Some Enchanted Dream: A Time Travel Adventure (Seasons of Enchantment Book 2) (15 page)

The painted signs on the wall in English as well as French said
'A new revolutionary formula for an old classic--try Lune Nuit Absinthe--a curiously strong yet refreshingly light concoction of inspiration and delight, one free glass per customer
'. 

Gisele moved up to the counter and boldly asked for two samples.

Tara wedged between two men to stand behind her so the attendant would not chide her friend for ordering two glasses when signs everywhere clearly stated one sample per customer. She met the eyes of the waiter and her mind went numb with fear.

The raven-haired man held her startled gaze. His ebony brows arched up, making him appear Satanic. The cold obsidian eyes seemed to bore into her mind like talons.

Panic roiled within as she stepped back, away from the counter and bumped into the man in line behind her. A rapid string of French drifted past her as she bowed her head and slipped further into the crowd, away from the pale yet dark server with those predatory eyes.

Gisele was oblivious to the exchange. She turned from the counter with a ready smile, bearing two glasses of the green drink for them. Gisele nodded toward an empty table. Tara glanced back, beyond Gisele's wide brimmed hat. The barkeep was watching them still, marking their progress, watching
her
. Dark eyes narrowed as she met his gaze, as if in warning. 

Her stomach clenched. The air was thick with an undercurrent of darkness that made her flesh prickle and her heart sink with dread. The laughter continued around her, raucous, bawdy laughter that grated against the skin and bit into the nerves. She glanced about at the people who seemed caught up in a wild, unnatural wave of euphoria, who seemed oblivious to the malevolence hiding among them.

After they took their seats Tara turned in her chair to get another glimpse of that creepy bartender again. Another had taken his place, a golden blond lad who looked to be all of seventeen. The frightening man had gone to the back of the room and was conversing with another who had the same dark, sinister appearance. They turned at the same moment, as if sensing her gaze upon them.

"Run, Tara . . .
Run
!" The voice belonged to the woman from her dream,
Artemisia
. 

Tara looked about her, hoping to find a corporeal entity to match that tinkling, bell-like whisper. Men were standing at the wall behind her. Gisele was the only woman within whispering distance. She placed a hand over her heart to still the erratic thumping between her breasts.

"Do you not want this?" Gisele prodded, pushing the small dram glass toward Tara. "You must taste it. A new recipe. It is like a glass of magic, it will make you feel better."

"No, I--I--I need fresh air." Tara wanted nothing more than to get out of this place, away from those men. She rose and stumbled to the arched entrance on heavy feet and out onto the main corridor. She leaned against the cool stone facade wall to capture her breath and recover from this inane bout of panic.

"Tara, there you are." Adrian pushed his long, lanky frame away from the arched entrance of the dress exhibit and came striding toward her in the gathering gloom.

The corridor lights came on, dispersing the lengthening shadows. She could see he wasn't limping or leaning on his cane for support. Adrian was marching with a purpose, his cane held aloft like a king's scepter instead of a crutch. "I was worried, dearest. You weren't in the exhibit."

Dan lingered outside the clothing exhibit, his tall silhouette merging with the wall as he finished lighting his cigar. He dropped his booted foot from the wall, waved the match and tossed it away, and then slowly ambled after her husband.  

Adrian came to her side and pulled her into his arms, despite the perturbed looks from the matrons passing them. "Sweetheart? You're shaking. Did something frighten you?"

Chapter Twelve

"Where is Gisele?" Dan came clomping down the corridor to stand beside them.

"She's in there," Tara pointed to the entrance behind her. The sick feeling in her gut was going away. She leaned into Adrian's solid frame as Dan went into the shop to find Gisele.

Her husband had removed his jacket and was placing it about her shoulders. "Perhaps this outing has been too much for you, darlin'." He lifted her chin with his thumb and was peering at her with worried eyes. "We should go home."

"I would like to watch the lights come on at the tower first. Why don't we go sit in the open air?" Tara wanted nothing more than to retreat from all the grandiose displays for a little while and recover her senses. There were rows of chairs set up on the walkway below the fountain so visitors could sit and watch the lights come on at dusk. 

"I'll tell Dan where we're going." Adrian left her side and entered the cafe.

Tara leaned against the wall for support in his absence. She pressed herself flat against it to hide from the men inside who had been discussing her moments ago. Why did she feel such an overpowering sensation of dread and panic from merely meeting the eyes of a bartender? Was he a serial killer, a French version of Jack the Ripper? The Ripper was loose in London about now. There was no rational explanation for her reaction to him and his associate.

Within moments, her husband returned with the news that Dan wished to remain at the exposition and would bring Miss Tisante home later that evening.

"You're tired, my love. It might be best if we returned home after the lighting of the tower." Adrian's calm, soothing tone brought peace to her fraying nerves. Tara nodded and allowed him to escort her to the fountain so they could view the moment the tower was lit.

Dan had a bad feeling about this place. He glanced around him at the men and women enjoying their free glass of Absinthe and felt as if he'd entered a grotesque scene from a horror movie. He couldn't put his finger on what it was he felt. The air was charged with the promise of something wicked creeping close like silent tendrils of fog across a misty dawn landscape.

"Is Mrs. Dillon unwell?" Gisele asked, her bright sapphire blue eyes darting furtively for the door. "She left so abruptly. She did not even taste her sample."

Gisele was the reason Dan stayed behind. He wanted to get her safely away from whatever had frightened Tara. If Tara sensed a malevolent presence, he could not in good conscience leave Miss Tisante in the center of it.   

"They're off to view the lights at the fountain, then I believe Dillon is taking his darling home. I told him I would see you safely home a little later." He paused for a moment to gauge her reaction to his words. He was sadly out of his depth in this society when it came to the rules of dating. He didn't wish to offend the lovely woman and destroy the opportunity to get to know her a little more intimately. "I hope I didn't assume too much? If you'd like to enjoy the fair for a little while longer, I will keep you company, Miss Tisante. If you'd rather leave now, I will see you safely to your door, just say the word and it's done."

There it was, laid out neatly on the table between them like a hand of poker.

It was her play. Her hand would determine their next move. Another round dealt, or was it fold and go home with wounds stinging?

The situation was delicate. She was Tara's new friend. Dan wasn't the type to play Romeo. He knew he was rough around the edges, and well past his prime at forty eight years of age. An elegant woman like Gisele would have little reason to hang about with a man whose nickname in his own time had been Lurch due to his uncommon height and his habit of groaning like the
Addams Family
butler when annoyed. And that cadaverous looking butler just might have the jump on him, as he was not thin or chiseled by any stretch of the imagination. He had the stature of a retired line-backer who was fond of his beer.

Gisele's lovely eyebrows arched at him. Such pretty eyes she had, framed by dark lashes. She waved a hand in the air in a flourish. "But M'sieur, there is so much more to see in this place,
oui
?" Leaning close, she fairly purred the words, "and you are so chivalrous to concern yourself for my safety. I should like to spend the evening at the exposition. It is my only night off this week, and I should like to spend it in the company of a gentleman I prefer."

Chivalrous, she said.
Chivalrous
, not that other C-word that Tara was known to mutter with disgust--chauvinist. He was in heaven. At last, a time where women liked to be treated like something precious and didn't get all offended if you opened a door for them to be nice.

Heaven
, Dan thought,
in the midst of hell
. He glanced about at the crowded room. As the sun sank in the sky and twilight fell, it seemed a very different type of clientele had emerged from the shadows to claim a free sip of this wonderful new formula of  Absinthe. The well-bred gentlemen and their delicate ladies had withdrawn to give way for a seedier sort of crowd.

"We should go out on the grounds," he said, hoping to steer this lovely woman away from the rough crowd. "I'd like to stroll the boulevard and admire the tower lights. We might even go up to the tower and have dinner. Would you like that, Miss Tisante?"

She sipped the drink in her small shot glass thoughtfully, swirled the tiny amount left in it and rewarded him with a smile. "I would like that very much." Her gloved fingers set the glass down, now emptied of the emerald green beverage, and then crept closer to the untouched portion before him that Tara had left behind. "You have not finished your sample, M'sieur."

"True." He placed his fingers over the glass, claiming it before she did, for he saw the desire in her eyes, a desire for the drink. Absinthe was an interesting choice for an evening cocktail. Dan liked the anise-lemony taste of the stuff he had with Bellows, and the kind they served at the many dance halls and cabarets he'd been frequenting with the man.

"If you do not care for it, I would finish your serving." It was said with a sensual whisper that glided over his skin. For a moment, Dan lost himself in her voice and her lovely blue eyes.

"It says one sample per person is all that's allowed." There, he did it. He ruined the magic by being sarcastic when it would have been better to just let her have the second vial.

A little pout rumpled her luscious pink lips. "Yes, but one can pay for a second glass."

"If a person wanted to linger here, which I don't." He took the glass and lifted it to his lips. It was pretty good, had that distinct anise flavor, and yet it was almost a little too sweet. The Absinthe he'd had other establishments wasn't sweet, far from it. "Let's move on, shall we?" Dan rose, not giving the pretty Gisele a choice.

They left the cloister of the petite cafe and walked out of the pavilion and into the cool twilight air. Dan felt a burgeoning sense of purpose with Gisele walking beside him with her hand on his arm. The crowds had thinned since mid-day, but there were still many strolling the wide boulevards between the buildings. The park was open until ten in the evening, and the omnibuses ran through the city until nearly midnight. Paris had converted to gas lighting in the main streets, and electrical was being installed in some of the finer homes of the city. The tower was the fait accompli for the French as the electrical lights strung up along those steel garters and beams was a signal to the whole world that the Age of Electricity, the Age of Light, had begun,

A guy couldn't ask for a more romantic evening with a pretty woman in Paris.

Tara and Adrian sat close together on the chairs provided near the fountain. She had her hands covered with the ever present gloves women wore on an outing. Adrian's jacket was draped over her shoulders. They had formed a tangled sculpture of their hands, a neat little twisted pile of fingers and thumbs were resting on her knee. He had one arm about her shoulders, and the other hand was captured between hers like a trophy hard won in a war. 

The air was moist around them. The fine mist of the fountains above was wandering with the light evening breeze. They were waiting for that grand moment when the fountain and the tower would be lit and the deep blue velvet sky would have a rival challenging the full moon rising in the east.

Tara was no stranger to fountains lit by electricity. They were common place in the future. And yet, being here with her beloved, sharing this magical moment with him for the first time in his life was a rare privilege she would never trade for a modern convenience.  

The anticipation of the crowd was growing more tangible, like waiting for full dark so the fireworks could begin on a hot summer night. Except this was not a mere display of fireworks. It was something much more grand and rare to behold, a rare slice of human history.

Without so much as a blast from a of trumpet, the shadowed gray-white statues were illuminated by golden lights. The fountain literally came alive in the gathering darkness. The yellow lights focused on the glorious flowing garments, angel wings and elegant human limbs rising up from the center of the fountain made the display take on the aura of majesty.

The collective sigh of pleasure from the crowd was quickly replaced by awed silence.

Everyone's attention was then turned to the tower behind Tara and Adrian's seats so they stood and turned to observe the tower.

One by one, the platforms were lit, bottom to top in a poetic flourish of light. Brilliant red. It made sense now. Red, the color of life, of joy, of celebration. The red tower piercing the night sky with new electric lights each night during this world's fair boldly proclaimed to the world the advent of a new age of human achievement.

This was the beginning of the
Belle Époque
. A time of rapid advancement when electricity, telephones and hundreds of new inventions would captivate the world. Never again would she take the luxury of cell phones and computers for granted, or the convenience of a light switch.

She could only stare up into the shining pillar of light with wonder. Her mouth was open, and she knew she was not alone in that pose. The silence of the crowd did not prevail long.  An orchestra started to play on the first platform from the restaurant, and the crowds began to move again in a slow, meandering dance of swishing skirts and floating top hats.