November Storm & Albert Tempus

Chapter Two

Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I wasn't in my own bed. The duvet was fluffier than mine, and the pillow under my head was too firm. I made myself inhale deeply a few times before looking around at my surroundings. Had I been kidnapped? My heart beat in my chest as I steadied my breathing, and I threw the covers off to get some more air flow.

Okay, you can do this, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut even more firmly. Face reality, November. Slowly, I peeled one eye open, then the other. I exhaled as I realized that I wasn't in some terrifying basement dungeon—far from it, in fact. The room was bright and beautiful with white panelled walls and large windows flanked by floral drapes and elegant art pieces. To my left, a warm fire was roaring, and atop the mantel stood a bouquet of roses. The bed I was lying in was comfortable, albeit more firm than I was used to, and a floral canopy hung down from the four posts to match the drapes. I could just see into the next room through the half-open double doors: there was another fireplace, a couple of powder blue loveseats and a chair.

I exhaled. Okay, it wasn't as bad as I had imagined. Nevertheless, I was in a strange room I had never seen before, and my head was pounding. Had I really drunk that much the night before? And where was the guy with the pocket watch? Questions swam through my foggy mind as I felt around the bed for my phone. Frantically, I checked the nightstand—no luck there, either. This is not happening, I thought as I struggled to jump down from the massive bed. I held my head between my legs for a few seconds once my feet were planted on the floor, sucking in huge gulps of the fragrant air. Okay, not that bad, not that bad, I repeated in my head like a mantra. I'll order an Uber once I find my phone and everything will be totally sorted, I thought as I tried to stop my head from spinning.

Slowly, I lifted my head until I was standing upright so I could see out the window. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as I looked out at the view. Angry stormclouds had rolled in above a slate gray river, which was lined with trees and white rowhouses. In the distance I could see a domed cathedral and a clock tower... Not just any clock tower, I thought, gulping hard despite the dryness in my mouth.

Was I in London? Panic shot through my veins as the realization dawned on me: he had taken me someplace where I couldn't escape and cut off all my my communication lines. My Dad was thousands of miles away on another continent, and even if I had been back in Springfield, I didn't have a phone to call him with.

But there was something else, something that made my blood run cold and my mouth go dry when I thought about it. Where were all the buildings? I had visited London with my Dad a few years ago, and it hadn't looked like this at all. There had been more bridges, more buildings... Not to mention the fact that the massive ferris wheel we had ridden to see the Thames was nowhere to be found.

I stumbled backwards and sat back down on the bed, defeated. Well, might as well wait for my kidnapper to come back and murder me. I've probably already developed Stockholm syndrome, I thought as I eyed the sparkly—and frankly, exquisite—chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I hated myself for admiring the decor around me, and I bit my lip as I forced myself to focus on the situation at hand. You will not die in here, November, even if the duvet does feel like it's filled with angel's feathers.

Pocket watch guy would be coming back soon, so I needed to formulate a plan, and fast. I sat up in bed, ignoring the feeling of the blood rushing to my aching head. A weapon was what I needed, I thought as I looked around at the bedroom. It seemed unlikely that I would find a gun or a baseball bat here, but that wasn't about to stop me from trying. I checked all the drawers and cabinets in the bedroom before moving into the sitting room. A black wrought-iron umbrella stand caught my eye from the corner near the door, and I lunged towards it, removing two of the black parasols and waving them around to practice. I thanked my lucky stars that my Dad had enrolled me in fencing lessons a few years ago as I stabbed at the back of the couch with the pointed end of the umbrella.