Page 3 of Stay with Me

No one would have to know she’d found this, would they? No one would care since it was such an insignificant amount. It might not even be holy water.

Even as her conscience played a tug-of-war, already her integrity was winning. She had to do the decent thing and put the test tube into the collection of important items in the investigation. She had no right to it.

She twisted the stopper and a slight dampness brushed against her thumb. Had some of the contents been on the stopper? Was it now on her skin?

It wouldn’t hurt to test it.

The trouble was, if it really was holy water, there was no telling what might happen to her. Every time she’d watched someone drink it, they’d fallen unconscious or into a coma. She wasn’t sure what such a slight amount would do—probably nothing—but she needed to be careful, just in case it made her woozy.

Harrison had proposed that holy water could not only heal diseases, but that somehow it also allowed people to cross the space-time barrier after putting them into a coma.

It had most certainly put Harrison into a coma, and he claimed he’d traveled to the year 1382 during his unconscious spell. He’d never lied to her before and had no motivation to fabricate a story about going to the past. At the same time, she wasn’t ruling out the possibility he’d had nothing more than a realistic dream while he’d lain comatose.

She bent and sniffed her thumb. It was odorless. Would it also be tasteless? She wouldn’t be a good investigator if she didn’t find out, would she?

She crossed to the hospital bed where Dr. Lionel had kept Ellen as his prisoner. She perched on the end. Then before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted her thumb and licked the damp layer.

A wisp of wind and warmth whispered around her, sending goosebumps over her arms. In the next instant the blowing turned into a roar that swept through her body. The electricity went out, and all turned dark.

Except for a faint glow behind her.

In the space of a few seconds, her senses went on overload. Mustiness, soil, maybe even the stench of urine assaulted her nostrils. Cold, damp air crept around her. And a strange silence set her on edge.

A door with iron bars stood several paces away. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but with each blink the door only came more into focus and took more shape. Where had it come from?

No, it wasn’t real. She was hallucinating.

She closed her eyes.

Before she could open them, a man’s hand snaked around her mouth and clamped down hard.

~ 2 ~

“Who are you?And from whence do you come?” The harsh question rumbled near Sybil’s ear.

In a maneuver she’d practiced more times than she could count, she grabbed the man’s arm and jerked him forward. In the same motion she squatted so that he landed on her hip. From there she rolled and flipped him over her back high enough that he flopped on the ground in front of her with a thud and anoomph.

Before he could react or catch his breath, she bent and squeezed his windpipe and at the same time pressed her knife to his jugular.

His face contorted with obvious pain. His eyes pinched closed. And his mouth clamped shut, as though to hold in a moan.

Even with the tautness of his features, she could see that he was in his mid to late twenties, close to her twenty-seven years. His jaw and chin had a layer of scruff that matched his dark hair. Most of it was tied at the back of his neck, but some strands hung loose. His features were sharp, strong, and almost regal. But it was obvious he was injured.

And not because of her defensive move. It wasn’t intended to harm, just disable an attacker. Her pressure against his neck was meant to do the same.

She loosened her grip but waited warily. It was possible he was acting weak so she’d lower her guard. But she was too smartfor that. She’d seen the tactic used all too often during her years working as a police constable.

The real question was, how had this man entered the lab without her being aware of his approach? Had he disabled the power lines? And why wasn’t Isaac coming to her aid?

“Did Simon send you?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Did Dr. Lionel send you?” She didn’t move her knife. But as she finally glanced at the source of the light, her hand faltered.

A candle rested on a bare patch of floor.

An earthen floor. Dirty straw scattered about. A few plain blankets. A wooden bowl, empty except for a scattering of bones picked clean. And a large pot in the corner.

Sweet holy mother. This wasn’t the lab.

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