by D. B. Green
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you,” Dean says, his eyes open wide. “Jimmy must have pulled some major strings to get you involved.” He holds out a hand, but quickly pulls it back. “Better not, after last time.” He winks. “Oh, man. Emma’s gonna kill me when she finds out you’re in on this too.”
“What… What… What?!”
I lay back on the bed. What the hell is going on? Dean shouldn’t be awake, even with his magic Enchanter genes. Luther said we’d have to get him outside the Veil’s influence to recover.
Suddenly, Dean drops to the floor, like a sack of potatoes.
Crap.
I dive off the bed, but he’s not passed out — he’s just looking under the bed.
He stands up just as fast as he dropped and runs to the closet. “Where are you hiding?”
“Who?”
He turns and grins. “Jimmy — James Church. My best man. The guy that got you involved in this prank,” he says. “Which, by the way, knocks getting tied to a lamp post into oblivion.”
Oblivion.
The word echoes around my head like thunder. The word I associate with my limited destiny in this timeline. The end of my pain — oblivion.
Hearing it brings me back to my senses.
“This isn’t a prank!” I shout. “Stop running around and come here. I need to check your vitals.”
Dean saunters over to the bed like a kid caught red-handed. His face turns cherry red. “Man, if I wasn’t so hyped for the wedding, I’d be curled up in a corner, all embarrassed,” he says. “Locked in a room with someone you’ve had a… well, someone world famous.” He turns, but he can’t look me in the eyes. “I’ve got all your albums, seen all your movies — more than once. I never got the chance to tell you last time—” Now, he looks me straight in the eyes. “—I think you’re awesome.” He suddenly stands, putting both hands on his head. “Oh man. Famous Kathy Meadows — dressed as a nurse — on my stag night.” His lips curl into a small grin as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m in serious trouble now.”
“Sit down and stay there while I wash my hands.” My balance is way off as I stumble to the bathroom. I splash my face with cold water to try and shock away the dizziness.
Peering around the door, I watch Dean. He’s dancing around the room like a kid in a candy store. His chest is more defined, muscular, and his skin isn’t hanging from his ribs anymore.
The scars.
There’s no red mark on his chest from the Lapse. The wounds, where the Diamond Lines cut into him, are gone too. He’s healing — fast. But how? The Veil should block his magic genes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Dean suddenly turns to the bathroom, catching my observing eye. “You’re some actress, Kathy Meadows, I’ll give you that. Putting your heart and soul into every role,” he says. “Okay, I’ll play along.”
I march over to the bed. “Sit down,” I say. He flinches as he drops down. “I won’t bite.”
I grab an ear thermometer from the drug trolley and take his temperature. Thirty-eight degrees. Normal. His pulse feels normal too. He stares at me with big wide eyes. The pale blue color has changed. It’s now a vibrant blue… like an ocean. I could just lose myself in them.
Lose myself… Where the hell did that come from?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I just need to check your blood pressure,” I say as Dean shuffles around on the bed. “Stop fidgeting.” I wrap the cuff around his arm and squeeze the pump. Same readings as earlier.
“Am I still alive then?” he asks, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Emma will be happy to know that.”
Emma.
Crap.
The penny drops — Dean remembers his timeline, his fiancée. But how? He shouldn’t remember them at all. Luther was going to explain everything to him — this whole alternate timeline mess. How do I explain it to him — what the hell do I say?
“Affinity.” The word just pops out.
Dean’s eyes open wide. He tilts his head to the side. “What do you know about Aff—”
I put my finger to his lips. “Your Affinity magic was used to change the past — to change history. This time and place is different to the world you know,” I say. “Here, I’m not a famous musician or actress; I’m just a regular nurse.” The words tumble out like a badly rehearsed speech. I pause to catch my breath. “This isn’t a bachelor party prank. You’re not even getting married… You’ve been a prisoner, kept in a magically-induced coma. And I’m here to rescue you.”
Dean frowns. He stares at the floor. “If you know about magic, then you know it can’t alter time — not without devastating consequences.” He looks up and grins. “Fantastic performance. You could win another Oscar.”
Forget being lost in his eyes, I’ve now got an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Everything I’ve said is true. You’ve got to believe me. I’m with Luther Stone. You know him, right?” I ask. “He somehow survived the change in history. We’re trying to restore your world to before the Fa— ” Crap. “—to before everything changed.” I quickly add.
Dean grins again. “Never thought Luther would involve himself in a stag night prank.”
“For heaven’s sake,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “What can I do?”
Eddie’s wonderful smile flashes in my mind. I remember when I didn’t believe him either. I was just as skeptical as Dean is now. It took an act of trust to convince me this world was wrong. I can still feel it. The sense of wonder from that night when he stopped the falling snow. The flakes of shimmering ice hanging in the air were so magical…
“What color is my hair?” I ask, suddenly.
Dean turns his head to the side. “Brown and orange… Why?”
“Nothing.”
The dye is working against me. For once, I don’t want to hide my sparking hair. But I doubt flaming orange highlights would convince him I was telling the truth, anyway — as that is apparently the trademark look of “Famous Kathy Meadows.”
Crap.
The ticking wall clock reminds me I’m going nowhere fast. “Sorry to seem so heartless, Dean, but there’s no time to give you answers. You’ll just have to sit back and trust me.”
His innocent blue eyes stare at me.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Soon, he’ll find out the love of his life has married someone else — married his best friend. This is so messed up. How do I tell him that?
Reaching over to the bedside cabinet, I grab the laptop bag I stashed away earlier. I slide out the laptop, connect the battery, and turn it on. I clear a space on the table under the window.
Dean strolls over. “What are you doing?”
“The safest way to get you out of the hospital is through the underground parking garage. But it’s restricted access. Security and doctors only.” I open the drug trolley and take out the card reader. “Lucky for you, I got a copy of a security ID card.”
Deans grins. “All this for my escape.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. I can sedate you if I have to.”
Dean backs away, holding up his hands. “Okay,” he says. He hums a tune. “Remember this song? ‘Lonely eyes, never see me go. Lonely eyes would never know.’” He stops singing. “Nine weeks at number one.” He holds a hand up. “Oh, sorry. You won’t remember it… because we’re in a different timeline.” He draws out the last few words, rolling his eyes as he speaks.
I grab a rucksack from the closet and throw it at him. “There’s clothes and sneakers in there. Put them on.”
I return to the laptop and plug in the card reader.
The door handle clicks.
Crap.
Dean’s trying his own escape plan. The handle clicks again.
“You need one of these to unlock the door.” I slam my ID card down on the table and walk over to him. “Trust me, Dean.” I look him in the eye
s. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I am here to help you.” I grab a syringe and a bottle Propofol from the drug trolley. “But believe me,” I say, drawing the liquid into the syringe. “I will use this if I have to.”
Dean’s hand falls away from the handle.
“Good choice,” I say.
I sit back down at the table and tuck the ID card under my scrubs, just in case he gets any more ideas.
He drops onto the bed instead, his wide eyes focused on the syringe next to me. He shakes his head and empties the clothes out of the rucksack. “What’s this?” he asks, surprise in his voice.
An adult sized diaper dangles from his hand. “I thought you’d still be unconscious,” I say. “I didn’t want any… accidents.”
He screws up his face. “There’s no underwear in here.”
“You’ll have to go commando then, won’t you?” I say.
Dean’s face instantly goes cherry red. I don’t know whether he’s embarrassed or angry. Grabbing the clothes, he marches into the bathroom.
Peace and quiet. At last.
A small notification pops up at the bottom of the laptop screen. A news alert. Magic… Multiple incidents… President Mills… The silent words from Paul crash back into my mind. I click on the notification and the news page fills the screen. I scan the headlines.
Over a hundred simultaneous city center Magic terrorist attacks.
Hundreds of casualties. Many dead.
The country on high alert.
Free Magic Group to blame.
President Mills reinstates the Fall Curfew.
Fall Remembrance services canceled.
Not again.
More people dead because of magic.
What do I do?
Focus on the rescue.
My hands shake as I take a blank ID card from the laptop bag. I’ve got one chance. Nicci said the data will corrupt once it’s copied from the reader.
I slide the blank card into the slot and start the program on the laptop. The light on the reader goes red and a gray progress bar appears on the screen. It turns blue. Ten percent done.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Dean bursts out of the bathroom, posing in the doorway like a Paris catwalk model. “Are jeans and T-shirt good for a wedding?”
Oh my God! How can this idiot save the world? Ignoring him, I turn back to the screen to watch the progress bar. It shoots up to one hundred percent and the reader light turns green.
I slip the new ID card in my pocket.
“Look, Dean,” I say. “You need to trust me. I’m trying to help you.” I hold up the syringe. “But you need to do what I tell you.”
Dean nods his head. “Okay.”
“Get back into bed, just in case anyone comes in,” I say. “Although I’m sure they won’t. You’re on my watch list and no one here does anything they don’t have to.”
Dean climbs into bed. His eyes stay focused on the syringe as I place it on top of the drug trolley. He takes a deep breath and falls back, his head pressing into the pillow.
“Are you okay?”
“Just tired,” he says. “Everything is aching now.”
I grab the Medusa Lapse from the floor and place it on his chest.
“What the hell is that?” he asks, flinching. He glances at the syringe again.
I pull up the bed sheet, covering the Lapse. “It’s a device for inducing a coma. Don’t worry.” I follow his gaze to the syringe. “It’s deactivated… For now.”
He tentatively prods at the Lapse and then runs his finger over it, tracing all around the cold metal cross. Glancing around the room, his eyes settle on me; they seem different — sad.
“Can I ask one question? If what you’ve said is true, then where is Emma?”
Damn it.
The one question I feared the most.
“It’s complicated. I’ll explain when I get back.” I put the laptop back in the bedside cabinet and grab a few magazines from the shelf inside. “To help pass the time,” I say, tossing them onto the bed.
I swipe my ID card at the door and push the drug trolley out of the room before he can ask anything else. “I’ll be back in around forty-five minutes. I’ll knock four times, so you know it’s me.”
I lean against the cool wall outside his door. The news headlines jump back into my mind. Magic attacks. Hundreds of them. I hope Nicci is okay.
10:44 GMT
NICCI BELL
ROSIE’S PLACE | NEW BAKEWELL
I watch as two trucks full of demonstrators drive away — trucks full of innocent Enchanters. Several MPs continue scanning the remaining people outside the café as a third truck arrives, its huge tires crunching over the stone pavers. Two MPs drag a young girl to the new truck. She’s younger than Amber. Kicking and screaming, she tries to fight them off. A middle-aged, obnoxious woman outside the café window sniggers to her friend. They sarcastically wave the frightened girl off into the truck, like she’s a relative leaving on a train. A cheer echoes through the open café windows as the girl gives up her struggle.
Are you reading this, Luther?
What is wrong with people here? It’s a fricking disgrace.
Amber daren’t even look out of the window. She clasps her hands together, like she’s praying.
The bell above the café door rings. The same muscular man, the BCL member that started the riot outside, sneaks in. The noise of the bell makes him spin around. He closes the door while watching the MPs outside. A red hoodie now hides his blue collar. He makes his way to a table in the back corner of the café. His sleeve rides up as he drops into the chair; the familiar black band of a Sunburst smartwatch pokes out.
Shit.
He’s an Enchanter too. A fricking Enchanter! But he’s BCL. What the frick?
He pulls his sleeve back down, concealing the watch. His wide-open eyes stay fixed on the scene outside the café. He suddenly rocks back, almost falling off the chair.
I spin around to the window.
Shit.
MPs are pulling people out of shops and scanning them.
Don’t call, Luther. I’m on it.
I slide the bomb bag out from under the table and grab Amber’s hand. “Come on. We’re going.”
She looks out of the window, tensing up. Her fingers dig into my hand.
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to reassure her.
The BCL Enchanter is gone — he must have had the same idea. I glance at the door; several people congregate around the café entrance, waiting for the MPs. I guess they haven’t got anything to hide.
“Come on,” I say, half-dragging Amber to the staff door next to the counter. While everyone’s attention stays fixed on the MPs outside the café, I push at the door. It opens into a small corridor with three more doors, two on either side of us and one at the end
I hear the ring of the café doorbell behind us.
Shit.
The door to the left suddenly bursts open and the server, Sophie, crashes into us. She stands still, checking us out. Her smile from earlier is gone, now replaced with a stern stare. She locks the door behind her. “What are you two doing back here?”
I press my back to the door we came through.
Sophie looks from me to Amber. “I get it. You don’t want to be scanned.” She reaches past me and locks the door back into the café. “It’s okay. I can’t be scanned either.” She points to the end of the corridor. “There’s a fire escape in the storeroom.”
We run down the corridor.
Someone bangs on the door behind us. “Who’s in there?” a deep voice asks.
Sophie opens the storeroom door and we run in, clattering into a pile of boxes. She frantically locks the door behind us, kicking away the fallen boxes. “Did you hear the voice in your head?” she asks.
“Yup,” I say. “News reports say it was Free Magic.”
Sophie stops still. A box tumbles from her hands. “Believe me. It wasn’t the FMG,” she says without turning around. �
��We’re a peaceful organization.”
“You… are?”
Ignoring my question, she moves more boxes away to reveal the fire escape door. “Rosie’s Place is a Free Magic safe house.” She glances behind her. “At least it used to be safe.”
She pulls open the door and blinding light fills the room. “Come on.”
I blink away the bright sunshine as I step outside — I need to get my bearings. “Hold this a minute,” I say, passing Amber the bomb bag.
I check the map on my phone. We’re in a back alley that runs parallel to the High Street. “The multi-story car park is just up ahead,” I say, taking back the bomb bag.
Sophie frantically searches in her handbag. She drops to her knees and empties the bag on the ground. The contents spill out. Makeup, a small tablet, and a pack of playing cards. She shakes the bag and a small phone drops out. A nondescript, pay-as-you-go phone.
A burner.
She clutches it to her chest and then puts everything back in her handbag. Playing cards spray onto the ground from the open pack, covering the concrete like a trick gone wrong.
“Leave them,” I say.
Shaking her head, she scoops them up. “I can’t.” She slots them back in the box, and then turns right and runs down the alley. “Good luck and stay safe,” she shouts.
Amber tugs at my sleeve. She points up the alley, in the opposite direction. The BCL Enchanter from the café ducks into a building alcove just up ahead.
“Stay behind me, Amber.” I lift the briefcase out of the brown bag and then slowly approach the alcove, careful not to make a sound on the gravel-covered concrete. I lift the briefcase above my head, ready to swing, but the alcove is empty. No Enchanter.
Shit.
The alcove is a loading bay for one of the High Street shops. I check the metal door. It’s locked. We’d have heard it open, anyway. “Damn it. He must have opened a magic door.”
Amber frowns.
“He was wearing a Sunburst,” I say, tapping my wrist.
I slide the briefcase back in the bag. But Amber pushes me further into the alcove, knocking me into the wall. I scrape my arm against the brick as Amber squashes right up to me. She presses her finger to her lips and indicates around the corner. I peek into the alley. An MP stands outside the café fire escape holding a Bio-Scanner. It buzzes and clicks like a radiation detector. He looks up and down the alley. I duck back into the alcove.