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

In her position, Celine met many people, but none of them had the effect on her Grayson Buckley did. She recalled his stormy blue eyes. They were piercing, almost as though they saw into her soul.

What was it about the Buckleys that struck her so? First, her odd encounter with the Carlyle brothers. They had also made an impression, albeit of a different kind. Something about them seemed familiar to her.

She tried to shake the feeling from her as she removed her cloak. It would pass, she assured herself. If it did not, she would get to the bottom of it. Her gut reactions were rarely incorrect. If there was more she needed to know, she would find out.

Present day, Bucksville

Gray rubbed Celine’s shoulders. “Why don’t you get some rest, Celine?”

Celine shook her head. “I can’t, Gray.”

“He’s fine, Celine. You heard Millie, his breathing is normal, pulse is normal.”

“But his body temperature is still low.”

“It’s nothing to be worried about. It’s only a tad bit low. Millie didn’t think it was an issue,” Gray responded.

“Why is it still low? In both of them?” Celine questioned, leaping from the bed and pacing the floor.

“Reaction to the stress, perhaps,” Gray suggested.

Celine shook her head. “No. No, that’s not it,” Celine responded. “Something else is wrong, Gray. Something is off.”

“There’s no evidence of that,” Gray answered.

“I sense it.”

Gray approached her, wrapping her in his arms. “You’re worried, Celine. With cause. Damien’s condition is a concern, I agree. But we don’t have any evidence that supports it being anything beyond a reaction to the shock wave.”

Celine laid her head on Gray’s shoulder. “I hope you’re right, Gray,” she answered. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am,” he assured her. “Now, why don’t you get some rest?”

“I’d like to stay with him,” Celine said.

“All right. But try to get some sleep.”

“I will. I just want to stay in case anything happens,” Celine responded.

“Okay. Good night, Celine. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Gray. Good night.”

Celine climbed onto the bed next to Damien as Gray left the room. She grabbed Damien’s hand. His fingers were cool to the touch, reflecting his lowered body temperature. She squeezed them between her hands, trying to warm him. “Please be okay, Damien,” she whispered before closing her eyes to sleep.

Chapter 17

1812, London

Damien climbed out of bed early the next morning. He found himself unable to sleep again. While he slept better than he did the previous night, he was now wide awake despite the early hour. As he dressed, a light knock sounded at his door. He opened it, finding Michael on the opposite side.

“Couldn’t sleep, sorry if I woke you,” Michael said, pushing past him into the room.

“I wasn’t sleeping either.”

“I was up most of the night,” Michael admitted. “And after a night’s worth of pondering it, you’re right. We have to be back here to do something and I agree it’s to right whatever wrong occurred between Celine and Gray. Something obviously went haywire, and she ended up married to that jerk, Northcott. Now, why Celine sent us back to 1812, I’m not sure, but she must have considered this the best time for us to do whatever it is we’re supposed to do.” Damien didn’t answer, a slight smile on his face. “What?” Michael questioned, noticing Damien’s expression.

“You’re starting to sound like me,” Damien joked.

Michael chuckled. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Okay, so we agree on what we need to do, what our goal is,” Damien summarized. “Now, we need a plan to do it.”

“That’s where my similarities to you end,” Michael claimed. “I’ve got nothing on that front.”

“Neither do I,” Damien admitted. “While I’d feel WAY more comfortable going to this ball with a plan, this might be one of those times where we have to wing it. We might need more experience with new Celine to form a plan.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Perhaps that’s the issue. I feel so off-kilter with her. In every other instance, we’ve just been honest with her, kind of told her what facts we had, and she pitched in to help us. This time it’s like she’s the enemy. We almost can’t trust her.”

“If she’s as close to the Duke as Alexander says, we can’t trust her, no. Which is why we have to get her to trust us and distrust him. If we could only find some way to prove the angle with her father’s death…” Damien responded, his voice trailing off.

“But how?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a dead-end right now. I want to use it, but right now we can’t.”

They paused in their conversation, each considering the problem. “Okay, let’s go back to working on the memory loss,” Michael suggested. “Perhaps something will pan out there.”

“Okay,” Damien agreed. “Let’s see. You said everyone was concerned for my health. I’ve been wracking my brain about this, but I’m not sure. Everyone’s concern for me implies it was something beyond a common illness like a cold…”

“COLD! That’s it!” Michael exclaimed, interrupting Damien.

“Huh?” Damien responded.

“Shh, wait…” Michael hushed him. His brow furrowed as he recalled it. He let his rambling thoughts spill out of his mouth. “Cold, you were cold… always cold… hypothermic. We had to keep warming you up. Why? You’d be asleep… no passed out, and you’d wake up freezing and sick.”

Damien fed off Michael’s comments, processing the information to aid in his memory recollection. His brain showed him snippets of memories. He struggled to piece them together. “Okay, stream of consciousness here. I remember bits of pieces of things that fit with what you’re telling me. Waking up in the woods sick, near the fireplace at Alexander’s and being wrapped in a blanket a lot.”

“Yes, right! You were always cold. Why were you always cold?”

Damien considered it a few moments longer. “The place I went was cold. I was going somewhere. Where? Why would I be going somewhere alone? And why was it cold there?”

Michael glanced at him. “You passed