Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) by Nellie Steele (english novels to read txt) 📗

“I am.”

“Alexander, this is madness. You cannot set foot in that house.”

“I realize the danger; however, Duke Northcott should not be at home.”

“This is foolish,” Gray warned.

“That may be, but as I said, something about them draws me to want to help.”

“Be careful, cousin. Those two may draw you further into trouble than you’d prefer.”

“I will, Gray. Thank you.”

Chapter 15

Michael collapsed on the couch in the sitting room. “That went well,” he stated. “Why, no matter what happens, does that guy dislike us?”

Damien took a seat across from him in an armchair, shaking his head. “Gray? No idea.”

“Yeah, Gray. ‘Your fantasy is pointless.’” Michael imitated.

“What could have happened? How were we not there to help Celine?” Damien questioned.

“I’m not sure,” Michael admitted. “Did the Duke change history again?”

Damien considered it for a moment. “How? Did he stop us from meeting her at all when she was sixteen? Why don’t we remember it?”

“Our memories aren’t too good these days.”

“Good point,” Damien conceded. “Let’s try to work on that again.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed. “Where did we leave off?”

“We established that Celine was missing.”

“Right. Gray said she had been missing for days. No one had seen her or heard from her.”

Damien pushed his mind to recall the moment. “Yes, right! She left a note that she was going to see Celeste.”

“Yes, that’s right!” Michael exclaimed, sitting straighter. “They said they talked to Celeste, and she didn’t know anything. She thought Celine went home right after speaking with her. You didn’t believe her, and you and Alexander went to speak with Celeste.”

Damien nodded. “That’s right. That’s right. I went to talk to Celeste. She told me the same story. So, what happened? Did we find Celine? We must have, otherwise, how are we here?”

Michael pondered it a few moments, rising from the couch to pace around the room. “We were at Alexander’s a lot. Something was wrong with you.”

“With me?” Damien questioned.

“Yeah. I can’t remember what, but everyone was always fussing over your health. Why?”

They spent the remainder of the morning trying to piece together the mysterious illness that plagued Damien as they searched for Celine. They were unable to do so even after hours of discussion. Their memories continued to be hazy and seemed to be returning in bits and pieces. They gave up as Alexander entered, inviting them to lunch. They planned to leave for the Northcotts’ following the meal.

Damien picked at his food, finding it difficult to eat. Nervous butterflies filled his stomach. What would they find when they arrived at Celine’s new home? Would Celine remember them? Would the entire nightmare end? While it was unlikely things would change in an instant, Damien hoped against hope seeing Celine somehow magically helped their situation.

Using borrowed cloaks, Michael and Damien followed Alexander as they wound through the streets of London on foot. Damien kept quiet, anxiety holding his tongue captive. Michael, too, remained untalkative, also nervous about the upcoming visit.

As they neared the Northcott residence, Alexander informed them they may not even be granted an audience. “Duchess Northcott may recognize my name and find herself too busy to entertain,” he warned.

“I hope not,” Damien mustered.

“As do I, for your sakes,” Alexander answered. “Here we are.”

They approached a stately home with several steps leading to the front door. Alexander climbed them, followed by Michael and Damien. He knocked at the door, giving his name to the butler who answered it. The butler showed them into a parlor off the foyer and asked them to wait. A large clock ticked away the time. Had it not been for the noise, Damien might have assumed time stopped. His leg bounced up and down with agitation. He placed his sweaty palms on his thighs, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves.

Within fifteen minutes, Celine entered the room. Something seemed different about her, Damien noted. She carried herself rigidly, and the friendly countenance he was accustomed to seemed absent. “Mr. Buckley,” she stated in a crisp British accent, “this is a surprise.”

“Duchess Northcott,” Alexander greeted her with a bow. “How kind of you to take the time for my request.”

She offered him the briefest of smiles before perching on the couch across from Michael and Damien. “May I offer you tea?”

“No, thank you, Duchess.”

“Then may I ask the nature of your visit?”

Damien watched the exchange with great interest. Celine was not acting like Celine. The accent alone was odd. When they first met Celine as a young woman in Martinique, she possessed a heavy French accent. When they visited her again in 1791, her accent had waned, replaced by an American one following her marriage to Gray. Damien had never heard her with a British accent. Moreover, she was formal and stiff, nothing like the Celine he knew.

“I desired for you to make the acquaintance of my cousins, Mr. Michael Carlyle, and his younger brother, Mr. Damien Carlyle. They have traveled from the States with my other cousin, Grayson.”

Celine glanced to the two men, holding her hand out, palm down. Damien stood to accept it, bowing to her. Michael followed his example.

“How pleased I am to make your acquaintance,” Celine responded, her voice emotionless.

“As we are to make yours,” Damien answered.

“What business brings you to London, Mr. Carlyle?” Celine asked politely.

“We need your help,” Damien answered.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Celine responded.

“If I may, Duchess,” Alexander interjected. “What my less than eloquent cousin means is we had hoped to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor, Mr. Buckley?”

“Yes. I understand how awkward this may appear; however, my cousins have a great desire to attend a formal London event. There is no one better than yourself to orchestrate an appropriate invitation.”

Celine gave no indication of what crossed her mind, her face remaining expressionless. “You wish me to arrange an invitation for them to an upcoming social?”

“Yes. As I said, I understand this request to be odd, however, you are undeniably the best person in London to speak with.”

“It is odd, yes. However, as you