The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series)

by Heather Blackwood

  Seven of the women had already returned to the crowd, presumably after being unable to answer the question correctly. Miss Sanchez stepped forward and stood beside the last woman, but McCullen gave no indication of noticing her. Seamus wanted to leap forward and yank her back, but there were too many people and he would look ridiculous. Why was she being so pig-headed and stubborn? It was a wonder the human race got on at all in the twenty-first century if the women were like her. They had most likely gained the right to vote by being hard-headed and out-stubborning the poor henpecked males.

  McCullen stopped in front of Miss Sanchez. He had a little mischievous glint in his eye as he asked her name. Of course, thought Seamus, it wouldn’t do for it to appear that she knew him already.

  “Felicia Sanchez,” she said.

  “And can you name the planets in our solar system?”

  “I believe I can. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto. Though we have recently found that Pluto is a dwarf planet, technically.” Miss Sanchez was staring unflinchingly into McCullen’s face. His eyes widened with a hungry look and Seamus knew in an instant what both Miss Sanchez and McCullen were thinking.

  There was no dwarf planet called Pluto. But presumably, in Miss Sanchez’s time, one had been discovered. She was too clever not to know that her farthest planet may not have been found in 1857. And her statement that they had “recently found” that Pluto was a dwarf planet must be some kind of code between her and McCullen. That must be recent knowledge in her time. This was insane. She must be thinking McCullen was a traveler in time, like herself, and was finding a way to tell McCullen that she was a traveler and to get him to reveal if he came from a time before or after hers.

  The woman was not only stubborn, but foolish as well. But after a few moments, Seamus remembered McCullen’s look at the gentleman’s club when they had discussed the time rips reopening. McCullen had been so taken with the idea of doorways in time. But then, he had always been able to come up with the most fanciful ideas.

  Good God, his ideas. What if his ideas about scientific advancement were not simply the product of a brilliant mind, but were ideas brought from a future time? Of course McCullen knew what was possible. He had seen it himself.

  Miss Sanchez was standing straight and tall, her face tipped upward as McCullen spoke to her. Was the woman on to something? McCullen’s feet were as normal as his own. There would be no hiding a deformity like Miss Sanchez’s in prison, where the men changed in the same room. But then, every time, every alternative world would not be the same. McCullen’s world could have people with normal feet.

  But it was all too coincidental. Mr. Grey, Miss Sanchez and McCullen had all somehow come into his life and were all travelers in time. Yes, too coincidental by far. But then, they had all come because of McCullen. A coincidental meeting in prison had led to their friendship, and later, the betrayal. McCullen’s invention had brought Miss Sanchez to Seamus, and the engines had somehow drawn the attention of Mr. Grey’s group. All because of McCullen.

  McCullen opened his palm and Miss Sanchez set her hand into it.

  “The Queen of the Mardi Gras!” he cried. “Intelligence, beauty and elegance, a queen for the night!”

  McCullen kissed the back of her hand, and Miss Sanchez gave a curtsey. It looked practiced and perfect, a far cry from her clumsy attempts when she had first arrived. The pair walked up the steps and stood in front of the thrones, facing the crowd. McCullen said something into her ear, and he reached his hand slowly toward her throat. With the back of his fingers, he stroked the stray tendril that hung down to her bosom. His hand hovered inches from her chest and Miss Sanchez turned her head aside demurely. Though Seamus couldn’t see, he imagined her blushing. The crowd clapped and hollered.

  A dark rage boiled up within him. He knew Miss Sanchez was trying to play McCullen, but seeing him look at her, touch her, it broke open a new wound. Stealing his engine designs, deceiving him about being from his own time, the man was as much a liar as the devil himself. But this was too much.

  And now Miss Sanchez was smiling as one of the Egyptian women presented a small wooden chest to McCullen. He opened the lid and removed a pair of gold hoop earrings. Miss Sanchez worked on removing her own and putting them in while two women tied a thin gold chain around her waist and removed her cameo necklace, replacing it with a gold circlet set with blue stones. These must be the items taken from the mummy. Seamus had not seen them himself, but recognized the items from Miss Sanchez’s description. Finally, McCullen placed a gold diadem on her head. It sparkled in her dark hair, and she looked even more like the fae maiden from another world. The diadem was a thinner, more delicate version of McCullen’s own crown. He must have had it custom made.

  Miss Sanchez stepped to the very front of the barge, McCullen by her side, and she waved to the crowd. She looked perfectly at ease, but Seamus thought that she could not be enjoying the task. She must want to return to her home very badly, he thought with a pang. She would endure this, draw McCullen’s attention and place herself in danger, all to go back where he could never see her again.

  The engine beneath the float revved up and the float glided forward, carrying the King and Queen of the Mardi Gras toward the cathedral.

  Chapter 30

  From the corner of her eye, Felicia watched Seamus as the float pulled away. He crossed his arms and scowled. She spared him one glance as they moved away, just to see if he was following the float. She hoped he would go straight to the ball and meet her there, but he might think it his duty to follow and ensure her safety. It was both endearing and exasperating. But the man had melted into the crowd. Even his height and his fine clothing did not help her find him. She was alone with McCullen.

  He invited her to sit on the throne beside his, and she accepted. He made little harmless comments about the shops and festivities and waved to the crowds as the parade twisted through the streets. The crowds cheered for them and men waved their hats. At the end of their route, the floats circled the streets around Jackson Square two times. The crowd didn’t seem to be tiring of the parade, the music or the drink that flowed. They danced to the sounds of the walking bands or milled in the streets, eating and playing with their little trinkets.

  “We will stop shortly,” said McCullen. Their float broke off from the rest and drove up St. Anne Street. A shining black carriage with two liveried footmen, both in gold and green, waited for them.

  “What about the parade?” asked Felicia. “Is it ending?”

  “The floats will travel through the entire French Quarter. And they’ll circle Jackson Square again just before midnight.”

  That was what she had wanted to know. The engines would be running all night, transmitting their energy all the while. She wished she had a watch, but by her estimation, it was about ten o’clock, maybe ten thirty. The huge float engines would be traveling for hours with the cathedral near the center. She didn’t have Seamus’s mind for mechanics, but that had to be a huge amount of energy.

  She accepted McCullen’s arm as she descended the float’s staircase. It was narrow, and she had to hold her skirt up to keep it from catching on part of the float. McCullen handed her into the carriage and then stood speaking with a man.

  “I told him to let the people have the float,” McCullen said as he took his seat. His Irish accent was strong now that they were alone. He was making no attempt to hide it. “The people can take turns playing king for a day. It’ll give them some amusement.”

  Of course he would want the float to keep running. It was nothing to him if the crowds destroyed the thrones or canopy, as long as the engine kept running and transmitting energy.

  “That’s kind of you. The parade was beautiful.”

  “Better than in your time?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes.” It was not strictly a lie. She had loved
seeing the old-fashioned parade. But compared to the technologically advanced floats of her own time with their sound systems and electric effects, it was not as grand. She knew better than to say so.

  “You must tell me more about your time, Miss Sanchez. I am dying to know all about you.” He leaned forward a little, and Felicia saw the eagerness in his face. Was it all just curiosity about a time traveler, or was he really curious about her? He was attractive, in a polished and controlled sort of way, but she also had an idea of what lurked beneath.

  Their carriage pulled up to the entrance of the ballroom. There were no other carriages, as all of the guests were already inside. Felicia stepped lightly down from the carriage and allowed McCullen to lead her to the entrance where two uniformed servants pulled open the doors. A puff of warm air and the sound of music enveloped her and she stopped just inside the door, shoulder to shoulder with the King of the Mardi Gras.

  The ballroom was bustling and crowded. Many of the people inside were sitting and resting, already sweaty and exhausted from dancing. A few souls on the dance floor swayed to a slow song. Seats ringed the dance floor in a horseshoe shape, and the tiny tables were crowded with revelers nibbling at food and sipping drinks.

  The ballroom walls were lined in dark wood wainscoting beneath cream and gold patterned wallpaper. Gaslights cast the room in a warm golden light. A high, wood-beamed ceiling soared overhead, the rafters strung with garlands and crepe streamers. A band in green and gold uniforms stood off to one side, just in front of the large polished dance floor.

  Behind the band hung an enormous painting of the Nile, all yellow, green and brown in the hot Egyptian sun. The picture covered the entire wall and depicted palm trees, pyramids, camels led by Bedouins and a hieroglyphic-covered temple. Felicia wondered at the accuracy of the image, but it had the proper affect, making the room have the feeling of the desert at noon. It was certainly warm enough.

  Off to one side stretched a long refreshment table filled with pastries, tarts, quiches, tiny meat pies and fruit. In the center, on an ornate stand, sat a large round cake topped with multicolored frosting and sprinkled with white sugar. Carafes of wine and pitchers of ice water with lemon slices floating inside stood nearby. Punch cascaded from a three-tiered fountain, and Felicia wondered for an instant how they powered it without electricity. Seamus would know, and she scanned the room for him. He wasn’t there.

  Within moments of spotting the King and Queen of the Mardi Gras, servants scurried and guests rose from their seats. People formed two lines, leading from the front entrance to the far side of the room. It was a reception line. Felicia had seen them at wedding receptions, but had never walked through one herself.

  McCullen shook hands and spoke a few words to various people. Felicia smiled and tried to be poised as the two of them moved slowly down the line, accepting handshakes and kisses on the cheek. By the end of it, Seamus was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Shall we have a seat?” asked McCullen once he had spoken to the last person. “I could use a rest.” He was speaking with an American accent now that they were in public.

  He led Felicia to an empty table and instructed a servant to bring them two glasses of punch. They sipped the cool, sweet drink in silence.

  Felicia studied the other women and saw that Mrs. Washington had been correct. Many of the bustlines of the dresses were far more revealing than hers, and on some of the more generously endowed women, the amount of exposed flesh was positively scandalous.

  “Now, you must tell me more about yourself,” said McCullen.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “May I be frank? Please tell me when you are from. I am assuming that the business with Pluto was your way of telling me.”

  “You first,” she said. “I know you are a traveler too. How else would you be able to figure out a radio or those other things?”

  “Well, genius is as genius does.”

  A group of guests stopped by the table to compliment the food, the music and to chat. Two couples even introduced their young daughters to McCullen. The girls couldn’t have been older than twenty. Both of them smiled sweetly at McCullen. It turned Felicia’s stomach to see the poor things trotted out with the hopes of engaging the attentions of a rich bachelor like McCullen. But then, she thought, would he be such a terrible catch? The man was polite, intelligent, good looking and wealthy. Seamus had said he was a liar and a thief, but he had legitimately improved upon Seamus’s original peroxide engine. Technically, he shouldn’t have stolen the idea for the original engine, but the time-ripper engine could only be credited to McCullen’s own creativity.

  Once the guests departed, Felicia turned back to McCullen. “You never answered my question.”

  “Nor did you reply to mine, my dear. Care to dance?” He rose and offered his hand. A song was just beginning and she could hardly refuse in front of so many people, especially after sitting on the sidelines for a while. He led her to the dance floor and she put one hand in his and the other on his shoulder.

  “I hadn’t known that Pluto was a dwarf planet,” said McCullen as the dance began.

  “Has Pluto been discovered yet?” she said. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “No, they haven’t discovered it here yet. I wish science was more advanced.”

  “I could say the same about medicine. No anesthesia, no sanitation. Do they have anesthesia in your time?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank the gods.”

  “And when is that?”

  “This is becoming wearysome, so I shall break our impasse,” he said. “I was born in 1927 in Omagh, Ireland. I was visiting the site of an old holy place for Epona. She is one of our gods. And just as I suspect you did, I saw a shimmer. It was so close to me, and I had no idea what it was. I was only twenty when I came through.”

  She pulled her face back enough to look him in the eye. She sensed no trace of deceit, but a little voice reminded her that Seamus had said McCullen was an excellent liar. Even so, she believed him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I was born in 1990 in Los Angeles, California. I was living in New Orleans when I came through in 2015.”

  “So you and I were born only sixty-five years apart, whereas Seamus is more than a century and a half your senior.”

  “Well, by that reckoning, you are old enough to be my grandfather.”

  “How inconvenient for us.”

  “Now, don’t be like that. We can only be friends.”

  “Are we, Miss Sanchez? Friends?”

  “Sure, why not? Time travelers have to stick together, I suppose.”

  She felt his shoulders relax a little, and though they were nearly cheek to cheek, she saw him look far off, past her ear.

  “We are extraordinary, we two,” he said. “We have knowledge that can change the world. We have seen the holocaust in Germany and Spain, the atomic bomb fall on Tokyo and Kyoto. We know about the wars that are coming, the innovations, the tragedies.”

  Felicia considered mentioning that in her world, the bombs had been dropped on Hiroshima and Kyoto and that Spain had not been known for its participation in the holocaust. She had wondered when he mentioned multiple gods, but this clinched it. McCullen was from yet another world. Or was he from this world, but in their future?

  “And what would you do with your knowledge, Mr. McCullen? You have created marvelous engines, but they are going to tear apart this world, and maybe others.”

  “I doubt it. As I told Seamus, the rips seem to naturally repair themselves. We have things to do in this world. We have a responsibility to it.”

  “I don’t intend to stay long enough in this world to have a responsibility to it.”

  Now it was his turn to pull away and look at her. “Do you still think you can return home?” He studied her. “You do.” He pulled her cheek
to cheek. “Oh, you poor thing. It’s quite impossible. I have tried for years and there is simply no way to do it.”

  “The Professor will figure it out,” she said with more certainty than she felt.

  “How precious, to think that Seamus Connor can help you. I worked with him for years, and he may have one of the finest minds I have ever encountered, but he cannot discover how to control the time rips. Like me, he can only make more random ones.”

  “But you invented the machine. Can’t you reverse engineer it or something? You and Seamus can put your heads together and figure it out.”

  “No, it is not possible. I am so sorry.” He sounded as if he meant it.

  Felicia was shaking now. “I need to sit down,” she said and turned from him without giving him a chance to answer. She took a seat and he brought her a glass of ice water.

  “The punch is full of sugar and alcohol. This will make you feel better,” he said. “I’m sorry for the shock. But I want you to understand our situation. I will not lie to you and give you false hope. We are stranded here.”

  She drank the water and again looked for Seamus.

  “You’re looking for him,” McCullen said. “But again, he has left you. I won’t say anything against him, but he isn’t known for his constancy in his affections for women.”

  “He and I are friends, nothing more.”

  “No? I had gotten the idea that you were.”

  “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “At the cathedral? Oh, don’t look surprised, of course I know where he is. He’s welcome to stay there all evening if he likes. I am enjoying your company.”

  A servant offered her a small cup of purple grapes from a tray and she took it. Then, the cake was cut and served. A young man across the room found the tiny golden baby that had been baked inside, and after wiping it off, showed it to anyone who cared to see.