T.L.B. Wood - Whitechapel, 1888

Whitechapel, 1888

A Symbiont Time Travel Adventure

Book Three

by

T.L.B. Wood

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-837-8

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Dedication

For Amos, Sam, Sophie and Lily

"The wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous are bold as a lion." Proverbs 28:1

Chapter 1

Sunlight filtered through the thin canopy of early spring leaves with an enviable ease. It was mid March, and the oaks and poplars had yet to fully awaken from their winter dormancy. A solitary warm beam of light became entangled in the auburn fur of Kipp's back as he wandered across my back yard, exploring the natural world as was his habit. He turned, once, to catch my gaze and wagged his plumed tail; his coat burned in the light like a newly struck copper penny. Kipp's thoughts mingled easily with mine, much as a tendril of smoke weaves through a dense thicket in the woods. Telepaths have no need for spoken language, but we still use it, from time to time.

"I love you, Petra," he wordlessly conveyed over the short distance.

I raised my cup of coffee in silent salute and agreement. "Ditto," I shot back at him.

We resided together in my small, cluttered house on a narrow, tree lined street where the sidewalks were broken and uneven from the intrusion of stubborn roots that erupted from underground. My neighbors, humans all, knew me as Petra Goodgame and thought of me as a mildly eccentric member of their species. However, in my four hundred plus years on earth, I had been called by many names; most recently I had been addressed as Petra Totheroh and Petra Mendez Howard. Although my identity changed frequently in my profession as a gatherer of historical facts, I maintained the given name of Petra as a silent salute to my nomadically inclined mother.

My appearance was deceptive to those around me. While I looked to be a reasonably attractive young woman with dark hair, hazel eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across a too large nose, I was, in reality, a symbiont. My kind are telepathic time travelers, and I was a historian with a passion for solving past mysteries. Kipp, to the people on the quiet streetmany of whom who were retired or worked at the university in Chapel Hillwas a friendly dog. They only appreciated the fact that he didn't bark all night long and keep them from their slumber. In truth, Kipp possessed a complex and multifaceted mindwith intelligence greater than my ownthat was concealed within his large, furry, and conspicuously canine body.

Not all symbionts are equally gifted, and, for certain, not all travel in time. Those who travel require a bond, such as the one that Kipp and I shared. Avoiding false modesty, I will state that I was considered by my peers to be relatively talented. But Kipp was in a singular class and strayed from the bell curve in so many ways as to make him exceptional. While my species suffered the effects of some degree of genetic degradation over thousands of years of existence, Kipp, who came fresh from prehistoric times to our current century, was the, uh, real deal, to state it simply. He put the rest of us to shame with his unvarnished and unsocialized approach to the world.

"I dreamt of Perdy last night," I commented out loud, my voice breaking the silence.

"Yes, I know," Kipp replied.

When I first realized Kipp dared to monitor my dreams, I was slightly unnerved since such violations of the ethical code were prohibited by my species. It was even more surprising when I discovered he could manipulate my dreams in such a way that a different, more positive outcome would result. The rest of our kind had developed certain social rules that ensured survival, and polite boundaries are a must between telepaths. But I had allowed Kipp to remain natural and untouched; he might observe the requisite distance with other symbionts, but he could travel anywhere in my brain that he desiredeven to the dark recesses where I hid my shame as well as my fears.

Kipp walked over to a bunch of daffodils and dipped his head down into the golden warmth of color. "I like these," he commented. "They seem happy, somehow."

I smiled; Kipp's perspectives were always refreshing. "Always have been a favorite of mine, too," I remarked.

"And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils," Kipp reflected, parroting the thoughts in my mind. "What is the origin of that phrase?"

"A fragment from a poem by William Wordsworth," I replied.

There was no doubt I was feeling moody and pensive; this often happened following a time shift. Kipp and I had recently returned from what was meant to be a vacation trip to Tombstone, Arizona during the time of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. We, unexpectedly, encountered a lost symbiont who had fallen into the world of criminality. It was sad and disappointing for me to find a fellow member of my species who used his gifts in a self-serving manner. The fact he was a nephew of a close friend of mine complicated things, in that Kipp and I would have to bury this knowledge; there was no need to bring pain to our friend.

"It's time for you to get over it," Kipp commented. He returned to my side and plopped his furry behind down in the damp grass. Kipp's slanted amber eyes were ringed with dark fur, and somehow the natural eyeliner enhanced their expressiveness. "John Gold made his choice and is just a sad memory now."

The bond between symbiont companions was unique and closer than any other relationship that I could envision. Without that connection, time travel was impossible. John Gold, due to his descent into evil, was abandoned by his ethically grounded symbiont and consequently lost the ability to return to contemporary times.

"I just hate it for Fitzhugh. Gold was his nephew, and I feel I'm living a lie by not telling him the truth." I tossed out the remainder of my cold coffee and stood. "But the truth would bring pain for no good reason, and there is no satisfying resolution."