Page 68 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

When Rory was just close enough, he reached out through the darkness to grasp hold of Sunny’s shoulder. She let out a little shriek. He felt her tense and turn, so he tightened his grip on her.

And let the voices in.

Past flooded into present through him and into Sunny. It was a battle in the basement. The clash of swords rang out, grunts of men sweating with the exertion of battle, stabbing, shoving, falling, blood spilling. Redcoats fought rebels in the small, tight space.

Prudence was screaming, “Cyrus!”

“Get her out of here,” shouted Franklin Worthy. “Captain, through there. Get her away. Quickly, quickly!”

Prudence screamed again, “No!” But not only Prudence. Sunny was screaming, too, and struggling against his clasp on her shoulder. Rory held on, hoping it was enough time for Kate to make a break, either for the stairs or the tunnels.

Finally, he let go.

Sunny swung away and dashed toward the tunnels. He leapt after her to stop her from learning Hazard’s secret. She would blab it to the world.

But before he could reach her, she tripped over a darting, black shadow, flew through the air, and smacked hard onto stone. She crumpled in a heap at Kate’s feet.

Sunny sobbed, wailing about fighting and reenactors and black cats.

Kate turned up the lantern and said in a calm voice to Rory, “I called 911.”

“Of course you did. When?”

“When I first fell down the stairs, before you got here. My phone was in the pocket of this gown.”

“Of course it was.” Even through the dimness, they smiled at each other.

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer.

“I suppose you took her on a tour of the past,” said Kate.

Rory nodded and Kate’s smile beamed brighter. “She didn’t like it?”

Rory shrugged, “Well, she’s not you. Clearly, she lacked stamina.” He offered his arm to Kate. After a moment, she placed her hand on his arm, and he tucked her in close to his side. They began the jaunt up the stairs, Kate limping and leaning heavily on his strength.

From above, pounding commenced on the front door. A policeman rushed from the courtyard and halted at the top of the stairs. He lent them a hand up.

“The intruder is down there.” Kate pointed. “She shoved me downstairs and tried to keep me there, but Rory showed up.”

Suddenly light flooded the inn. The chief of police strolled in. “I restored the power. Do you have the assailant in custody?”

The uniformed officer nodded, leading a babbling Sunny up the stairs. “The reenactors overwhelmed me. Then that crazy cat tripped me!”

“Reenactors?” asked the chief.

Kate shrugged. “Maybe she’s confused by our colonial garb from the Harvest Festival performance.”

“Do you have a cat?”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t have any pets.”

“She’s nuts,” Rory added. “She’s been stalking me for months, showing up at my concerts and trespassing on the band’s tour bus.”

“Well, that stops now,” said the chief. He nodded to his officer who led a still prattling Sunny out. “Come on, ma’am.”

“It was a real skirmish. They were battling it out in the basement. A dozen soldiers at least, with swords and guns, the old-fashioned kind. They appeared out of nowhere. They must still be down there!”

The officer led Sunny away, even as she continued to rave about reenactors and stupid, freaky cats. “This was all Nolan’s idea,” she wailed.

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