Back In Time

Chapter 3: In Which I Ho It Up, Old School Style

I followed them out of the woods to find that we were relatively close to the city. Village? Town? Whatever. I was not thrilled with the idea of going to a brothel, but I had to assume that they knew what they were talking about. Eric pulled his shirt on and I stifled a laugh seeing the frilly ruffles around his neck and wrists. Though I had to admit that he still looked impressive. I thought for a second and decided that he would be sexy in literally anything he put on.

They took to the alleys as soon as we were able, though I was fascinated by the carriages on the main roadways. It was clear that I wasn't in Kansas anymore from a quick glance at my surroundings. And the smell. Sweet Lord it reeked. I could pick out manure, feces, urine, rotten foods, and infection right off the top of the disgusting stench that enveloped us as soon as our feet hit the cobblestones. I stifled a groan and immediately stopped breathing. Looking around, I noticed the alleys we were in were littered with makeshift hovels, piles of excrement that had been apparently thrown out of the windows of the more permanent structures, dirty children sleeping literally on the side of the street. I couldn't help but think how easy it would be to just take one. I immediately rebuked myself for the thought, even if it was my nature to look at things this way now.

I was fascinated by the fact that I truly had gone back in time. How and why that had happened, I didn't know just yet (but I had a bad, bad feeling about it) but at the same time, a little part of me couldn't help but thrill to the thought. One of my favourite romance novels had a plot sort of like this; the main character had been magically transported to an earlier time and fallen in love with a warrior she met there. I knew it was farfetched but there I was, living the same thing. Only I already was in love (lust?) with one of the warriors I had met. And thankfully, I was not human so I didn't really have to worry about contracting the bubonic plague or whatever else disease might be gallivanting around the 1500's. I tried to think where in history this year fell; Middle Ages? Dark Ages? Medieval times? Victorian Era? Not that it really mattered, but I was sure it fell into one of those categories.

I was busy trying to figure out where the hell I was and so I didn't realize when we stopped in front of a stoop. I ran right into Eric's backside and cursed myself for being clumsy. Seriously, a clumsy vampire? Leave it to me. He turned his head to look at me, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

"You might warn me the next time you wish to touch me," he said in an all too familiar tone. "I will not object, I assure you."

"I bet you wouldn't," I replied familiarly, rolling my eyes. A second later I had a really weird deja vous feeling when I realized I technically didn't know him. Yet. What? Lord, I was going to drive myself crazy trying to figure this out. He smirked and turned back around. I was seized with a fierce need to hug him, touch him, ask him to comfort me. Obviously, he would let me, being fundamentally Eric. But I was looking more for the Eric who was in love with me and not the Eric who was in love with women. I shook my head to clear it, realizing that my Eric was about 500 years in the future.

Godric pushed the door open and we walked inside. I couldn't help but look everywhere, enthralled by the fact that I was in an actual brothel in the 1500's. There were thick carpets on the floor and heavy wooden furniture littering the room. There were gold candelabras all over the place, giving the room a well-lit appearance. It was, well, charming. Even if it was a brothel. As soon as we stepped in, a heavyset woman bustled in through a hallway.

"Ah, Mr. Northman, Mr. Pictwell, a very good evening to you both," she gushed warmly. I took a moment to study her, fascinated by her clothes. She was wearing a thick velvet dress with huge belled sleeves and lace popping out of every possible place. It dark green and laced tight around her middle, with a froth of cream silk bubbling from under her neck. There was a scrap of linen of the same cream colour pinned to the top of her head, with dark red curls shining greasily under it. Her face was pleasantly flushed and she looked like a kindly old aunt. I smiled slightly at her as she winked a bright green eye at me.