Search for the Crystal Key (A Continuation of Dark Escape)

Chapter 8

Tara observed her dinner companions while she sat at the long, elegantly set table and waited for dinner to be served. The view before her was amazing. Having come to the conclusion that she and Brandon were not in Shadow Land, but had stayed in the same area, but gone back to the time of the civil war, she watched in wonderment and listened with fascination almost forgetting the reason they came.

Dining in the original magnificence of her home -mixed with a potent wine and candle light- caused headiness for Tara that carried on throughout the meal. She was seated opposite Brandon with Aidan between them at the head. Although he watched her every move from the corner of his eyes, Brandon's focus never left the colonel, nor did his conversation. If Tara hadn't known better, she would have thought the two well acquainted.

She fidgeted in her chair as her suspicions arose. Why would Brandon be so calm and relaxed in the presence of their Yankee captor when he was from the south and why would their captor take Brandon's word for it when he said he wasn't interested in the war between the north and the south? Shouldn't he be considering Brandon a spy or something? The captain obviously enjoyed Brandon's conversations. Maybe a little too much. Surely his topics weren't that fascinating. It was as if they had a silent understanding beneath a layered conversation. She was well aware that her trust levels of men dropped drastically since her tragic encounter with Dominic, but this was just too obvious to be a mere matter of her trust or lack of it. These men knew each other and, more than that... these men were friends!

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Since the colonel was settled in the room she occupied in her own time, Tara asked to be placed in the bedroom she used as her second-floor den -the very same room she and Brandon situated themselves in to perform the incantation that brought them there.

The room was exquisitely furnished with a gorgeous and undeniably expensive nineteenth century Louis XV gilded writing table and an equally beautiful Louis XV marble top dressing table with a matching gilded mirror. A tapestry bench was positioned at the foot of a modest featherbed that was suitable for one to sleep comfortably. Matching tapestry draperies surrounded the bed and adorned the windows. It was a room fit for a princess.

Tara stoked the fire in the fireplace. The snow she'd been tortured by in her time hadn't found its way to them in this time yet -for which she was thankful -but the air was still very cold and damp. She took a moment to admire the well-polished brass on the gas lights that were securely positioned on the wall. Surely the soldiers weren't the ones caring for the house. They were men of war. This house clearly received constant, loving care. So far, she'd only seen soldiers. Was any of her family in the house?

She froze at the sound of creaking outside her door. The house was full of life. She assumed her frazzled nerves were behind her reaction. Tension reached new heights when the footsteps stopped at her door. Barely breathing, she watched the handle of her door slowly turn. She berated herself for not locking it.

Relief and confusion flooded her as her resident ghost stepped into the room. Studying him closely she realized he was flesh. Was he traveling dimensions to haunt her? She just didn't understand enough about ghosts, dimensions, and shadow people to really have the answer.

"Who are you?" she asked, surprised by her calm mannerism.

"Ya come from the future, don't ya lass?" he asked cautiously.

When the old man took a few timid steps forward Tara realized that he was nervous, probably more nervous than she was.

"Yes," she replied, retaining her calm demeanor as best she could while she watched him move closer.

"I thought as much," he sighed.

With a disheartened look on his face he walked to the tapestry bench and unceremoniously sat down.