Graymere

Graymere manor was an odd place. It didn’t help that I spent most of my time there asleep, occasionally catching pieces of conversations. Sometimes I can’t tell what’s real and what’s only a dream or hallucination. I suppose I am still a prisoner, in that I can’t leave, but Graymere manor feels more like a hospital than a dungeon.

“Know your people,” my former captain’s voice echoed in my brain. “Their strengths, weaknesses, motivations.”

My scanner had been taken from me long ago, though I doubted there would be much information on these people anyway. I would have to rely on my brain, which was already wacky from whatever drug they were giving me to help with my shoulder. Or maybe that was the infection. I couldn’t be sure.

So there’s Carm: an older woman who functions as a motherly figure to the children. She seems very kind-hearted, even to me, and wants to keep the children safe. She cares too much. That’s her weak spot.

Fenris hangs on to every word from Art’s mouth like it’s pure gold. He may be the family’s butler, but he’s loyal to that boy only. His physical speed and strength are exceptional, even in my time. Maybe if I had weapons, I could take him. Maybe. The best way to control him is through Artemis. Every command that boy gives is binding.

Artemis acts like he’s a lot older than he actually is. He craves power but feels as though his autonomy is being constantly threatened by his nanny and older sister. That’s why he has Fenris, a powerful man he has ultimate control over.

Mere seems like a more intense version of an attack dog and not at all human, so I will more past him for now. I will say that he seems to be following the rules of vampirism set by Bram Stoker.

And then there’s Sapphire. Oh, where do I even begin? Her emotions change so often that it’s hard to understand what she wants, really. First she wanted to get to Mortimer. She was willing to torture me to get information. And now? She’s fussing over my sick bed like Carm, worrying about my recovery from a wound she gave me. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll die before I can tell her what she needs to know. Maybe she’s starting to-

My eyes flashed open, my mind still spinning from my dreams of a toy train and cerulean eyes. The train disappeared, but the eyes were still here, watching me from the chair near my bed. Sapphire Graymere was sitting with a foot in the chair so she could rest her elbow on one knee. Her black trousers told me that she shared my hatred for Victorian dresses.

“So,” she began once she saw I was fully awake, “ready to talk?” Somehow it didn’t sound menacing. It was more like a friendly question, but I knew the real meaning behind the pretty eyes and pouty smile. She wanted to know about Mortimer, about everything that I was not allowed to tell her.

“About what?” I asked innocently, yawning as I did so to show I was still groggy with sleep.

She moved her leg down to the floor and walked towards me, using her threatening voice as she did so, “Don’t play dumb with me, Leah. I know you’re a time traveler.”

“Wait,” Stop talking, my mind said. But somehow the message didn’t get to my mouth. “So if you already know that, then why am I being interrogated?”

Fire placed an icy palm on my forehead to measure the temperature. “I’ll make this simple for you. I need-” she paused and cursed under her breath. She didn’t seem mad at me, though. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Why isn’t what working?” I asked. She let out a frustrated sigh in response but otherwise ignored me entirely. My fever must still be high. That would explain why my head hurts so much.

“I’ll be frank with you.” Fire said, changing the topic. “I need to get to Mortimer.”

“Why is that so important to you? You have a life here, a family. Why are you trying to run away from that?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped, turning back to face me. Her gaze was so intense I could feel my body shaking, though that might be from the infection. “Do you see that death trap on your wrist? You have to get back to Mortimer soon too, or else Carm’ll be cleaning ashes off my bed.”

She was right. I did have to get back. I had a week to begin with, but I had spent time at Luka’s shop, as the asylum, and who knows how long asleep in this bed.

4 days 17 hours 35 minutes 2 seconds and counting was what I had left.

Somehow, all I could think to say was “this is your bed?”

“You’re insufferable” she said, but a small smirk formed at her lips as did so, “but despite your weaknesses, you seem to have a knack for surviving. I just hope that’ll continue long enough to get me to Mortimer.”