Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series)

  Edge of Time

  Melissa Lynne Blue

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edge of Time

  Copyright © 2012 by Melissa Lynne Blue

  Cover Design by Rae Monet

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  For more information: www.melissalynneblue.com

  Edge of Time 230

  Dedication

  For my husband who never settles for second best… And Amanda… Fly Me To The Moon is for you and Makayla.

  Edge of Time 230

  One

  Was it possible to just pick up and start a whole new life?

  The question weighed heavily on twenty-six year old Marissa McClafferty’s mind as she prepared to leave the war zone her work place had recently become.

  Or better yet, just drop off the face of the earth entirely?

  The oversize wall clock behind the nurses’ station read eight-thirty and angrily Marissa kicked the blood spattered white shoes from her aching feet. She should have been out of there an hour ago. Her shift had ended at seven-thirty but as usual disaster struck at the stroke of seven and here she was preparing to trudge home late and microwave another lonely TV dinner.

  Wearily she shrugged a light jacket over her pale blue scrubs, the second set she’d changed into that day, and stuffed her feet into the worn brown shoes that would carry her home. Slipping through a side door behind the emergency department Marissa made her way through the ever darkening parking lot. As if her day hadn’t been bad enough, Brian had dropped by that afternoon to inform her that if she didn’t get the rest of her “stuff” out of his studio by the end of the week he was going sell it or dump it.

  As if she’d had the time! Brian knew how busy she was and how much stress she had been under lately. Oh well, Marissa sighed, it didn’t really matter anymore. It was over between them and with her two weeks of vacation starting tomorrow, she would have plenty of time to gather up the remnants of her engagement from his studio and shut him out of her life forever. But she didn’t really want to go over to his place. She didn’t want to see him or… Marne.

  A shooting star streaked across the black oblivion of the nighttime sky and Marissa could not resist throwing a silent wish heavenward, I really want a new life… A different life… Sliding behind the wheel of her sporty white Chevy, thoughts of Brian and Marne—and Marne and Brian—refused to be thrust from her mind. Two weeks ago that day her former fiancé had appeared unexpectedly at work, work of all places, to announce that he had fallen in love with his latest model.

  Marne.

  Marne was essentially everything Marissa was not: tall and willowy with radiant raven curls and blue-green eyes that perfectly matched the color of the ocean before a summer gale. Marne could best be described as Marissa’s polar opposite. But as much as Brian’s devastating betrayal hurt, the knowledge that she should have seen it coming, had known it was coming, was far more depressing. She had always been a strong, career oriented woman, one who would never allow herself to get caught up in girlish romantic fantasies.

  Or so she had thought. One look from the dark brooding artist and she’d practically swooned in his arms. Following a whirlwind courtship he’d proposed after a mere six months. Marissa had felt like the luckiest woman alive. Busy schedules had prevented them from getting around to setting a date for the wedding and after two years…

  She should have known better than to fall for such a romantic illusion of a man. But the bottom line was that as much as his betrayal hurt she could not allow this one man to wreck her… She was Marissa McClafferty strong, independent woman and she did not need Brian Whitely. Even as she pounded the words through her brain they felt hollow, unconvincing and the powerful realization was that Brian had wrecked her… The miserable break up had left the shreds of her heart and soul like a shoddy patchwork quilt, barely held together with old yarn, and a gaping hole in the very center.

  The silhouette of a man in the middle of the road became visible in the yellow glow of Marissa’s headlights, snapping her from her musings. “That’s weird,” she murmured slowing and shifting to the shoulder of the road, away from the frantic figure standing on the dotted yellow line. Cautiously Marissa inched ever closer and spotted a beat up little car stopped on the opposite side of the old highway. The Toyota compact definitely appeared to be out of service with all of the lights out, and the vehicle was parked at an extremely odd angle in the road. With a contemplative sigh Marissa warred over the wisdom of stopping and cursed under her breath when good conscience won out. Inching the window down just enough to speak with the man she opened her mouth to speak.

  “I need help!” The panicked voice exploded through the window opening.” My girlfriend is having an asthma attack.” The boy couldn’t have been more than 18. “But the car broke down before I could get to the hospital and my cell phone is dead!”

  “Okay, Okay,” Marissa said soothingly feeling instantly guilty that she had considered not stopping. Subconsciously an internal switch flipped to ER nurse mode and Marissa sprang into action. “I’ll call an ambulance for you.” Quickly she dialed 911 and filled the dispatcher in on the present situation. Stepping from the car she snatched the stethoscope off the passenger seat and handed her cell phone to the distraught boyfriend. “What’s your name?”

  “Tom.”

  “All right, Tom, I want you talk to the dispatcher while I go to check on your girlfriend.” Though soft, her voice held an authoritative tone that brooked no argument from the teenager.

  “Are, are you a doctor?”

  “No, I’m a nurse.” Marissa tossed him a quick reassuring smile. Sliding into the driver’s seat of the young man’s car it was immediately apparent that the girl was in a severe state of distress. “Hi. My name is Marissa, I’m a nurse in Community’s ER and an ambulance is on the way. Right now I want you to try and relax, okay?” Even as she laid a gentle hand on the teen’s arm a siren screamed, coming rapidly closer.

  The flashing lights of the ambulance cast a reassuring red and blue aura over the landscape surrounding the car and as the large vehicle sped to a screeching halt in front of the crippled automobile a burly man leapt from the back of the wagon and strode with urgency to the car. “Oh, hey, Marissa.” The EMT was obviously surprised to see her.

  “Hey, Dan.” Marissa gestured to the distressed teenager and quickly relayed her assessment of the situation. “Do you think her boyfriend could ride in on the ambulance with you? Their car broke down and it’s only a couple of minutes into town.”

  “Hey, that’s no problem.” The EMT grinned widely at the worried boyfriend. “Hop aboard, kid!” Dan had an appealing manner that could lighten even the most dire of situations.

  The teenager turned a grateful smile to Marissa. “Thank you so much. I hope you don’t mind but I called a tow truck about my car.” The boyfriend placed the cell phone back in Marissa’s hand. She shoved it into her pocket.

  Marissa just smiled. “That is absolutely fine.”

  Within moments the ambulance was speeding away. Marissa sighed, more than ready to begin her two weeks off. The black cloud of disaster seemed to be following her even when she wasn’t at work! Sliding behind the wheel of her car Marissa felt as though she were functioning on autopilot
. Automatically she stabbed the key into the ignition and slipped the gearshift into drive. Steadily she pressed her foot to the gas pedal and began to accelerate past the broken down car.

  “What the hell?” The curse escaped her mouth as her own vehicle’s engine made a strange whining noise and died. In vain she wrenched the key in the ignition willing the car to start, but it was no use, it seemed as though the entire electrical system was out. Grabbing her wallet she threw open the car door and stormed from the vehicle. Lifting the hood wouldn’t do any good because she was anything but a mechanic. She would never recognize a problem much less fix one. Leaning against the car she flipped the cell phone open to call Triple A. It was dead. It wouldn’t even power on, which could not be possible as the phone had been fully charged when she’d left work not twenty minutes ago.

  A glance up and down the road revealed not a single, solitary light—anywhere! How far had she come from the hospital, anyway? And where were some of the nearby houses? Dusk became darker. This must be a massive power outage.

  “Ahhhrrgg!” In total frustration Marissa pounded her fists on the top of the shiny white car, sending her cell phone flying in the process. Could one more thing possibly go wrong? The phone bounced and rolled into the roadside ditch between her and the edge of a barren field bordering an old brick farmhouse. “Well, I guess that’s what I get for losing my temper,” she grumbled.

  In what light the full moon lent she stumbled down the embankment and bent to pick up the cell phone. As she reached for it, Marissa noticed that her watch had also stopped. Taking it off, she shook it beside her ear. Nothing. Growling in dour frustration she beat down the urge to hurl the watch into the field and stuffed it into her scrub pocket instead. It was then she noticed a single light shining from the first floor of the rustic brick house in the field. Marissa surmised that was her best bet for a working telephone. She’d always thought the place was deserted, but maybe someone had recently bought it. On the chance there was someone there, she set to her jaw and strode determinably across the field at a brisk clip, more than a little nervous about approaching this particular house.

  Most people in Charleston said it and the woods behind it were haunted. A hundred or so years ago there had been a murderer in those woods. Everyone knew the story and many claimed that every twenty years someone disappeared in the vicinity of the farmhouse. Every Friday the 13th or Halloween night a group of teenagers from the nearby high school came out here looking for ghosts. Marissa had never put much stock in ghost stories but just the same she’d never seen fit to tempt fate. Even now a bizarre white mist visibly emanated from the woods, creeping around the moss laden tree trunks.

  About half-way across the field she slowed as it became apparent the pale beacon shining from the farmhouse was neither a reflection of sorts or from an electrical source. The way the glow bounced and flickered, Marissa thought it must be candlelight. Swallowing back the unease welling in her throat she reasoned that the farmhouse must have lost power as well. Carefully she averted her gaze from the ‘haunted’ woods and pondered the possible causes of such a mass power outage.

  “Ouch!” Marissa swore as she stumbled over a large rock and fell. Grumbling under her breath she righted herself and brushed the thick dust from her thigh. Tucking her blonde hair back into its twist as best she could, she took more care walking in the dark. Her eyes—and ears—must be playing tricks on her. The swirling fog emerging from beneath the trees created a surreal aura over the landscape; an unearthly stillness descended upon the field and Marissa shuddered with cold dread as wraithlike silhouettes seemed to dance and bob, fading in and out of her visual field. With a fervent shake she rubbed the flat of her palms across her eyes and stared.

  I do not believe in ghosts, so I’m not seeing them now! But... Did the sky really seem lighter? Why did the field suddenly look… different? Had someone painted that ancient porch? Surely it had never been white before.

  A powerful gust of wind sparked Marissa from her trance and she broke into a terrified run for the farmhouse. The stars faded in the evening sky and it almost seemed as though the sun were rising back out of the west. Impossible! Ghostlike figures continued to eddy on the wind around her and another gust threatened to steal the very breath from her lungs. An intense flash of light lit the sky and the blanket of stars shattered into a thousand glittering orbs of spectral light.

  A scream built inside her, but an even more horrifying sensation of being paralyzed swept over Marissa, blocking it in her throat. She was unable to move, or cry, or scream. In desperation she fought to tear herself from the hellish chaos of the weird half-night, half-day she found herself in. Intense light flooded the world around her and the ghostly wraiths bent and twisted. The sights and sounds and smells of the night merged in a stunning collage of sensation and color. The wraithlike figures grew even more distorted, altering her perception of everything around her. The earth, the grass, even the farmhouse changed before her very eyes. Then all at once she felt solid ground beneath her feet, and she could move again, running toward the house… in terror.

  She never saw him coming, never noticed the man who materialized like a ghost from thin air, but she certainly felt it when she plunged headlong into him. Marissa cried out in surprise as she and what felt like the solid trunk of a tree collided. For one long moment all she saw was gray… gray, scratchy wool. Marissa held out her arms as a shield, but found them entwined with pair of long masculine arms. Spinning and off balance, Marissa squeezed her eyes shut, tensed in anticipation of the inevitable collision with the ground. At the last moment the man with whom she was falling shifted his weight to cushion her fall, and they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The two lay for a moment unmoving, stunned.

  Upon opening her eyes Marissa became acutely aware of two things: One, it was light out, and two, she was lying on top of the rock hard, well-toned form of a man. Raising her head she looked frantically around, heart still hammering with the terror she’d experienced just moments before.

  “Madam, your knee!” The man beneath her grunted in obvious discomfort.

  “Huh?” Marissa was far too disoriented to comprehend, much less form, intelligent speech.

  “Move your knee, woman!” the man said with considerable urgency.

  “What? Oh!” Realizing the delicate area in which her left knee had landed Marissa hastily scrambled off of the man and sat beside him, struggling to get her bearings.

  “Oh, God.” The man she’d plowed into rolled away from her with a grimace. “Getting run over by a stagecoach would have been less painful.” With a deep breath, and another grimace, he rose to a sitting position facing Marissa in the grass. He picked up his hat, brushed it off and replaced it on his head. Then he jumped lithely to his feet and held a hand out to assist her up.

  Marissa shook her head, trying to make sense of all this. How can it be daylight again? The last shades of dusk had fallen only moments ago on the highway.

  “It’s light out,” she marveled aloud.

  “Well of course it’s light out. It won’t be dark for nigh on an hour.”

  Marissa, still trying to collect herself, took her first good look at the man in the field with her. Her heart gave a sickening lurch as her mouth gaped in disbelief. In a word the gentleman’s attire appeared… odd. He wore a snug fitting gray woolen tunic with a high stiff collar embroidered with decorative gold scrollwork. A rich scarlet sash encircled a trim waist and intricate gold buttons closed the front of the jacket.

  A Civil War officer? Impossible! Unless this is one of those re-enactment groups? And if that is the case, he is really into his character. Nobody said ‘nigh onto’ anything anymore.

  Narrow straps atop each of his shoulders bore captain’s bars, if badges of rank were the same now as the time he was dressed up to represent, and the initials “M. S.” bedecked the impeccable high collar. Marissa dragged her gaze up the sha
pe of a man who appeared tailored to fit the uniform and not the other way around. Neatly trimmed sandy hair shown beneath his gray cap, and he possessed a strong, clean shaven face. Under normal circumstances Marissa may have thought him handsome—no not handsome; this man was beyond handsome—but when her gaze slid up to meet his eyes… her breath froze… the arresting blue hue left her totally dumbstruck. After several mindless moments, reality returned and she snapped her mouth shut, but confusion continued to swirl through her mind as she returned his equally puzzled gaze. Never had she seen eyes so captivatingly blue.

  * * *

  Craig Langston studied the woman he’d collided with in a fashion as openly fascinated as she appeared to be. She was young, probably in her early twenties, very pretty, with cornflower blonde hair streaked with silvery strands pulled into a half-hazard bun. Her ebony eyes contrasted vividly with pale milky skin, and the delicate bone structure of her heart shaped face deserved more than a casual glance. This woman was undoubtedly a timelessly classic beauty. However, it wasn’t the young woman’s looks which held Craig Langston enthralled, but her attire.

  She was clad in a pale blue uniform of sorts which somewhat resembled a sailor’s dungarees. The clothing was constructed of a light-weight fabric, pale blue in color, and consisted of an unrestricting short sleeved blouse tucked into similarly unrestricting trousers that tied off with a draw string at the waist. The blouse had a V neck which, when she leaned forward as she did now, revealed a great deal more flesh than the girl probably would have liked; she was certainly not wearing any sort of chemise or undergarments he was accustomed to. The woman’s appearance was scandalous at best, and he couldn’t help but notice how the thin fabric clung provocatively to her voluptuous curves. Tearing his eyes away from her peculiar attire he forced himself to look at her face again. She looked positively stricken. He surmised her expression was likely a result of her inappropriate state of dress and their compromising position a few moments before.