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hands shaking. Michael began filling in the story. “It’s complicated. We are friends of Celine’s, at least I assume we are.” He knit his brows, trying to explain the story in a way that made sense. “We…”

Damien interrupted him. “We’re not from this century. We’re from the future. We are aware of what you are, what Celine is, Gray, the Duke, all of you. We’ve traveled back several times to the past courtesy of Celine, who is Celine Devereaux Buckley where we’re from, and her ability to open time portals. Once we traveled to Martinique and we helped her steal a book from Marcus Northcott, the Book of the Dead. We used it to banish him from the earth. Another time we traveled to the year 1791. We helped Celine find her painting, the one Benjamin Abbott painted that captured a piece of her soul. Marcus Northcott stole it and we helped her retrieve it. Now, every time we’ve time traveled before, we’ve remembered the events leading up to it, why we were there and what we needed to do. This time we have no idea how we got here or why we’re here. We have no memory of Celine sending us here. And now you’re telling us Celine isn’t even Celine. Celine is married to the Duke, which can’t be true because we saved her from him back in Martinique. After that, she should have met and married Gray, traveled to America, had a portrait painted of her, left to go to Dunhaven, Scotland, et cetera, et cetera.”

Alexander’s eyes were wide. “That is a most interesting tale, Damien. Although, some of it may be factual, I don’t believe Grayson has even met the Duchess Northcott. I can assure you Celine Northcott has never been to Bucksville. You and I have never met. And I don’t believe anyone has ever gotten close to the Book of the Dead, other than when they’ve sold their souls to Duke Northcott. That covers all of it, if I’m correct. Now, gentlemen, I do not understand the reason for your tales but…”

“They aren’t tales!” Damien shouted. “We need your help!”

“You mentioned being aware of what I am, what Celine is, what Gray is. What did you mean?”

“You guys have supernatural powers. You’re a warlock.”

“And how did you come to this knowledge?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You ask for my assistance but refuse to give me any details?”

“I’m related to Celine. Sort of. It’s complicated. Where we come from, she’s different. She knows us well. She introduced us to all of this supernatural stuff.”

“I see.”

“Look, Damien’s right,” Michael confirmed. “We really need help. We’re floundering here. Everything we know you’re telling us isn’t true. We have no idea why we’re here.”

“And the only way we can get back to where we’re from is with Celine’s help. Oh, unless you can open a time portal?” Damien inquired, hope lingering in his voice.

“I’m sorry. I regret to inform you I do not have that ability. Few people do.”

“So, we’re stuck here,” Damien moaned.

“Unless you can take us to Celine and convince her to help us,” Michael proposed to Alexander.

“Take you to Celine? That’s quite a tall order! I doubt the Duchess Northcott would entertain a call from me, let alone a request for help!”

“You said you were acquainted with her!” Michael insisted.

“I have met her on a few occasions. Acquainted, yes. However, we do not move in the same social circles. She sips tea with the Queen! Heavens, she’ll likely be queen one day. Perhaps I could arrange for you to meet her, but that is as much as we could hope to achieve. A favor, likely not. Duke Northcott and my family are not on the best of terms. I doubt his wife would entertain the idea of helping me or anyone in my company.”

“We have to try!” Damien cried.

“He’s right,” Michael agreed. “We can’t stay here. We aren’t from this century, we have nowhere to go. We don’t even have any money to get by until we figure out a plan. We need help and in order to return to where we’re from, we need Celine.”

Alexander considered the conversation, studying them both. “All right, I’ll help you,” he agreed. “There is something quite odd about all of this, yet I cannot help but feel as though you are being truthful.”

Damien breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said, slumping onto the couch again.

“I cannot promise anything. But we shall try.”

“That’s all we can ask,” Michael said. “Thank you.”

“We’ll call upon Duchess Northcott tomorrow. Let’s determine how she reacts to your presence. For now, I shall have rooms made up for you to stay.”

“Thank you,” Damien answered.

“Yeah, we really appreciate this,” Michael added.

Alexander exited the room. Michael collapsed onto the couch next to Damien. “Wow,” he exclaimed. “This is…”

“Bad,” Damien finished for him.

“Yep,” Michael agreed.

“Perhaps once we meet Celine, it’ll take a turn for the better.”

“Man, I hope so,” Michael added.

Within a few moments, Alexander returned to show them to their rooms. They agreed to get some sleep and hoped tomorrow brought better news. Neither of them could recall any additional details about why they were sent here, nor the events leading up to their visit.

Damien tossed and turned most of the night, sleeping off and on. He arose early the next morning, pacing the floor of his room. A light knock sounded at his door. He rushed to open it, finding Michael on the opposite side.

“Hey,” Michael greeted him, stepping into the room. “Did I wake you? I couldn’t sleep.”

“No, I was awake. Couldn’t sleep either. None of this makes sense. I keep replaying everything over and over in my head and nothing adds up.”

“Yeah, same. And there’s so many questions. Why 1812? Why London? How the hell did Celine marry the Duke? And what are we supposed to do here?”

“I’m not sure,” Damien answered. “Was Celine aware this was going to happen and sent us back without instructions in some kind of rushed panic?”

“Do you remember anything

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