The Time Witch - Part 7

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Time Witch page

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Recap: Back in 1910 with Samuel, Evangeline has a shocking vision when she touches Lenora Livingston, and it involves the Tintype Man, who Samuel believes can steal souls.

Short on time? Scan the story and just read the Bold parts to get the gist of the story. Then come back later and read the whole thing!

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“The Tintype Man steals souls?”

Evangeline gaped, ready to drop down and curl up in a ball. Suddenly, time travel didn’t seem so cool, and maybe her parents had a good reason to keep it from her.

She moaned, staring into Samuel’s warm eyes. He was so solid. He was so real, yet he was just another kind of illusion.

He squinted at her. “Why do you call him the Tintype Man?”

At least Evangeline didn’t have to explain the tintype photography to Samuel. Still, she didn’t know how much of anything she could share. She had to tell him something, but such a big decision needed more than a second of thought. The consequences could be epic.

“Ahh…” she fumbled the answer, “it’s just a name I gave him. Why? Should I call him something else?”

“It is common practice to use one’s name.” Samuel smiled as if it were impolite to point out the obvious.

“You know his name?” Evangeline grabbed his arms. “You know him? He’s from now?”She released him to point at the ground.

“He owns the apothecary,” Samuel said, winching as if the name was distasteful, “Adas Abernathy.”

The last name meant something, but not the man, even though they’d apparently met, or would meet, for a photographic session. The knowledge of a twisted timeline sent a chill up her spine. A timeline that appeared to be working against her. After all, the alarming Adas Abernathy appeared to know her, or at least had a better idea of what was going on, putting her at a disadvantage.

“What does he mean to you?” Samuel asked.

Evangeline took a deep breath. “I’d spill everything, but you won’t like it… or believe it.”

Samuel considered her. “I wish to know the truth. No matter how hard it lands.”

“It’s gonna sound outrageous.” Evangeline bit her lower lip, wondering if she should admit everything or strategically keep out the most shocking parts—the ones about his death.

Standing in the unfinished library, she felt he was the only one who could believe her. Could she tell him about the Tintype Man? That monster threw her off, and if he existed in 1910, she didn’t want to say something that would send Samuel over to confront him.

“Speak with honesty, or I shall know, lass.”

The statement held no real threat. She looked into his trusting eyes and blurted out: “You’re a ghost!”

Samuel pinched his arm. “A ghost? How exactly do the Fates orchestrate my downfall?”

His teasing words were light yet filled with disbelief. Evangeline knew he had every right to doubt her, but it still hurt. He wasn’t making fun. Nothing smug or condescending in his attitude. He just didn’t buy it. She sighed. “You don’t believe me. Why would you? Do you even believe in ghosts?”

He shrugged.

The silence lengthened between them. He took his time to respond, studying her for a moment with the scrutiny that rarely happened in a fast-paced, gotta-get-somewhere, nose-to-cellphone world. It made Evangeline uncomfortable. Not because he was checking her out in any physical way. The stare went deeper. She felt naked all the way to her soul.

Biting her lip, Evangeline pivoted sideways, limiting his view. Hiding behind her shoulder. “Ghosts aren’t normal for me if you were wondering, but who am I to say they don’t exist?”

“Folklore is filled with apparitions and unsettled spirits,” Samuel admitted, intent on every move she made. “It was not my intention, lass, to belittle your ghostly revelation. I must offer my heartfelt gratitude for speaking when many would not.”

Evangeline wasn’t used to so much sensitivity… or eloquence. The man’s got words, she decided, hoping he didn’t notice how it affected her. I could get used to that in my life.

Samuel wasn’t her usual experience—a thoughtful human being. Heck, most people only had time for their own shit. Me included, she thought, deciding to explain it another way. “I meant, in the future… like way in the future… I haven’t done the math yet… I bought this library, and I heard a voice that sounded like you just before the first time you saw me. I find a tunnel. Right over there in the closet.” She pointed to where the closet should be, but it hadn’t yet been added to the room. Nothing had.

Except for the pillars supporting the roof and an archway where the basement stairs should be, the library’s interior was a shell. “Aaah,” she fumbled with telling him everything, realizing she couldn’t. “I also found a skeleton, and it can’t be good that he was in the closet and not a graveyard.”

Samuel held up both hands and backed away from her. “In the future?” He opened his mouth to say more, but only a soft groan came out like he’d been gut-punched.

“Wait,” Evangeline said, “you believe me about time travel? I’m glad you do, of course, but why time travel and not ghosts?”

“Miss Evangeline Moss would be the reason.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and took a couple of steps away. “You managed a unique disappearance and re-appeared in the strangest way.”

“Those are good reasons.”

“I’m rightfully buggered.” 

“Same,” she said.

Giving him a little space, Evangeline crossed to the front window and stared outside. It was the only eye-level window in the library. Her favorite. My window, she thought. Being in the empty library was strange when she was used to it filled with stuff. It helped to see out across Founder’s Square. She marveled at the view, almost able to see the ocean. It was there, though, a dark blue-gray haze. That wasn’t possible way, way, way in the future.

She mentally subtracted 1910 from 2024. “One hundred and fourteen years from now,” she muttered. “Damn.”

“Do we converse at length when I am a ghost?” He interrupted her calculations.

“Well…” Evangeline gulped, not wanting to say he’d managed to combine cryptic with flirty, “no, not a conversation. Only a word or two. And just a voice. I didn’t see a ghost. And it was kinda… nagging, yet encouraging… almost sweet. Maybe a little bitter? I don’t know, the voice wasn’t forthcoming.” 

He frowned. “It seems you are holding something back.”

Well, duh. She sighed, realizing she’d come to the past to change her future, and she should have come to change his. She went over to him and grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, but I was trying not to point out that if you’re the ghost, it means you’re dead. Sorry. But it’s the future, so, naturally, you’d be gone, but not so much a ghost. And I can’t explain it, but we have time, right? I’ll gather what can be gathered here and use it there to figure out what happened that made you a ghost and fix it.”

“Fix? It?” He bent over, trying to catch his breath.

Oh shit, he gets it! Evangeline cringed. She’d said too much. Her instinct was to touch him. Offer comfort. It pulled her within a breath of stroking the nape of his neck. She caught herself, thinking, Probably not time period appropriate. With some effort, she kept her hands to herself.

“Listen,” she tried to soothe him with logic instead, “I feel like I’ve lost my keys with no idea what they open, which means our current problems are the minor ones, even if they feel overwhelming and terribly personal.” She knew she was back to talking about herself but believed it also included him. “You see, I have a bad feeling that what we don’t know is far more disturbing.” She nodded to herself, finally able to call out the tension gnawing at her stomach. “Right now, we can get ahead of it.”

“Ahead of… it?” He parroted, crouching into a squat. “I’m the skeleton, as well as the ghost? Is that the part you will not say?”

He does get it. Evangeline blushed. “I don’t even think the skeleton matters.” A bit of knowledge popped into her head, like a book opening to the back where all the answers were listed. “Oh wait, I didn’t pull you into the tunnel. You grabbed me and came through.”

He nodded, remembering. “The strangest of sensations. I felt weak, but it passed as fast as a head rush.”

Relief flooded her senses like a dam failing, bringing healing water back to an arid land. How strange,” Evangeline thought, as the cascading freedom made her see things more clearly.

While the skeleton had caused a 2024 problem, it hadn’t actually been stuffed into a hidden alcove waiting a hundred and fourteen years to be found. It fell through. A day ago. “You weren’t murdered! You just got pulled into the tunnel and couldn’t come with me. At least, not alive.” She thought it over, sensing she was onto something. 

“You believe I was murdered?”

“Aaah… the police do,” Evangeline bent down, trying to see him better. He wasn’t taking it well. Clearly, he didn’t find her revelations as empowering. “But now I don’t. It’s okay. No one murdered you.”

Standing straight, Samuel took a step back. “Are you one of them?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Who?”

Samuel shook his head from side to side.

Evangeline took a step closer, and he backed up again. “Are you afraid of me?” she asked.

He shrugged, torn. “I must confide that something stirs within, as fragile as butterfly wings, yet strong enough to believe in your preposterous statements.”

Moved by the way he spoke—and a little confused—Evangeline understood the gist of his meaning. “I know how I sound, and you might be worried to share something equally bizarre, but you probably should. I might be the only person that will understand.”

Thinking it over, Samuel walked to the stacked crates, which held tools. He took down the top one, removed the tools, and turned the crate over, motioning for Evangeline to sit. “I apologize for the lack of comfort.”

“No worries.”

He joined her, taking a spot on the floor. One long leg stretched out, and the other bent at the knee. He leaned an elbow on it, thoughtful. “We may descend into the depths of Hell together; is that your valiant offer?” 

Once again, his eloquence moved her. She nodded, certain her voice might betray the attraction she felt. He’s dead, she told herself. Long dead. He’s the poster boy for geographically undesirable.

Samuel rubbed at the knee of his trousers. “Baxter Creek has been known to attract a strangeness now and again, as well as practitioners,” he said. He turned to catch her eye, jaw firmly set. He broke the connection to glance at the high windows that circled the room. They seemed extra high, sitting so close to the floor. He watched the light filter through as if expecting to see a face up there, watching them. “It is said to be at the core of our town’s foundation, yet remains unspoken. It is communicated only with a wink, a nod, or a finger to the lips. I have not, thus far, been entrusted with the full secret, only the whispers. My ancestors, I fear, were privy to much more.”

 Evangeline squinted. “Can you be a little more specific?  Or is it that secret?”

“I refer to whispers of a group that is thought to meet at the midnight hour.”

Evangeline sighed. “Do they have a name?”

Samuel briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he whispered: “a coven.”

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