Chapter 5 Standing Together

Three weeks after Aisling discovered her supposed suicide, we established a rhythm that almost felt normal. By day, I worked in my lab, trying to unravel the mystery of her temporal displacement while keeping my darker discoveries to myself. Aisling spent her time between the university library (where I'd arranged guest access) and various museums, determined to understand the century-plus of history she'd missed.

Evenings we spent together, comparing notes and theories. She'd become surprisingly adept at research, diving into historical records with the precision of a scholar. Tonight, she spread several printouts across my coffee table, her excitement palpable.

"I've found something interesting," she announced as I set down takeout containers of Thai food (her latest culinary discovery). "A mention of a secret society called 'The Ashen Circle' that was active in London during the 1890s."

I handed her chopsticks, which she'd mastered with remarkable dexterity. "What kind of secret society?"

"They were obsessed with occult practices and scientific advancement—a strange combination. They believed certain bloodlines held special properties that could be harnessed for temporal manipulation."

I paused, noodles halfway to my mouth. "Temporal manipulation? You mean time travel?"

"Not in those exact words, but yes." She pointed to a paragraph in an old newspaper clipping. "They were dismissed as eccentric aristocrats playing at mysticism, but what if they actually discovered something? Something related to quantum physics?"

"That's... actually not impossible," I admitted. "Many scientific discoveries have roots in observations that were initially attributed to supernatural causes."

She looked pleased at my validation. "There's more. Several prominent members disappeared under mysterious circumstances in the spring of 1895."

"Around the time you vanished."

"Precisely. And one of those members was Lord Pembroke."

I set down my food, attention fully captured. "The man who wanted to marry you?"

"Yes. According to this article, he was last seen two days after my 'suicide.' His family claimed he was traveling abroad, but no confirmed sightings were ever recorded."

The implications were staggering. If Lord Pembroke was involved with a group experimenting with temporal manipulation, and if he had designs on Aisling...

"We need to find out everything we can about this Ashen Circle," I said. "And about Lord Pembroke's connection to your family."

"Already ahead of you." She pulled out more papers. "I've been researching my family history. The Howard bloodline has some peculiar legends attached to it. Stories of ancestors who could 'see beyond the veil of time.' It was always dismissed as poetic fancy, but what if the Ashen Circle believed these legends had scientific merit?"

I was impressed by her methodical approach. "You'd make an excellent research scientist."

"In your time, perhaps I could have been." There was a wistfulness in her voice that tugged at something in my chest.

"You still could be," I said quietly.

She didn't respond directly, instead turning back to her notes. "I believe we should investigate an upcoming auction at Christie's. They're selling items from the estate of the last known Ashen Circle member. If we could examine those artifacts..."

"Wait, how did you know about this auction?"

She smiled, a hint of Victorian mischief in her expression. "I may have charmed the information out of a very helpful librarian at the rare books collection. Some social skills transcend centuries."

I laughed. "Apparently they do. But Christie's auctions are invitation-only, high-society affairs. We can't just walk in."

"Perhaps Dr. Cavill can't," she agreed. "But Lady Aisling Howard, visiting British aristocrat, might manage an invitation with the right approach."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're suggesting we use your actual identity? Isn't that risky?"

"Not if we're careful. The Howard family still exists—I checked. The current Earl of Westcliff would be my... great-grand-nephew, I believe. If I present myself as a distant Howard relation doing genealogical research..."

"That's actually brilliant," I admitted. "But I'd need to come with you."

"Naturally. As my cultural attaché, assisting with my research into family artifacts."

I couldn't help smiling at her confidence. In the weeks she'd been here, she'd shed much of her initial disorientation, turning her Victorian social training into an unexpected asset in navigating modern situations.

"When is this auction?"

"Three days from now. I've taken the liberty of drafting a letter of introduction." She handed me an elegantly composed note on stationery she must have purchased specifically for this purpose.

"You've thought of everything."

"Not everything," she said, her expression turning serious. "If we're right about the Ashen Circle's interest in temporal manipulation, and if they're connected to my displacement, we may be putting ourselves in danger by pursuing this."

I reached across the table and took her hand—a gesture that would have been scandalously forward in her time but had become natural between us. "We're already in danger. Someone broke into my lab and knows you're here. Better to be proactive than waiting for them to make the next move."

She nodded, her fingers tightening around mine. "Together, then."

"Together," I agreed.

Three days later, we stood in the elegant Christie's auction house, surrounded by the elite of New York society. Aisling was transformed—not just by the expensive modern evening dress we'd purchased for the occasion, but by her entire demeanor. She moved through the pre-auction reception with the innate confidence of someone born to navigate high society, regardless of century.

"Lady Howard," a Christie's representative approached us, "we're honored by your interest in tonight's collection. I understand you believe some pieces may have connections to your family?"

"Yes, particularly items associated with the Ashen Circle," Aisling replied smoothly. "My family records suggest an ancestor had dealings with them. This is Dr. Cavill, who's assisting my research."

I nodded politely, playing my part as the academic assistant to this aristocratic researcher. The representative guided us to a display case containing several items that would be auctioned later.

"These came from the estate of Lord Geoffrey Winters, believed to be the last active member of the group," he explained. "Mostly ceremonial items—robes, a chalice, some journals."

Aisling's attention fixed on a small silver object in the corner of the display. "And that pendant?"

"Ah, yes. The 'Tempus Oculus' they called it. The 'Eye of Time.' Just a curiosity, though it is remarkably similar to a piece in the British Museum's Victorian collection."

I leaned closer, examining the pendant through the glass. It featured an intricate design surrounding a crystal that seemed to capture and refract light in unusual ways.

"Does it open?" I asked casually.

"Indeed it does. The interior contains a substance the Ashen Circle believed could 'bend time's flow,' according to Lord Winters' notes. Superstitious nonsense, of course, but a fascinating historical piece."

After the representative moved on to other guests, Aisling whispered to me, "That pendant—it looks exactly like the one Lord Pembroke always wore. I never saw it up close, but the design is unmistakable."

"And possibly connected to your locket somehow," I added. "We need to get a closer look."

"The auction doesn't start for another hour." Her eyes darted around the room. "Perhaps a distraction..."

Before I could question what she meant, she had glided away, approaching an elderly gentleman who seemed to be an important figure based on the people clustered around him. Within minutes, she had the entire group laughing at some story, their attention completely focused on her.

I realized she was creating an opportunity. Moving casually toward the display case, I pretended to study the items while surreptitiously taking photos with my phone, focusing particularly on the pendant and the journals.

As I finished, a security guard approached, forcing me to move on. I circled back toward Aisling, who smoothly excused herself from her captivated audience.

"Did you get what we needed?" she murmured as we stepped onto a balcony overlooking the auction floor.

"Photos, yes. But we need that pendant itself. The craftsmanship suggests it might have similar quantum properties to your locket."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Then we shall have to acquire it."

"These items will go for thousands, maybe tens of thousands of dollars," I warned.

"I'm aware. I do have resources, you know."

I blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"I visited the Bank of England's New York branch last week. The Howard family has maintained accounts there for generations. With proper identification and a plausible story about being a previously unknown family member recently located through genealogical research..."

"You accessed your family's accounts?" I was astonished by her initiative.

"A small portion only. Enough to establish myself here, should that become necessary." She looked slightly guilty. "I hope you don't mind. I've been planning to contribute to the household expenses."

I was speechless. All this time I'd thought of her as dependent on me, when she'd been quietly securing her own position in this century.

"You continue to surprise me, Lady Howard."

She smiled. "Good. I should hate to become predictable."

The auction began, and we took our seats. Aisling maintained her aristocratic composure, though I could sense her tension as we waited for the Ashen Circle items to come up for bidding.

When the pendant finally appeared, Aisling raised her paddle at every bid, her determination evident in the set of her jaw. The price climbed rapidly, reaching thirty thousand dollars before the other bidders began to drop out.

All except one—a thin man in a dark suit at the back of the room, who matched each of Aisling's bids without hesitation. There was something unnervingly focused about him, his eyes never leaving the pendant.

"Fifty thousand," Aisling called, her voice steady despite the enormous sum.

"Fifty-five," the man countered immediately.

I leaned close to her. "Are you sure about this? That's a lot of money."

"I'm certain," she whispered back. "I can feel it—that pendant is connected to what happened to me."

The bidding continued, climbing past seventy thousand. The auctioneer was practically gleeful at the unexpected battle. Finally, at eighty-five thousand dollars, the man in the back hesitated, then lowered his paddle.

"Sold to Lady Howard!" the auctioneer announced triumphantly.

As we moved to the payment office to complete the transaction, I noticed the man who had bid against us watching from across the room. When our eyes met, he didn't look away. Instead, he nodded slightly, as if acknowledging something, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

"Did you see that?" I murmured to Aisling.

"Yes. I believe we've attracted attention, though whether friendly or hostile remains to be seen."

After completing the payment arrangements, we were escorted to a private room where a Christie's representative brought the pendant in a velvet-lined box.

"Congratulations on your acquisition, Lady Howard," she said. "It's always wonderful when historical items return to their family connections."

Once we were alone with the pendant, I examined it carefully while Aisling kept watch at the door.

"The craftsmanship is remarkable," I observed. "And this crystal... it's unlike anything I've seen before. Not quite diamond, not quite quartz."

"Look inside," Aisling urged. "The representative said it opens."

I carefully unlatched the tiny hinge on the side. Inside was a small compartment containing what appeared to be a dark, metallic substance.

"We need to get this to my lab," I said, closing it carefully. "If this material has the same quantum properties as your locket—"

A commotion outside the door interrupted me. Aisling peered through the crack.

"Something's happening," she whispered. "Security guards are running toward the main gallery."

I quickly tucked the pendant into my inner jacket pocket. "We should leave. Now."

We slipped out of the room, heading for a side exit I'd noticed earlier. As we passed through the gallery, I saw security guards questioning guests about something.

"What's going on?" I asked a passing staff member.

"Someone broke into the document display," she explained hurriedly. "The Ashen Circle journals are missing."

Aisling and I exchanged alarmed glances. Someone else was after the same information.

We made it outside and were halfway down the block when I noticed a dark sedan slowly pacing us. "Don't look back," I murmured to Aisling, "but I think we're being followed."

She linked her arm through mine, maintaining her composed facade. "What should we do?"

"The subway entrance is just ahead. We'll lose them underground."

We quickened our pace slightly, trying not to appear alarmed. The sedan accelerated, pulling alongside us just as we reached the subway stairs. The window rolled down, revealing the man who had bid against Aisling.

"Lady Howard," he called softly. "A moment, please."

We froze. He knew who she was—her actual identity.

"Keep walking," I whispered to Aisling, placing myself between her and the car.

"I mean no harm," the man insisted. "I have information about the Ashen Circle and Lord Pembroke. Information you need."

Against my better judgment, I hesitated. "Who are you?"

"My name is Daniel Winters. Geoffrey Winters was my grandfather. We need to talk—somewhere secure."

Aisling stepped forward, ignoring my protective gesture. "How do you know who I am?"

"The same way I know you're not a distant Howard relative but Lady Aisling Howard herself, from 1895." His expression was grave. "The same way I know you're in danger. Please, get in the car before they find you."

"They?" I questioned.

"The organization that grew from the Ashen Circle. They call themselves the Cinder Society now, and they've been looking for Lady Howard for a very long time."

The intensity of his warning was convincing, but I still hesitated. "Why should we trust you?"

"Because my grandfather spent his life trying to undo the damage the Circle caused. And because I can show you this." He held up a journal identical to those that had been stolen from the auction. "This is the real journal. What was on display were copies. I switched them years ago for safekeeping."

A siren wailed in the distance, growing closer.

"Decide quickly," Daniel urged. "They've already alerted authorities that you stole the pendant."

Aisling looked at me, a silent question in her eyes. I nodded slightly—we were already deep in this mystery. Getting answers was worth the risk.

We slid into the back seat of the sedan, which pulled away from the curb just as police cars rounded the corner toward Christie's.

"Where are you taking us?" I demanded as the car merged into traffic.

"My home," Daniel replied. "It's secure. I've been monitoring the Cinder Society for years, waiting for them to make their move. When I saw Lady Howard's name on the auction guest list, I knew the game had changed."

"How did you recognize me?" Aisling asked. "There are very few photographs of me in existence."

"My grandfather kept extensive records of the original Circle members and their... targets." He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Your disappearance was their first successful temporal displacement. You were patient zero."

The implications of his words hung heavily in the car. After several minutes of tense silence, we pulled into an underground parking garage beneath an upscale apartment building.

Daniel's apartment was a curious mix of modern technology and antique furnishings that reminded me somewhat of how my own home had evolved since Aisling's arrival. One wall was covered with monitors displaying security feeds and data streams, while Victorian furniture and artifacts filled the living space.

"My grandfather was obsessed with understanding what the Circle had done," Daniel explained, gesturing for us to sit. "He joined them to learn their secrets, then spent the rest of his life trying to counter their work."

"And what exactly was their work?" I asked.

Daniel opened a hidden panel in the wall, revealing a safe. From it, he retrieved the journal he'd shown us earlier, along with several folders.

"They believed that certain bloodlines—like the Howards—carried genetic markers that allowed for temporal manipulation. They thought they could extract these properties and use them to control time itself." He looked directly at Aisling. "Your locket contains a sample of your mother's hair, correct?"

She touched it protectively. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Because the Circle engineered that locket specifically to harness your family's temporal resonance. Lord Pembroke gave it to your mother as a gift, who then passed it to you."

"That's impossible," she protested. "It was a Howard family heirloom for generations."

"A false history created to ensure you would wear it. The locket acts as a quantum anchor, tethering you to specific points in time."

I leaned forward. "That's why she was pulled to my lab? Because of the locket?"

"Partly. Your quantum experiment created a resonance field that activated the locket's properties. But there's more." He opened the journal, showing us diagrams of a device remarkably similar to my quantum field generator. "The Circle had theories but lacked the technology to implement them fully. They could send objects—and eventually people—forward in time, but couldn't control where or when they landed."

"So my arrival in Ryan's lab was... random?" Aisling asked.

"Not entirely. The locket was designed to seek out compatible quantum fields. Your Dr. Cavill's experiment created exactly such a field."

The pieces were starting to fit together, but one crucial question remained. "Who was found in Aisling's place?" I asked. "The historical records show a body was recovered from the lake."

Daniel's expression darkened. "That was the Circle's greatest crime. They substituted another young woman—physically similar to Lady Howard—and staged her suicide. The girl was a maid from Lord Pembroke's estate, selected because of the resemblance."

Aisling gasped, genuine horror crossing her face. "They murdered an innocent girl to cover my disappearance?"

"Yes. And they've done similar things many times since, perfecting their techniques. The Cinder Society continues their work with modern technology, making them far more dangerous."

I felt a chill run through me. "What do they want with Aisling now?"

"To complete what they started. The temporal displacement was only phase one. They need her—specifically, her quantum resonance pattern—to stabilize their time manipulation device."

"Which would kill her in the process," I guessed grimly.

Daniel nodded. "They've been searching for her since she vanished from my lab three months ago."

"Your lab?" I was confused. "She appeared in my lab."

"After initially appearing in mine," Daniel clarified. "I've been continuing my grandfather's work, monitoring for temporal anomalies. When Lady Howard appeared, I recognized her immediately from my grandfather's records. Before I could explain, the Cinder Society agents tracked her there. In the chaos of their attack, she fled and somehow found her way to you."

Aisling looked pale. "I don't remember any of this. My first memory in this time is appearing in Ryan's laboratory."

"Temporal displacement can cause memory gaps," Daniel explained. "Especially with multiple jumps."

"So she jumped twice?" I asked. "From 1895 to your lab, then to mine?"

"Yes, which is unprecedented. It suggests her temporal resonance is even stronger than the Circle believed." He turned to Aisling. "That's why they want you so badly. You're the key to controlling time itself."

The weight of this revelation seemed to physically press down on her shoulders. "All this because of my bloodline? Because of a locket my mother gave me?"

"I'm afraid so."

A sudden crash from outside the apartment made us all jump. Daniel rushed to his security monitors.

"They've found us," he said tensely. "We need to move. Now."

"The Cinder Society?" I asked, standing quickly.

"Yes. They must have tracked us from the auction." He moved to a bookcase and pulled a specific volume, revealing a hidden door. "This leads to a secure exit. Take the journal and the pendant. My car is in the lower garage, space 23B. The keys are—"

The apartment door burst open with a splintering crack. Three figures in dark clothing rushed in, weapons drawn. Daniel shoved us toward the hidden passage.

"Go! I'll hold them off!"

I pulled Aisling through the passage, hearing gunfire erupt behind us. The hidden door sealed automatically, plunging us into semi-darkness lit only by emergency lights along the floor.

"Ryan!" Aisling gasped, clutching my arm as we hurried down a narrow corridor. "They shot at him!"

"We have to keep moving," I urged, though my own heart was racing with fear and adrenaline. "We can't help him if we're captured too."

We followed the emergency lights to a service elevator that took us to the lower garage. Finding Daniel's car, I tried the door, relieved when it opened—he must keep it unlocked for quick escapes.

"Check the glove compartment for keys," I told Aisling as I slid into the driver's seat.

She fumbled with the latch, her hands shaking. "I don't see any—wait." She pulled out a small device. "Is this it?"

"Keyless ignition," I realized, pressing the start button. The engine hummed to life. "Hold on."

I navigated out of the garage and onto the street, checking the rearview mirror constantly for pursuers. Aisling sat rigid beside me, the journal and pendant clutched to her chest.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice steadier than I expected given the circumstances.

"My lab. It's the only place I have access to equipment that might help us understand all this."

As we drove through the night, I kept thinking about what Daniel had said—about Aisling being "patient zero" in a century-long experiment, about her unique temporal resonance. It explained so much about my failed simulations and why returning her to her time had seemed impossible.

"Are you alright?" I asked, glancing at her.

"No," she answered honestly. "But I'm still here. Still fighting." She looked down at the pendant and journal in her lap. "They killed a girl who looked like me. An innocent servant. Just to cover their tracks."

"We'll expose them," I promised. "We'll make this right."

When we reached the university, the campus was quiet, most buildings dark. I used my key card to access the science building's side entrance, leading Aisling quickly to my laboratory.

"We should be safe here temporarily," I said, engaging the electronic lock behind us. "The lab has its own security system."

Aisling set the journal and pendant on my desk, then surprised me by throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. "I thought they might kill you back there," she whispered against my chest.

I held her close, the adrenaline of our escape giving way to a deeper awareness of how much she had come to mean to me. "It would take more than some time-obsessed cult to keep me from protecting you."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with an expression that made my breath catch. "When that man raised his weapon, all I could think was that I couldn't bear to lose you. Not after everything."

Before I could respond, a noise from the testing chamber made us both freeze. Slowly, I turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows—Daniel Winters, bleeding from a wound in his shoulder.

"Lock down the lab," he gasped. "They're right behind me."