Eastern Echoes (Includes Book 3, Sunken Echoes): Web of Echoes, #4

By Melody Ash

A French manor home is the stuff of fairytales, but history reveals the beast within the beauty.

Sinister Parisian streets greet Caitlin in 1785. With no money, she scrambles to find shelter, settling in tunnels she knows will eventually become the Paris Catacombs. The dark, empty shafts provide protection as she figures out what to do next.
When an offer to work under the Comte Aristide, Caitlin can't refuse. But she quickly learns life as a servant is far removed from being a guest to the kind Duke in 1831. As the new status tethers her to servitude, an important clue to the puzzle is discovered. 

Time is short and Caitlin must figure out how the new piece fits or be stuck under the lethal boot of the infamous Comte.  

***Also includes Book 3, Sunken Echoes***

Caitlin lands on the decks of an infamous ship and John is missing. As history dances with water, she has only twenty-four hours to escape. 

Trapped in 1912 on the Titanic, sand is slipping through the hourglass as she tries to jump ship before it plunges to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. She meets Elizabeth, a woman with valuable knowledge about time travel and how it works. Yet nothing is ever easy, and her new friend's memory proves to be unreliable.

As Caitlin searches for John, the grains of time slip away. She must put the pieces together, or she'll find herself lying in a cursed grave at the bottom of the ocean.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melody Ash
• Release date: Feb 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393948230

Book preview

Sunken Echoes

Book Three

By Melody Ash

Chapter One

Caitlin gasped for air, opened her eyes, then struggled to her feet. She looked around, the brick heavy in her stomach. She left Chatling Hall, all right, but now stood on a very large ship in the middle of an even larger ocean. Her stomach roiled with the waves. The stone had let her down again.

A couple walked past and, judging from their clothes, she guessed traveling through time dumped her sometime in the early nineteen-hundreds.

Caitlin edged over to a long lounge chair and sunk into its cane seat. Passengers mingled everywhere: couples walked hand-in-hand; children giggled as their shoes pounded against the teak deck. Flowers adorned the big hats crowning each woman's head while men stood proud in double-breasted suits and straw hats. Not quite roaring twenties attire, Caitlin thought. Earlier than that.

Caitlin looked up and down the promenade, wondering why the ship looked vaguely familiar. She'd never been on a cruise, and surely no ships from the early twentieth century survived to sail in the twenty-first century. Another couple walked past, and she studied them. Early twentieth century, for sure. Nineteen-ten maybe? Caitlin rubbed her head, waiting for the headache to abate. And, she realized with a grimace, the ankle wounded first in Georgia, circa 1859, and then again in the Peak District Europe, circa 1831, was more than a little sore. Nice to know wounds traveled with her through time. A person would think after going back thirty years and then pushing forward another eighty years would translate to a healed wound. An injured ankle should only take a couple of weeks. But time had become a whole lot more complicated, and she was no longer sure what defined its passage.

Caitlin blinked a few times, urged the time travel hangover to abate. As the worst of it faded, she glanced behind her shoulder to find a white life preserver.

Caitlin shook her head with frustration. Oh, you've got to be kidding me, she softly groaned. RMS Titanic. Now what am I supposed to do with this? She looked skyward at the towering smokestacks. Four of them, one of the most recognizable parts of the ship. The words on the life preserver rings identified the ship, even if they did seem out of place—though she couldn't quite decide why—but those smokestacks? The lump in her throat grew larger.  

What are you doing here?

Caitlin spun around to find a woman with cascading strawberry curls and an empire-style white lace dress complete with light pink embroidery. I'm sorry?

The woman grabbed Caitlin's arm. I said, what are you doing here? The whisper sounded more like a hiss.

Caitlin's eyebrows furrowed together as she took in the promenade. Class—that had to be what the woman referred to in the comment. The Titanic, like many other ships at the time, drew stark lines in social statuses of the era. Surely, the Astors, the Guggenheims, and Strausses of first class knew one another, even if by name. They would surely recognize she was not one of them. Am I on the wrong deck? I might have gotten turned around—

Deck? No. You're in the wrong time. What are you doing here?

Strands of hair otherwise pulled into a loose bun brushed across the woman's high cheekbones. She was late twenty-something and elegant in the thin dress. She looked like she fit the time Caitlin was in, but there was something strangely out of place. Caitlin's heart pounded in her chest. And the woman knew, but how?

Who are you? Caitlin demanded.

The woman shook her head, straightened, glanced nervously at those passing by. Caitlin's brows furrowed as passengers came and went, unalarmed. Yet the woman before her stood jittery and uneven.

Her own heart raced. Was someone listening to them from behind a doorway? And what day did she land on history's most infamous sinking ship?

Not here. You're on the second-class promenade right now. Go to the second-class library. It should be quiet this time of day. We'll talk there.

Caitlin leaned closer to the woman. I don't know where the library is.

The woman nodded. No, you wouldn't. She pointed towards the back of the ship. See the hallway there? That leads to the second-class stairwell. Follow those stairs to C-deck, where you'll find the library in the center of the ship. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes. Don't talk to anyone if you can help it.

Caitlin nodded. The woman hurried off without another word, head down, careful not to meet the gaze of anyone she met.

On the Titanic with a stranger who knew about time travel.

Great.

Chapter Two

Caitlin hurried across C-deck, grateful for the signs that led the way to a pair of great oak doors. She pushed one open and stepped onto the patterned carpet to find green chairs and oak paneled walls below a white paneled ceiling. She pulled in a breath, ignoring the heaviness in the air. Probably just imagined. Something about knowing the future that muddied up the past.

Her eyes traveled across the nearly empty room. One man sat in the far corner and didn't bother to look up from the book in his hand. Caitlin considered for a minute, then settled on a chair in an opposite corner and waited. The ship had been mostly quiet, but it was daytime, and everyone was on the promenade or in dining rooms, or... she stopped. She'd read about the Titanic a few times, saw the movie, knew the story. Everyone did. But, she realized, she didn't know much about the ship itself. What people did for fun, how they spent their days. First class, second class, third class. She imagined the days looked different for each level of wealth, and that was just the beginning of the inequalities on board one of the most infamous ships in all of history. Those differences would be overwhelming on the night the ship sank, but right now, no one had any idea about what was about to happen. And, Caitlin realized, she didn't know how soon the iceberg was going to so nicely jump in the path of said colossal ship. 

That was the first thing she had to figure out. Because if this ship was going down in a matter of hours, that didn't give her much time.

You found the library.

Caitlin turned to face the woman from the promenade. Yeah, I found the library. I still don't know who you are.

I don't know who you are either, the woman said, but we still need to talk. It's important.

Caitlin narrowed her eyes, a fire of suspicion running through her veins. We've never met, so I'm not sure how anything you would have to say would be very important. Maybe you have me mixed up with someone else?

You don't have to be afraid of me. I want to help you. And you might help me.

I guess I don't have much of a choice, seeing how you've decided to pull me into this meeting. Sit down and tell me what in the world you think we have to discuss.

The woman settled the closest chair and held out a hand. My name is Elizabeth. I'm from Paris, but I've been all over the place.

Caitlin shook Elizabeth's hand and searched the woman's face. Paris? You must have boarded in Cherbourg?

Elizabeth carefully shook her head. No. I arrived directly from Paris.

Her stomach made a quick flip. The words were loaded with an explanation Caitlin wasn't ready to accept. I don't see how that's possible.

I believe you might. Because you didn't board the Titanic in Southampton or Cherbourg, did you?

Caitlin leaned back against the chair, tightened her lips.

This is your first time, perhaps? I understand. It's not easy to discuss. I'm from 1775. Does that set your mind at ease?

Caitlin swallowed hard. I don't know ease is the correct word. But if you are who you say you are, how did you know you could talk to me?

Elizabeth's lips curled softly. The look on your face when you realized where you were. I felt that way the first dozen times I travelled. I must have looked quite a bit like you.

First dozen times? Caitlin leaned forward. How often have you traveled? She shook her head. Never mind. What day is it?

April 13, 1914.

Caitlin nodded. We have one day, then.

Elizabeth nodded. I know what happens to the ship, and yes, a little over twenty-four hours.

Caitlin nodded and glanced around the room. Soon, everything would be sitting at the bottom of the ocean, and of the twenty-two hundred passengers, only seven hundred and some change would survive.

If she didn't get off this ship, she'd be one of them—on one side of the coin or the other.

Caitlin returned her attention to Elizabeth. What did you mean when you said the first dozen times? Are you saying traveled through time a lot?

Elizabeth nodded. Any time I wish.

I don't understand. How are you doing that? You can control how you jump? You know how to solve the puzzle?

Elizabeth raised a brow. I don't know anything about a puzzle.

The puzzle. The stones, how things change a little bit on each round. All the pieces that are needed to go home.

There are no pieces. All I need is this here. She held out a small gold medallion in the palm of her hand.

Caitlin leaned forward and pointed one finger at the bright gold emblem. Can I?

Elizabeth nodded. Just make sure you give it back. I don't want to be stuck on this ship tomorrow night when the iceberg punches its Morse Code in the bottom decks.

Caitlin raised a brow. You and me both.

She turned the medallion over in her hand, her blood running cold. Intricately detailed symbols, including arrows and small lined figures covered the front surface of the medallion, the back a solid, clean surface. While they weren't an exact match to her rocks, Caitlin couldn't help but see some similarities. And if this medallion had anything to do with the stones, George (the imposter duke in 1831) and his theory of the rocks being a clock was in error as well.

Caitlin shook her head. I don't understand. I thought I figured all this out.

Now I don't understand, Elizabeth whispered. What do you mean, you thought you had it figured out?

Caitlin held tight to the medallion while thoughts circled. A coincidence was possible but if anything had been true during this whole fiasco, it was that coincidences weren't driving the bus. Something else was in control, only she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out what that something was. She pulled in a deep breath. I believed to get back home, I had to collect pieces of a larger puzzle. I have two right now, both have patterns engraved into them. She reached behind her, stopped.

She jumped from the seat, heart racing. It had to be here somewhere. She had it in the Peak District before she left. She dropped to her knees, pulse raced as she searched under the table and chairs.

What are you doing? Stop that! Someone will stare and we don't want attention.

It must be here somewhere. Have you seen it? Caitlin asked.

Seen what?

My backpack. I had it with me. Dread swallowed her. Without the backpack, without the stones, she wasn't going to get off this ship.

I didn't see any backpack. Now get up!

Caitlin shook her head as she stood, eyes still frantically searching the area around chairs. No, that's impossible. It must be here somewhere. Without it, I can't go home. Without it, I couldn't have gotten here.

Then it must be on the ship somewhere. Elizabeth reached down to place a hand on Caitlin's arm. Things don't always come through the same way we do.

Caitlin raised a brow, nodded slowly. Of course not. That would mean even one rule remained intact, which would be far too easy.

I don't know anything about rules, either. As far as I can tell, it's all fairly random. Where is home for you?

Caitlin sunk onto the chair, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. George didn't know what he was talking about any more than she did. She wasn't sure if that should make her feel better, but somehow, it felt a bit like poetic justice.

No reason to doubt she'd get off this ship, especially if all the rules she thought applied were lies. 2018, United States.

Hmm. I've traveled to 2001 in the United States. New York, I think.

Now Elizabeth had Caitlin's attention. She slid her arms across the surface of the table, voice a hoarse whisper. How many jumps have you made?

Elizabeth shrugged. I don't know for sure. A lot, I guess.

Do you control where you go?

No. I can't. I just end up going where it takes me.

Caitlin opened her hand to stare at the medallion. None of this made any sense. Even everything George told her didn't fit. If the rules Mitilda passed on were false, and if what George said was false, then how did traveling through time work? And if she couldn't figure it out, then would she ever get home? But you can control when you jump? Can you choose to leave the ship right now?

Sometimes. Elizabeth took the medallion from Caitlin's hand, fingers wrapping protectively around the gold. 

What do you mean, sometimes?

I mean, sometimes. I'm holding it right now, and I'm not going anywhere, right? She tucked it in one pocket. But other times, I can pick it up and want to jump, and it'll send me somewhere.

Caitlin's brows furrowed. Okay, now that didn't make any sense. She shook her head. There had never been a dig she wished she didn't explore. Every site captivated her, fed her in a way nothing else could. She never regretted being an archeologist. And she didn't now. But if she had stayed at the Vanderbilt Mansion, enjoyed a vacation for a change, she wouldn't be lost in the past. You're on the Titanic. How do you know you can leave in time? I mean, because honestly, I don't know that I can. Nothing seems to make the travel happen when I want, much less take me where I want to go.

Try the medallion, Elizabeth offered.

Caitlin considered for a minute as she ran through a list of scenarios she didn't understand. As tempting as that offer might be, it doesn't sound like your medallion works the same as my stones. That means I don't know if I can take you with me. I'm not the kind of girl to leave someone stranded on a sinking ship.

Elizabeth smiled. I appreciate that. Maybe there's another way.

Let's hear it.

Two men walked in, cigars in hand, and glanced over at Elizabeth and Caitlin, then moved to a nearby table. Elizabeth shook her head. Not now. Meet me on the promenade in three hours. Everyone will be at dinner, and it'll be quiet.

Caitlin nodded. Okay. That'll give me a chance to explore a little as I try to figure out how to get off the ship before the iceberg kills more than half the passengers. And find my backpack.

Stay off the first-class deck—they don't like different classes mingling with one another, especially those in first class.

Of course, they don't. Thanks for the tip.

Elizabeth nodded and stood, hurried from the library.

Caitlin rested back in the chair. Since all the rules needed to be thrown out the window—again—what did that leave her to work with?

And where was John?

She shot up in the chair. He hadn't crossed her mind at first, but his absence tucked at her as the realization drilled into her—she hadn't seen him since she landed on in 1912. Maybe he landed on another part of the ship.

A sudden thought sent a ripple of terror through her. He couldn't have landed in the water, could he? It didn't work like that, did it? Traveling couldn't plummet someone to their death, could it?

Time to search the ship.

Chapter Three

Caitlin moved up and down the second-class deck, careful to dodge into corners as other passengers passed by, her head low. If they noticed her, they didn't say anything. But on a ship this size, even in all its segregation, no one could know everyone. And while people didn't vacation in the early nineteen hundreds like later in the century, everyone on the ship was trying to enjoy themselves. Another stranger among strangers didn't stand out.

She climbed to the second-class promenade where passengers pushed discs across the floor shuffleboard or tossed rope rings onto the peg in a game of quoits. A couple of men looked to be placing bets on their games, and based on the way the clothes, the money probably wasn't a big matter to them.

Caitlin lingered along the edge of the teak flooring, remained behind others as she moved from corner to corner and searched the faces for signs of John. There was none.

A horn blew and passengers hurried to return the mallets and rings to a thin stand in the middle of the deck. With chatter and laughter, they hurried to the decks below.

When most everyone had left, Caitlin headed for a railing and looked out across the cold, blue-black ocean. No hint of a looming disaster in the nearly still water. Her eyes searched the horizon where the water and sky met in a near indistinguishable line. She arrived on the Titanic hours earlier. No one could survive that long in the North Atlantic.

If John landed down there, by now, there'd be no hope.

It's pretty, isn't it?

Caitlin turned around to face Elizabeth. I have to ask you something. The time travel ... does it randomly drop people just anywhere? Off a cliff or ... into the ocean?

Elizabeth laughed for a second, then stopped when she saw Caitlin was serious. It always put me on the ground. It doesn't know good parts of the city from the bad, but it's never dropped me off the edge of anything. Why do you ask?

She glanced back at the ocean again, then turned away from the liquid abyss. Maybe he didn't come with her after all. That could mean he went home. A small victory she'd be satisfied with. No reason. I guess everyone left for dinner.

Yes, the, ah, dinner bell. That's what they call it in your time, right?

No one has a dinner bell in my time. Caitlin laughed. But if everyone is at dinner, we have time to talk without worrying about who overhears us.

A little while, yes.

Everything I know, it's not working. And with a little more than twenty-four hours before this ship begins its plunge to the ocean floor, I need to figure out how in the world to get home.

So you can time travel, but you can't control where or when you go?

Not at all. But you said earlier when we talked that you might know a way around it?

I did? Elizabeth glanced away for a minute, confusion etched on her face.

Don't you remember?

Elizabeth met Caitlin's gaze with sad eyes. One of the hazards of time travel. I tend to lose track of things.

Things like ... your memory?

Yes. That. And sometimes I get sick. Very sick. But it passes.

The headaches, the upset stomach—time travel hangovers were a real thing. Do you get your memory back?

I don't think so. Not from what other people tell me.

Great. That's just great. Caitlin leaned both elbows against the railing, shook her head. Nothing could ever be easy. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Let's try this. We were talking earlier about me using the medallion to jump but the risk of leaving you behind. You said you might know another way. Ring any bells?

My medallion? Elizabeth stayed quiet for a few seconds. Oh! My medallion. There's a chance we might be able to travel together.

Caitlin's brows furrowed. How's that?

If I hold my medallion, and you hold your stone while we hold hands, it might be possible. I've never actually tried, but doesn't it make sense?

I don't know that anything about this makes sense. Caitlin bit her lower lip as she considered Elizabeth's suggestion. And why not? Two