The Curious Conduct of Miss O’Reilly

By Katie Hanna

“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot screeches, hopping from perch to perch inside the brass cage. “Blitzkrieg! Blitzkrieg!”

“If that parrot continues its intolerable squawking,” I say through clenched teeth, “I shall not be responsible for my actions.”

“Cheer up, Miss O’Reilly.” My fellow time travel agent chuckles. “Hernandez must like you a lot to send you a souvenir all the way from the Byzantine Empire.”

“Why couldn’t Hernandez send me something useful, like our other clients?” I retort. “Mr. Treadwell visited Victorian London and sent me a pewter inkwell owned by Charles Dickens!”

“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot interjects. His emerald plumage blends easily with the Green Room’s decor. That’s the only good thing I can say about him.

This feathered menace thinks he can invade my quiet, orderly world with no consequences? Is this the thanks I get for risking my career so Hernandez could play the swashbuckling hero in the French Revolution?

A shadow falls over my switchboard. I look up to see Mr. DuPont, the Green Room chairman.

“Why, sir.” I jump to my feet, smoothing my rumpled skirt. “What can I do for you?”

My neighbor sidles toward the door, muttering, “It’s time for my coffee break…”

“Thank you, Mr. Anderson.” Mr. DuPont flicks a speck of dust off his sleeve. “Sit down, Miss O’Reilly. I won’t keep you long.”

“Blitzkrieg,” the parrot rasps.

“Do keep quiet!” I force a smile for Mr. DuPont’s benefit. “I apologize about the bird, sir. Is anything wrong?”

Mr. DuPont picks up my Dickens inkwell, twirling it so the pewter surface sparkles in the light. “We’ve lost contact with Hernandez.”

My eyes widen. “That’s impossible!”

The young devil promised to take a long vacation in Byzantium! He promised not to get in trouble! Oh, I should have known better, the dastardly double-crossing—

“I wish it were impossible,” Mr. DuPont responds coolly. “Hernandez is going rogue. Taking his chances in the time vortex.”

“The fool!” I explode. “Piloting his own ship through the vortex without relying on the switchboard operators?” My fingers dig into my hair. “That’s practically suicide!”

“Dangerous? Yes. Suicide? Not necessarily.” Mr. Dupont watches me closely. “Especially not with the guidance of a legendary time traveler.”

My pulse skips. I force myself to take a breath, matching the chairman’s steely gaze. “In all my years of time travel,” I say, my voice unnaturally quiet, “I never charted my own course to a forbidden time period.”

“Blitzkrieg?” The parrot cocks his head skeptically. “Blitzkrieg?”

“With your skills, you could’ve gotten away with it.” Mr. DuPont’s chuckle sounds like a snake’s rattle. “Oh, you were a legend all right, Imelda O’Reilly.”

My jaw clenches so hard I nearly crack a tooth. “The compliment is appreciated,” I grind out.

“You didn’t drop young Hernandez a few hints, Imelda?” Mr. DuPont raises an eyebrow. “A few tricks of the trade here and there?”

His use of my first name adds insult to injury. I train the full power of my scorching stare on him. “If Hernandez had confided his idiotic plans to me, I would have reported him immediately in compliance with the Green Room handbook.” My voice crackles with electricity. “Section 14-B, regulation 3872.”

Mr. DuPont studies me. “Glad you’re such a loyal employee.” His teeth flash in a cold white smile. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Miss O’Reilly.”

He sets the Dickens inkwell on my desk with an ominous click and strides away.

“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot shrieks.

A savage growl tears my throat. “Will you shut up!”

Once I get my hands on young Hernandez, the scoundrel will be sorry he was ever born! What was he thinking, hijacking the ship? He knows the brunt of suspicion will fall on me! After all I did for him—giving him a secret trip to the French Revolution, not to mention a chance at romance with Charlotte Corday? Saints and angels, isn’t he worried about Charlotte’s safety? Selfish hound!

“Blitzkrieg,” the parrot chortles.

I stare at the bird.

Blitzkrieg, otherwise known as rapid conquest through overwhelming force… the strategy employed by Hitler in World War II.

“No,” I whisper in horror.

It’s a coded message. It must be. Hernandez is going to Nazi Germany to take a shot at Hitler.

Which is exactly the sort of fat-headed thing the man who tried to kill Rasputin seven times would do.

But why does Hernandez want me to know what he’s planning? Surely he doesn’t imagine I’m such a fool as to join him?

“Are you all right, Miss O’Reilly?” Mr. Anderson reappears at my elbow, coffee in hand. “You look pale.”

“It’s nothing.” I pluck the birdcage off its hook. “I’m just giving the parrot some fresh air…”

Safe in the empty hallway, I storm down the corridor. My heart hammers my ribs. My brain buzzes like a hornet’s nest.

Hernandez is out there in the time vortex, playing hell with history. Someone’s got to grab that idiot by the lapels and shake a little sense into him.

But why the blazes does it have to be me?

“Blitzkrieg,” the parrot croaks knowingly.

“Fine, I admit it,” I hiss. “I encouraged him! I’m partly responsible! But sweet St. Raphael, flying blind through the vortex to Nazi Germany? Who could have predicted that?”

Thank goodness I’m a time traveler. I can sort out Hernandez’s mess before anyone notices I’m gone. If I play my cards right, I can return before the precise moment Mr. DuPont realized Hernandez was missing.

You were a legend, Imelda O’Reilly.

Duty calls. Adventure beckons. And for once, they’re both pulling me in the same direction.

My strides lengthen as the time machine bay comes in sight. Once I reach the entrance, I punch the access code with practiced fingers. The door slides open, revealing rows of gleaming blue ships. A smirk tugs at my lips.

“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot crows.

“Do stop jabbering.” I roll my eyes. “We have a timeline to save.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Katie Hanna is a writer in her spare time and a Hufflepunk all the time.  She has a Master’s degree in history from the University of Memphis, and puts it to work writing historical fiction and historical fantasy.  Katie likes strong women in her adventure stories and Oreos in her ice cream.

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