Thank you so much everyone for the wonderful welcome back! I am officially a review-junkie now. Please, feed my habit, lol!
Special thanks to Duvetsnuggler for your invaluable knowledge of things Victorian. I've no doubt that it'll come in handy as the story progresses.
This chapter takes off from the beginning of The Bond's last chapter, but from Myka and Christina's point of view.
Chapter Two
Myka's fingers held tight to the fabric of her daughter's coat. The spinning had finally stopped, and though the force of it had brought her to her knees, she didn't feel hurt in any way. As she regained her senses, the panic returned and her arms instinctively wrapped around Christina to pull her closer.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Hands searched frantically for injuries, but a sigh of relief swept over her when a small giggle reached her ears.
"That tickles," the eight-year-old confessed from her crouched position. When the hands stopped, she looked around and frowned as she realised that they were no longer at home. "Mama, what happened?"
Finally taking in her surroundings, Myka tried not to overreact as she realised that, not only were they outside and it was dark, but she didn't recognise any of their surroundings.
Mismatched cobbles led a path between two rows of dingy town houses, casting a gloomy shadow over mother and child. The faint, sickly-yellow glow of a street lamp struggled against the darkness as overhead a gibbous moon hid behind drifting clouds. There was a bite in the air that hinted at the makings of a hard frost and the agent was suddenly very glad that she and Christina had not gotten as far as removing their coats.
She looked down at the object Christina had dropped and now that she could see the whole thing, she realised what it was. Taking a spare static bag and a glove from her pocket, she told the girl to shield her eyes and dropped it inside. Nothing happened.
Wrapping the bag tightly, she placed it in an inside zip pocket of her coat and then buttoned the garment up again. "I'm not sure. It seems inactive now, but whatever was in that package must have been an artefact." She wanted to take her time to figure out all the details, including who had sent the box, but her practical side quickly won out, making her realise that the how and why weren't nearly as important right then as the where. Where were they now? Where were they going to go? Her priority had to be to get out of the cold.
A small whimper sounded beside the adult. "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to touch it. It was an accident." Any mirth left in the child's tone disappeared as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on her and her eyes filled with tears. "What will Mummy do all alone?"
Kneeling beside her daughter, Myka's green eyes found dark brown orbs and held them. "Mummy won't be alone. Think of all the people who are at home to help her," she closed her eyes briefly to send a wish into the ether that she was right, and then shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Sweetheart, I know this is scary. We don't know where we are or what we're going to do, but think of it like a new adventure. Do you remember when we were in Limbo?"
"We were trapped," Christina recalled. "You told me we would have to solve a puzzle."
"And did we?" Myka smiled at the memory as she wiped away the girl's tears.
The eight year old nodded enthusiastically. "You solved the puzzle and Mummy rescued us."
"And you helped. Which is what we're going to do again. Or at least, we'll try." She put a hand on each of the girl's cheeks and kissed her forehead. "You and me, ok?"
A wavy-haired head bobbed up and down. "Ok. What shall we do first?"
"We're going to find out where we are and find somewhere to stay." She straightened up and took hold of her daughter's hand. "Just remember, stay close to me unless I tell you otherwise."
Although on first inspection, the streets and buildings had appeared completely unfamiliar, the further Myka and Christina wandered, the more they were reminded of a place they both knew.
Taking a deliberately circuitous route at first, Myka was able to begin mental construction of a map and before long, they arrived on a street that was lined with shops. She was relieved to see English as a continuing theme. Though she was confident enough in her ability to get along with many languages, seeing her mother tongue made things simpler. She was almost certain that she knew the where now. The particular streets they'd walked were not immediately known to her, but the names had a feel about them that struck a chord. As they passed a used books shop, a haberdashers and a tailors, the agent's sharp hearing caught the sound of rough voices up ahead.
Myka looked the opposite way up the street but saw nothing much of interest. It seemed that the only hint of civilisation at this time of night was towards the sound of the disturbance. "Christina, do you think you know where we might be?" she opened the floor to input, hoping that conversation would help distract the girl from their plight.
There was a pause before a tentative voice answered, "London?"
"That was my thought too," the older brunette agreed.
"I thought it might be different now," the girl wondered aloud. "Mummy said that lots of things have changed."
Myka glanced around for more evidence that might confirm her suspicion, noting singled paned windows, something in the road that looked like horse manure and gas lanterns. "I don't think we're in the twenty-first century any more, Sweetie." She felt Christina hold tighter to her hand and smiled down at her in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
The new pieces of this puzzle were coming together in a way that made her hope she was wrong. All the clues seemed to come back to her and Christina, and their connection to Helena. She wished she knew for sure whether it had been an older Christina who'd sent the artefact to her door. It seemed almost certain now that whoever it was knew her family well, but having the woman's identity confirmed would narrow down the motives and might provide some clearer answers to their current predicament.
As the voices became louder, Myka realised that they were approaching a public house and hesitated for the first time. They needed answers and shelter but she was reluctant to take her daughter into such a place.
Deciding that they could always double back, the agent tried her luck down a smaller side street and found that she was looking at two men in suits walking towards them. No matter how rowdy the company in the ale-house might be, Myka knew that the crowd was a safer option and pivoted smoothly round.
A quick double take told her that they were now being followed. Great.
"Oi!" A loud, bellows voice greeted them as they passed The Bear and Staff. "'Ere, darlin'! You bin in yer feller's drawers?" His hacking laugh was joined by two others and Myka walked smartly onward, ignoring the comments that followed, her concerns still with the well dressed men walking a consistent distance behind them. "'Ere love, don't be like that. I'll give you me britches if you can wrestle me out of 'em!"
Once they were a small distance away, Christina asked, "Mama. Why was that man shouting at you?"
"I'm guessing that he's drunk and I don't think the men of this time are used to seeing a woman in pants." The end of the street brought them out onto a narrower path and the towering buildings either side of them gave way to black, sparkling sky and water. Making a quick decision, the agent steered them left and picked up the pace.
In the distance, over the width of the river that she now recognised as the Thames, they could see two very familiar landmarks.
"Big Ben!" the eight-year-old exclaimed with excitement.
"And the Houses of Parliament." Myka added, and then, "But no Eye. I think we can safely assume now that the artefact makes time travel possible." Her conclusion was greeted by silence and she squeezed her daughter's hand again to reassure her. "I'm not worried about that at the moment though," she warned carefully. "I think we're being followed. What do you say to stopping and taking in the sights?"
Somehow, without being told the particulars, Christina realised that she was being asked for her approval. She was scared, hungry and beginning to tire but she nodded slowly and allowed her mother to guide her towards the wall banking the river.
Myka wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders, blanketing her from behind as she pretended to take in the scenery. The two men stood on a street corner some hundred yards away, one appearing relaxed while the other seemed agitated. Something told her that he would be trouble.
"Christina," Myka began after a few minutes of quiet observation. "I think we might be better off returning to that bar and asking for directions. There must be a boarding house or something around here."
"We haven't got any money," the astute girl reminded her curly-haired parent.
"You let me worry about that. I have one or two things we could sell." She glanced at their stalkers who were still hanging around. "Will you be alright coming into the bar with me though?"
"Will those men shout at you again?" Christina's worried gaze peered through long eyelashes, the uncertainty and fear there pulling at the adult's heartstrings.
"It's likely, but while there are other people around, we will be safer. They can't do us much harm just by shouting," she took a moment to think, contemplating how they were going to turn back on themselves without running into their followers. "We might have no choice but to keep walking though. I'm sure there must be another bar closer by."
"Uncle Charles used to say that the public houses were the most reliable businesses in London. 'Regularly frequented by the gay of spirit and disheartened alike'," the young girl quoted. "I don't want to go back to that one."
"It's settled then, we'll keep walking." She tried to remain nonchalant in her movements as she took her daughter's hand again and turned away from the direction they'd come.
Like a weather vane in a changing breeze, the agent's head turned this way and that, using her peripheral vision to keep the men that were on the move again in view. Two became one in the blink of an eye and Myka felt her stomach muscles clench in fear.
Her mind flitted through the possibilities and brought up horrific images of all the gruesome crimes she'd ever read about in a London Victorian novel. Jack the Ripper sprang to mind, but with that thought came the knowledge that her fiancée, her Helena, had defeated that brute. The idea of her lover kicking ass chased away the worst of her dread and she concentrated on remembering that she was a trained government agent and had dealt with all manner of threats in her life.
Wherever the second man had gone, she knew it wasn't the last she'd see of him. With the next bridge in sight, she hoped to get to it before being trapped, but even as she quickened her pace, she realised that her chances were slim. She couldn't expect Christina to be able to outrun them, she couldn't carry the girl and get away; her only option was to stand and fight.
So it was that, when the smaller of the two men appeared from a side street and stood before them, she brought Christina to a halt and pushed the girl behind her, her back to the river as she faced the pair.
"Don't come any closer!" She warned them fiercely, feeling her maternal instinct merge with her sense of self-preservation.
Fierce forest-green locked onto the taller man, sizing him up and zoning in on the hand in his pocket. Adrenaline flowed, accentuating her acuity, speeding up her heart rate, activating the renewed fluttering of fear for Christina's safety. Her gaze shifted as the smaller of the two men stepped closer. What I wouldn't give for my Tesla, she thought desperately.
"We have to search you, Miss. You may be carrying something dangerous."
His words gave her pause and for the briefest moment she wondered if they knew more about the situation that she'd assumed. Could they be agents too? She wanted to pause and question them but the way they were constantly closing in, and the greedy expression in the taller one's eyes made her ever more cautious.
"You will not touch either of us," she warned.
He sneered at her, as if she was a bug to be squashed. "Miss, if you choose not to co-operate, then we will have to use force."
The image of either of them searching her or her daughter made her angry and she spoke for once without thinking. "Try it!" She touched Christina's shoulder again, reassuring herself that the girl was still ok.
She was sure that she had never felt this afraid in her entire life. Even strapped to a chair with an axe hanging above her head, she had been somewhat collected in her thoughts. Even if her thoughts had consisted of nothing but I still love you, Helena; I wish we'd had more time together, she hadn't let her panic overwhelm her. But this wasn't fear for her own life; that sort of fear gave her an edge. This was fear for another; fear for someone innocent; fear for someone who was unable to protect themselves. It was all consuming, irrational and a hindrance to someone who relied on clean, crisp thought to get the job done.
It wasn't clear who made the first move. Some part of Myka decided that they were too close and she struck out like a wounded animal. Despite her delicate condition, she had been sure to keep in shape, but though she knew her movement reflected her years of honed skill, it felt awkward. The fight was more of a scramble than she was used to and with half her thoughts still worried about her daughter, she knew her focus wasn't where it should be.
Noting that the smaller man was more calculating, taking his time to find a way through her defence, she sent the taller one flying to the ground before turning to face the next attack.
There was no time to realise her mistake as she felt the sting of electricity hit her. The world was dark before her body collapsed, the only thing of note being the fading scream that her heart reached out for blindly.
Clawing her way to consciousness, the first thing Myka became aware of was hushed voices. Her head hurt and her limbs were stiff. She remembered instantly what had happened and panic filled her chest as she wondered what had become of Christina.
Eyes squinted into a dimly lit room and she winced at the pain in her head. It reminded her of the moment she and Pete had woken up in Warehouse 2; the brief second of confusion and discomfort before she recalled the reason they'd been incapacitated. Now that she thought about it, hadn't there been a crackle of electricity before she'd hit the ground? Could these people be from the Warehouse after all? There methods were far more barbaric than she was used to.
Clinging to the surface she was lying on, Myka rose slowly to a sitting position and took a cautious look around, being careful not to turn too quickly one way or the other.
From what she could tell through the poor illumination, she was in some sort of study. The chaise longue she now realised she was sitting on was the only furniture other than a desk and chair, but the adornments covering the walls, surfaces and fireplace leant the room a semi-cluttered but cosy look. Gas wall lanterns were turned down low and Myka soon realised that they were the source of the strange odour she had sensed.
I need to find Christina, her brain reminded her after several seconds of finding her bearings. The mother in her was already in a panic, her imagination playing wildly with one scenario after another, but the agent in her was somewhat calmer, taking in her location and the fact that she wasn't seriously hurt; someone had taken the time to help her. Hopefully, that same person had her daughter too.
Her memory ran to their arrival in this time and she noted with trepidation that her coat was missing, and likely with it, the artefact. Praying that she had recovered enough not to be sick, she pushed herself up onto shaky legs and bit by bit, made her way to the door.
The voices were louder here and she stopped to listen in, hoping to glean something of use from the muffled conversation.
"... recommended that he be suspended from all active investigations until he can prove that he is able to conduct himself in a manner more befitting to his profession. He will have to undergo some rigorous training."
"Personally, I think we should leave him to the carrion, but I do believe you might be correct in your assessment of his character. The last thing we need right now is an ex-agent with a vendetta."
The voices were unfamiliar; neither of them belonged to the men she'd fought on the bank of the Thames. The first one had a feeling of authority in his tone but it was laced with something else that immediately put Myka at ease. The following female voice held similar weighted conviction but was sharper and less forgiving.
They were talking about her assailants, she was sure of it. What had they used to knock her out? What had happened after the fight? Where were they now and who were these people?
Fighting to remember, Myka considered their attackers' motives and thought harder about what the shorter one had said to her – you may be carrying something dangerous. In retrospect, he seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Her captors had to be discussing the taller man.
The male voice continued to placate his companion and in turn, hers took on a note of resignation.
"It has been reported. If necessary, we will meet with the other Regents and vote on his fate."
"In the meantime, let's hope that the Warehouse can contain him."
"He will be dealt with, love. We have more pressing concerns."
"Indeed."
There was a pause and the sound of another door opening before the woman's voice softened.
"Ah, here she returns. Looking, and feeling much better I dare say. Have you had enough to eat my dear?"
"Yes, thank you."
Christina's polite tone reached across the room and through the closed door to her mother, and Myka couldn't help her instinctive reaction. Tugging at the doorknob, she fumbled for a moment before it turned and the door swung open. No sooner had she moved than the eight-year-old was bounding across the room towards her. Still weak, her knees trembled and she had to cling to the doorframe as she sank to the floor, the perfect height to receive a very relieved little time traveller.
"Mama, you're ok!"
Myka winced at the volume but pulled the small body closer so she could wrap her arms firmly around the girl. For several seconds, she breathed in the scent of her hair and allowed it to comfort her.
"Percy, please tell Dr. Gravestock that his patient is awake," the gentleman ordered as he crossed the room to help his guest to her feet.
Myka felt a flush of embarrassment at not being able to stand on her own, and took the offered hand reluctantly. "Thank you," she said as he led her and Christina towards a couch.
Annexing the small study, Myka had walked into a well proportioned sitting room, with two long couches and three high-backed chairs forming a central 'conversation pit', and an entire wall that seemed dedicated to making the fireplace an unavoidable focal point. The same dark woods and fabrics created an atmosphere that Myka had only ever been able to imagine from pictures and stories.
An atmosphere that she imagined frequently – during her many private fantasies involving her fiancée and a certain house in London.
"Don't mention it, my dear," he replied in dismissal. "Had I been quicker on my feet, I should have acted before you had come to any harm. You were managing remarkably well before I reached you though, I might add," he finished with a friendly smile.
Myka hesitated a moment as she calculated her response. Her gut told her that these people could be trusted. Not only had they rescued her and Christina, but by the sound of their conversation, they were Regents of the Warehouse too. It was still a great risk to open with questions about the Warehouse, its agents and its artefacts.
At that last thought, she remembered her missing coat.
She needed that artefact.
To fill the silence and stretch the time she had, Myka fussed over her daughter, reassuring her that they would be ok and surreptitiously checking her over for injuries. Within seconds of her ministrations ceasing, the eight-year-old yawned and melted into her side. Picking up a nearby cushion, she placed it on her lap and encouraged Christina to lay her head down.
"Those men who attacked me?" She finally asked, stroking dark, wavy hair as she focussed her attention on their hosts.
There was a moment's hesitation as the couple looked to one another and appeared to communicate without words. A subtle nod from his wife prompted the gentleman to lean forward, his expression serious but entreating.
"Our agents overstepped their boundaries tonight. They trained to protect, not harm. We deeply regret that they chose to use force rather than reason." He held her gaze as he added, "Some objects, like the one you were carrying, can have unexpected behaviours. Some are extremely dangerous. They were to remove it from your possession, that is all."
"They're Warehouse agents," she concluded, surprising the couple.
There had to be an unspoken rule for situations such as this; a 'temporal directive' to govern her actions so as not to pollute the timeline, but she couldn't see a way out of her situation without help from the Warehouse. Common sense would have to make do in the absence of any formal mandate. Being honest in a limited capacity seemed to her a good place to start.
"I need that artefact," she stated simply.
"Are we to take it that you know what it is and what it does?" the lady of the house asked, surprised.
In for a penny... "I know that it belongs in the Warehouse. Those were Warehouse agents, weren't they? And if I had to guess, I'd say you were Regents." Deciding to be as honest as she could, she added, "I heard your conversation through the door and made the connection, which I'm grateful for; this is hard enough without involving more civilians." She kept her voice deliberately friendly and calm. If she were in their shoes, she would be cautious of an outside party having knowledge of the mystical entity she worked for. It wouldn't help her if they decided that she was a threat after all.
"Would you care to explain how you know all this?" Leaning forward like her husband, the elder woman began to re-evaluate their guest. There was a bright spark of intelligence behind that green gaze and, even while exhausted and injured, it shone with a keen edge.
Biting her lip, Myka agonised for a moment over the question. "I don't know how much to tell you," she admitted at last with a sigh.
Taking pity on the young woman, the lady of the house relaxed once more into her chair. "I think perhaps introductions are in order first; we've been rather remiss thus far. Since you seem to know all about it anyway, I suppose it does no harm now to admit that we are Regents of Warehouse Twelve; my husband, Rupert Wells," she gestured to her right and then to herself, "Mrs. Eleanor Wells."
Myka's eyes widened at this new information and she only just managed to keep her astonishment from tumbling out of her mouth. Helena's grandma Norie!? Instead, she forced her own name forward. "Myka Bering. Agent of Warehouse Thirteen."