Mirrors (Curse of Lanval Book 1) by Dodson Rebekah

Author:Dodson, Rebekah [Dodson, Rebekah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-12-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six: Not My Mother’s France

You’re not in love with me, are you?

It’s strange that it would be Becci’s voice I would hear in my moment of need. Why her? She was eight thousand miles away, and she had made it clear we didn’t have a future. Who cares about a future anyway, when there are so many women to be explored?

Man, jet lag is a bitch, I thought as I struggled to clear my head. I had slept plenty yesterday, my body adjusting quickly to the time change after our flight, but I knew from experience that sometimes jet lag was a sleeping lion that reared its head when you least expected. Why was my head so fuzzy?

Jules.

Where was she?

I shook my head and my vision cleared finally, and I saw Jules laying next to me, crumpled against one of the pews, unconscious. I started to panic, but my training kicked in, and I moved her gently, checked her breathing and pulse. Her heart was still beating strong, but as I lifted her head to clear her airway, my fingers came back smeared with blood. I looked up and saw her head must have hit the pew. How was that even possible? They were a good five feet behind us.

Working quickly, I ripped the sleeve off my white shirt, wincing slightly when I realized my mother would be upset I ruined my funeral clothes. Too bad, Jules was more important. The gash in Jules' head wasn’t bleeding profusely and wasn’t anything a few stitches couldn’t fix. I had my kit back at my aunt’s house so I could fix her up easily. I wrapped the sleeve around her head and tied it firmly above her brow to staunch the slight flow of blood.

“Jules,” I whispered. “Jules, wake up.”

She started to stir. “Wha… Gill? Where are we?”

“What do you mean? We are in the chapel…”

I realized she wasn’t looking directly at me, but somewhere behind me. I turned towards the stain glass windows, and they were … gone.

Not the windows, exactly, but the vivid portraits of saints, the glass entirely, was gone. The gaping smooth stone of the chapel windows was rugged and narrow, with only a tiny bit of the dusk light shining through. I turned back to Jules and saw the pew she’d smashed against. Gone were the modern-day, varnished pieces we had seen previously, these were rough-hewn, pieced together primitively, and leaning at a slight angle. I was no woodworker, but these pews looked like a child had put them together.

Jesus, how long was I out? Who would have taken the stained glass out and replaced the pews, without waking us up?

“What is going on?” I said to Jules.

Her eyes were wide with panic as she scooted against the pew into a sitting position. “Gill … Gill, listen.”

Outside the chapel, there were clear signs of battle. The clash of swords, the faint ping of arrows, the screams of men. It sounded faintly like a Civil War reenactment

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