase in her hands.
“You had it coming,” she said in a shaky voice.
The man grunted on the floor but didn’t get up. Theo ran past him and grabbed her good shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Ye—ah—let’s go.” She grimaced and ran down the hallway. They tried a few doors until one gave in, revealing a bedchamber with moonlight streaming in from the open window.
Theo closed the door and blocked it with a chair. “We need to take care of your arm.” He went around the room, pulling out drawers to find anything useful as a medicine kit.
“Theo. I’ll be fine.” She gently touched his back. “It’s just a scratch. See?”
He squinted at the wound. She was right—it was small, surface-level. A bit of alcohol to clean it up, and she’d be fine.
“How do you know how to fence?” she asked, eyes wide in wonder.
“Lessons.” He walked to the bed—there, on the bedside table! Apparently, this occupant was in the habit of drinking before bed. Literally. “Sit down for a second. Please.”
She did.
He grabbed the decanter, poured a bit of what smelled like a very decent brandy on the wound, and tapped it with a handkerchief from the drawer. Emmeline hissed as the alcohol touched the scratch, but otherwise bore through the procedure patiently and let him tie another handkerchief as a bandage around the arm.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Who was he? You knew him, but he didn’t know you.” The first would be impossible, anyway, if they were in another time.
