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

Damien mused. “Me too. Did it hit us? I seem to remember feeling like I was being electrocuted.”

“Yes! I remember that too. Like a bolt of lightning hit me. That’s the last I remember.”

Damien glanced around. “There must be more, right? Like we were fine and then Celine sent us back here. We just can’t remember.”

“Uh…”

“What?”

“Every other day when we’ve done this, I’ve realized there was more, but it’s just beyond my mind’s reach. But today…” Michael’s voice trailed off.

“You feel like there’s nothing else. There is no hazy memory just beyond your reach.”

“Yes, exactly! How did you know?”

“Because I have the same feeling. Which may mean…”

“There is no more,” Michael surmised.

They were silent for a moment. “So, if that’s true…” Damien began.

“Don’t say it.”

“Sorry, but I have to. If that’s true… perhaps Celine did not send us back in time.”

“I asked you not say it.”

“So, in other words, perhaps the blue electric arc sent us back in time, not Celine.

“To a world that’s unrecognizable. This can’t be true,” Michael lamented.

Damien pondered a moment. “Did that weird blue arc mess up everything?”

“Maybe we’re just dreaming this. Like the arc put us to sleep or something,” Michael pondered aloud. Damien pinched Michael’s arm. “Ouch! What the hell, man?”

“Testing the sleep theory. Not asleep, you wouldn’t have felt that,” Damien responded.

“Next time, warn me.”

“Sorry,” Damien apologized. “Okay, so we’re not asleep. Perhaps some communal hallucination? Either way, it lends credence to our theory that we need to restore Gray and Celine’s relationship.”

“I’m not arguing, but how do you figure that?”

“If that arc somehow messed up the world and sent us back in time to a changed world, doesn’t it make sense that we need to fix it and then return? Otherwise, we’ll just return to an unrecognizable world in our time.”

“Good point, okay, I can buy that.”

“Okay, cool. So, we go to the ball tonight and start pushing Celine and Gray together.”

“Will that actually work?”

Damien shrugged. “Can’t hurt. You heard him talk about her yesterday. Sounded like he was quite taken with her.”

“Yeah, it did. ‘She’s lovely,’” Michael imitated.

“Well, she is. You fell for her.”

“Point taken. Okay, okay, so we start pushing them together. Even still, this plan could take MONTHS or longer to work. We can’t stay here for months.”

“We’re going to have to come up with some way to speed up the process. But for now, we should make sure they see each other tonight. Talk a little, that kind of stuff.”

“Okay, sounds good. At least we have a partial plan.”

“Yeah, I feel better. Also, I feel hungry. It’s almost lunch time! Shall we go to the dining room?”

“Yes, I believe we shall, good sir.”

Damien stood, bowing to Michael. “After you, my good sir.”

Michael stood and bowed to Damien. “No, no! I wouldn’t hear of it! After YOU, my good sir.”

They turned toward the door leading from the room to find Gray standing in the opening. He crossed his arms, staring at them. “Lunch is ready… my good sirs,” he told them, rolling his eyes at them. He turned and left, mumbling to himself about how strange Michael and Damien were. Michael and Damien glanced at each other.

“Oops,” Damien said to Michael.

“Oh well, he never likes us. Who cares?” Michael responded. Damien nodded, and they made their way to the dining room for lunch. Damien spent the afternoon teaching Michael how to play chess in an effort to distract them both and make the time pass faster.

Early evening arrived, and they disbanded to dress for the ball. The experience intrigued Damien who was thrilled to attend an honest-to-goodness ball in London. Michael was, as usual, less thrilled with the idea, stating he preferred to attend a modern-day party. Damien promised to throw him one as soon as they returned to their time.

They paced the sitting room floor in their finery, awaiting Gray and Alexander. They arrived in the foyer, dressed for the ball. Donning their cloaks, they proceeded outside to the waiting carriage. Michael groaned at the sight.

“Oh, great. Another carriage ride,” he lamented.

“It’ll be better than walking,” Damien assured him.

“Uh, I’m not convinced. I’m still not over the last carriage ride.”

They climbed in the carriage and traveled to the Blackburn residence. They proceeded inside and were ushered to the ballroom where the master of ceremonies announced them. Several guests had already arrived. They glanced around the room.

“I don’t see Celine,” Damien remarked.

“Nope.”

Alexander brought them refreshments. “Gentlemen, some refreshments. It appears Duchess Northcott has not yet arrived.”

“We noticed,” Michael said.

“She’s here now,” Gray commented, gazing at the entryway. “She looks stunning.”

Celine, escorted by Marcus Northcott, stood in the doorway as the master of ceremonies announced them. They proceeded into the room, swamped by several guests as they arrived. “Wow, they’re popular,” Damien commented.

“They are a duke and duchess, and he is fourth in line to the throne, is it?” Alexander queried.

“Third, I gather. Philip Winston was third, but he met with an unfortunate accident,” Gray responded.

Michael and Damien spent over an hour observing the ball and Celine. She smiled, chatted, danced and seemed to be the delight of society. She rarely enjoyed a moment alone, making it impossible for them to approach her to discuss anything outside of pleasantries.

Two hours into the ball, Celine approached them. “Mr. Buckley,” she said in greeting to Alexander. “I trust you and your cousins are enjoying your experience?”

“Duchess Northcott,” he greeted her, bowing. “Yes, they are enjoying their experience immensely. Thank you again for your assistance in procuring an invitation.”

Celine turned to Michael and Damien. “And how are you finding your stay in London?”

Damien still had difficulty getting over her accent.

“We are enjoying it thoroughly,” Michael answered as Damien lost his ability to speak, marveling at Celine’s strange behavior.

She turned to Grayson. “Mr. Buckley. I am pleased that we should meet again.”

“As am I,” Grayson answered, never taking his eyes from her. She smiled at him, a genuine smile, it appeared to Damien.

“There you are, darling,” Marcus chimed in,