Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“And he knows we’re coming?” Blake asked.
“He does, yes. Caleb connected us.” I cracked my knuckles. “He seemed fine over the phone, but don’t forget Caleb’s warning. If he starts acting up, then my focus is on getting you both out safe.”
“We’ll be fine,” Cassius said with a casual wave of his hand. He seemed a little too confident for being the only human in the trio. It made him much more vulnerable. I’d need to keep a close eye on him before that overconfidence got him into trouble.
I led them to a small Spanish-style home with an arched doorway, its soft red terra-cotta roof bouncing off the sunlight. The slice of a front lawn the home had was cluttered with small windmills, all of them painted white, their blades spinning in the breeze.
“Guess he’s got a thing for renewable energy sources,” Blake said under his breath. I opened the creaking white gate and walked down the crooked cobblestone path. Before I could even knock, the door was thrown open. A man stood wearing a flowing, ocean-blue kaftan, a glass of wine in one hand and a bloody butcher knife in the other. He had eagle feathers coming out the back of both his ears. “I knew I heard footsteps. Are you Xavier Blackthorne?”
I kept my gaze trained on the knife. “Yes, I am.”
Kalen followed my gaze. He lowered the knife and placed it behind his back before taking a long and loud sip of the wine. “Sorry. You caught me as I was preparing dinner. Come in.”
My guard was instantly up. I considered turning back. I should have left Blake and Cassius at the castle.
Fuck. Was I already messing this up?
Kalen walked into his home. Cassius and Blake both looked at me, skeptical.
“Hello?” Kalen called from inside the house.
“Let me go in first,” I said to them. I was on high alert, ready to dip into the time stream at a moment’s notice.
Inside, Kalen’s home was as eccentric as the outside. Instead of a field of windmills, there were tiny wooden figurines all over. On the old brown couch, on the crooked shelves, on the cluttered coffee table. They appeared to be handcrafted, with disproportionate heads that were smaller than the bodies. Wispy blond hair was attached to them. The room smelled of musty carpet.
“What. The. Fuck,” Cassius said under his breath.
Blake glanced around with saucer-wide eyes. Kalen came out from the kitchen, sans bloody butcher knife, and walked over to the only chair in the living room that didn’t have figurines on it. He sat, crossing a thin leg over another. He placed a ring-covered hand over his knee and smiled.
“Well? Are you three here to give me a massage or ask me questions? Because I could use a little stress relief. I’ve been up all night cleaning my Rachels.”
“Your… Rachels?” I asked. Caleb had really undersold just how weird this guy was.
“Yes, my Rachels.” He leaned over the chair and picked up a figurine from under his chair without even looking, as if he knew it’d be there. “These are my pride and joys.”
“They, um, are great.” Cassius held his arms tight around his chest.
“But you aren’t here to speak about my daughters, are you?”
Daughters…
“No, we aren’t,” I said. Blake still stood a step or two behind me. I went to move some of the figurines off the couch so we could sit but was interrupted by a high-pitched screech, something belonging to that of a bald eagle. Cassius swallowed down a frightened yelp.
“Don’t you dare touch them.” Kalen jumped to his feet and gathered the figurines off the couch. He was delicate with them, but the look he gave us was one of pure anger. This encounter was giving me terrible vibes. How were we going to get any valuable information from someone acting like this?
“The lack of respect is shocking.” He cooed at the figurines he cradled in his arms before gently setting them down on the coffee table with the others. He turned his green gaze toward me. “What is this about?”
“We’re here to ask you about this symbol.” I took a folded paper out of my pocket and handed it to him. He snatched it, nearly tearing the paper. He unfolded it, took a look, and then turned his dark eyes upward to the ceiling. The feathers behind his ears twitched.
“I should have known to never invite this into our home.” He looked back at us, eyes raking across our faces. “I am no longer a part of the movement. I need you to leave. Immediately.”
“Movement?” Blake broached.
“If you do not know of the Time Turners, then I am not one to educate you. Go. Now.” He stepped forward, holding the kaftan tight around his thin frame. The tension in the cramped and cluttered room rose. It felt as if someone had placed a lid on the house and set the temperature to boil.