The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series)

by Heather Blackwood

  He found Hazel in the kitchen examining the little ship in a bottle.

  “Do you see anything weird in there?” he asked. Perhaps she would know something that would give him a clue as to why Elliot had valued it.

  “No. I was just wondering why you gave it to me.”

  “It was all I had. And it was your birthday. I know it’s kind of a strange gift.”

  “It is, but I still like it. You’ll have to tell me when your birthday is, so I can return the favor,” she said.

  “I don’t know my birthday. I grew up in the 1970s and 80s. That’s all I know.”

  “No parents then?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Were you a baby when they died?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Well, who raised you?”

  “I was raised by a series of foster parents.”

  “And then you became a time traveler?”

  He didn’t want to tell her about Mr. March and his life working for him. “Yeah.”

  Hazel waited for him to continue. But there was nothing else he wanted to tell her. What could he say? He was an assassin and a thief. Hazel seemed like a nice girl, sweet but damaged by whatever past betrayals that had befallen her. He didn’t want her to dislike or distrust him. Why, he couldn’t say.

  “Will you take me with you?” she asked, still looking at the ship.

  “What do you mean?” He hadn’t told her that he was on the run and she had no idea where he was headed.

  “When you leave this time. Will you take me along?”

  “No. Of course not. You belong here. This is your time.”

  “But why? What’s so terrible about the future that I can’t see it?”

  “It’s nothing terrible. Only … I just don’t need a kid tagging along.”

  “A kid? You’re calling me a goat?” She seemed half offended and half bewildered.

  “A child.”

  “I’m not a child! For one, I’m a property owner with my own money. I am an independent woman.”

  “Then why leave?”

  She sighed and looked out the kitchen window. “I’m curious, I suppose. When Miss Sanchez came, and then when you came, it opened up a window of possibilities. It’s your fault, you know. You said you’d be back on my birthday, and just the possibility of seeing other times made me restless. If you had just gone and said you’d never see me again, I think perhaps I could have settled for an ordinary life. But now, an ordinary life isn’t enough.”

  Her expression was so full of sadness. But she could be as sad as she liked, he wasn’t going to take her with him.

  “I can’t take you. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Because of the void wyrm?”

  “The what?”

  “Perhaps you have a different name for it. It’s this monstrous thing that lives between worlds. And it’ll eat you.”

  “Sounds like a children’s story.”

  “It’s not. The Professor saw one and he told September Wilde about it. She was going to talk to her brothers and sisters and find a way to get rid of it. The monster is near a time rip in Jackson Square and it has eaten a few people.”

  “It eats time travelers?” he said, a little incredulous. But if that was the case, then why had Mr. March never encountered it? Or had he, and he had never told Neil? Perhaps they had not seen it because every time Mr. March had taken Neil through time, he had not used a machine.

  “It seems to eat anyone,” she said. “But making time rips with the machine seems to draw it.”

  “Then coming with me is even more dangerous than I thought. So no, you still cannot come with me.”

  “Tell me when you’ll be headed next. Twentieth century? Twenty-first?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you have a job to do? Before, you had a mission and once you were done, you left.”

  “No mission. No job.”

  Her mouth opened slightly in shock. “You haven’t joined that time traveler group yet, have you? When I was a little girl, there were other travelers, like September Wilde. So I assumed you were working with her like last time. But you’re not. That’s why you’re here with no job and why you’re so young. That’s why you don’t know anything. I think you’re lost.”

  “I am not lost. I’ve traveled all over time, just not with this particular machine. But since you know so much, why don’t you tell me how to operate it?”

  She got a smug look. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I won’t help you out of any goodness in my heart, I’ll tell you that. But I’ll strike a bargain with you. I have a letter. At first, I didn’t understand why Mr. Augustus sent me this series of numbers as a postscript, but I think I know what they are now. They match the pattern of coordinates that the Professor used for his machine. It didn’t make any sense for Mr. Augustus to use those numbers, but if he’s related to September Wilde, then that changes everything. He’d know about the machines and how they operate. The Professor said there is a world from which it’s easy to travel to other worlds. He called it a hub world. You get to that world, and you can go anywhere. There’s no guarantee, but Mr. Augustus and I have been friends for years, and he wouldn’t give me coordinates that were dangerous. I’ll share the coordinates with you, but you have to take me with you.”

  A hub world? Neil considered it. Mr. March might have a much more difficult time finding him if he could get to this hub world and then go somewhere from there. And as it was, he was stranded in this time unless he learned how to operate the machine. Arbitrarily turning knobs and randomly picking coordinates could only lead to disaster, or to this void wyrm.

  And perhaps Hazel would not be such bad company. She seemed clever and intelligent and she could play violin for him, though a large part of him was wary of hearing her play again. He did not want to like her too much and later be betrayed by her. He didn’t want to be entangled with her emotionally at all. What sort of man was he? Was he liable to fall for this sylph of a girl who was now sitting in her old-fashioned green dress with a look of smug satisfaction? Or did he prefer another type of woman? It was another thing about himself that he did not know.

  He did not need to worry about that right now though. If Mr. March found him, nothing else would matter.

  “Fine. It’s a deal,” he said.

  Chapter 23

  January 8, 1864

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Hazel and Seamus’s World

  Hazel couldn’t believe her luck. Convincing Mr. Grey to take her along had not been too difficult. Compared with arguing a point with the Professor, who could be maddeningly stubborn, it had been rather simple. And what a stroke of luck that Mr. Grey had no idea how to operate the machine and needed her coordinates. The idea bothered her though. For one, how had he gotten to her time if he didn’t know how to use the machine? Second, once they traveled using the coordinates Mr. Augustus had given her, how would they get from the hub world to other worlds? And lastly, why would Mr. Augustus give her coordinates anyway? If he and Miss Wilde could close time rips and eliminate void wyrms, then they were experienced time travelers. But why help Hazel in this way?

  The Professor had left some equipment behind in the laboratory, including some of the older machines that took readings from the time rips. She knew how to use those and perhaps Mr. Grey knew more than he was letting on. She hoped so.

  In the laboratory, she packed up as much of the Professor’s abandoned equipment as she thought she could use and then went to her room. She tossed some clothing, a few books and an extra pair of shoes into a bag. Then she picked up the little toy jackal from its place. It was a silly, sentimental thing, but she felt like she didn’t want to leave it behind. Mr. Grey already knew tha
t he had given her the violin in her past, his future. So knowing the same thing about the toy jackal could do no further harm. She dropped it into her handbag, where it rested beside the tiny ship in a bottle.

  Her trip to the bank and the solicitor’s office dragged on, but within a few hours, she had exchanged a large sum of money for gold, just as the Professor had told her he was going to do. She had also ensured that Mrs. Washington was financially well-off, that the house would be maintained, that the Professor’s family in Ireland would receive a generous yearly amount and that all her patents and money would be held for her in perpetuity. One day, she hoped to come back.

  For now, her choice was made. And it had been so easy. Mr. Grey had come, and now she could travel. A little voice reminded her that if something seemed impossibly good, something bad was lying in wait. But she was leaving behind a life here, friends and a potential fiancé, security and relative safety. That was a sacrifice, was it not?

  Now, she had to write letters, one to Mrs. Washington, one to Cassandra and one to Mr. Ross. Part of her wanted to run away with Mr. Grey, hoping that she would return some day to explain everything to Mr. Ross. But she couldn’t do that. Even the Professor, with whom she was still furious, had left a letter each time he had left.

  Guilt plagued her as she sat down at her writing desk. Mr. Ross, Cassandra and Mrs. Washington deserved better than a letter. The Professor’s letters had caused her so much pain, and now she was about to inflict that pain on others. There was no way around it though. How could she explain to Mr. Ross or Cassandra that she was about to embark on an expedition through time? They would think her mad. And Mrs. Washington would forbid it. Though both of them knew she had no real authority over Hazel, she would do everything within her power to protect her. Worse yet, she might cry or beg Hazel to stay.

  She sighed and pulled out a sheet of paper, a pen and ink. First, she wrote to Mrs. Washington, informing her about the money waiting for her and how she could live in the house as long as she liked. If she did not want to stay there and preferred to retire or move in with her daughter, then Hazel had arranged for the solicitor to hire an outside agency to maintain the building. She paused, then told Mrs. Washington that she loved her and was thankful for all the trouble she had gone through in bringing her up.

  She stopped and thought of how good a soul Mrs. Washington was. She had given extra money and food to a hungry child, and then had been the only feminine influence in Hazel’s life since her mother had died. If only for the sake of seeing her again, Hazel would come back to this time. This was not good-bye, but only a temporary parting.

  Writing to Cassandra was easier, in a way. She hated to lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell her that she was going to travel into another world with a strange man she barely knew. She decided to tell a modified version, that she was going to travel for a few years to further her education. That was true, as far as it went. She told Cassandra that she was not accepting Mr. Ross’s offer of marriage and that Cassandra might be a good friend to Mr. Ross if he was disappointed that Hazel had left the city. She didn’t feel the need to say anything more, as Cassandra would be happy to solidify her acquaintance with Mr. Ross. While Hazel had been courted by him, Cassandra would never have betrayed her, but now, she was freed of any such constraint.

  She took out a third piece of paper and wrote to Mr. Ross. She told him how she would be traveling and also wrote that Mr. Ross should not wait for her, but should find another young woman who would make a good wife. She said she cared for him deeply, but she was not the woman he should marry.

  All of that was true. She wished she could be a sweet little wife who would be content sewing and cooking, but her years of waiting to see other worlds had ruined that for her. She would never be happy until she saw other times and other worlds. And if she stayed and married Mr. Ross, she would secretly resent him for confining her. It would be unfair to him. She dipped her pen and wished him good fortune and assured him that he was the sort of man many young women would be eager to marry. She hoped he would not resent, or worse, hate her.

  She sealed all three letters, set Mrs. Washington’s on the kitchen table and left a note asking Mrs. Washington to post Mr. Ross’s and Cassandra’s in the morning. Then, she gathered her bags and the trunk with the Professor’s equipment and went to meet Mr. Grey.

  He was at September Wilde’s house, making a stack of sandwiches and wrapping them in paper.

  “Never know how things will go. Better safe than sorry,” he said.

  “I need to leave a note for Miss Wilde,” she said. “Do you know where I can find some writing paper?” She should have written the letter at her house, but had not thought of it until now. How foolish to think of her own feelings and not the safety of the entire world.

  “There’s a desk in the front room.”

  Hazel left, the white cat trailing behind her. She located the desk and wrote out a note for Miss Wilde, telling her the location of the time rips that needed to be monitored and closed. If the woman could manage the void wyrm, she could manage a few little time rips. It would be a month or two before they needed to be dealt with anyway, and Miss Wilde would hopefully be home by then. They were no longer Hazel’s responsibility.

  “Are you just going to sit there and watch me?” Hazel asked the cat. The animal sat, staring at her and curled its tail around its feet. “It isn’t as if I am going to steal anything.”

  She let the ink dry, folded the note in half and wrote Miss Wilde’s name on the outside. Then she placed it on the kitchen table.

  “That’s the last of the business I needed to take care of,” she said. “I’m ready.”

  “I have the machine in the other room. Do you have the coordinates?”

  “I do, but we certainly can’t use it here. We need a synchronicity.”

  At Mr. Grey’s questioning look, Hazel sighed and explained the conditions necessary to use the machine.

  “How did you get here, anyway?” she asked.

  “I stole the machine,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, as if daring her to condemn him.

  “You didn’t steal it from the Professor, did you?”

  “No. From someone else. Someone who wanted to use my abilities for themselves.”

  “Abilities?”

  “Look, Hazel, you seem like a nice person. But you ought to know that I’m not such great company for you. I stole the time machine, and the person I took it from is probably trying to hunt me down as we speak. And he’s not the only one. I used to work for someone else before that, and he’s going to be looking for me too. You’re not safe with me.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “I doubt you’ve heard of them. One is Mr. March and the other is a man named Elliot Van Dorn.”

  “And what are these abilities you have?”

  “For one, I can move quietly and people don’t notice me.”

  He had seemed quite noticeable to her, but she would never tell him so.

  He continued. “I can sneak up on people and I’m good at fighting.”

  “These people, March and Van Dorn, wanted you to fight for them?”

  “Something like that. They needed me to do jobs for them, and I refused.”

  “And then you stole a time machine.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you shouldn’t come with me. It’s dangerous, and you’re better off here. I can take the coordinates and leave and you’ll be safe and sound.”

  “No, I’m not staying. You know your past, but I know your future, at least a little part of it. And you’re good, very good. You help people.”

  “I’ve killed people.” He didn’t look away when he said it, but his expression was unreadable. “Lots of people. I’m not a good companion for
you.”

  “You don’t seem pleased with yourself about it.”

  “I’m not. Mr. March convinced me that they were bad people, murderers. They were people who had evaded the law, and I killed them to keep them from harming others, not for vengeance. It was only after I did some investigation on my own that I learned that they may have been innocent.”

  “So you ran away because he wanted you to kill more people who might have been innocent?”

  Mr. Grey nodded.

  “And now you think you’re dangerous to me?”

  “Not because I’d hurt you. I wouldn’t do that. But because I have enemies.”

  “I’ve heard it said that the quality of a man can be known by his enemies. These men don’t seem like good people.”

  “That’s all very nice, but if you want to come with me, then you need to know that you’re putting yourself in danger.”

  “Is that why you’re so eager to leave this time?”

  “Precisely. The farther I get from here, the harder I am to find. Simple as that.”

  “So there’s no telling where we might end up?” She smiled.

  “None.”

  She picked up her bag. “Then let’s go.”

  Hazel knew that the Mississippi was where the Professor would have gone to create a synchronicity. It was the safest place, as he could wait until there was an empty area and then row back and forth with his machinery, creating the opportunity for a time rip until a synchronicity occurred. A man eating his lunch on shore told them that a friend of his had sold a rowboat to two men and a woman the day before.

  “Got a good price for it too,” he added.

  “How much do you want for yours?” asked Mr. Grey, and after a short period of haggling, Hazel and Mr. Grey were rowing out into the wide, brown Mississippi River.

  Hazel opened the trunk containing the time machine.