A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Read online

  *

  Pierce buttered the second half of the roll and ate it with slow deliberation. The bowl of stew had been delicious, filling, and was completely gone. The rolls had been an unnecessary addition, but they were also too good to ignore. Finished with lunch he leaned back into his chair in contentment.

  After a quick knock at the door Melrose entered the office.

  “How did you know I was done eating?” Then looking around in mock suspicion, “there aren’t any cameras in here, are there?”

  “Cameras sir?” Melrose responded with sincere confusion at the word. “No sir, although since you are done, I will take the tray. I came in to inform you that you have a visitor.” With that he covered the tray and exited with precision.

  As Melrose exited a new gentleman appeared through the doorway.

  The man who entered looked completely at home in this environment. He could have just stepped out of a thirties British drama. He was dressed in a perfectly cut tweed suit, with the necessary mustache and parted hair for the role. He was roughly the same size as Pierce, but nearly twenty years older. When he spoke, his upper class English accent did not disappoint.

  “Good day Mr. Pierce. I see you’ve settled in to your rooms and trust you’ve been made comfortable. I imagine you’ve had a whirlwind of a weekend.”

  “To say the least,” then rising to shake hands with his visitor, “and you are?”

  “Of course, where are my manners,” taking the offered hand he continued. “My name is Dr. John Cleaver, Master of the Hunt here at Ravenwood. I’m also the acting Master of the Manor at present, as the current Master, Lord Victor Lodge, is convalescing in his own rooms for much needed rest and solitude. So if you have any special requests or requirements, feel free to ask either Mr. Drummond or myself.”

  “I can’t think of anything at the moment. I’m still trying to get my bearings.”

  “That is entirely understandable.”

  “I’ve got a few questions.”

  “I’ll try and answer them to the best of my ability.”

  The Doctor seemed pleasant, and more forthright than Mr. Drummond. However there seemed to be an indecipherable quality about him that Pierce did not entirely trust.

  “Where exactly are we? Ravenwood Manor appears to be in the country; however, I got here through a hallway in an Ottawa apartment. That’s impossible.”

  “Not impossible, merely improbable.” Looking around the office, the Doctor found what he was looking for at the liquor cabinet. “Things might be easier explained with a small drink.”

  He moved to the liquor cabinet and removed a strange black bottle with a raven on it. There were at least two other bottles like it on the shelf. From the shelf below he grabbed two glasses and returned to the desk, pulling up a chair for himself.

  “The water of life,” he toasted after pouring two small drinks.

  “Slainte.”

  “The Manor seems to be, inexplicably, in a different step than the rest of the world. I’m not sure what you have heard but people do not age normally here.”

  “What about the village down below?”

  “There and everywhere else on the island.”

  “We’re on an island?”

  “Yes, although it’s quite large. There are many villages and towns scattered throughout the island.”

  “So where is this island? It looks like we’re in Scotland or something.”

  “Something is about as accurate as you can be, as we have no idea. Some time ago people left to find the mainland, but never returned.”

  A hint of caution came with this last statement. Pierce felt as though any further searches would be equally unsuccessful. The Doctor seemed in no rush of finding the mainland, or the mainland finding them.

  “So we don’t know where we are. Is it still the same date as when I left?”

  “I rather doubt it. We seem to have a different timeline than the rest of the world.”

  “But how can you know that if you’re not in contact with the rest of the world?” Pierce asked in confusion. The more he tried to decipher the mechanics of this place, the more he found himself running in mental circles. His mind told him that what he was experiencing was impossible, but the whiskey flowing down his throat seemed to disprove this.

  “We are in contact, just not as you might think. It’s the way that we are in contact with the rest of the world that we know our timeline differs. How do you think we picked you up and brought you back here?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.”