Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) by Nellie Steele (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📕

Damien eyed them as Michael approached the boy, speaking a few words to him. The child answered, Michael spoke again. After a moment, the child showed him the front of the paper. Michael stared at it, then spoke a few words before trotting back to where Damien waited.

“Well?” Damien asked.

“The date on the paper is December first, 1812,” Michael answered.

“1812?” Damien questioned. “1812… 1812… why 1812? Why London? What did you want us to do, Celine?” Damien murmured.

“Was Celine in London in 1812?”

“I’m not sure. This is so frustrating. We have no idea why we’re here, where to go, what to do! Which begs the question: what the hell are we going to do?”

“I have no idea. We have no information, no letter of introduction, no directions on where to go. This is a nightmare,” Michael said.

Damien sighed. “We have to figure something out. Before we’re sleeping on the streets of London in 1812.” Panic laced Damien’s voice as the seriousness of their situation set in.

Michael noted the alarm entering Damien’s voice. “All right, all right, just calm down. We need a place to sit down and think.” Michael glanced around for a suitable location.

“The park,” Damien said. “St. James Park. We can go there, find a place to sit down, regroup, come up with a plan.”

“Sounds good,” Michael agreed. “Do you know the way?”

“If we walk toward the river, we should get to it,” Damien said. “At least I think so.”

Using the palace and river as their guide, Michael and Damien hurried along the sidewalk. Within moments, they came to the park. They spotted a bench, hastening to it. “Okay, okay, okay. Think, Damien, think,” Damien muttered to himself. After a few moments, he threw his hands in the air, frustration forming. “Nothing, I have nothing. Ugh!”

“Relax, we can figure this out,” Michael assured him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Ummmm,” Damien paused. “Uh, I’m not sure. My memory is so hazy. It’s like I can’t remember. What about you?”

Michael furrowed his brow, concentrating. “Uh, yeah, mine is hazy too. Wait, wait. Being at Alexander’s house? But I don’t remember why.”

Damien gave his memory another try. “Yeah, okay, yes, I can remember being at Alexander’s. I think I can anyway. It may be a false memory because you said that. This is getting us nowhere!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Like I said, calm down, we can figure this out.”

“How do you propose we do that, Michael?” Damien queried. “I don’t have a magical wand to wave.”

“No, I realize that,” Michael answered. “But we can talk through this and figure something out. We need a plan. It doesn’t have to work, but we have to try something until it does.”

Damien puffed out a deep exhale. “Okay,” Damien said, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Okay, now,” Michael said, “if Celine was in London, where would she be? Do you know where she typically stayed when she was here?”

“Umm,” Damien said, his voice trembling as he considered it. “No, I never discussed London with Celine. I don’t…” His voice trailed off.

“What?” Michael prompted, realizing Damien was vetting an idea in his head.

“I never discussed London with Celine, but I did discuss it with Alexander. He mentioned it during one of our chess games. The Buckleys had an estate here before they moved to the States. They also had a house in London. Where did he say it was? I can’t remember!” Damien exclaimed.

“Okay, okay, that’s good. We just need to find the house. Just relax, think. What prompted the conversation between you? Try to remember what you were discussing, perhaps that will help you recall where the house is located.”

Damien muttered, “Uh… we were talking about… uh… his house! We were talking about him building his house! He said he patterned it off the estate here. I asked him if he stayed there when he traveled, and he said not always. Many times, he’d stay in the London house. Which was on…” Damien paused, deep in thought. “Which was on… on… on Canterbury Way!” Damien snapped his fingers, beaming and staring at Michael. “That’s it! Canterbury Way!”

“Great job, buddy!” Michael exclaimed. “New plan: we find Canterbury Way, figure out which house belongs to the Buckleys and hope somebody is home!”

“Wow, that is the worst plan ever, but okay, let’s go!” They stood from the bench. “Do you know the way?”

“No! Why would I know the way?”

Damien shrugged. “You’ve been to London before, right?”

“Yeah. In the twenty-first century with a chauffeured car. I have no idea where Canterbury Way is or how to get there.”

Damien frowned. “Dang. Oh well, we’ll ask for directions along the way and ask about the Buckleys when we get closer. Perhaps someone will be familiar with them.”

As they exited the park, they stopped a well-dressed gentleman to inquire about Canterbury Way. They were fortunate to find he was familiar with the street, giving them directions to it. Twenty minutes later they arrived at their location. “That wasn’t too bad,” Damien said when they spotted the Canterbury Way sign.

“Good thing. It’s starting to get dark,” Michael replied.

“You afraid of the dark?” Damien joked.

“No, but I don’t want to be on the streets of London with Jack the Ripper.” Damian made a face at Michael. “What?” Michael asked.

“Jack the Ripper isn’t around now. He operated in the late 1800s. Plus, he killed prostitutes, so I think we’re safe.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t want to be sleeping on the streets of London.”

“There are only a few houses on this street. Perhaps this will be easy.”

“What do you suggest we do? Knock on every door?”

“No, but maybe if we hang around, we’ll spot Alexander or Gray or Celine. Or we can ask someone if they come along.”

“I hope someone comes along soon. It’s getting cold!” Michael complained.

They waited a few minutes, parading up and down the street, searching for any clues. They found none. Another few moments passed before Damien spotted a man walking down the