CHAPTER THREE
Explosions. Conal was surrounded by them. Black clouds of sulphur choked the atmosphere and screams pierced the air before being drowned by more explosions.
Conal struggled to see clearly. He was lying on the ground, wounded. His vision was blurry and his mouth was dry. His body jolted with every thud, every pound.
“Abby…” Conal murmured. The pounding intensified.
“Conal!” A woman’s voice broke through the fog.
More pounding.
Gasping, Conal sat up on the couch. His shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Conal! Are you there? It’s Edie.”
“Edie. Shit.” Conal jumped off the couch, breathing heavily. “I must have overslept.” “He peeked through the living room curtains to see Edie standing there, revved up and ready to go. “Uh, Just a second!” he yelled.
He stripped out of his shirt, rushing to find something relatively clean. He was out of breath when he came to the door.
“Edie, hey! I’m sorry about that. I guessed I crashed early last night and didn’t wake up until you knocked. Please, come in. Let me just get myself together here.”
“You could have had a concussion from that accident you were in. You’ve got to take better care of yourself.”
“Yeah, thanks, Edie. I’m all right. Please, make yourself at home.”
Edie’s white brows crinkled together and her lips pulled off to the side as she was quite unconvinced, but she passed a covered basket to Conal as she made her way into the house.
“I’d love some iced tea,” she said.
“Of course, where are my manners? Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right back with your tea.”
Conal paused in the kitchen, gripping the edges of the sink to steady himself. That was a dream. This is reality. Conal could hear Edie nosing through papers and books in the living room. And there is an old lady in your house who will never leave you alone again if she thinks you don’t have it together.
Conal brought out some plates and the iced tea. He sat down across from Edie.
Conal Benjamin never let the love of his life Abigail Bradley know of his romantic feelings for her. Years of living with that regret haunted Conals life and left him with an emptiness in his heart. In one serendipitous moment they are reunited at an alumni science exhibit giving Conal a second chance but in a cruel twist of fate Conal’s triggers an unexpected chain of events sending Abby and himself through a wormhole to 1888 Whitechapel, London, the time and place of one of the most horrifying serial killers in history, Jack the Ripper. With the time machine lost and Conal and Abby separated, the fate of both of their lives hang in the balance. Nothing is what it appears to be and it’s up to Conal to unravel the mysteries that await him, before it’s too late.
“I could not put this cleverly crafted paranormal fiction novel down. I can’t wait to go on the next time travel journey with Benjamin! It would make for a great TV Series/Feature Film. Out of 5 stars I give it 6!” - Kelly V. Dolan, NBC News Radio
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Genre - Paranormal Fiction
Rating – NC17
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Website http://matthewdiconti.com/
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