The launch of THE INCREDIBLE ADVENTURES OF LIBERTY JONES is only a two months away!
Here is an excerpt to tide you over!
The terminal was busy, she swerved around the flow of hurried people craning her neck looking for Edward. There! By the newsstand near the exits. He was turned away from her as she ran toward him examining something in the light coming through the big windows above the exit doors.
A glimmer of gold and the flash of yellow citrine grasped in his fingertips had Libby growling. Was that why he had befriended her, was it why he’d turned on the charm, just to rob her? And she’d fallen for it to! Fool, stupid, stupid, fool!
Libby swung her portmanteau at his legs connecting with the backs of his knees. He tumbled over with a shout of surprise, the scarab flying out of his fingers. Libby watched as it arced landing a few feet away, she raced after it her case forgotten. Edward ran by her to pick up the scarab first.
“That’s mine!” she growled, lunging for it only to have him snatch it away holding it out of her reach. He smiled at her, is blue eyes twinkling as if it was all a game. “Bastard!”
A guard began making his way over, Edward noticed him too and Libby took advantage of his momentary distraction, socking him in the ribs. She grabbed onto his wrist trying to pry his fingers open with her other hand.
Just then a high-pitched whine, like an alarm, began coming from Edward’s closed fist. He opened his hand and they both gasped, the scarab was crawling around on Edward’s palm, its wings unfurling as if it would take flight!
Libby grabbed for it, but Edward closed his fingers around her hand trapping it within his grasp her palm pressed against his. Bright light seeped out from between their clasped fingers, it grew brighter and began to flash. The air crackled with electricity, jagged bolts swirling around them, the terminal and people began to warp and twist in a vertigo inducing swirl of light and color. She felt locked in place unable to move.
Libby blinked up at Edward and saw his wide-eyed expression, and she knew that whatever was occurring wasn’t just happening to her. The phenomenon stopped all at once, and Libby felt her shoes touch the ground her legs absorbing a small jolt. She and Edward sprang apart each taking a breath as if surfacing from a depth.
“Wha…” she began, her head still spinning.
Edward was already on the move toward the exit, she looked down at her hands to find them empty. He still had her brooch!
“Stop!” she yelled after him.
Her legs wobbly, she tried to run after him but stumbled. A man stepped over to steady her, holding her by her elbow.
“Miss are you alright?” the man asked. He had a big fluffy mustache and bushy eyebrows that seemed to support the brim of his bowler hat.
“No!” she sobbed. “That man with the flat cap and the leather bag stole my brooch!”
“He’s just gone,” she pointed at the exit.
The man bounded after Edward rushing out the exit by the newsstand.
How could she have been so stupid! She pressed her hands to her stomach feeling nauseous. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself but the stench in the air made it worse. She coughed, the smell of soot and oil strong in her nose. She looked around to see what could be making such a smell and froze.
She blinked, wondering if perhaps she had suffered a stroke. The terminal looked different, its architecture like the photos she’d seen of the station from a hundred years ago. Similarly, the men and women she saw no longer wore the standard twenty-first century travel uniform of sweatpants, t-shirts, and slip-on shoes, but were clothed in wool suits, long bustled skirts, hats, and gloves. Shaking her head, she tried to make the vision go away but it persisted.
“What in heaven’s name?” she said aloud.
A boy stood in front of the newsstand waving a paper. “Enormous coal vein discovered in Kentucky!” he yelled at passersby. “Results at Saratoga! No-toe Charlie arrested for thievery! All the news that’s fit to print—two cents!”
Libby wandered over feeling lightheaded again. The boy smiled as she approached and held out the paper to her. “Paper, Miss?”
She shook her head. “Can you tell me what day it is?” she asked him.
“It’s Friday, Miss,” he replied, giving her a quizzical look.
“No, I mean what is today’s date, what year is it?”
The boy’s expression turned suspicious, “It’s… 1887,” he told her, stepping away. Then under his breath, “Nutty broad.”
Libby turned away feeling at a total loss. Was this really happening? As if in answer to her question she heard her name being called and looked to see Charlotte hurrying toward her from across the terminal waving and smiling.