Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1)

by J. D. Faulkner

  “Oh God … no … no … please … no …” Her words were jumbled, fighting and tangling with each other as she cradled the unconscious man in her arms. “Please, Alistair … we’ll get help … Help!”

  She looked around, recognizing the circular room and the empty black mirror frame that hung on the wall. With a start, she remembered the explosion and the following silken laughter from her dream.

  The mirror was empty now. There was no invisible presence waiting for what she would do next. How it had happened, she didn’t know. She remembered the knife handle’s coolness in her hand, and she turned back to Alistair with dread curdling in her stomach.

  His face was pale, and a stain of red spread across his shirt. With a sob, she pressed her hand against the wound. A shudder of relief ran through her when Alistair’s eyes opened. When he saw her face above him, the corners of his lips turned up in the hint of a smile.

  “Gwendolyn.”

  Gwen tried to keep calm. The rising hysteria was like bile on the back of her tongue. “I don’t … Did I do this? Is this my fault?” Her voice came out in hiccupping sobs. The salt of her tears was bitter on her lips. “I’m sorry, Alistair. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, and Seymour …” Her voice trailed off as she tried to figure out what had happened after Seymour touched her.

  “The wound, it wasn’t you. It was Seymour. He’s gone now. Forever.” Alistair coughed again. When he spoke, the certainty in his voice was clear. “Never believe this is your fault. It was a trap. The nightmares, the sleepwalking. I should have guessed it was all connected. And the knife, I never would have thought you would have been able to summon the knife …” His body spasmed, and he clenched his jaw against the agony. When his body once again stilled, he continued to speak. “It isn’t your fault. Never your fault.”

  Behind her, Rafe appeared from empty space. When he saw Alistair, his face went pale. “I …” His voice was a harsh croak.

  “Rafe.” A hiccupping sob. “Please … help.”

  He rushed over, taking Alistair in his own arms.

  Gwen ripped off the front of her shirt, pressing it to the ever-widening stain on Alistair’s stomach, trying to ignore how quickly the red stain grew.

  “Alistair! Alistair, please, wake up!”

  A lifetime passed and nothing happened. Then with a flutter, Alistair’s gray eyes opened. Another shallow cough stained his lips bright red.

  “Take care of her now. We always did, didn’t we?”

  Rafe’s jaw clenched. Although he must have understood, Gwen didn’t.

  “Alistair, what?” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t care if she understood anything. All she wanted was Alistair to be all right. “We’ll get help, Alistair. You’ll be fine. You’ll see.” She was repeating herself, but she didn’t know what else to do. The warmth spreading over her hand was proof Alistair would be anything but fine.

  His gray eyes shifted back to her. “I wanted to die when Max gave me back my memories. The thought I had led you to your death.” He coughed again. “That’s why I had him take them, take them all. Without Aeon, I was helpless to change it. Now it doesn’t have to end how it did. It will be different now.” His red-stained hand grasped Rafe’s shirt. “It has to be different.”

  The panic rising in Gwen’s throat threatened to choke her, and she closed her eyes, shoulders shaking. He wasn’t making any sense. This whole thing wasn’t making any sense. She wished herself back to the beginning, a solemn bored girl standing in front of a drab office. What she wouldn’t give to have turned around and walked back up into the light. She would still be Gwen Conway, unemployed college graduate, uninitiated to the mysteries and the horrors of the Archives.

  As she thought it, she knew she would never go back. If given a million chances to do it over again, she would pick this path and no other.

  “I don’t understand, Alistair. You’ll have to explain it to me. I’m afraid it’s complicated …” She didn’t manage the smile after her pitiful attempt at a joke, although Alistair’s eyes seemed to grow a bit brighter all the same.

  His voice was weak, and he struggled to talk. “I imagine he will explain it better than I can. It was always you, Gwen. When I wrote the advertisement, and then there you were, like the first time I ever met you.” His voice grew softer. “Take care of yourself, my darling girl. It’ll all work out in the end.” His red lips smiled up at her.

  “And you …” His weak voice managed to contain some of his smooth aristocratic tones as he looked at Rafe. “… watch your back. He’ll try to take her from you.” Another cough, and he turned his solemn gaze back to Gwen, although his eyes were unfocused. This close to his face, Gwen registered the fact his eyes were a faded blue and not a cold gray like she had always imagined. “I spent years thinking it was my fault that you died, Gwendolyn, wishing I had done anything except refuse to help you make that damned mirror. Now I’m glad I did, if it gets us away from this horrible cycle—if it makes certain that I never hold your dying body in my arms.”

  He smiled weakly. “Don’t cry.” He tried to touch her tear-streaked cheek. His hand wouldn’t cooperate. Gwen grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek.

  “I’m still here.” He whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

  Gwen looked first at Alistair’s still face and then at Rafe. “What did he … I don’t …” Her voice cracked. Like a cresting wave, the sobs broke free. Tears blinded her, and she couldn’t see. Rafe’s arms wrapped around her.

  She pressed her face into the rough fabric of his shirt. In the dark circle of his arms, it was all too easy to pretend, although the questions would only stay unanswered for so long. A startling loud crash had her pulling away from the embrace.

  With a shout, Max came running into the room. Even with the ominous rumbling of the ceiling, he took the time to kneel down and touch Alistair’s face.

  At the next crash, he looked over at Rafe and Gwen. “You two need to leave. Not only is the ceiling of concern but the Council is aware the black mirror’s protections have been destroyed. And if you are found here, they will believe it was your will to set Aeon free.”

  Gwen struggled to her feet. “Why would we want to let Aeon free?”

  “It is no secret that Alistair would have moved the heavens and the earth to keep his Gwendolyn alive. If given the chance, is there any doubt that he would have saved her? Would have saved you?” Max turned to look at Rafe. “Would you not have done the same?”

  Rafe rose to his feet to stand next to Gwen, taking her hand in his. “What about …?” He swallowed, nodding at Alistair.

  Max looked back at his old friend, his brow furrowed. “I will take care of him, honor him in death.” He eyed the ceiling. “I promise. Now, the two of you need to leave.” Another rumbling crash. “Go now!”

  Gwen couldn’t bring herself to look away from Alistair’s face as she wrapped her hand around her compass. “Goodbye, Alistair.” A tear wove down her cheek. She tightened her hand around Rafe’s and the two of them disappeared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  WITH NOWHERE ELSE to go, they went to the temple. A soft sun gazed down at them, not strong enough to be overwhelming, just enough to ease the chill from their bones. Gwen sat, staring down at her bloody hands.

  Her mind refused to focus. Thoughts swirled around her brain like the gentle wind teasing her hair. Tears trailing down at her cheeks, she spit into her hands and tried to rub the blood off. The red stain clung to her skin.

  A sob escaped her lips, and in an instant, Rafe was there. She buried her face into his shirt, breathing in the warm, clean scent of him.

  “What did he mean, Rafe?” Alistair’s last words were the only thing she could think of. It was better than focusing on his still body. And how we left him.

  “We told you that you could never find a different version of yourself in the time streams. We never said you couldn’t find the same version of yourself.” He said. “Ever wonder what my fu
ll name was?”

  “Rafe, how does this—”

  He interrupted her. “I was born in a twisted, ugly world full of pain and horror. I discovered my gift by accident. It was still such a lonely existence. For a long time, I was the only one with the gift to jump the streams. I was the only one who knew they were there. That is, until I met Alistair.” His arms tightened around her. “It took me a while, you know. He was as tight-mouthed with me as he was with you. Guess he thought it was his duty. He knew you would come along and that everything would be different for me.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’ve lived more lifetimes than I care to count, Gwen. It wasn’t until you that time had meaning again.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “I still don’t understand, Rafe.”

  He pushed her into a sitting position, his dark gaze locked with hers. “My name’s Rafe, or RAF. Short for Reginald Alistair Fletcher.” He put particular emphasis on the middle name.

  Oh my God … “How?”

  “Think of two polar ends of a magnet. When you try to put them together, they force themselves apart. That’s what trying to find your past self in the time streams is like. Usually, something in our powers makes it impossible. And when you add the fact that traveling the time streams is random for most people?” He shrugged and the casual gesture was at odds with the distraught expression on his face. “I had never heard of it happening before. Then, I went through a mirror, and it was different. It’s hard to explain. But traveling by mirrors, you’ve felt it—that feeling of free falling, as if everything is rushing by you, at least that is what it is normally like. That time, it was like there was more than one place to fall, like the power was jerking me in another direction. So I let it take me. And there was Alistair.”

  She tried to understand his words. It was too much, too bizarre. Rafe and Alistair? They were too different. It couldn’t be true.

  But … were they really so different? Two sides of the same coin. Both did whatever they could to protect her. Both had become a solid, dependable presence in her life. After everything she had seen, was it so hard to believe Alistair and Rafe might be the same person?

  Her face blanched. That means … If Alistair and Rafe were the same person, then she and Alistair’s wife … Alistair’s dead wife.

  “Rafe, what about Alistair’s wife?” She couldn’t bring herself to speak of them as the same person. They both meant too much to her.

  “Future versions of ourselves.” He smiled grimly. “At least now, thanks to Aeon, it’s a future we won’t see.”

  Gwen threaded her fingers through his, needing the proof of his presence. “How? How could Alistair exist if Aeon changed the past?”

  His fingers tightened around hers, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry that’s not the answer you want to hear. The time streams must have diverged. I don’t know how Alistair and I became different versions of the same person. But we did. Thank God.” His words ended on a choke.

  Even if it meant they lost Alistair, she had to be thankful as well. At least she still had Rafe. They sat next to each other in silence, soaking in the warm sun, letting it warm their bones.

  Neither of them moved until Max appeared.

  His normally cheerful face was dark with sorrow.

  “Is Alistair … Did you …?” Gwen stopped. Alistair wasn’t all right. And do you really want to ask what happened with his body?

  Rafe grimaced. “What’s going on, Max?”

  The dark man’s head bowed. “Solomon has seized full control over the Guardians. He’s declared you and Gwen to be enemies of the time streams. He is saying it was your goal to release Aeon.”

  Gwen shot to her feet. “That’s a lie! We tried to stop it.” Her face paled. It’s not such a lie though, is it? It was your hand that stabbed the knife into the mirror.

  Max nodded. “I have no doubt about your innocence. And there are others on the council who agree with me. It will take time to sway the minds of the other Guardians.”

  Rafe stood slowly to his feet. “So, we run.”

  “What?” Gwen’s voice was panicked.

  “Rafe is right. I’m sorry, Gwen. For now, it isn’t safe for you to stay here. You will have to leave the life you’ve known and go somewhere the Guardians can’t find you.” Then he smiled. “You won’t be wasting your time. I want you to find Aeon, to figure out what he is up to.”

  Rafe’s smile matched the grimness of Max’s. “To get revenge.”

  Gwen wanted to argue with him, but she couldn’t. I want revenge too.

  Max inclined his head. “For now, there is something more important.”

  Gwen felt the exhaustion creep up her spine. “What now?”

  Max’s eyes glinted gold in the sun. “Now, you pay your respects.”

  They stood under a massive weeping willow next to a lone headstone. Looking at the inscription in front of her, Gwen was still at a loss for what to say. Rafe was quiet, his gaze tracing and retracing the words carved into stone. Alistair Fletcher, Finally Home.

  A shudder ran through Rafe’s frame, and he spoke. “What do we do now?”

  Gwen blinked, her tears blurring her view of the headstone. She thought of everything that happened since she had taken the job at the Archives: the first taste of the amazing power hidden inside her all along; the tension of first meeting the Guardians; the terror of the nightmares; and learning of the black mirror. And then there was the horrible night they just experienced; Seymour’s taunting sneer when he told her he had killed Maggie; the force she released; Alistair lying in her arms, blood cooling around him.

  She didn’t know what to think about any of it, let alone know what to do about it. She was afraid that if she let one tear fall, she would never be able to stop the others. So she focused on the smaller things: Rafe’s roaring laughter; Alistair’s reluctant and warm smile; about the happy moments she had experienced, thanks to the Archives.

  She wrapped her hand around Rafe’s larger one, lacing her fingers through his. “Hope.” It wasn’t a trite platitude, not when it took so much effort to say. She squeezed his hand, taking strength from the fact he was standing by her side. “We hope.”

  EPILOGUE

  Gwendolyn,

  I am sorry. Please know I never wanted to leave you so soon. I can no longer predict what will happen to you. My past is no longer your future. This offers hope to me in what I imagine will be my last days.

  The Guardians will try to teach you that any deviation from the set path is dangerous and will harm this fragile web of time stretching out before us. Don’t believe them. Any world in which you survive, that cannot be a danger or a mistake.

  If your life can be saved with the sacrifice of mine, then so be it. It is a trade I will happily and freely take. While there is some small personal significance in knowing I will be missed, I hope you do not take my absence too harshly. I am an old man, and the purpose to my life has long since vanished.

  Please forgive me for not telling you who I really am. I fear perhaps this will change the way you view our interactions. I hope you will be able to understand, at least in part, my motivations. The lies and obscurations were painful, although necessary. It was my only wish to spare you as much hurt as I was able. The truth is my existence has now become obsolete: Aeon is able to affect events outside of the mirror; Rafe no longer is cursed with my future; and most importantly, you are no longer facing the future that I had tried so hard to prevent.

  For all my faults, Gwendolyn, know that everything I did was to prevent your death. And believe me when I say, if I have accomplished my goal of saving you, then I die happy.

  Dark days are approaching, darker than any I can imagine. What was locked in the mirror has the power to destroy everything but also the power to change everything for the better. The future is balanced on a thin precipice, and I can only say I am sorry I am no longer there to give assistance. Trust Rafe. You two may have had your troubles, but I can promise you he cares mor
e than he will show. Among many things, we still have that in common.

  There is so much I should have told you. You deserve better than written words, yet I have no choice. My wife did not abandon her search for the Kronos blade because she believed it would not be strong enough to defeat Aeon. Instead, she abandoned her search because she discovered the truth.

  Or should I say, you discovered the truth.

  The truth that made it impossible for her to use the Kronos blade against Aeon.

  The presence behind the mirror, the one that was imprisoned and the one that fights to be free … Gwendolyn, he is your brother.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To my friends and family, we did it!

  Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. There is no way I could ever list everyone who has been there for me. I am blessed to have so many fantastic friends and family. But special thanks to Emily and Kirsten, for being there to encourage me and make me smile, when all I wanted to do was give up. Thanks also to everyone in my RR crew who helped me feel a little bit like a celebrity. And of course, thanks to my mom, who was always willing to hold my hand, and give me that little push when what I was doing seemed just a little too scary.

  This was an exhilarating, sometimes terrifying, journey, and I couldn’t have done it without all of you. At times, I needed a little cheer squad, and you all never failed. I hope everyone knows how truly important they are to me.

  Next, the wonderful women of the WorldWiseWriters group. I was so incredibly lucky to have found you. You’ve been an invaluable resource and have made me a better writer. So, Andrea, Hannah, Jacky, Rowanna, and Sho: Thank you for your humor, for your support, and for your wise words of wisdom.

  Special mention has to go to Rebecca K. Sterling, of Sterling Design Studios (sterlingdesignstudios.com) for creating such a fantastic cover. I’m still smiling about it. Thanks, also, to Holly Bohl, for polishing up my manuscript and wrangling my missing commas.