***Well, hey, you guys!
So, I told you all about this short story I got the lovely privilege of writing and here it is!
Iron and Ink!
This story was inspired by the upcoming series event DIG. It premieres on USA Network on March 5th at 10/9C. You can follow their Wattpad page at @DIGonUSA and read the DIG: The Official Prequel, which I've linked.
As always...comment and vote!!!1***
April 1923
Wiltshire, England
By the time Lorraine Ellis was twelve years old, she was used to hearing her father's stories. They were not fairy tales everyone grew up with, but impossible stories about kings and pharaohs, pirates and sunken treasures, lost cities and forgotten peoples. He spoke of these as if they were real and, somehow, most of them turned out to be.
Her father would drag her all over to find all that was forgotten, but Lorraine would keep herself occupied with a book in hand, hidden in one of the white linen tents, while he and his team unearthed what the world had not seen for centuries.
She understood at that moment, walking behind him in the drizzling rain, why she usually hid herself away and became lost between the pages.
"Keep up, my darling!" Dr. Gregory Ellis called back to his daughter. His graying hair stuck to the sides of his face.
He heard her grumble as she stepped in yet another muddy spot. Her shoes were ruined, hem of her long brown skirt wet and torn, and what was once a crisp, white shirt was anything but. "You did not tell me we were going on a trek through the countryside in the rain! If you had, I would have dressed in long trousers like your men!"
Dr. Ellis threw his head back and laughed, pushing past another set of tree branches blocking their path. "You know you would have found some excuse to stay behind and press your nose between the pages of a book."
Lorraine grumbled again. "What, exactly, would 'this' be?" she questioned, raising a blonde eyebrow in his direction. "We are trekking through private land without permission, looking for ruins that you have only heard of. How do you even know they are here?"
"Intuition," he answered with a wink.
Her father's famous 'intuition' was what nearly got him killed half the time. Falling down trenches, barely being missed by falling boulders, and risks of sickness from insects or cuts obtained during these explorations never slowed the old man down. If it were up to Lorraine, he would already have been retired and living in a cottage along a leisurely river. But even then, he would find something to discover. It was in the man's blood...which also ran through her veins. Lorraine would have rather had her adventures in books where the only harm would be a cut from turning a page to quickly to get to the next.
Her father paused as she pushed past the branches he had just moments before, holding a map out in front of his nose. "I think we are almost there...just a little further now."
Lorraine huffed out a breath, pushing a strand of blond hair away from her face. "At least the rain has stopped for the moment. Have I ever told you how crazy you are, Father, dragging us out in the middle of nowhere?"
He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "All the time, my darling," he said lovingly. "But now, I do believe we have reached our destination."
Dr. Ellis pushed further through the thickening trees before coming to a stop, breathing out a slow breath.
"What is it?" she asked. "Is something wrong...?"
Nothing was wrong. In fact, her father was right. They had reached their destination.
"Oh, my," Lorraine breathed out quietly.
Stretched out before them were the ruins of Seward House, built hundreds of years before but were now only skeletal walls and archways, piles of weathered stone covered in greenery, staircases leading to nowhere. With the sun slowly peeking through the gray clouds above, spilling rays of light down on the ruins, it was impossibly beautiful and haunting.
Slowly, Lorraine walked around, taking in everything around her. She stumbled a few times over the fallen stones, but could not stop herself from moving forward. It was absolutely fascinating to her.
It was not until she reached one lone archway that she stopped, looking up at what was carved into the stone.
Praeteritum. Praesens. Futurum.
From her time spent among Ivy League scholars, she was practically fluent in Latin, which allowed her to know what those three words meant - past, present, and future. But what it was doing there, carved into the weathered stone, she had not an idea.
A twig snapped before a shadow passed in the distance. Lorraine's eyes searched for her father, but his mutterings were behind her.
Slowly, she stepped forward through the archway and her shoes thumped against wood, not the soft ground like before. Looking down, she saw what looked like a door below her feet, but that was not the only thing she saw. A pair of boots stepped within her field of vision and the smell of cigar smoke swirled around her. And looking up, her brown eyes met a pair of narrowed blue ones.
She screamed, stumbling backward, and her heel caught the edge of the wood. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back as the man rushed forward.
"Are you all right, lady?" he asked her with a thick Southern drawl. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"Did not mean...are you insane?" she gasped, pushing his hands away from her. "You do not just come up on a lady like that. Of course, you would scare me!"
The man chuckled, cigar between his teeth, as he watched her push herself up, brushing her hands over her in attempt to rid of the mud that was now everywhere. "Well, you do know this is private land. You shouldn't be here in the first place, lady."
"That does not constitute your sneaking."
Huffing, she looked up, pushing her hair away from her face to glare at him. But her glare turned to a scrutinizing one as she looked him over. He was tall, that was for certain, and had a broad chest and thick arms that only came from hard labor. He was certainly dressed for it also, in a stained, white button-up, suspenders, brown pants, and, of course, his boots. One thing that made Lorraine take another step away from him was the gun on his side.
"What is going on?" Dr. Ellis said loudly, stepping in front of her in protection. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"I think those are the questions you should be asking yourself," the man said, nodding to them.
"We did not come to do anything illegal, I assure you. I just wanted to see if the rumors were true about the ruins of Seward House."
He raised his arms, gesturing around them. "And as you see, they are. Now, you gotta get off our land..."
"Jesse, do not talk to the gentleman and lady like that," another, less harsh man called, stepping over a fallen tree. He was dressed much like the other, but was shorter and skinnier with dark red hair and an English accent. The two could not be any more unlike each other. He was the only one who smiled then. "The name is Wesley Parsons...and I do believe that my friend is correct in saying that you should not be here, but for other reasons rather than you are not allowed. What he is not correct about is that this is my land, not ours. He fails to realize that he is merely a guest here, too."
The big man, Jesse, snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course, Master Parsons."
Wesley Parsons chuckled, shaking his head. "Do not mind him. I have known Jesse Gordon since we were children. He never had any manners then and still does not have any now." His hand stuck out to Dr. Ellis. "It is nice to meet you...?"
Lorraine curled her fingers around her father's upper arm, silently warning him not to introduce them. She hardly doubted the men were who they said they were. They looked no more than three years older than her twenty-two.
"Dr. Gregory Ellis," he answered, grasping the man's hand in his. "And this is my daughter, Lorraine."
The men shared a glance before looking back at them.
"Harvard University's Dr. Gregory Ellis?"
"That would be me," he nodded.
"What a coincidence," Wesley smiled. "We were just going to send you a letter about some of your work recently. And yet here you are in the woods behind my manor."
"Quite the coincidence, if I do say so myself. But, if you do not mind me asking, what is it that you wanted to contact me about?"
Wesley and Jesse exchanged a glance before Wesley spoke again. "Would you like to come up to the manor? You two look as if you could use a chance to clean up and rest and then maybe we can have a talk in the morning. You are more than welcome to stay."
Lorraine was all for running in the opposite direction, but her father took her hand as the men led them away from the ruins and out of the woods.
"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.
He smiled over at her, covering the hand he held with his other. "Trust me, darling. Something will come of this...something that I have been waiting my entire life for."
She was about to fire back a retort, but her words left her as they exited the trees.
Sprawling gardens led up to the three-story manor made of aged stone. Another wing of the house was to the left, along with a stable in the distance. Through the windows, she could see people looking out in interest, some holding rags for cleaning, others with bouquets of flowers. Lorraine felt as if she were being pulled into one of her stories as they walked up along the stone pathway toward a back door. And once they were inside, she could not hide her fascination.
Both Wesley and Jesse noticed. But while Jesse stood there with slightly narrowed eyes, Wesley smiled.
"Welcome to Paddon Manor."
As they stepped inside, they came into a sitting room with high ceilings, wood-paneled walls where paintings hung, rich leather furniture, and the clinging smell of cigar smoke. Three people - two middle-aged men and a woman a few years younger than Lorraine - appeared in a doorway leading from the room, dressed in uniforms, and waited for instructions.
"Margaret, can you take Miss Ellis up to one of the guest rooms on the second floor and make sure she is comfortable? She will need some new clothing, so just get something of my sister's that she left her from her last visit."
Margaret gave a slight curtsy. "Of course, sir," she said kindly, before taking Lorraine by the arm and leading her away. They were out of the room before she had time to protest.
They walked so quickly that Lorraine only got to glance into a few of the rooms, which included a formal dining room and library. By the time they got to the second floor, they turned into another room, one with a large, four-poster bed with velvet curtains facing two windows that looked out to the back gardens, a writing desk, and wardrobe.
"You look to be Miss Ruby's size, so I will be back with a dress for you to change into before dinner. I'll also draw you up a bath so you can clean yourself since you are covered in mud," Margaret said before disappearing yet again, leaving Lorraine to herself and yet not having a clue as to what to do.
***
Dinner had been an interesting affair. While Wesley Parsons and her father talked about their work, Lorraine ate in silence as Jesse stared her down from across the table. The man was a boulder that seemed intent on not moving, even after the glares she aimed his way.
By the next morning, Lorraine was as rested as she could be in her situation. Her clothes were freshly washed, repaired, and hanging in the wardrobe once she walked out of the washroom and quickly changed into them. A tray of food also had been brought up and was sitting on the writing desk by the window. A note stuck out front underneath one of the plates. Seeing the familiar scrawl, she smiled as she read her father's short note.
Lorraine,
I will be with Mr. Parsons for the morning and Mr. Gordon has offered to take you on a proper tour of the house. I trust that you will be on your best behavior until I see you again this afternoon.
Your father
It did not take long for a knock to sound at the door, making her jump at the sudden break in the silence. When she pulled the door open, Jesse was standing behind it, wearing the same clothing as the day before.
"You're up," was all he said.
She pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you would have woken me up if I were not with that knocking."
He grumbled something before turning on the heel of his boots. "You comin' or not?"
She did not follow. "Where exactly?"
"You'll see."
This time, it was Lorraine who grumbled, stomping after the man as he turned a corner. She knew that she would lose him in a second if she did not keep up.
"Mr. Parsons was correct in saying that you have no manners," she commented. She was finally able to catch up with his long strides before they descended the staircase, heading for the doors leading out the gardens they had come through the day before.
"Mr. Parsons," Jesse snorted. "Just call him Wesley."
"Wesley then," she corrected herself as they started through the garden. "And I thought you were supposed to be taking me on a tour of the manor?"
"You can have a tour later. Wes wanted me to show you somethin'. Why, I don't have a clue. The man's insane for even thinkin' you or your father could help."
"And this has something to do with what they are meeting about?"
"Yeah."
They were heading for the tree line then.
"Where are we going exactly?"
"To the ruins."
"And you expect something to be there?"
"I don't expect, lady. I know."
Jesse's strides grew longer as they entered the woods and Lorraine was already out of breath from trying to keep up. Her clothes were going to be in the same shape they had been in no time with the pace they were going. He did not see the need in slowing down for her either, not until they reached the ruins of Seward House.
"So what are we doing here?" she asked before she slipped on the slick ground. Her hands grasped onto the sleeve of Jesse's shirt until she regained her balance.
He barely even noticed. Or if he had, he hid it well. "You saw that door in the ground under the archway, didn't you?"
"Well, yes..."
"It leads to a stairwell and we're going down it."
She paused, eyes wide, as she watched him start over a pile of stones that blocked their path.
"You, sir, are absolutely insane," she stated without making a move to follow.
"I ain't no 'sir,' that's for damn sure," Jesse chuckled, wordlessly grabbing her hand to help her. "And I get called names far worse than that by Wes every day."
"From what I have witnessed, you two seem close, even though you are from two separate worlds and do not share the same background."
At that, Jesse outright laughed. "Ain't that the truth! You don't know just how right you are, lady."
She pursed her lips at the formal name. "Would you stop calling me that? Just call me Lorraine."
"I ain't gonna to do that when you're all prim and proper, lady."
"And yet you are dragging me through the trees and old ruins to do what exactly?"
Jesse's grin stretched across his face. It was then that she realized he was still holding her hand. Gently, she pulled away, looking down at her feet as they came up on the archway with the carving above and the wooden door below.
"I told you. We're going through the door," he said, walking closer to it. "And Wes gave me permission to show you what's down there. That's sayin' somethin', especially since there are very few people in this world who are actually allowed to see."
Lorraine kicked a rock by her feet. "And what, exactly, am I going to see?"
"You seem like the kind of lady who loves books."
"Yes, but I hardly doubt that you have a library hidden in the ruins."
Jesse snorted, rolling his eyes. "Not in the ruins," he said, and then pointed to the wooden door below her feet. "But under them? Certainly."
Wordlessly, Lorraine stepped off the door and watched as Jesse pulled a key from his pocket. He brushed some leaves away covering the side of the door, revealing a lock that he then stuck the key into. Turning it, there was a sound from beneath, but then the door popped open.
Jesse smiled up at her with a crooked grin as he curled his fingers around the edge of the door, lifting it up as the hinges groaned in protest.
"No one's come in this way in a while," he grunted, trying to get the door to move just a little more on the rusted hinges.
"What in the world...?" Lorraine breathed, looking down and seeing a damp, stone stairwell leading down into the darkness. "What is this?"
Jesse took the first few steps before turning to look back up at her. "Somethin' I think you'll appreciate."
Lorraine felt just about as crazy as she believed her father to be all these years. Wait, did her father even know where she was? She had not talked to him since breakfast and Wesley had taken him away. Did anyone even know where they were?
"Jesse, does anyone know where we are?" she asked, hesitant. "What if something happens and they...?"
"I won't let nothin' happen, lady. You gotta trust me on that. I'll tell you where to watch your step for the traps."
"Traps?" she squeaked out.
"Just come on," he chuckled, holding his hand out for hers. "Once you're there, you won't remember how scared you were at the beginnin'."
She decided to go against her better judgment and take Jesse's hand before he led her down the stairs. Heart pounding in her ears, they descended into the dark until the sunlight from above could not reach where the stairs ended. It was then that he let go of her hand, only to pull a box of matches from his pocket and light a torch that hung on the wall. The orange flames licked up to the arched stone ceiling, casting shadows along the walls.
Again, Jesse took her hand as he smiled back at her, pulling her further down the hallway. They reached another set of stairs and another torch, one which he lit but did not take.
"Now, at the bottom of these steps, you gotta skip the second to last one."
"One of those traps you spoke about?" she asked, voice shaking.
"Exactly," he grinned. "If you step on it, it'll drop an iron grate between the stairs and the room. And then, if there's anyone inside, the floor is rigged to crumble just in front of it."
"Then whatever is in this room must be quite important."
"Yeah, it definitely is."
"Then why are you showing it to me? My father should be the one to see it, not me. He is the one with all of the experience."
"You went on every one of his expeditions, didn't you?"
"Yes, but...I barricaded myself in the tent and read. The only time I went out was to make sure he did not kill himself. He is not the young man he once was. I preferred to be with the books than out in the open heat. It was torture, especially in Egypt."
Jesse nodded slowly as she spoke, watching her carefully. "And that's exactly why Wes wanted me to show you this first before your father. He still has him up at the manor, talking to him about what I'm about to show you."
They started down the second set of stairs, remembering to jump over the second to last one, but were met again by utter darkness. Jesse reached forward to light another torch and then other...and then a dozen more after that. And with every torch lit, Lorraine's eyes grew wider. Because what appeared in the cavernous room was beyond what she could have ever imagined.
The room, carved from the stone that was below the ruins of Seward House, was circular, lined with shelves that held large, leather-bound books. Each book had two distinct markings on the spine: a location and a year. Another, hallway-like area held more shelves with even more books that she wanted to get her hands on, even though she had no idea what they contained. It disappeared into the darkness, so there was no indication of just how many there were. At the center was a large table with a wooden chandelier hanging above, holding dozens of unlit candles. More candles sat on the table, which Jesse began to light.
"Told you you'd appreciate it," he said, looking back at her. "What do you think?"
Lorraine hesitantly took a step forward toward a shelf, eyes sweeping the room once more. "This is...magnificent. But what is it? For these books to be hidden underground, they must be of great importance."
"They are."
She smiled, trailing her finger over the spines. "'Our principle is, that books, instead of growing mouldy behind an iron grating, should be worn out under the eyes of many readers.'"
She could feel his eyes watching her. "And where's that from?"
"Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth. Do you not think it true, though? Every book deserves to be read and every reader deserves to forget about reality and be transported into imaginary worlds where anything is possible, even if only for a little while."
He shook his head, chuckling, as he rubbed the stubble along his jaw. "You're somethin' else, lady."
A smile lit up her face as she gave a small curtsy. "Why, thank you, sir."
Jesse looked at her as if to say she was free to roam around as she wished and lift any book from its shelf. Given the opportunity, she was not going to pass it up. She slowly made her way around the circular room, picking up book after book and flipping through the pages. Seeing that most were written in Latin, she was once again thankful for her studies. It did not take long before Jesse realized that she did, in fact, know how to read it.
"You know Latin?"
"Surprised, Mr. Gordon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I am a well-read woman and speak and read English, French, and German fluently, along with Latin. Please, do not insult my intelligence just because I'm a woman."
Jesse held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head. "I ain't insultin' nobody's intelligence and certainly wouldn't just 'cause you're a lady. In fact, my mama's one smart lady herself and she'd smack me if she heard me say such a thing."
Putting the book she had back on the shelf, she walked until she reached one solitary one that was lying flat on the table Jesse had taken a seat at. Sitting across from him, she pulled the book toward her, noticing how much older it looked than the others.
"Out of all the books in this place, this one's probably the most important. You read a few pages and noticed that they're all basically history books."
She nodded, glancing up at him before brushing her fingers along the cracked leather cover.
"This explains why they've written it all down. And it's not the history you know either. Things throughout the history of the world have been turned in favor of one side or the other, but these books...they tell the real story of both sides."
"And this book? What is so special about this one?"
Jesse reached forward, tapping his finger once on the cover. "This tells the history of what we are and how we became. The last three pages, though...that's where the real story begins."
"The beginning of a story...at the end of the book? That makes no sense."
He grinned, standing up. "Once you know the whole story, then it will. So why don't we go back to the house and meet up with Wes and your father? We've gotten what Wes wanted to show him, since he apparently trusts the man with our secret, so why not let you in on it, too? Besides, Wes tells it better than I do. And from what little time we've spent in each other's company, I know you'd appreciate a good story."
With the large, leather-bound book in hand, Lorraine stood and headed toward the stairs as Jesse extinguished the torches. She could hear his footsteps trailing behind her as she stepped onto the first step, fully intent on skipping the next just as he told her before. But when the hem of her skirt caught underneath her shoe, she came down hard on her knee, right onto the one step she was not supposed to touch.
Before she could even turn, Lorraine heard Jesse's curse before his pounding footsteps. He was too late, though, and ran into the iron bars that locked into place between them.
Jesse's eyes were wide, but determined, as he reached a hand through the bars and pointed up the stairs. "Lorraine, go get Wes b-"
The floor crumbled from below his feet before he could even finish and all Lorraine could do was stare in horror before her scream echoed off the stone walls.
November 1923
Cambridge, Massachusetts
For the past eight months, Lorraine's life was consumed with only one thing: translating the book she had held in her hands as the iron grate slid into place and the floor crumbled beneath Jesse's feet. She knew did not have to, but it was the sheer need to know what the book contained.
As for Jesse, the reports had said that he had suffered a fatal head injury after falling from a horse, something far from the truth. Her father had kept in contact with Wesley, who expressed his feelings of sadness over his friend's death. Lorraine had thought he would want the book back after months of letting her have it, but he had yet to say anything.
"Read through it and understand just how important this is to us," he had said the day they left Paddon Manor. "Just do not let anyone but yourself and your father see it."
She was expecting a history book...and a history book is what she got. It was not like one she had ever read before, though - a sweeping tale of deception and fate, played out by groups of people that the world had never heard of before. And she had checked, searching through every book she could find in Harvard's library with key words like 'secret society' and the phrase above the archway 'praeteritum, praesens, futurum'. The only thing she had to go on was what had been in the book.
The book also contained something that she could not make sense of, no matter how much time she invested or how many books she scavenged through.
It was not until the last three pages that she thought there could be nothing more exciting or challenging for her mind. She thought the adventure would be over once the large, leather-bound book was down to the last few pages, but it was far from it. The beginning of another story, just as Jesse had said.
Those last pages were not in Latin as the others had been. No, these were words and symbols and strange lines she had never seen before. She did not dare to ask anyone at the university either, for fear of having to explain just what she had in her possession.
So she figured the mystery would stay exactly that - a mystery.
As she stared down at those pages, still trying - unsuccessfully - to make any sense of them, the chair on the other side of the table scrapped against the flooring as someone sat down. Lorraine was so consumed with the pages that she did not glance up.
"I ain't ever seen someone so captured by a book before. It must be an interestin' read."
At the sound of the voice, the Southern drawl it held, Lorraine's eyes widened as they slowly lifted to the person's face.
Jesse's crooked smile greeted her stunned silence. "But what was that Jules Verne quote you told me before? 'Our principle is, that books, instead of growing mouldy behind an iron grating, should be worn out under the eyes of many readers.' And you, lady, seem to have worn out that book by the looks of it...though I ain't sure many readers should wear out their eyes with books like this one 'cept you. Find any good mysteries in it?"
Lorraine's eyes traced over his thick coat to keep the cold out and warmth in, his wind-tousled hair, and his face, finding a scar along one brow that had not been there the last time she saw him. "I have, actually...though it seems that I am looking at a much bigger one," she said quietly. Eyes locking on his, she smiled. "What...how are you here?"
"Ah," he nodded, that smile growing until it reached his eyes. "Now, that's a mystery."