Mirrors by Rebekah Dodson

Author:Rebekah Dodson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, historical, arthurian, saga, time travel, magic, college, coming of age, lesbian
Publisher: Rebekah Dodson
Published: 2018-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Not My Mother’s France

You’re not in love with me, are you?

It’s strange 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 cared about a future anyway, when there were so many women to be explored?

Man, jet lag is a bitch, 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 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 gray shirt, wincing slightly when I realized my mother would be upset I had ruined my funeral clothes. Too bad, Jules was more important. The gash to Jules' head wasn’t bleeding profusely and wasn’t anything a few stitches couldn’t fix. I had my travel 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 toward the stain glass windows, and they were ... gone.

Not the windows, exactly, but the vivid portraits of the 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 I’d seen when I was a kid, except those screams of agony.

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