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Chapter three

Noah

Mama Delilah’s Daily Horoscope Reading

Things are looking up, Sagittarius! The world’s your oyster. Carpe diem, as they say, and don’t miss out on opportunities that come your way. That said, there are still some bumps in the road ahead. Nothing’s ever completely smooth sailing. However, if you embrace the adventure awaiting you, then you just might end up experiencing something unique and amazing.

W hen my plane finally touches down in London, it jolts me out of sleep with a bang.

It’s not because we had a rough landing either. No, the sensation coursing through my body is akin to what I imagine sticking my finger in an electric socket is like.

My muscles contract and I slump in my seat, struggling to breathe for a moment. As the plane slows down and gradually loses momentum, the worst of the truly bizarre episode passes, but I still feel like I drank a case of Red Bulls laced with amphetamine.

I shakily hold up a hand, certain I’ll see sparks flying off of it, but it looks the same as always—except that my hairs are all standing on end. My whole body vibrates, and I would almost swear there’s a bolt of lightning zinging through me like I’m a fucking pinball machine or something.

Once my lungs start working properly again, I sit up carefully from where I’d been slumped against the window and gulp down the last of my bottle of water.

What the hell was that?

Could our plane have been hit by actual lightning and some of it managed to get me too?

I glance out my tiny window but the sky is actually sunny and bright.

Surely this isn’t what jet lag is like, right?

The intensity of whatever happened has faded to a dull hum under my skin. I wouldn’t precisely call it pleasant, but it’s not uncomfortable or terrifying anymore.

I covertly pinch myself to make sure I’m, in fact, awake.

Yep. That was real and I’m conscious.

I take deep, steadying breaths as the plane taxis toward the terminal gates.

We’ve landed at London Heathrow, and I’m scheduled this evening to take the Caledonian Sleeper train all the way up to Inverness. From there, I’m going to wander and explore the Highlands to my heart’s content.

I turn on my phone and realize it’s barely 9:00 a.m. here, which gives me plenty of time to do a little sightseeing in London before I head to bonnie Scotland.

Getting off the plane is glorious. I haven’t flown a lot but spending a solid ten hours in coach isn’t my—or probably anyone’s—idea of fun. Following the crowd, I make my way to customs and then follow the signs for transportation into the city.

A bit of research in advance told me that taking a taxi or an Uber would be stupidly expensive. However, I managed to figure out the train system in Chicago, so surely I can learn the one here. Right?

Like the clueless tourist I am, I wander toward the train area, trying to make sense of the signs and figure out which direction to go. While I’m gawking like an idiot, I bump into a little old brownie lady and nearly knock us both over.

It’s my first time meeting a brownie, but I learned about them in school. One of the Otherkind species, they’re more commonly found in the UK—and Scotland, in particular.

She drops her purse when we collide, but I’m able to keep both of us upright. Once I’m sure we’re safe from falling over, I bend down to pick up her bag, making sure she hasn’t lost anything.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her anxiously. “My fault. I was looking at the signs and trying to figure them out instead of paying attention to what’s in front of me.”

She waves one of her tiny hands. “Dinnae fret, luv.”

I gasp when I hear her accent, all other thoughts vanishing. “You’re from Scotland, aren’t you?”

She chuckles with amusement, her warm brown eyes shining. “Aye, that I am. I’m just here in London visiting my daughter, who recently had a baby.”

“Congratulations!”

“Ta, luv.” Her wizened, tan face studies me carefully. “You’re an American, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Yep. Chicago born and raised. This is my first trip abroad.” I can’t stop myself from grinning widely.

She pats my arm again, and I shiver at the current of energy that zings through me. Okay, that feeling is seriously weird and I don’t know what’s causing it.

She narrows her eyes, her voice coming out in a soft whisper. “How remarkable. Who would’ve imagined a Conduit would show up here after so many years?”

I blink in confusion. “What?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Nothing, dearie. I’m Eleanor Hughes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Noah Price.”

She surveys me and my large backpack. “Where are you going to be traveling while you’re here?”

I sigh dreamily, my body thrumming with excitement. “I’m actually going to Scotland. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine and I’m so thrilled to finally make it happen.”

She cups her wrinkled cheek in her hand. “How lovely. England cannae compare to the majesty of Scotland. Besides, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for brawny Scotsmen,” she admits with a cheeky little wink.

I laugh and wink back. “So do I. Or, at least, based on the movies and television shows I’ve watched, I think I do.”

She nods warmly. “Trust me, seeing a handsome man in a kilt for the first time is a memorable experience. One of the reasons I married my husband was because of how he looks in his.”

“I hope I’ll get the chance to see plenty of Scotsmen in kilts,” I admit.

“I’d say you need to demand a refund if you don’t!” she cackles.

This little old brownie lady is more fun and feisty than I imagined at first glance.

“Good point.”

She straightens her diminutive posture. “Now, why don’t I help you find where you need to be going?” Taking the lead like a very tiny general, she marches forward through the throng of travelers and guides me to the correct train, which she happens to be taking as well.

I’m still not sure what happened to me earlier on the plane, or why being touched by this woman seemed to affect me so oddly, but I decide to focus on the here and now. I’m finally here on UK soil and I’m making one of my heart’s desires come true. As the saying goes, ain’t nothing gonna bring me down!

As we wait for our train to arrive, I tell Eleanor that my sleeper train to Scotland doesn’t leave until later this evening.

“I was hoping to do a little bit of sightseeing in the city before then. Do you have anything that you’d recommend?”

She considers this for a moment. “Well now, a double-decker bus tour might be a good way to start. Get the lay of the land, see if there’s anywhere you want to stop and visit. It’s a wonderful way to check out the city and get some photographs to remember your visit.”

I grin at her. “Sounds like a great idea. I’ll do that.”

Although my plane ride from Chicago was long and uncomfortable, I actually managed to get some decent sleep for once, so I’m full of energy and enthusiasm. I might crash later, but for the moment I intend to ride this wave while I can. After all, this is my first trip abroad, and as my mom told me, I need to make the most of it.

I don’t even have to worry too much about money. Although I don’t intend to throw away money like a fool during my travels, the inheritance my grandfather left me is plenty to support me for quite a while. I’m truly grateful that Mom followed Pops’s wishes and waited until the right time to give me that money. I might have frittered it away on something stupid when I was younger, whereas now it’s helping me achieve one of my dreams and giving me an opportunity to make memories that will last me a lifetime.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s helping me create a bright, new future.

I’m rather sad when my new friend and I eventually part ways, but we share contact information to keep in touch. Before long, I end up getting off at Piccadilly Circus station. The moment I make my way aboveground again, I’m overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the city. I’ve been told early October isn’t peak tourist season here, but I don’t know that I’d enjoy it when it’s even busier. It’s far more intense than what I’ve experienced in Chicago.

I’m not exactly a bumpkin, and I’m used to urban city centers, but London is truly a global metropolis on a scale unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It’s still a bit early for lunch, but my stomach is already growling and demanding food, so I decide to stop for a bite to eat before sightseeing.

It doesn’t take long to find a cafe doing brisk business. I order a large cappuccino and a soup and sandwich combo, then take my tray to an open seat at a counter at the front window. While scarfing down my food, I people watch with enthusiasm, and the food and coffee do wonders for taking my energy to the next level.

Twenty minutes later, I’m practically skipping down the sidewalk in search of a double-decker bus tour.

In seemingly no time at all, I’m boarding a bright red bus ready to see the sights. Our driver is an elderly fellow who doesn’t say much, but our tour guide is an upbeat young woman who introduces herself as Emily and welcomes us aboard with enthusiasm.

I sit up on the open-roof second level and take in the view while also enjoying the tour guide’s narration that comes through the speakers. We pass historic landmarks like Westminster Abbey—which I make a note to come back to before I head home—Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, and so many more that I finally stop counting after a while.

Despite having only minimal talent, I manage to snap some decent pictures on my phone along the way until the weather takes a turn, and I start feeling raindrops. All of us on the second level hurry back down below where things get a wee bit crowded and I find myself in a seat at the very front by Emily.

We’re making our way back to where I boarded and I’m peering out the front window when all of a sudden the driver, who’s looking awfully pale and sweaty, groans loudly and clutches at his chest.

“Tom?” Emily asks, a sharp note of concern in her voice.

Instead of responding, the driver suddenly slumps forward, unconscious.

Almost immediately, the bus starts to veer out of control.

I don’t think. I just act.

Flying forward, I take hold of the wheel, turning just in time to stop us from careening into the fountain in the center of Piccadilly Circus.

Other passengers scream, and I have no idea what to do other than try to stop us from crashing.

The problem is, the driver’s still slumped forward with his foot on the gas pedal.

“We’re all going to die!” someone shrieks.

“I knew I never should have come here,” someone else yells.

“Everyone, calm down,” Emily says. She then turns terror-filled eyes to me and murmurs, “What do we do?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m from America. Can you call 9-1-1 or something?” I briefly glance down at Tom, who isn’t looking too hot. “We need emergency medical help fast.”

Emily pales and pulls out a cell phone with shaking hands. “It’s 9-9-9 here. On it,” she says and places the call.

Meanwhile, I just keep turning the wheel so the bus makes awkward circles in the center of Piccadilly Circus’s semi-roundabout.

Is this because of my bad luck? I don’t know how to operate a British bus, and the fact that we’re driving on the opposite side of the road to what I’m used to is throwing me for a loop. I don’t have a clue what to do except keep turning the wheel in ridiculous circles.

“Stop the bus!” several people start yelling.

“I can’t right now!” I yell back. “The driver’s out cold with his foot on the gas.”

Emily pockets her cell phone and uses her microphone. “Everyone, calm down. Let me and…” She leans in and whispers, “What’s your name?”

“Noah,” I say, wincing as I see a car move out of our path only to get rear-ended by another. Thankfully, it didn’t sound too bad. At least, from what I can tell before we continue to move on in our dizzying circle.

“Noah and I are going to figure this out,” Emily assures everyone and then sets down her mic and moves even closer. “Do you have a plan?”

I’d give her my “bitch, please” face if I wasn’t currently busy because what the fuck? Does she think I do this kind of thing on a regular basis?

Honestly, if the situation weren’t quite so harrowing, I’d probably be laughing like a loon right about now.

“It’s like I’ve entered some kind of bizarre movie hellscape that’s a cross between Speed and National Lampoon’s European Vacation ,” I say with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Where’s a sweaty but sexy Keanu Reeves when I need him?

“What the hell are you on about?” Emily asks, face pale and a bit gray.

“Sandra Bullock made this look so much easier and she was dealing with a bomb,” I mutter.

Unfortunately, I must not have done so as quietly as I thought because someone behind me gasps.

“A bomb ?”

That sets off a chorus of screams and panicked yells.

“My neighbor told me it wasn’t safe in London. I never should have come!”

“Somebody, help us!”

“Hail Mary, full of grace…”

“Oh God! We’re going to die!”

Leaving the passengers to Emily, I work on keeping us from crashing. Vehicles are honking and getting out of our way, but I try not to pay too much attention to them and just focus on keeping the bus in the circle. If we continue looping around here, eventually we’ll either run out of gas or the police will arrive. Right?

I’m sweating and my adrenaline is pumping.

Emily takes a moment to calm the passengers once again, then comes back next to me. “What can I do to help?”

I blink.

Duh .

That’s what we should have done from the start.

“The driver’s stuck and his foot’s still on the gas pedal from what I can tell. I can’t really move him and keep us from crashing at the same time. Also, I’m not sure that it’s even safe to move him right now. We should maybe leave that to the medics. Do you think you could squeeze down there and just remove his foot from the gas? Hopefully, we can then slow down naturally.”

She gets a determined look in her eyes. “I’ll try.”

While I continue to steer the bus on our perpetual loop of Piccadilly Circus, she crouches to the floor and crawls between me and the driver’s legs.

I have to admit, I’m feeling a little bit of motion sickness by this point. How many times have we gone around in this fountain thing now?

“Got it!” a muffled but triumphant cry shouts from below.

I glance at the gauge on the dashboard and see our speed slowly start to go down.

“Do you know which one’s the brake?” I ask.

“I think so.”

I gulp. “Should we give it a try?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Okay, tap it gently.”

The bus lurches awkwardly.

“Ease up,” I say with a wince.

“Sorry,” she mutters from the floor. “Just nervous.”

“You’re doing great.”

She presses the brake again more gently, and we slow down even further.

Finally, a few moments later, I’m able to guide the bus out of the roundabout and up along the sidewalk, albeit at a somewhat haphazard angle.

Once we come to a full stop, I miraculously figure out how to put it in park, and my trusty helper pops back up, relief written all over her now flushed face.

Everyone on the bus cheers.

Before we can switch gears and check on the driver, the bus is swarmed by police officers who quickly take charge of the scene. In moments, they have poor Tom out on the sidewalk where medics begin performing CPR on him.

After that, the rest of us are allowed to get off the bus, and many of the other passengers come over and pat me on the back. A few give me hugs.

“You saved the day,” one of them says.

“You were a real hero,” another offers.

They’re much more appreciative now that we’re safe, but I get it.

Honestly, I was just trying not to die. And I like to think my movie knowledge might have helped a bit.

Thank you for teaching me how to stay cool under pressure, Ms. Bullock!

Anyway, no dying anytime soon for me. After all, I have to make it to Scotland and see a sexy man in a kilt, dammit.

All joking aside, now that we’re all safe, I’m so relieved my whole body begins to shake.

A hunky orc paramedic with biceps the size of small tree trunks separates from the other responders to check me out.

The moment he touches me, I have another one of those weird zippity-zappity sensations that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.

We both freeze and the orc stares at me open-mouthed for a moment.

“Am I losing my mind or did you feel that too?” I ask.

“Bloody hell, you’re a—”

My shaking suddenly gets worse, and I’m so cold my teeth start chattering, which has the orc snapping back into medic mode. “Looks like you’re experiencing some mild shock,” he tells me, and he has me lie down on a nearby bench. He wraps me in a thermal blanket and gives me a bottle of water. “I’ll be back to check on you soon. When you’re feeling better, there’s someone you should talk to. Stay put until I come back.”

He heads off to treat others and after about ten minutes, I’m mostly back to normal. At least, my heart’s no longer pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest. I drink a full bottle of water and munch on a protein bar I was given.

When news crews start arriving on the scene to report on the story, I decide it’s time for me to book it. Not wanting to have my face plastered all over the news media of another country, I wait for an opportune moment to shrug off the blanket, grab my bag, and make my escape. I send a silent apology to the handsome orc paramedic, but I don’t care to linger here. My bad luck could still land me in hot water after all that happened, and I’m not going to risk it.

Deciding I’ve had enough sightseeing for one day, I quickly disappear into the nearest underground Tube station and head toward Euston station, where I’ll be catching my evening train to Scotland. I’m not about to push my questionable luck.

Something scary happened, but it wasn’t directed at me, and I even managed to save the day, so to speak. That could have been a fluke, though, and I’m not willing to tempt fate.

My goal is almost within my grasp, and I’m not going to waver now.

Scotland, here I come!