WB (13 page)

Not having the locket was a serious setback, but not an unworkable one. I would have to be very careful now. Who knows what kind of attention I could draw in Portland. I might have to consider moving somewhere without witches and warlocks. Somewhere remote, Idaho or Alaska perhaps or maybe even the Yukon. The thought of snow, polar bears and limited shopping venues wasn't welcome, but, my choices weren't great. It would be a wrench to leave my friends and apartment too, but with my safety and freedom involved I couldn't be too careful.

With that thought in mind I strode towards the pub. It was dark inside, some of the overhead lights were burnt out and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. The pub was almost empty. A faint smell of beer and cigarettes lingered in the air.

Two tired and dusty men drank at a booth in the corner and a bored looking man watched a soccer game on the television above the bar. Occasionally, he took sips of his drink before WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 52

going back to the game with boredom glazed eyes.

A tall, bear of a man was wiping down glasses behind the long counter. I walked towards him, straightening my shirt and patting my hair down as I went. I was pretty sure I didn't look like a raving lunatic, but without a mirror and brush, who could say? Curly hair is high maintenance.

“Good evening sir. I wonder if you know of anyone who is traveling to London tonight?

I don't have any money with me, but as soon as I get back to America I can send some to cover the trip.”

I was trying not to beg, I wanted to sound firm, upstanding, normal. A woman of means who found herself in a purely temporary situation.

If I couldn't find a way to London, I would end up back at Gage's house. Locked up again, with full time guards this time. He’d tie me to his bed where he would feel free to have his wicked way with me, touching my-! Sheesh, my mind was always in the gutter when it came to him. I wondered if he put a lust spell on me and discarded that idea, nope. I was pretty sure this was all just me and my out of control hormones, how embarrassing.

He dropped the rag and gave me a strange half bow before calling out to the man

watching the game, “Pete, take over for me here. I'm gonna give this lady a lift to London.”

Pete raised his drink in acknowledgment before going back to the game with a tired sigh.

Wow, people in England were so helpful! Really, they must be the nicest people in the world. I promised myself that as soon as I had some savings built up I would come back here for a proper vacation. I smiled to think of myself stomping around Trafalgar Square and shopping at Harrods, well, window shopping anyway. I doubted I could afford anything at Harrods, but it was always fun to look.

We walked back outside and he courteously opened the door of his little truck. With an embarrassed smile, he shoved a few empty chip packages and crumpled papers off the seat and I settled down with a sigh of pleasure in the dusty cab.

Pretty soon I was on my way to London. Charlie, that was the bartender's name, pointed out some of the sights to me along the way, but in the dark I couldn't see much of anything. We were on the M1 going faster than cars do in the States and Charlie said we could make London in an hour and a half as long as we didn't hit too much traffic.

He didn't talk much and I wasn't in the mood for chatter, so we passed the time listening to a local oldies station that played mostly Beatles tunes. Charlie knew where the Embassy was, so we didn't have that to talk about. The air was humid and still and after a few minutes of driving, a light rain began to fall.

It was disorienting, sitting on the left side of the car with the steering wheel and controls on the right. I kept feeling like we were going to crash into someone as we drove along on the wrong side of the road, but Charlie's movements were confident and I forced myself to relax and enjoy the ride.

Sooner than I thought, we were in London. I could feel my shoulders easing from their tensed up position near my ears, as the streets became congested with traffic and the noise of the city rushed over me in a beautiful wave. I was a little disappointed that our trip didn't take us past Big Ben, the Tower of London or Buckingham Palace, but it wasn't like they were all next door to each other and I wasn't here to sight see anyway.

The traffic was pretty heavy, but Charlie knew his way around and was able to take several shortcuts before gliding to a stop a couple of blocks away from the Embassy. I could see WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 53

the American flag flying above the large white building and my heart lifted at the sight, almost there! I felt like breaking into the national anthem I was so happy to be close to finding my way home.

But as I stared at the building a thought occurred to me; was the Embassy closed? It looked closed and it was a government building with public hours. Damn, I hadn't thought of that. It was just after ten now, of course they were closed. For a moment I was stunned. What do I do now? I got here, but I didn't have a place to stay the night and I wasn't sure what time the Embassy was open for business. What if they were closed tomorrow! I sat for a moment trying to decide what my next move should be.

“There's guards at the front, they can tell you if there is anyone here to help you. You should ask for the consul's help if you don't have a way to get back home, Miss.”

I stared at Charlie a moment. He had short graying, brown hair, small dark eyes and large freckles that dusted his wrinkled cheeks. His shirt was clean and he smelled strongly of beer and cigarettes.

He seemed anxious to get back to his bar, I restrained a grimace. He had been so helpful, I wouldn't have made it this far without him. I couldn't ask for any more of his time, although a childish part of me didn't want to be alone with this problem. I wanted more than anything for someone else to take care of this so I could get back to my normal life. But there wasn't anyone which meant I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and get out of the truck. I could find out the business hours of the American Embassy by myself.

“Thank you Charlie. You have been such a help to me, you have no idea. Could I have your address so that I can send you some money to cover the expense of driving me here?”

He turned away a moment and when he looked back he had a strange mix of pity and embarrassment on his face as he said, “No charge sweetheart. Good luck getting home.”

Before I could protest, he walked around to my side of the truck, opened the door with a whine of rusted metal and helped me get my bag out of the truck. Then, with a cheery wave, he drove off. I watched his taillights fade out in the distance and my heart sank with apprehension.

I was still a moment. The street corner was steps away from the Embassy, but now that I was here, I wasn't sure what to do until it opened. Driving with Charlie had been nerve wracking, every few minutes I turned around in my seat checking the road behind us. I was terrified that I would see a familiar black SUV pulling up behind us, but my escape went off without a hitch. I pictured what would happen if Gage and his goons forced Charlie to pull over.

I wouldn't have any choice but to go back to the house with them. I couldn't put Charlie in the middle of the mess I was in.

Luckily, Gage didn't know I was gone yet. Being here, alone at night, in a foreign city was alarming to say the least. But it was a hell of a lot better than being a prisoner trapped in Gage's house.

Grosvenor Square was across the street and we’d passed signs giving the direction to Piccadilly Circus so it must be close.

Cars whizzed by quickly and as it was a Wednesday night, there weren't many people walking around. The rain had stopped, but the air was cool and I was glad to have a warm jacket on.

I picked my bag up from the pavement and resolutely started for the Embassy. A guard at the gate, in a Texas drawl, told me that the Embassy opened at 8:30 the next morning. He gave me and my bag a suspicious glance and I backed away hoping he wasn't planning on WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 54

grabbing me.

I had ten hours to kill and nowhere to go and nothing to do. I was about to slump to the pavement in exhaustion when I remembered Grosvenor park. Hadn't I always wanted to see it?

The park was the scene of so many Regency romances and Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde's tragic hero had had a house here. My step was perky as I walked across the street and entered what used to be a private garden for the aristocrats that called Mayfair home.

I walked slowly through the park, imagining dandies and damsels flirting. I could almost see the gleaming phaetons gamboling along and elegantly clad matrons pushing baby prams and gossiping. Night darkened trees made eerie shadows around me and several times I whirled around thinking someone was hiding behind a bush or about to sneak up on me. I had the creepiest feeling that I was being watched as I walked the twisty path.

I tried my hardest to convince myself that I was within shouting distance of the Embassy guards. But in the dark and cold, Texan guards and the safety of the well lit building seemed a world away.

The park was lit with dim, Victorian style lanterns. The cobblestone walkways were pretty with defined borders of stone, there were probably flowers and picturesque trees, but in the dark I couldn't see them. I knew I should find a place to hunker down for the night but I couldn't imagine where.

London is one of the biggest cities in the world and it was dangerous for a tourist to wander the streets alone at night. On the other hand, I was pretty sure I would never return and the lights of the world's most famous shopping area were beckoning, so I walked in the direction of Bond Street.

I lost track of time, walking slowly by leather goods shops, rare books stores, bespoke suits and fabulous toy shops. Most of the stores were closed, but I passed by a few restaurants that were open and by the gorgeous smells wafting out were cooking up gourmet meals for their wealthy clientèle.

I could tell by the position of the moon, that it was after midnight, so with a weary step I made my way back to the park. I had seen a smallish wooden bench that faced the Embassy as I walked into the park. I thought it might do well for the night. I only hoped the police wouldn't roust me from the park the way they do in the States.

The bench was cold and hard and after a couple of hours sitting I felt my eyes drifting closed. I spent several miserable hours, jerking awake at every little sound, afraid that I was about to be mugged by crazed street people. My nose was cold and I shivered a little when a breeze picked up and snaked under the collar of my coat.

A few seconds later, at least it felt that way in my exhausted state, I awoke with a start as a kind voice asked, “Would you like some tea, dear?”

I opened my eyes to see a small woman, slightly bent over with osteoporosis holding out a shaky hand to me. She was wearing a neat brown tweed coat over her stick like body. Her thin ankles were swimming in loose stripy socks tucked into purple canvas sneakers with bright pink laces. She repeated herself and I realized, all at once, that she was talking to me.

“Yes, thank you. I would love some tea,” I answered, before I had even thought about it.

She started back in surprise, “You're American, how delightful. I love Americans!”

She clapped her hands and beamed at me. She had a wide, gummy smile and her blue eyes were kind as she looked me over with delight. She seemed to be waiting for a response from me but I was groggy from too little sleep and my tongue felt like it was coated in shag WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 55

carpet.

“I just love the English too!” I muttered with what I hoped was an enthusiastic grin.

She giggled merrily and with a wave of her shaky hand she motioned for me to follow her. She walked slowly, leaning on a cane. I was able to stretch out the kinks from a night sitting on a bench as we crossed the park and made our way down a busy side street near the shopping area of Bond Street. She stopped at a small restaurant with cheerful white cloth topped tables set out front for diners and with a happy smile she beckoned me inside.

One of the servers called out a greeting as we sat down. It was warm inside and the delicious smell of tea and baking things filled the air.

I felt embarrassed to tell her of my dismal financial state, but I couldn't allow her to think I had money for a cup of tea. Maybe I could get a glass of water while she had something. She didn't look like someone who had much to spare and there was no way I would ask her to buy me anything.

“I don't have any money,” I said and felt myself color with shame.

She smiled and gently patted my hand, “I know honey. I can afford a cup of tea and a few cakes too if you're hungry.”

I wanted to refuse, but who knew when I would be able to eat again? With no

identification, passport or money, I was in a terrible bind and the kindness of strangers was a welcome development.

The tea and cakes arrived and we passed a pleasant hour talking about London and all the sights to be seen. My hostess was named Edna Mimir. She told me that she didn't sleep as much as she used to and had lately taken to walking around Mayfair in the early hours of the morning.

She didn't ask me how I ended up sleeping on a bench in the park or why I had no money.

I was grateful to not have to answer any questions. When I got back to Portland I would have a hard enough time explaining what happened to Patty and Leah, not to mention Lillian, if I got the chance, that is.

For a time it was nice to enjoy a hot cup of tea and pleasant company.

All too soon it was half past eight and so with profuse thanks, I left Edna and made my way back to the Embassy.