A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2)

by Martin, CJ

  There were no cameras. The hard man had not come. He looked at the banana in his two hands and did what came naturally. He devoured the sweet insides before beginning to gnaw on the peel. He stopped when he realized he had so much other food to choose from. Carefully, he set the remains of the banana peel in the basket aside for later and began to scratch at the apple. His teeth wouldn’t be strong enough to bite, but his fingernails could do most of the masticating to allow him to enjoy the taste of an apple once more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amato maneuvered the Ferrari down the serpentine road, slowing to a crawl with each dangerous curve. The destination was a small private airport in northern Italy, just outside Bolzano. A section of the Eastern Alps stood between them and their goal. The Stelvio Pass with its many hairpin turns and sharp drop-offs was their best route.

  It would have been a magnificent scenery if not for the heavy rain, cloud cover, and the dark early morning sky. Only the light from the car and of a distant village broke the gray monotony.

  A US Air Force jet would be waiting to take Amato and his master, Maro, to Marcus in DC. An ancient enemy had resurfaced, so Marcus believed. Maro had told him stories, but Amato had never experienced an evil Maro couldn’t handle. It was dark and rainy, but poor visibility was not the major concern even with this dangerous road. From what Marcus had said, a much greater danger was hunting them. They needed to be united in strength with other Temporal in Washington. Although he would have preferred a European rendezvous, it was the United States president who had offered asylum and aid, and that was where Marcus was waiting. It was a mystery to Amato and Maro what evil they faced, but when Marcus spoke, they knew it was wise to listen.

  Amato was not Temporal, but his family had served the much younger looking Maro for six generations. Amato and his closest kin may have been the only humans to know of their existence prior to the recent revelation to a select group of world leaders by Marcus.

  It would seem odd to an outsider that a man of Amato’s advanced age would offer his services to Maro who appeared to be several decades his junior and—except his car, a singular indulgence—a man of no obvious wealth. His villa, while well-kept and adequate, was tiny by modern standards—certainly not luxurious enough to warrant a butler.

  But it wasn’t due to a lack of funds. Maro, like Marcus, had amassed great wealth over the centuries. And also like Marcus, he never flaunted it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Amato was startled to see Maro slump over. His master had his hand on his forehead and temples, fingers spread wide.

  “What’s the matter?” Amato said with no little concern in his voice. He had seen his employer do this before, and this action had never resulted in happy news. “What vision have you seen?”

  “No. No vision. Just darkness...the kind of darkness that blinds.”

  Amato had slowed the Ferrari, but sped up when Maro flicked his fingers forward, indicating they should continue on.

  Amato had to hug tightly to the mountain. While this portion of the Stelvio Pass was wide and forgiving, the cliff was not; there was no guardrail.

  Through the slacking rain, the moon brightened, and in the corner of his eye, Amato saw Maro’s head fall once again.

  “Stop, Amato.” Maro had decided to no longer ignore his own feelings.

  Amato pumped the brakes roughly and brought the car to a halt, easing up to the side of the cliff.

  “Marcus set this up, but something doesn’t feel right. I’m afraid…”

  Amato shot a glance at Maro and frowned. Maro’s sudden silence and change of expression was unsettling.

  “So, we do not go to Washington?”

  “No, turn around, Amato. We will still go, but first, let us return home to get a few things for a more circumspect journey. I cannot help but feel we are heading into a trap.” Maro paused before adding, “I sense something…ancient.”

  Amato had backed up off the road and was about to cut the wheel hard when a loud sound reverberated in the distance.

  There, farther down the mountain was an explosion, the cause of the sound.

  “Master, what is it?”

  “I cannot tell, but I fear that was meant for us. We must leave.”

  Amato obeyed and, completing the turn, he floored the gas, spitting out chunks of mud mixed with tiny rocks behind them.

  Moments later, Amato looked down the mountain from out his window and said, “Master, I see light.”

  Maro looked behind and realized they were under attack by a being with the power to reorganize time. This attacker would soon catch up with the car and a human driver that could only respond in real time.

  Maro knew that the battle would be great and Amato would not be able to comprehend the actions within his human flow of time. A second to Amato could represent minutes for the attacker. The car would continue within the normal flow of time and the battle would be over before Amato could blink.

  “Stop the car! Now!”

  Hearing his master’s scream unnerved the elderly Amato. He slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail slightly before halting. As Maro opened the door and slid out, he yelled his final command to his dear servant. “Get out of here! Call Marcus! Flee while you still can—Go!”

  Keeping his eyes on the road, Amato bowed his head slightly, saying a prayer for his master as he put the car into gear.

  As time slowed for Maro, he noticed the car moving forward, all too slowly. Amato was obeying his command, but would it be enough? He made a rash decision. It was up to him to take the fight to the attacker and give Amato enough time to escape and communicate with Marcus.

  In the distant road below, he could see someone running. It was a woman. Maro remembered the ancient evil Marcus had told him about. Could it be that Kaileen had actually returned?

  He would have preferred to wait for her to come to him; allowing her to tire may be his only advantage. But with Amato’s car still close, he needed to buy his loyal servant every last second he could. He needed to separate the battle from Amato’s location.

  Maro looked over the ledge. There was a twenty foot drop to the next level of the winding road that was carved into the side of the mountain. He jumped, landing on the balls of his feet. Rolling forward, he distributed the shock to his shoulders and then his hip. Maro rose to his feet unharmed, waiting for Kaileen to make the turn ahead.

  To Amato’s eyes from the rear view mirror, Maro’s motions were a blur, fading into the night. When he could no longer see his master, he turned his eyes forward and coaxed the car as fast as he felt the cliff would permit.

  Maro saw Kaileen’s hands move, and from them shot out shiny metallic objects. Maro moved. He had only a moment to push time to a lower level, to slow it further. It wasn’t enough to be able to react to the projectiles adequately. One knife ripped through his left leg causing Maro to buckle and then fall midstride.

  Kaileen was on him before he could scream from the pain. He found himself on the ground inches from the edge of the mountain looking up at the red-headed woman.

  He knew to not look into her eyes, but the impulse was nearly irresistible. It was her; the woman, who like the sirens of lore, promised love but dealt out death. His strength left him. He was losing and would die if he could not wrestle free. She was physically stronger than he was and with his arms and legs pinned down, she had the advantage.

  Then he remembered something Marcus had once said about Kaileen. Marcus had related how he’d defeated her hundreds of years before. It wasn’t by strength, but by the power of the goodness within his spirit.

  She was screaming at him, but Maro couldn’t hear what she was saying. He was lost in the process of purifying his thoughts. He was out of time and out of other options. He let his body go limp, opening his eyes. She had her hands up holding something. He hadn’t even noticed that his arms were free. Her hands were coming down with a knife falling to his chest.

  His eyes locked on hers.

  The lig
ht from within his soul wasn’t much. It was like the tiny spark within itself that had only the potential of a raging blaze. But letting the purity of his essence escape, it quickly became apparent that the flame burned enough.

  She shrieked and her hands flew to her eyes as if they were on fire. The knife hit some gravel an inch from Maro’s left ear. He was cognizant enough to push hard with his arms. She launched away from him, leaping not in reaction from the blow of Maro’s arms, but as a defensive retreat to give her eyes time to adjust. Whatever she had seen in his eyes was pure terror to her.

  Maro had only a moment to decide. She would regain her sight and, empowered by her renewed anger, she would become an even greater threat. He looked up the mountain. He could no longer see Amato’s car. Amato would be safe.

  Maro looked out in the distance off the road and saw only the black of night. The mountain was still several thousand feet in elevation. He was uncertain how far down the cliff fell to the next clearing or road layer, but he knew he had no other choice. Outrunning Kaileen was not an option. Fighting her, he would lose. There was no one around who could possibly give him aid. He could only go where she would not follow.

  As he moved to the side and leaped into the open black air, he heard her scream in terrible volume. A moment later, the whoosh of the night air drowned out even that.

  Through blurred eyes, Kaileen saw what the Temporal had done.

  “Curse you! I could have given you everything you desire.”

  It was a waste. She stood, brushing off the dirt from her arms and then rubbed her burning eyes. Her clothing was ruined. The friction from running in modified time and the scuffle with the Temporal had caused the fibers to weaken and then tear. She preferred natural clothing, but she could not be seen like this.

  As she took off her shirt, shoes, and pants, in their place appeared jeans and a T-shirt. It was a morphic illusion, but no human could tell the difference, especially in this poor lighting. The Nikes were in good enough shape to be worn and she put them back on; they had held up well even during her run. Walking on morphic shoes was not pleasant on such abrasive asphalt and rocky shoulders.

  She walked to the ledge and peered over. Even adjusting her eyes to various inhuman spectrums yielded nothing of interest. She could make out the rocks and the distant floor of the valley. But she could not see a body.

  “Maro! I was offering you life! Why did you choose death?”

  She turned around and began running downhill. She needed to get to the base of the mountain to find loose soil worthy of traveling. As she let the flow of time return to normal, she could hear sirens in the distance. It was time to move to the next target.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam had spent the past few hours exhausting his energy over the map. They still hadn’t heard from Marcus although Sam could sense that Marcus was alive and in DC. He was most concerned with Maro whose signature was becoming difficult to pin down.

  General Gordon sent a dozen law enforcement officers on Marcus’ trail, but nothing of Marcus or Lieutenant Harrison had turned up. The general had even contacted the president, but even though Marcus had specifically said he was going to meet the president, the president assured Gordon that they had not arrived.

  Suteko left Sam and headed for the stairs. She had felt sick since striking Catherine and decided it was time to make amends; she went through the Berkshire House in search for Catherine to apologize.

  As she left the winding staircase and stepped onto the second floor, she was taken aback by the many rooms and ornate decor. The government had provided what could only be described as a mansion, and the large number of rooms made Suteko’s search challenging. She realized she hadn’t seen Catherine since the Nephloc spy appeared and that sudden thought provoked her conscience to action. Suteko was told Catherine had retired to her room. But which room? Which floor?

  After passing a few rooms on the second floor, she heard some movement behind a closed door. All the doors on that floor were closed, but she knew someone was behind this one. It had to be Catherine. Everyone else was accounted for. Suteko lifted her hand to knock and then halted mid-strike, reconsidering. After a few long seconds, she lowered her hand entirely. She sensed a dark anger behind the door. Perhaps more time would help mend the wounds. Suteko headed back downstairs to the communal hall.

  Ian was there playing solitaire. Sam came running in, holding up his phone. “The general called requesting our presence at the secondary command center.” Without Marcus around, the general needed their help for coordination and communications.

  “Where is Marcus? Why does he get the day off?” Ian didn’t bother to look up from his cards.

  “Ian, this is serious,” Suteko said. “We haven’t been able to get a hold of him for hours. How is Catherine doing?”

  Ian shrugged his shoulders and slapped another card down. “Sulking in her room, I guess.” He shook his head and, after a moment of hesitation, he threw the rest of the cards on the table, having lost all interest in the game. He had tried to talk to Catherine earlier. She had simply brushed him off—his pride kept him from a second attempt.

  Suteko turned to go to Sam. She heard Ian let out a held-in breath as she passed him by.

  She sighed and approached Sam who had just finished the phone call with the general. “Sam, could you check on Catherine? I doubt she would respond to me.”

  Moments later, Sam knocked gently on Catherine’s door. Suteko watched by the staircase. It was that room on the second floor. “Catherine?” He waited for a response. None came. “Catherine?” Sam’s voice was louder and more insistent. “The general needs our help.”

  Sam’s face crumpled. He could sense Catherine’s presence, but something was wrong.

  “Is it Catherine?” asked Suteko who had hurried to Sam’s side after hearing some strange echoes.

  “Yes, I sense her signature, but it is weak and becoming weaker.”

  “Get Ian!” Sam grabbed the doorknob of the locked door and, slowing time, he moved his hand rapidly. The effect—in natural time—heated and twisted the metal off. He thrust his fingers inside the hole and flicked off the cylinder and lock as if it were made of paper. A moment later, the door was wide open. He did not immediately see Catherine, but the shallow blotches of red pooled on the cream-colored tiled floor left no doubt. He hurried to the other side of the bed to see Catherine unconscious with slit wrists.

  Ian appeared behind and cried in pain as he saw what Sam saw. “No! Catherine—No!”

  “Suteko!” Ian yelled.

  Suteko had stopped at the doorway, not knowing what to do.

  “Suteko! Come here and help her quickly.” Ian knew Catherine had but one chance.

  She was, in an instant, next to Catherine. Her breath caught. For a moment she sat there speechless, unable to process the simplest of thoughts. Sam’s touch brought her back and she immediately laid her hands on the dying woman. Suteko felt the pressure of a surgeon trying to heal a patient that she, herself, had wounded. She was experiencing a mixture of guilt, shame, and unbridled fear. If only she had actually knocked on the door and apologized earlier. The dark echoes she had felt had been Catherine’s inner self crying for help.

  Catherine’s accelerated healing had stopped the blood flow, but she had cut deep and allowed much life to leave her body. She moaned and tilted her head away from Suteko.

  Pulling the negative energy out of Catherine caused Suteko to heave her chest as if she had just run a marathon. Sweat beaded on and ran down her forehead, doing nothing to quell the flashes of heat. It was at times intense enough to knock her off Catherine. She quickly latched back on, varying the location of her touch. She felt like a leech, but a leech helping to remove the negative energy from Catherine’s body.

  “Do something Suteko!” Ian’s voice was loud and insistent. He was having a hard time controlling his emotions and his words. “Dammit, Suteko—do something.”

  “Ian,” Sam said, positioning himsel
f in front of Ian. “You must calm down. If Catherine is to have any hope, Suteko must do her work in peace.”

  Ian looked at Sam’s face as if to challenge him and then, just as it appeared he would take it to the next level, Ian broke away and fled out of the room.

  Suteko concentrated. She had displaced much of the negative energy that had seemed to define Catherine’s personality recently. Whatever had happened to her, it left her deeply scarred. Suteko ceased pulling and began to push. The positive energy within Suteko wouldn’t be much—she felt depleted already—but she gave it her all.

  Catherine moaned louder. Sam smiled at the realization that it was working until he looked at Suteko. The Japanese woman’s face had turned pale and her eyes were glazed. It took all his effort to catch her head before she fell to the hard floor unconscious.

  “Suteko!”

  Sam felt her pulse. She had one. He leaned over to hear the shallow breaths. As he straighten back up, she was already breathing louder and deeper. Her eyes opened, and upon seeing Sam, she smiled enough to convey that she would be fine.

  Sam moved his attention back to Catherine. Her eyes were shut, but she was moving and moaning.

  She whispered something that Sam couldn’t understand. He was concerned about Suteko’s health, but he felt compelled to listen to Catherine. Sam examined her face. Her appearance had changed. Her face was harder. Her closed eyes and body movements suggested she was experiencing a fitful dream. If it weren’t for the whispers, Sam would have assumed she was having a nightmare. The words appeared to be meaningless, but he sensed that that was not the case.

  After one more glance at Suteko, Sam leaned into Catherine. Though slurred, the whispers were words. He heard her say in a clear speech, “War and Treachery.” Her words then returned to the seemingly meaningless garble.