Free Time Rovers 03 Madman's Dance by Jana G Oliver Page A

about papers to sign. She dug in her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe her nose. A flutter of white fell to the floor. As she picked it up, she remembered. It was the piece of paper the veiled lady had given her. She kept forgetting it was in her pocket.
    “Jacynda…Lassiter,” she whispered and then tucked it away.
    The attendant returned. “Are you ready?”
    Behind her was the man who’d come for her.
    “It’s time for us to leave, dear sister,” he said.
    Cynda stared at that unfamiliar face. It had a slight smirk on it. Or did it? It was gone in a flash.
    Outside, a carriage waited for them. It seemed huge, all black with no markings. The driver eyed her, then turned away as if she was no longer of importance.
    Not right. Cynda looked back at the big building. She’d miss the columns. As they’d walked toward the carriage, the new man hadn’t let her touch them, saying that was ridiculous.
    “In you go, sister,” the man told her, devoid of emotion.
    She thought of refusing, but what good would it do? Maybe the new place would be nicer. Maybe they’d help her get better.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    No reply. He pushed her into the carriage and she huddled on the far side, not liking him to touch her. The carriage rolled away the moment the door shut. She shivered in the cold. He wouldn’t let the curtains be opened, and the dark frightened her. Once her eyes adjusted, she studied him. He seemed younger now, his hair a different color. How could that be?
    The coach rolled on for a long time. She huddled to stay warm. He’d not offered her a coat or a blanket to cover herself. Even the people in the crazy place had done that.
    “Where are we going?” she asked again.
    “To the river.”
    “Why?”
    “Because that’s where we need to go.”
    A while later, the sound of the wheels changed. He drew back the curtain. “We’re on the bridge now. Nearly there.”
    “Who are you?”
    No reply. On instinct, she moved toward the closest door.
    He launched himself at her in an instant, her neck in his hands, jamming her up against the side of the carriage. She flailed as his grip tightened.
    “Just let…it…go,” he grunted, bearing down harder. Black stars swirled in front of her eyes as she struggled to breathe, fingers clawing at his iron grip. She kicked at him, clipping a knee. His fingers loosened for a second, then redoubled in pressure.
    Panic exploded within her. Another kick caught him mid-groin, and the air filled with blistering oaths. Cynda jammed a bunched fist into his midsection, as hard as she could. This time he released her, gasping for breath. His face changed as the white fuzziness around him faded.
    Cynda flung herself at the far door and it swung open, revealing patchy darkness beyond. She wrenched herself free from the hands on her shoulders, hearing her sleeve rip. When she landed, the impact drove the air out of her. She instinctively rolled, fearing the carriage wheels.
    Her head came to rest against a metal support, a gas lamp on the bridge. With a furious shout and the skittering of horses, the carriage screeched to a halt a few feet away. As she pulled herself upward, hands grabbed her from behind. She fought back, trying to keep them away from her neck. Too late, she realized the man’s intent. With a grunt, he hoisted her in the air and heaved her over the side of the bridge.
    Cynda sailed downward. The wind billowed her skirts and whistled in her ears. Acting on instinct, she tucked into a ball the moment before she struck the water, then sank into the freezing depths like a bedraggled mermaid heading for a muddy grave.
    Chapter 7
     
    Why didn’t someone help her? Furious, Cynda struggled upward. With a tremendous effort she finally broke the surface, only to sink down. Lungs splitting, she clawed desperately toward the surface again. The second time Cynda breached the water something jammed into her shoulder. She grabbed at it blindly. Shivering intensely,