Golden Blood (23 page)

Harrison dropped the cumbersome weapon,
bunched his fists and crouched low like Gemma had taught him. The
guard was a solid man who was probably close in age to Harrison,
yet the wear and tear of medieval life had taken its toll. His
lined face was grim and he launched towards Harrison with a stocky
fist.

Harrison used his forearm to block the blow
then drove his full force into the man’s stomach. He bent over
gasping for air and Harrison brought his knee up. The man fell
forward, dazed.

A small smile toyed with his lips as Harrison
stepped back, but his triumph didn’t last long. His plans of escape
melted like butter in a fry pan as the stable filled with a fresh
set of troops. Pain radiated through every nerve in his body as he
was grabbed and roughly dragged into the sunlight.

* * * *

St. Augustine, Florida
- 2011AD

Gemma wiped her face after pulling off her
helmet and throwing it down next to her bike. The house was quiet
when she slammed her way into it.

“Dad! DAD! Where are you?”

“I’m here.” His soft voice made her jump. She
stopped in the kitchen archway. Her entire family was standing
around the island looking somber, but resolved.

Steeling her insides, she straightened her
shoulders and walked into the room.

“You’re taking me back.” Her voice punched
out each word with clarity.

“Gemma…”

“DON’T! I’m not arguing about this. You take
me back or I’ll find a way on my own.”

“He shouldn’t have even been there in the
first place!” Her mother snapped, rising from the stool, her
nostrils flaring.

“Yes, I made a mistake, but that doesn’t
change the fact that we can’t leave him there.”

Her father shook his head and frowned.

“He’ll die!” She slapped the counter.

“He’s probably already dead, Gem.”

“No.” She shook her head with vehemence. “No
he… he’s not. He can’t be. We can go back to earlier.”

“The timing will be tricky.”

“You can do it.”

“You’re not listening.”

“NO! You’re not listening to me!”

“We’re not going back.”

Alistair’s calm demeanor was infuriating.
Pointing a finger at her father, Gemma breathed in just enough air
to keep speaking.

“You are not winning this one. You can’t
control my life this way!” She stepped away from him, her head
shaking. “We have to get him back.”

“We don’t have to-”

“I love him!”

The air in the room went as still as death.
Fear rippled through Gemma’s body as she watched her father’s face
flash black with fury. Her mother closed her eyes and dropped her
head as if she’d just been told the world was about to end. Dom and
Ruby stood wide eyed, their mouths unable to close.

“That is unacceptable.” Alistair was
straining for calm as he muttered the words, Gemma could feel
it.

She wasn’t sure whether it was saying the
three little words out loud for the first time or simply realizing
just how much she meant them, but courage built within her. One
block on top of the other.

“I don’t care what you think! I’m not living
without him!” She practically screamed.

“It is too dangerous!”

Looking her father straight in the eye, she
found her last strand of calm and forced it into her voice. “If you
don’t go back you’ll be guilty of murder and you can be the one who
calls his mother to explain why her son isn’t coming home tonight…
and I can be the one who calls the police.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Penelope huffed and
crossed her arms. “Alistair, she’s being ridiculous!”

Gemma’s jaw clenched as she turned to look at
her mother. “Thinking that I will stay here if we don’t go back and
get Harrison is ridiculous.”

“Gemma.” Her father sighed and put his hands
in his pockets.

“I refuse to live in this house if you guys
do this. I-”

“Gemma! We’ll go back.”

“Alistair!”

“She’s right, Penelope. What will we tell his
mother?”

The room fell silent again, but this was not
a silence of death. Gemma felt hope flutter back up to its perch in
her chest and take a full breath before congratulating her.

She blinked at her tears and smiled. “Thank
you.”

“Don’t.” Alistair raised his hand and warned
Gemma away. She took a step back from him as he walked out of the
room.

The next hour was painful. Gemma answered
numerous questions with as much precision as she could, feeling her
father’s livid rage just barely hiding below the surface. She then
paced the floor outside her father’s office as he did some final
research.

She knew going back was a huge risk. She knew
her father would probably never forgive her for what she was doing.
Various punishments tried to force their way into her brain, but
never quite made it. Her mind was too caught up with making sure
they got to Harrison in time. She could deal with the aftermath of
her confession when Harrison was safely back in the 21st
Century.

The study door opened making Gemma jump. He
assessed her with a cool gaze before heading down the hall and back
to the kitchen. She could feel the animosity radiating towards her
as they huddled around the counter, ready to discuss the mission.
If any of her family got hurt because of this…

Gemma didn’t even want to complete the
thought. She studied the granite counter as her father spoke.

“I cannot be sure of the timing, but I will
do my best to arrive back at the stables just before you left
Harrison. Hopefully we will be able to quickly nab him and make it
back before anyone sees us.”

Gemma nodded and licked her lips.

Her father sighed. “If he is not in the
stables we will conduct a quick search of the castle, but Gemma,
you have an hour. That’s all. I won’t risk more.”

“But, Dad-”

“I WON’T RISK IT!”

Biting her lips together, Gemma dropped her
gaze to the counter again.

“I am only taking Dom and Gemma. There’s no
point risking you two.”

Penelope and Ruby put up no complaint. Gemma
watched Ruby shoot her brother a worried frown. He put on a brave
face and squeezed her shoulder.

Gemma closed her eyes. If anything went
wrong…

“We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

“I’d like to go back to the mall… where I
left. That way Harrison and I can return together.”

Her father’s eyes were black, but he nodded.
“We’ll drive you down there.” His voice was thin.

“It’s okay, I can take the bike.”

“No. I want to be there to collect you when
we get back.”

His voice was ominous. Gemma’s insides
quaked, her stomach rolling into a tight knot.

“Okay.” Her voice shook.

“Let’s go.” Alistair grabbed his keys and
kissed Penelope goodbye. Ruby hugged Dom and slapped him on the
shoulder.

Gemma watched the proceedings, deciding that
if her mother or sister approached with affection she would
reciprocate. Neither of them did. Turning from their baleful
stares, she followed Dom down the hall, trying to ignore the ball
of ice forming in her chest.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Warwick, England -
1393AD

Harrison could not hobble fast enough as the
guards hauled him across the courtyard. Each time he tripped the
grip on his upper arms grew tighter, the pain that much brighter.
White spots flashed in front of his eyes.

One of the guards holding him grunted and
Harrison was lifted from his feet and thrown into a large stone
room. He stumbled to the floor, grazing his knee and tearing a hole
in the worn tights. Blood smeared the exquisite patterned
tiles.

The floor was cold against Harrison’s palms.
With shaking limbs, he pushed himself to stand. He felt a sharp
blade resting against the back of his neck and fell back to his
knees as he surveyed the room.

The great hall was the same size as his
house. He took a moment to admire the ceiling, nearly smiling at
the complex design. His eyes ran down the white washed walls,
painted with moons and stars that flickered with candlelight. He
couldn’t believe he was actually in a great hall, seeing with his
own eyes the castles he had imagined walking through every time he
read Robin Hood or watched an epic movie.

Laughter bubbled in his throat. Everything
was the same… the round fire in the middle of the room, the raised
dais with the baldaquin curtain hanging grandly behind it, the
large chair housing the wealthy baron.

His throat closed off and he dropped his gaze
back to the tiles, suddenly aware that every eye in the room was
studying him.

“Bring him here.”

Two hands clamped under his armpits and
dragged him past the long trestle tables. He was dumped in a heap
at the foot of the dais.

More from curiosity than courage, Harrison
raised his gaze. The baron’s ringed fingers were greasy. He rubbed
them together then licked each one. With a swift jerk, he plunged
his dagger into his trencher filled with succulent red meat. It
smelt divine.

Harrison’s insides began to shake as the
baron’s dark glare bore into his skull. Very slowly, he reached for
his goblet and took a large mouthful. Red juice lined his lips and
dribbled out the edge of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back
of his hand.

“I do not like to be disturbed when I’m
eating.” He cleared his throat. “Especially by rodents who think
they can take what does not belong to them.”

Harrison had to look away. He could feel
sweat beading on his brow, but could not move to wipe it.

“Where’s the prisoner?”

Harrison kept his eyes on the floor and
focused solely on the art of breathing.

“Why do you want him?”

Harrison closed his eyes.

“Where do you come from?”

Just keep breathing
.

“Who are you and WHY ARE YOU HERE?” The baron
slammed the table so hard the goblet fell over. Harrison flinched
at the crash and watched the red liquid drip onto the tiles.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was the only sound in the room.

Harrison’s heart beat like a jackhammer. He
shook his head and bit his lips together. He couldn’t tell the
truth or he’d be accused of witchcraft. He could lie and say he was
a member of the prisoner’s family and just trying to see justice
done, but that would have him thrown in a cell. Barons were not
crossed.

Whatever he said would see him dead.

“So you say nothing.” The baron’s fingers
drummed on the table then clicked.

A shock of pain radiated across Harrison’s
face as a solid fist landed beneath his right eye. His head lolled
to the side as he fought off the scatter of white stars in front of
him.

“I need to know why you are here.” The baron
spoke in clear, slow syllables.

Harrison cried out as the guard behind him
ground his heel into his wounded calf.

“Are you a spy? French maybe?”

Harrison felt like crying when the guard
eventually let up. He whimpered and shook his head.

“And what of the gold dust? Some sort of
witch craft?”

Harrison felt his chest constrict. He
swallowed and forced his eyes to remain on the tiles.

The baron slammed his fists on the table and
stood up. His chair toppled backwards as he pulled his dagger from
the trencher and rushed around to Harrison’s side. Grabbing
Harrison’s face in a pincer grip. He forced eye contact.

“If you are not going to say anything, I may
as well cut out your tongue! You seem to have no need for it.”

Harrison’s eyes grew wide and his head shook
in desperation.

“Then speak!” The baron let go of his face,
disgusted.

“I… I cannot, your Grace.” He thought of
every period piece film he’d ever seen and went for the best
British accent he could. It sounded pathetic so he mumbled the next
line. “I am sworn to secrecy.”

The baron’s eyebrows rose. “Even if it costs
you your life?”

Harrison blinked. “Yes.”

The baron shot up straight as an arrow.
Spinning the dagger point on his finger, he paced around Harrison’s
quaking form. Bending low, he grabbed a handful of Harrison’s hair
and yanked it back until tears formed. His breath was hot and foamy
in Harrison’s ear. “There is much pain to suffer before death, oh
brave one. I will get the truth one way or another.”

Harrison felt vomit searing his
esophagus.

“String him up in the dungeon.” The baron
flicked his hand at the guards. “I’ll deal with this after I have
finished my food.”

With a flick of his robe, the baron returned
to his seat and Harrison was dragged from the hall, past ogling
eyes. He could handle the looks of curiosity and disdain. It was
the pity that had him considering suicide.

* * * *

They appeared simultaneously on the hay.
Gemma crouched against the stall wall and peeked around the corner.
Four guards were standing post at the entrance.

She indicated to her brother and father that
they were not alone. With hand signals and a little lip reading the
trio organized their plan of attack and dispatched the guards
without a sound, dragging them to the back stall.

“The guards weren’t standing post before. We
must have arrived after Gemma left.” Dom pulled off the guard’s
clothing and hurriedly put it on.

“We’ll have to search.” Gemma braided her
hair and flung it over her shoulder, crouching down she tried on
two pairs of the guard’s shoes, but none fit. She wriggled her toes
with a frown.

“Damn it. I don’t like this. He may already
be dead,” Alistair said.

“Dad, you said we had an hour. You
promised.”

“I didn’t promise anything.” He looked away
and cursed. “Dom, you circle right from the stables, I’ll go left
and we’ll meet at the southern tower. If we haven’t seen him by
then we’re leaving.”