When the Walls Fell Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  WHEN THE WALLS FELL

  a novel by Monique Martin

  © 2011

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  WHEN THE WALLS FELL. Copyright © 2011 by Monique Martin. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover Photo: Karen Wunderman

  Cover layout by: TERyvisions

  ISBN 10: 0984660704

  ISBN 13: 9780984660704

  For more information, please contact [email protected]

  Or visit http://moniquemartin.weebly.com/

  Acknowledgements

  This book would not have been possible without the help and support of many people: Robin, who’s been there since before the beginning and has custody of half my brain. Sandy, Michael, KC, LK, and Vicki for helping me make good better, Terry for her wonderful work on the cover, My mom, George, Edd & Carole for their encouragement and support. Greg from The Winkley Company for his generosity and kindness and my dad for being there every step of the way.

  I’d also like to thank the thousands of people who help preserve the past through books, websites, museums and sheer will.

  Prologue

  London, 1900

  A deep, red smile of blood oozed from the gash at the guard’s temple. She raised the manacles over her head, ready to strike him again. The iron was heavy and sure.

  Through the screams, she heard noises down the corridor. She looked down at the guard as he lay on the cold hospital floor. His eyes had rolled back in his head. His arm stuck out in front of him, frozen in a moment of fear. If it had been Nurse Fletcher instead of the guard, she would have swung again. And again. And again.

  That was the one part of the plan she didn’t like, but he’d been right. She wanted to be the one to kill Fletcher, but if she’d had the chance, she would have gladly forsaken freedom to savor the sweetness of that revenge. At least this way, Nurse Fletcher would be just as dead; he’d promised that, and she would be free. Free to do what she’d spent the last decade dreaming of. Outside these walls a sweeter vengeance waited.

  Heavy footfalls echoed down the hall. The other guards were coming. She stepped over the body of the dead guard and took the large ring from his belt. Dozens of keys slipped around the metal, but she knew what she was looking for.

  She turned the lock and opened the heavy door. Cold, sooty London air bit through the thin material of her gown, but she felt only freedom. She tossed the key ring onto the guard’s body and ran. She ran into the shadows of night. She ran barefoot across the wet grass and cold gravel. She ran toward freedom.

  Dogs barked in the distance. They’d gone to the kennel. She had to hurry.

  She flattened herself along the thick, stone wall of her prison. The barking grew louder, closer.

  A large horse-drawn carriage moved past on the street just outside the gate. She knew this was her only chance. She ran toward the back of the carriage, but she bumped into someone, something. She didn’t dare look back. She grabbed on to the carriage and pulled herself onto the small ledge. She curled up inside the luggage box and pulled the black fabric flap down to cover her. The carriage rolled down the street and into the heart of London.

  The dogs would lose her scent. She was free.

  And he was going to pay.

  Chapter One

  The sun peeked through the sheers as unwanted as the morning. Simon had woken Elizabeth in the cool grays of predawn light to make love before the rest of the world stirred to life. He’d been dreading this day, and not just because the private bliss of holiday was soon to be overrun with fatuous students and soporific lectures, although that was reason enough. He’d greedily savored their time alone where they could live cloistered from the world, where her smile was only for him.

  He was a selfish bastard really, he thought as he gazed down at her still wrapped in dreams. The morning light caressed her cheek and like a jealous lover, he raised his hand to block the sun. The shadow of his fingers traced the contours of her face. As if she could feel his ghostly touch, she nuzzled closer to his body. Simon closed his eyes and pulled Elizabeth more securely into his embrace. The day could wait a little longer.

  Time, tide and the new winter quarter wait for no man, and the alarm clock finally sounded. With a swift movement Simon silenced the painful country western music station Elizabeth insisted they set the damnable thing to. He mumbled something rather rude about the singer’s wife-cousin and dog, Chet under his breath and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

  Elizabeth gave a husky laugh that did nothing to further Simon’s desire to get out of bed.

  “You have a decidedly twisted sense of humor,” he said, hoping to steal a few more minutes next to her sleep-warmed skin.

  “That’s why you love me,” Elizabeth said, giving him a quick kiss.

  “In spite of that.” He caught her and pulled her into his arms. “In definite spite.”

  After a long, far from sufficiently satisfying kiss,

  Elizabeth eased back and arched an eyebrow. “Why Professor Cross, I think you’re stalling.”

  Simon tried to frown, but she was right. He was due at University for pre-term office hours, which, to his mind, were a complete waste of time. It was an odd sensation, this sudden urge to shirk his responsibilities. Although, he hadn’t exactly embraced many of his professorial duties, he’d never wanted to toss them aside for more pleasurable pursuits. Then again, he thought as he looked down at the woman in his bed, he’d never had such a pleasure to pursue before. He shook his head in defeat and pulled back the covers. “All right, Miss West, up with you then.”

  She clutched at the quickly receding blanket. “But it’s cold.”

  “If I have to suffer, you have to suffer.”

  She huffed out her breath in dramatic indignation. “You’re very Simon Legree today.”

  He chuckled and tossed her robe. “Come along, Cassy.”

  “Very funny.” She put it on and tied the sash. “I almost forgot. Can you give me a lift to the mechanic’s? My car should be ready today.”

  Simon shrugged on his dressing gown. “I don’t see why you insist on throwing good money after bad.”

  “It’s a classic,” Elizabeth said as she started for the bathroom.

  Simon followed closely behind. “It’s a bloody death trap.”

  Elizabeth splashed water onto her face. “But a classic death trap.”

  He handed her a towel and glared at her reflection in the mirror. Why was she so intransigent? “Elizabeth, I really wish you’d let me buy you anoth
er car.”

  Her expression was lost in the towel, but he could hear the frown in her voice. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

  “I live with irrational hope that someday you’ll be rational about it.”

  She handed him the soggy towel and slipped past him to turn on the shower taps.

  “I don’t see why you won’t let me give you something that’s well within my means to give. Not to mention the fact that I wouldn’t have to wonder if you survived each trip to university.”

  She stared into the shower for a moment before answering. Her voice was so soft he barely heard it above the running water. “Because it’s mine.”

  They’d been down this path before and he still had yet to fully comprehend her reservations. “What I have is yours.”

  “I know that,” she said as she turned to face him. “And I appreciate it, but it’s…”

  Simon sighed and finished her sentence for her. “The first and only thing that’s ever truly been yours.”

  He knew how little she’d had and how much the little she did have meant to her. He simply could not understand why she balked at his attempts to give her more. He would give her the earth and everything on it if she asked. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms about her waist.

  She seemed ready to give some very pithy response, but merely ducked her head briefly in temporary defeat and gave him a fleeting kiss before stepping into the shower.

  Simon watched the glass door close between them. Perhaps it was the way her lips brushed against his, or the sixth sense a lover has for his partner, but Simon knew that something else was wrong. With the practiced and stalwart nature of a man long on the short end of things, his chest tightened and he pretended not to notice.

  In the nearly four months since their return from 1929 New York City, Simon had grappled with the changes in his life—from exclusive to inclusive, from the periphery to a center he was sure could not hold.

  An accident with his grandfather’s pocket watch had thrown them both back in time to Prohibition era New York. He’d fought his attraction to Elizabeth for as long as he could. But the arrival of a gangster, intent on having Elizabeth for his own, lit a fire under the coals that had been his heart. As a professor of the Occult, he’d found the proof he’d been searching for, and as a man he’d found the love the he’d been hiding from. He’d nearly lost her and vowed he’d do anything to keep that from happening again. The rest of the world be damned.

  The first few days after their return were a blur of pain and the ecstasy of being alive, of being together. The physical wounds had healed in their course. Elizabeth still had the fading remnants of a scar on her forehead from the boat’s explosion. The soft pink crescent mark was the only visible sign of what they’d endured. There were scars that weren’t so easily healed or seen.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, breaking him from his reverie.

  With his thumb he brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek and nodded.

  She leaned into his touch. “I think about it too.”

  He smiled wanly. Her memories, despite it all, were fond remembrances of how their life together had begun. His were painful recollections of how it had almost ended.

  She tipped her head up and kissed the corner of his mouth, just as she had for their first kiss, months, decades ago. This time, he didn’t pull away, afraid to love her. This time, he held her tightly, afraid to let go.

  ***

  Simon was already sitting at a table when Elizabeth arrived at the restaurant for lunch. “Sorry, I’m late. Meeting ran over.”

  “Everything all right?” he asked as he rose and pulled out her chair.

  His instinctive manners were one of the many things she loved about him. Sometimes he was too good to be true—green eyes the color of Absinthe, a long, lean body that moved with easy grace and a baritone voice with a cut glass British accent.

  He took his seat again. “Your car didn’t break down again, did it?”

  He was also a royal pain. She spread her napkin out across her lap. “My car is just fine. Thank you for asking.”

  “I was only joking, Elizabeth,” he said and reached across the table to take her hand.

  Just when she was all ready to get riled up, he had to go and be charming. Her buttons were far too easily pushed these days. One innocent question from him and she was ready to jump down his throat. Not that she didn’t adore him even when he was being a pill. He meant well, but ever since they’d come back he’d been her constant shadow. At first, she loved the feeling of absolute safety his omnipresence had provided. Who didn’t want to be loved to distraction? Until it became…distracting.

  After the first few months what had been cocooning became smothering. She didn’t blame him. She could only imagine what it must have been like for him after she’d disappeared. Mostly because he hadn’t actually told her what he’d gone through.

  “I wish they hadn’t let Louis go,” Simon said. “The menu has never been the same.”

  “The Vichy just doesn’t soise like it used to.”

  “Very droll.” Simon peered over the edge of his menu and narrowed his eyes. “Something is wrong.”

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” she said and bit the inside of her cheek in penance for the lie. Not that anything was really wrong, though she doubted Simon would see it that way.

  Simon wasn’t a big fan of change and while she was certain this one was for the best, she knew he was going to resist every step of the way. She also knew she had to spit out the truth sooner or later. Unfortunately, later was catching up with her, but she wasn’t finished stalling quite yet. “How was your morning? Any students dare to enter the inner sanctum?”

  He closed his menu and set it aside. “As a matter of fact. I’m afraid you may have to have one of your talks with Mr. Goode.”

  “I knew I should have glued that hourglass to your desk.”

  Simon smirked in response and continued, “He had the ludicrous notion that I was in need of a new assistant.”

  Elizabeth nearly choked. Damn the campus gossip grapevine. It was worse than a beauty parlor. “He did?”

  “Someone’s idea of joke, I suppose.”

  Later was now. “Or not,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Nothing’s official yet, but I have been thinking about talking to Professor Aumond about working as his assistant. Or maybe even looking for something outside of the university.”

  Simon looked as if he’d been slapped. He jerked his head back and blinked several times before he muttered, “You what?”

  The shock in his voice took her breath away for a moment. He wasn’t angry; he was hurt. “I know I should have said something sooner, but I wanted to think about it first. Nothing’s set. I’m…I’m just thinking about it.”

  He leaned back in his chair dumbstruck. They sat in silence as a ten months pregnant elephantine pause stretched out between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “How long have you been planning on leaving me?”

  The guilt that had taken up residence in her heart at the start of the conversation just sublet a room to shame. She wasn’t leaving. There was no planning. There was a definite lack of planning involved here. Maybe there should have been more planning. She fiddled with her napkin. This wasn’t going well at all.

  “I’m not. I’m just thinking about the future.”

  “I see.”

  No, he didn’t see. Couldn’t see. She loved being his assistant, but she wanted more than that. She wanted to be his partner, but as long as he was signing her timecard that wasn’t going to happen. Not to mention that a few members of the university board had raised eyebrows and pursed lips at her and Simon’s work and home hybrid relationship.

  She reminded herself that being in a relationship was new territory for Simon. He’d managed to live his life without getting close to anyone and now that he was, it made him feel raw and vulne
rable. For a man used to very firm footing, this was like a tightrope act without a net.

  “Simon, I love you. I’m just thinking about taking another job is all. And I’m just thinking about it. It might be best for both of us. But nothing’s changed yet.”

  He ran his finger up and down the stem of his water glass. “Was there something about our…arrangement that bothered you?”

  “Aside from you calling it an arrangement?” she said in an attempt to leaven the situation, but it fell matzo flat on the table between them. “I love being with you, working with you, but we can’t do both.”

  “I don’t see why they’re mutually exclusive.”

  “The Board does.”

  “I don’t give a bloody good damn what the Board thinks,” Simon said loudly, causing people at nearby tables to turn and glare their disapproval.

  “But I do,” she said quietly. “You deserve their respect and as long you’re sleeping with your assistant, an ex-student, you’ll never get it.”

  “Then I’ll quit.”

  “And give up teaching? You bark about it, but I know how much you love it. You don’t have to work, but you do. Nobody does that unless they love it.”

  “You didn’t have to go behind my back.”

  She huffed out a breath and tried to keep a cool head. Why did growing pains have to be so painful? “I didn’t go anywhere. And it’s not just the board, although that’s reason enough. I can’t stay your assistant forever. I just think it might be for the best.”

  “For the best?”

  “Why are you making this so hard?”

  “I’m sorry, am I forgetting to play my part?”