The Syndicate (Timewaves Book 1)

by Sophie Davis

  “You flirting with my girl, Billy?” Gaige called to the other inmate.

  The sound of his voice gave me the strength to cast aside the worst of my doubts.

  Molly winked at the other prisoner, who looked like he’d fit right in at Salpêtrière.

  “Don’t pay him no mind. He’s just jealous, he is,” she replied in a painful imitation of Billy’s accent. “Had a right busy morn, I have, luv. Next time, I’ll have something for yous.”

  “Yous a proper touff, you is. That boy don’t treat yous right, yous come and tell ole Billy. I’ll set ‘em straight.”

  Stifling the nervous laughter in my throat, I marveled at Molly’s ability to make friends in the most unlikely of places.

  “Sweet talker,” Gaige called out.

  The uniformed guard stopped in front of Gaige’s cell.

  “Step away from the bars,” he ordered my partner.

  Gaige moved out of sight.

  I glanced back at Billy’s cell, estimating his sightline. With even greater luck than I could’ve hoped for, the only other prisoner was across the aisle and six cells from the end of the row.

  “You have thirty minutes,” the guard told us in a stern tone. “I will remain right out here. No touching. No passing items to the prisoner.”

  “I know the drill,” Molly replied pleasantly.

  The officer furrowed his brow, confused by her not-yet-used colloquialism.

  “We understand the rules,” I explained.

  “Thirty minutes,” he snapped.

  The guard turned his back, reaching for the lock with his key ring—his mistake, our good fortune. In one fluid motion, Molly slid a syringe loaded with the memory modifier from beneath the sleeve of her dress. Without hesitation, she plunged the thin needle into the exposed skin at the nape of the uniform’s neck.

  The officer was a big man, with a substantial amount of bulk hanging over the waistband of his pants, and yet the serum dropped him like a bad habit. The key ring clattered to the floor when the officer slumped forward against the bars. Molly and I both moved to catch him, trying to minimize the bruises he’d wake up with. It took both of us to ease him to the ground and drag him down the hallway. We propped the unconscious man against the bars of a cell, his head lulling to one side and tongue protruding from between parted lips.

  “How long before he wakes?” I asked anxiously.

  “No clue, I didn’t look at the strength of the serum. But he isn’t likely to remember the last week with that much in his system, let alone the last hour. He could be out for days, for all I know. Get the keys.”

  “Hells yes! Is this a prison break?” Gaige exclaimed. Molly and I ran back to his cell, keys in hand. “That’s so hot.”

  That was when I got my first good look at my partner.

  Unkempt hair stuck out in every direction. A week’s worth of stubble covered his jaw, the facial hair noticeably lighter than that on his head. His short nails were caked with black grime. Dark circles under his eyes brought to mind images of a raccoon. And yet, despite it all, my partner was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “’Ey! Whatcha doing down ‘ere?” Billy called.

  “Mind your horses, old chap!” Molly yelled back, grinning. “You’ll wait your turn, you will.”

  “Can we save the excess shenanigans until we’re back on the island?” I asked, holding the key ring up to the bars in front of Gaige. “Any clue which key it is?”

  At the other end of the hallway, Billy continued to yell.

  “I’ll deal with him. Just get the door open,” Molly said. “Oye Billy! I have yer present right here, I do,” she called in a sing-song voice as she headed for his cell.

  Ignoring the chaos around me, I picked a key at random. When I fit it in the lock and turned, nothing happened. Next key. Same thing.

  “What’s the plan?” Gaige asked anxiously. “How are we going to bust out of the station?”

  “We’re not.” I tried a third, and then a fourth key with no luck. “Why didn’t we dose the guard after he unlocked the cell?” I muttered, frustrated.

  “What do you mean ‘we’re not’?” Gaige asked.

  The sixth—or was it the seventh?—key finally did the trick. The locking mechanism turned with an angry scrape of metal on metal. The instant the door opened, Gaige flung his arms around me. He pulled me hard against his chest in a bone-crushing bear hug. My partner smelled horrific—a mixture of boy’s locker room, mothballs, and mold. And yet, I didn’t care. Gaige kissed my cheek, the stubble from his beard rough against my skin.

  “I’ve been so worried about you. Molly told me what happened at the theater and I…. Shant, Stass. I should have been there to protect you. If you’d di—”

  “I didn’t,” I cut him off in a fierce tone. “I’m fine.”

  Gaige hugged me tighter. When we broke apart, my partner’s eyes were wet. So were mine.

  “We’ve got to move, guys,” Molly said, coming up behind us. Her face was paler than usual, her blue eyes wide and nervous. “I took care of Billy, but someone probably heard him shouting. We could have company at any moment, we have to go.” She glanced up towards the thick exposed pipes running across the ceiling of the cell. “Help me with the cot.”

  The metal frame was flimsy, and we easily moved it into position in the middle of the cell, directly beneath the center of the pipe. Molly kicked off her shoes—igniting explosives while breaking out of prison was so not the time for stacked heels—and stepped up onto the metal slab. It bowed slightly under her weight, just enough to make her sway unsteadily as the metal wobbled. Gaige wrapped his hands around her waist to help her balance, then glanced over at me with a companionable smile.

  “Any chance you want to let me in on the plan now?” he asked pleasantly. “For instance, why are we redecorating my cell instead of getting the hell out of here?”

  “Not the time,” I replied simply, watching my roommate trying to gain her balance. When she appeared to be somewhat steady, I handed her several of the bandages from her purse.

  “Oh, right,” continued Gaige conversationally. “Old-fashioned bandages. Thank goodness you brought those, I have a paper cut.”

  Shooting him a withering look, Molly removed one of the explosives from its wrapper and slapped it on a pipe.

  “Two minutes!” she yelled.

  “Of course,” my partner groaned. “You’re here to fix the pipes. We might need something more for these old things, but why not, might—”

  The sounds of the metal bed creaking beneath Molly’s weight cut him off. All three of us froze in place.

  Gaige swore. Molly and I exchanged alarmed glances. Frantically, Molly tore two more explosives from their packages and stuck them to the adjacent pipes.

  “Yep, we’ll just do some routine maintenance with first aid supplies with a guard unconscious two feet away,” Gaige grumbled. “Good thinking.”

  “Get out of here!” Molly snapped at him. She took two tentative steps to the edge of the bed, the metal wobbling like a saw that had been plucked. “And stop complaining while you’re being rescued—it’s just ridiculous.”

  In reply, Gaige swept his arm behind her knees and scooped her off the bed.

  “Thank you for being my gallant knight,” he intoned, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Not the time!” I yelled, pulling on his arm. “Ninety seconds!”

  We scurried out of the cell and into the walkway. Molly scrambled out of Gaige’s arms.

  “Plan?” he demanded.

  “We’re jumping,” I replied simply. My partner’s eyes swept from me to Molly to the explosives on the pipe as he filled in the details.

  Without warning, two men entered the cellblock. The first was another uniformed officer, this one with a baby face and bewildered expression. The second man made my heart stop. His golden-brown eyes smiled when they landed on me.

  “Charles?” I breathed.

  For a pulse-pounding second, Molly, Gaig
e, and I just stared at each other. I shot a frantic gaze at Charles and the guard.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice frenzied and high-pitched. My eyes darted to the officer, who was staring dumbly at the chaos around him. Between the unconscious guard, the unconscious prisoner, the open cell door, and our crowd in the hallway, the poor rookie was clearly overwhelmed. Thank heavens.

  “You are not answering my calls or my letters,” Charles was saying. “I thought your brother might know what…” He trailed off as his eyes landed on my partner. Realization dawned as Charles noticed that Gaige was on the wrong side of the bars.

  “Do you have any more memory mod?” Gaige hissed to Molly.

  She wasted no time answering, her stocking-clad feet slapping against the stone as Molly headed towards the men.

  “Guard first!” I yelled at her.

  “Stassi, what is going on here?” Charles asked. His tone was eerily even and calm, given the situation. Our eyes locked.

  “Take cover,” I demanded. “Now!”

  The sight of my rabid-looking supermodel roommate barreling at him with a needle in hand finally jolted the officer out of his daze. He began shouting shrilly in French. Syringe in one fist, Molly collided with the man at full speed. Surprised, he caught her in his arms and they began to struggle. Charles wore an almost comical expression of disbelief as he watched the two fight for the syringe. Wordlessly, Gaige and I hurried to help Molly.

  The first explosive detonated.

  One hundred and eighty pounds of stinky man flesh knocked into me with the force of a moving truck. We hit the ground together, Gaige’s body shielding me from the flying bits of metal. The force of my skull hitting the stone floor left a ringing in my ears and spots in my vision. I lifted my head to see Charles grab the officer from behind, wrenching his arms behind his back and providing Molly with a clear shot at the guy’s jugular. The rookie stopped struggling the instant the needle pierced his skin.

  Gaige rolled off me, groaning and moaning while shaking shrapnel out of his hair. Water gushed from the pipe, leaking out into the hallway and soaking through my dress.

  Charles held the unconscious officer in his arms, looking utterly stunned. As the reality of the situation came crashing down, Charles dropped him and stepped back.

  “What have I done? What the hell have I done?” he groaned, repeating the phrase as he ran his hands through his hair.

  Unable to help myself, I moved towards Charles.

  “He’s fine,” I promised. “Just asleep. And you saved us. You saved me.”

  The second two explosives detonated in fast succession, the force knocking me flat on my stomach in the pool of water. Charles scrambled over to where I lay. When he met my gaze, Charles looked like a bewildered child.

  “It’s okay,” I continued. “I swear, it’s going to be okay.”

  “Dose him, Molls!” Gaige shouted.

  My roommate turned terrified blue eyes on us. “I can’t. I’m out,” she said weakly.

  Gaige darted to where I lay in the hallway. In one fluid movement, he grabbed both of my arms and hauled me to my feet, dragging me over to the stone wall just outside his cell.

  “We have to go, Stass,” my partner said, compassion brimming in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  My neck snapped as I whipped my gaze between the two men.

  “What are we going to do about him?” asked Molly, her voice tinged with panic.

  “We’re going to leave him,” Gaige called back. “It’s fine. He won’t say anything.”

  Stunned, Charles’s looked from Molly to Gaige to me, unable to comprehend the situation.

  “Stassi?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the water pouring from the pipes.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, unsure if Charles could even hear me.

  Gaige held his hand out to Molly. She sprinted in our direction, not breaking stride as she bent to retrieve the briefcase with the manuscripts. Her fingers slid between Gaige’s.

  My partner was still clutching my arm as I reached for the stone wall with my other hand. The prima within my wrist warmed instantly. I focused on what was about to come, welcoming the golden glow that began to swirl in front of me.

  “Stassi, wait!” Charles yelled, his voice already sounding as if it were a million miles away. Or perhaps a million years.

  My tattoo was singing powerfully when I felt his fingers brush the bare skin of my arm.

  And then I was gone.

  MY BODY HUMMED with the beat of the siren’s song within as I greedily gulped the cool air enveloping me. I felt cold, smooth stone beneath my hand. No longer was the stone slimy, nor the air fetid. Comfort washed over me. I was in the familiar vortex, deep within the island I called home.

  Gaige’s hands ran up and down my goosebump-covered arms, his touch as reassuring and familiar as the vortex. Several feet away, someone coughed, then gagged. I heard the sound of liquid hitting stone as she—it had to be Molly—spewed the contents of her stomach. My own gut flip-flopped out of sympathy.

  Gaige pulled me closer. With my eyes squeezed tightly shut to stop the spinning sensation in my head, I leaned my forehead against my partner’s chest. He stroked my hair and murmured soothing words in my ear, as though I was a child who’d just awoken from a nightmare.

  “Go help Molly,” I told my partner. “I’m fine. We’re home. I’m fine now.”

  “Molly has all the help she needs,” he replied.

  More coughing. More sickness.

  “I feel like death,” a hoarse voice proclaimed.

  Gaige’s hoarse voice. Coming from several feet away. Not inches.

  I shoved back, struggling free of the arms that held me. Golden-brown eyes, wide and bright with shock, stared back at me in the darkness.

  “No. No. No!” I cried. “No, no, no no. No! You can’t be here! You can’t. Oh shant. This is not happening. It cannot be happening!”

  “Calm down, Stassi,” Charles DuPree said calmly. He reached for me.

  Shooting backwards, I batted him away. Charles let his hands fall to his sides, but moved towards me. For every step I took back, he took one forward. I continued to backpedal until the comforting stone wall was pressed against my spine.

  “Stassi?” Molly’s voice called. “You good?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied, my voice wavering with hysteria.

  “I know,” she replied. “My stomach did not appreciate our exit strategy. Though, oddly enough, I don’t feel nearly as bad as last time I did this.” Her silhouette emerged from the darkness as she moved towards me, but quickly came to a dead halt. “Oh shite.”

  For a long, quiet moment, she took in the scene—me pressed against the cave wall as if it might somehow save me, Charles only a foot away. In our time.

  “Shant!” Molly exclaimed. “Is that Charles? Oh, frack. Frack, frack, frack. Cyrus is going to—” My roommate broke off mid-sentence, collapsing against the side of the cave as she dry-heaved. Though he wasn’t doing well either, Gaige stumbled over to stand beside her. He rubbed her back and held her hair as Molly’s entire body convulsed.

  “Stassi? Is that you?” a voice called from the entrance to the vortex.

  “We need medics!” I called, not bothering to look at the newcomer. It was Rupert. His sleepy voice was music to my ears.

  “Um, who’s your friend?” Rupert asked uncertainly. “Should I call security?”

  An unauthorized jumper coming through the vortex was usually cause for alarm. Protocol demanded that both security and Cyrus be notified immediately.

  “No, don’t call them,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Just get the medics down here. Both Molly and Gaige need attention. Tell them that two runners are down here with time sickness.”

  “Okay.” Rupert’s voice sounded small and uncertain.

  “Please, Rupert?” I pleaded. “I have this under control.”

  The attendant scurried back to his p
ost.

  Send Charles back, I thought, my brain switching into survival mode. Get him out of here before anyone else sees him.

  Looking over at my roommate and my partner, I hesitated. I didn’t want to choose between helping them and saving my own ass from exile.

  “Go!” Molly prodded. “I’m telling you, I don’t feel that bad. You need to handle this, now.”

  I grabbed Charles’s arm and dragged him from the vortex into the main gate. He didn’t resist.

  “Medics are on their way,” Rupert told me from behind his console of knobs and buttons.

  “Move,” I demanded. “No, wait. I need you to program a jump to Paris. 1925. Same date we left. Um, I guess that would be April 4th? 5th?”

  Rupert stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

  “You can’t jump again so soon,” he protested weakly. “Especially since you didn’t use the—”

  “Just do it,” I snapped. Softening my tone, I implored Rupert to play accomplice to my crime. “Please, Rupert. Please just do it?”

  Boots pounded stone—the medics running down the steps. They’d be inside the gate any second.

  “We need to hurry,” I pleaded.

  The teenager chewed his bottom lip and ran a hand through his hair. What I was asking him to do went against a number of syndicate rules and regulations. But Cyrus was going to kill me if he found Charles on the island. Exile would be the best-case scenario.

  Just as he looked like he was going to relent, Rupert’s eyes widened so much that white was visible all around the iris. The color drained from his face in an instant. He stepped back from the controls.

  “Stassi, what is going on?” The voice came from behind me.

  Cyrus’s voice.

  Too late, I thought.

  My boss’s tone was utterly calm, which made it all the more terrifying.

  “Cyrus, I can explain,” I began, whirling to face him.

  “So do it.”

  Medics came crashing down the stairs.

  “Vortex five!” Rupert told them.

  The four men hurried inside the tunnel.

  I met Cyrus’s expressionless green gaze and swallowed thickly.