Chapter 1
The moon glowed from beneath the blanket of the cloud cover that hung over the smoggy London sky. Ribbons of yellow-white lights, dotted with the occasional red, green or orange, snaked across the landscape below. The silk of the Thames in the artificial light and moonlight combo the only natural calm in the hubbub of the capital.
The skyline of the ancient city was a modern marvel, tourists of all walks of the live having travelled from far and wide to bask in the splendour. It was the delicate balance of history and modern life that drove the city. Westminister Abbey with a Tescos Metro across the road at the entrance to the underground.. The famed Tower of London with a Witherspoon 30 feet from the grounds, with the 2-for-15 cocktail pitchers just to prove that two very different worlds could exist.
But standing in the darkness of her 25 storey office looking across the gem below, Catie simply felt alone.
With a great sigh and coffee mug in hand, she leaned against the full length window, watching ant-sized cars crawl along the streets below.
Not even 2 hours ago, was she in the heart of that great city beneath her.
Only there were no cars or lorries, no underground or public transport to speak of. No social media and Instagram to suffocate under.
The city of London was pure. Truly London to it’s core with, smiths, merchants and culture in it’s streets.
Catie’s eyes slipped closed at the memory of her final night in 1593. The forbidden kiss of her guide, Thomas, a ghost on her lips as his hand sort out other feminine wonders.
How she had wanted him to continue his quest. After all, 5 months in the thespian’s presence was enough to drive even the most faithful fiance to curiosity, but she knew the rules of her job.
No interactions that would alter the flow of history.
That was the single most important rule; apart from the more obvious ‘don’t tell anyone you travel through time’.
Stopping the man who she had no doubt was Shakespeare’s inspiration for Adonis was perhaps one of the hardest things she had ever had to do on assignment.
And Catie had been tasked with some hairy, morally grey tasks in her time with the Blackwell Glove.
Catie shook her head, trying to clear it of the memory of the beautiful man she almost taken to her bed with over 400 years ago.
She had completed her task and had come home to the 21st century.
That was her job.
She had done it, and done it well.
She was, after all, a historian with the incredibly exclusive opportunity to live history in real time. She should be grateful that she had it. But every time she had to return, she left another part of herself in the past.
She pushed herself off the glass, draining the last of the cold caffeine before she unwrapped the towel from her head to let the freshly washed strand fall down her back.
At least, 2019 had hot showers and Lush shampoo bars. One of the very limited things she missed whenever she was on assignment.
She wandered over to her private bathroom and hung the damp cloth up to dry as the detox alarm sounded around her office. The high pitch squeal that always broke her heart. Signalling the finality of her return, the sound of the pressurised air being sucked from the room and the doors opened told her it was time to return to reality.
Oh, how she hated her reality.
Shaking her head, she collected the appropriate files and papers to complete her assignment before stuffing them in her messenger bag and pulling on her black peacoat. Nothing quite like paperwork to make her feel homesick for the home she had created in the past.
God, she needed a stiff drink and her fiance to stay the fuck out of her hair so she could reminisce about Thomas’s velvet lips and the night that could have been.
Pulling her wide brimmed fedora from the hatstand by the door, she set it on her damp curls and made her way to the lift and the outside world 25 storeys below. And as her phone burst to life with every alert she had missed in the past 5 months, she scrolled through the progression of everyone’s lives as time marched forever onward. Each post on Instagram and Facebook should have made her miss the time she had lost with her friends and family. But all she felt was bored with superficial filters and fake smiles of each and every event that she had missed.
The elevator doors sprung open at the lobby and she winced at the blinding light of a cab’s headlights shining directly into her eyes through the full length windows of the Blackwell Glove building.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and turned her head away. Headlights sucked before going on assignment.
“Catie?”
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name. She threw her hand out to stop the closing lift doors and stepped out of the metal box to see Jess, the tiny red headed receptionist and face of Blackwell Grove.
“Hey, hun. How are you doing?”
The tiny woman stood from her seat and raced around the desk that was situated in the middle of the grand lobby.
“Oh my goodness, how I missed you. Please don’t leave me again.”
Jess’s words were accompanied by an unnaturally tight hug.
Something had happened while she was gone.
“Hey, what happened?”
Catie hugged her friend back, gently caressing the bountiful red locks to try and soothe her friend.
“Mark left me for some runway model he met on location.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know, right? I don’t even understand what happened myself. Just one day we were planning a wedding. The next, he was telling me over the phone that movers were going to arrive in a few days to remove his things and that I needed to pack them up for him because he was boarding a private jet to Marocco with his girlfriend.”
“He wanted you to pack for him? You’re kidding?”
Jess just shrugged and gave a sorry excuse for a chuckle.
“What a pig? And it’s not like you go on assignment either. You are the breadwinner in the unit.”
The red head pulled away, the look on her face telling Catie just how deep a depression she was really in. Mark had taken a toll on her bad.
“I guess. I just missed having you here to talk to, Catie. God, how I missed you.”
Catie smiled softly.
“I missed you too, Jess. Really. There were so many things that I wished I could have picked up the phone and told you.”
“Blackwell invented time travel, how the hell has he not come up with time calling yet.”
Catie laughed at the foreigned disgust in her friend’s voice and hugged her again.
“We have to catch up properly soon. After I’ve had a night in my own bed.”
“Absolutely. We can catch up tomorrow night at the Marlow?”
Catie nodded, smiling.
“Sounds like plan, Red.”
“It’s a date, Lass.”
Catie smiled, shaking her head at the nickname the male agents had given her. Her Scottish roots had been something of a target on her back when she was hired at Blackwell Grove, but as she became one of the leading Historical Acquisition Specialists for the Agency, the term once used to undermine her knowledge and professionalism became a mark of respect.
She said good night to her friend before heading out into the bright London night, making the short walk to Saint Paul’s Station for the next Central Line train. It amazed her how different, yet eerily similar the bustling metropolis was to the city from the night before was. The streets still full of people, the air still full of the sound of life. The buildings were just bigger, with new streets where whole buildings had once stood.
She made her to the platform, pulling out her phone to connect to the Virgin Mobile wifi to continue with her scrolling of social media. Posts about weddings and babies filled her news feeds as she boarded the tube and was sent hurtling through the depths of the city’s sediment layer. She wasn’t even looking for anything in particular.
Until something in the background of a photo her mother had taken caught her attention.
What the fuck?
