A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2)

by Martin, CJ

  Minutes passed as she read and reread the message. Finally, she kept the last page open for an extended amount of time, mouthing silently phrases for practice. Ian wasn’t sure what was written on it, but the style of characters for the last line was different from the rest. He would later learn that it was written in katakana, a syllabary mostly for writing foreign names and foreign words, words Marcus had written for her to express her thoughts to Ian.

  Ian watched and did nothing to disturb her concentration while she read. His heart beat a little faster as he watched her slender fingers turn the pages. The Ian from the future knew what those fingers would do to him and yet even with that knowledge, he wanted nothing more than what was about to happen—to feel her touch. She held the book up and looked in his direction. He swallowed and looked into her eyes. In a heavy accent, she read the words on the page: “I want to go with you.”

  Ian nodded and then pulled out another piece of paper. On it was written in Japanese, “How long do you need to prepare?”

  Below the written question was a series of possible answers. The instructions Marcus had written indicated that she was to point to her answer so Ian would understand.

  The choices were: one hour; one day; one week; one month.

  She shook her head resolutely and simply said, “Ima.” The twenty-first century Ian knew this word, but still found himself fumbling in his other pocket for the Japanese dictionary just as he had in the nineteenth century. He quickly rediscovered what the word meant. She didn’t want to waste even an hour. She wanted to leave now. She had nothing here worth waiting for.

  Ian stood and waived for her to follow him. He was looking for a less populous area to make the jump.

  There was a wooded area behind a rice field not far from that wooden bridge. He led her there and did not stop until he was sure there would be no witnesses. Then, he turned to her and took her hands. She did not resist even as she felt the tingling sensation surge throughout her body.

  As he began the cell modulation, he felt strange. He looked down. It was a soothing, desirable warmth flowing from her hands into his. He looked back up and her eyes bored into him in a way that both terrified and excited him.

  Ian, the twenty-first century Ian, knew what was happening. She was a new Temporal and had not yet learned to control her gift. He was about to be bombarded with a kind of irresistible energy that would leave him poisoned with a hunger that could never be sated. It was all because of her touch, those delicate fingers wrapped around his rough hands. He would have a desire for her that could never be satisfied even if she consented. He was filled with a sense of comfortable, but overwhelming warmth and for that moment, nothing else existed but her.

  They were moving too fast; Ian was far too distracted and felt drunk while behind the wheel. He was powerless around her and if he hadn’t known it back then, he knew it now; if he did not gain control quickly, they could end up at the bottom of this sea or, worse, beyond the atmosphere.

  Ian opened his eyes and saw Suteko mouthing something. It must be Suteko. Behind her was a bright white light, keeping her face in shadows. He was astonished to see and hear something he knew did not happen before. She was saying his name. Suteko was calling for him.

  “Ian! Ian!”

  It was Suteko from beyond his dreams. She was calling.

  Ian.

  But the Suteko in his dreams was hundreds if not thousands of miles away.

  “Ian!”

  No. It was not her voice. It was the voice of a woman, but it was not Suteko.

  He opened his eyes once more and this time saw that the voice was that of a stranger shaking him and bidding him to wake.

  Vered Karem had been one of the Temporal contacted by Marcus and warned that Kaileen was on the hunt. But she’d had a vision with a command; she was to stay in Beit She’an in northern Israel to await the coming of two other Temporal. Maro, she knew, but Ian was new to her. Vered had mild healing abilities and under her care, Maro had quickly recovered. She knew also of Suteko whose healing energy gift was far superior to her own. Hearing Suteko’s name uttered constantly by a feverous Ian had made her remember something Suteko had once told her. She had spoken of an Englishman who had taken her to Marcus. Vered hadn’t known the name, but even before Maro told her about their past, she knew it was him.

  “Ian, you are safe.”

  Ian blinked. “Maro?”

  “Maro,” Vered shouted loud enough to carry her voice to the next room, but not so loud as to startle Ian. Maro came running in. He was dressed in new clothes that were slightly too large for his thin frame. If Ian had had the strength, he would have laughed. Maro appeared to be fine, but his face looked like he had followed Brer Rabbit in to the briar patch.

  “Ah! Ian, you are awake. Are you well, my friend?”

  “M…Maro?”

  Ian let out a long sigh. “I...” He was piecing back the fragments of reality that had been shattered by a real-to-life dream. “I had a dream.”

  “Yes, my friend. You were badly hurt and the jump took what little you had left. You cannot imagine how worried we were. You were out for hours.” Maro sat next to him. Ian only then realized he was lying on a very comfortable bed. “My friend,” Maro said as he took Ian’s right hand. “This is the second time you’ve saved my life. For that I owe you a debt I can never fully repay.”

  Ian broke into a smile that animated Maro’s entire face.

  “You can hardly count the first time. It was more of an accident than anything else.” A series of mild coughs caused Ian to pause before adding, “And besides, that was over three hundred years ago. Surely, there must be an expiration date for such matters!”

  Ian had been there shortly after Maro’s Extending. Maro had been thought possessed by a devil when the villagers realized he virtually never slept and a deep cut from an axe head thrown from its haft had healed almost completely in an hour.

  Ian made the jump in a place he had thought would be deserted, behind Maro’s winepress. It just so happened that his neighbors, on a mission to arrest Maro for practicing witchcraft, were approaching his house in secret—by way of Maro’s winepress. The sudden appearance of Ian had given the dozen or so men such a fright that they ran away, leaving their weapons and intentions behind.

  Placing his other hand on Ian’s forearm, Maro said, “Rest well, my friend. When you are well enough, we shall go to DC.”

  Ian’s smile faded. He didn’t want to see Marcus and he wasn’t sure how stable he could be around Suteko—especially after that dream. It was like she had doubly infected him.

  Then his smile dropped completely.

  He looked down at his left arm that Maro was touching. They had dressed him in a cotton t-shirt, leaving much of his arm exposed. The scar that had been there since 1916 was gone.

  Ian jerked his hand from Maro’s hold and ran his fingers up and down his arm, from his wrist to his elbow.

  “What?”

  “Are you well, my friend?”

  “I...I had a scar here.”

  Maro’s eyes softened. Vered turned toward Ian with interest.

  “You have been out for a while. Perhaps it healed during your rest?”

  “I’ve had that scar for a hundred years.”

  “Then, it must have been Vered here when she was taking care of you. She has a wonderful healing gift.”

  “No,” came a harsh reply from the Israeli woman who was now facing away from the men. She was gently washing some cloth in a basin. “He had no scar,” she said with a stern look as she wiped her hands dry and moved to get a closer look at Ian’s arm. “Where did it start?”

  Ian looked at the woman. Her eyes were large; she seemed nervous.

  “Where did what start?”

  “Your scar. Where did it start?”

  Ian flopped his right hand over his chest and landed his index finger just below his wrist.

  “And it went,” she said as she leaned over and traced her finger from that
point up to the crease in his elbow in a slightly zig-zag motion.

  “How…”

  The woman, after seeing confirmation, wordlessly moved away from the bed and turned her back on both men.

  There was a mirror on the wall; Ian could see the left profile of Vered’s face. She was frowning and deep in thought.

  “The scar was not there when I found you.” Without another word, she turned for the door and walked out.

  The two men looked at each other as Ian spoke up, “Nice dame you got there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dulles International Airport

  “So, this is the Maro that was involved in that horrendous accident and had been thought lost?”

  Maro’s dear friend Amato had arrived the day before. He was with Marcus and Dr. Bracker at the airport to receive Maro, Ian, and Vered. Amato, who was seated on the other side of Marcus, heard the question and sat in shock. They had arrived early and Dr. Bracker’s chattiness was wearing on Amato and Marcus’ patience. Amato waited in silence, preferring to let Marcus answer.

  “It was no accident,” snapped Marcus. His eyes were straight forward, not wavering from the incoming travelers.

  “My apologies. I did not know the full story. The good general hasn’t thought it necessary to fill me in with all the details.”

  Marcus turned to look at Dr. Bracker. The man’s face looked truly pained. Marcus relaxed his own eyebrows and gave a compassionate pat to Dr. Bracker’s shoulder. “I apologize. There’s a lot going on right now.”

  The three men were seated on a bench in a common area that fed several terminals. Their eyes were on terminal three, from which the three Temporal would be arriving.

  “Yes, they were attacked,” Marcus said, continuing after an awkward silence. “At least ten soldiers were killed during the attack.”

  “Thank goodness Maro survived.”

  Marcus felt Dr. Bracker’s eyes on him, but he kept facing forward, stuck on the large sign that read, “Terminal Three.”

  “Ian is quite remarkable. I’ve only had a few minutes to speak with him, but I can tell you that I am very impressed by his resourcefulness.”

  Marcus just nodded to show he was somewhat attentive to the conversation. His mind, however, was more focused on the weary passengers spilling out from the Terminal Three exit area.

  “I’ve met many…”

  Dr. Bracker cut his comment short when Amato leapt from his seat and moved quicker than his seventy years should have allowed toward a crowd of exhausted travelers. Marcus followed close behind. Bracker looked up and recognized Ian.

  Ian was in the lead, but Marcus could soon see Maro and Vered’s head bobbing up and over the top of Ian’s broad shoulders.

  Marcus had personally met Vered during her Extending. This had been Ian’s job before his first encounter with Suteko. Marcus’ insistence that Ian should keep his distance from her had set them at odds against each other. After that point, Marcus never asked more of Ian...until now.

  The only one of the three travelers with luggage was Vered. She had a small carry-on with a week’s worth of clothes. Maro was smiling broadly upon seeing his servant alive and smiling back at him. Ian looked as if he had just been beaten to a pulp. Dr. Bracker quickly offered to take Vered’s luggage while Marcus and Amato greeted Maro.

  As Dr. Bracker approached Vered, her hand flew to her chest, letting loose of the handle and sending the luggage rolling off a few feet away. Her eyelids fluttered as her legs weakened and gave way. Dr. Bracker, being the closest, moved to catch her.

  “My dear, are you all right?” Dr. Bracker’s eyes were wide and his voice, compassionate.

  Vered had already regained much of her composure and was in the process of returning to a standing position with Bracker’s aid.

  In an instant, Marcus, Ian, and Maro were at her side. Amato, who had noticed that his Temporal friends had disappeared in a blink, turned around and hurried to the collapsed woman.

  “Are you all right?” they asked as if choreographed.

  She nodded and after a deep breath, she simply said, “Just a lack of sleep. Let’s go.”

  Once they were sure she could stand on her own, Dr. Bracker, Marcus, and Ian headed back to the car. Maro and Amato stayed with Vered. In a whisper Maro asked, “Are you sure you are all right?”

  “Of course. I just...have experiences.” She turned to Maro and patted his arm which was still around her waist. “I’m fine, Maro.”

  Maro looked around to make sure he couldn’t be overheard.

  “Vered. Back in Israel, you also acted strange once Ian awoke. Was it a similar experience?”

  “No.”

  “But something bothered you then,” said Maro.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “The scar Ian described. The scar that had been on his arm and was now gone. I’ve seen it before in my visions.” She turned to Maro. “Are you certain Ian is with us?”

  “Vered, my dear girl, I have known Ian many centuries. He has saved my life twice. I would do anything for him and I am sure he feels the same about me.”

  She put on a weak smile and, with Maro and Amato steadying her, she made her way to the car.

  The limousine drive to the Berkshire House was spent in silence for Vered. In broad contrast, Ian who was seated in the front passenger seat enjoyed a roaring conversation with Dr. Bracker, the driver, about some arcane matter of Civil War history. Dr. Bracker, as it turned out, was a Civil War history buff, and he enjoyed speaking with Ian who had lived a part of it as a British mercenary for the Rebels.

  Marcus was lost in thought. He was certain there had been something more to the incident at the airport. He knew that despite Vered’s insistence that she was fine, there had been something dark and, to Vered, disturbing.

  Marcus buried his dark thoughts when he noticed Maro had ended his conversation with Amato and had turned to him. “It has been too many years,” said Maro.

  “And under much better conditions.”

  Maro was smiling. He had survived the worst the enemy could throw at him and he was now safe among old friends.

  “How many Temporal are now with us?”

  Marcus kept his voice low. “Four have made their appearance in recent days. With you and Vered, that makes eleven.”

  “Thanks to Ian, I am able to join your number.”

  “Yes,” continued Marcus. “We had feared the worst. The call from Amato had me greatly worried until we could confirm you were still among the living.”

  Maro pulled Marcus closer. “Speaking of that, Marcus, how were you able to find me?”

  “We have a secret weapon. Maro,” Marcus winked. “But I will tell you more later. We live in dangerous, but exciting times. The orders are changing. I think the time for my exodus is drawing near.”

  Maro frowned even as Marcus broke into a smile. As the car stopped, Marcus whispered, “My diminishing power brings with it a welcome rest.”

  “If you are ready,” Dr Bracker said as he pulled into the Berkshire House driveway. “I think Ian, Maro, and Vered would very much like a soft bed or perhaps a strong cup of coffee.”

  “Both. And some whiskey if you can spare it,” said Ian with his hand reaching for the car door.

  Chapter Thirty

  Catherine was comatose. Nothing anyone did or said provoked any response. She was breathing normally and the doctor reported that her vitals were fine. She had no fever, her blood pressure was normal—every indicator pointed to a healthy adult. Every indicator, except her lack of interaction. Suteko was constantly at her side, essentially making a large recliner next to Catherine’s bed her home.

  One of the new Temporal arrivals, Sasha, had extensive medical knowledge and had turned Catherine’s room into a proper medical ward. With her vitals stable, they thought it best to tend to Catherine themselves rather than at a conventional hospital. Catherine was being well tended to, but they all knew her ailment was beyond the physical.

  It was
early the next morning when Ian noticed Suteko walking in the common area. She was out for a bathroom break or perhaps in search of coffee. He didn’t know, but seeing his chance, he got up to check on Catherine while he wouldn’t have to deal with Suteko.

  Catherine had always been fond of Ian. He knew it. He knew how much she cared for him. But he had been blinded by the curse Suteko had put on him. It seemed strange, but the recent vision which replayed his meeting Suteko in vivid detail had somehow opened his eyes to how important Catherine was to him and…how dangerous Suteko was.

  It made him angry how even after a hundred and fifty years, the woman still had control over him. Unlike Suteko, Catherine had always been there for him. She had always sought his happiness. He had been blind and, now that he was seeing clearly, he could barely stand to live without Catherine.

  As he neared her cracked-open door, Ian heard her voice. At first, he was ecstatic. But then reality set in. She was repeating her earlier meaningless phrases from days before. He had heard her himself, and often replayed the recording Sam made in a futile attempt to unravel the code. Still, considering she had said nothing since his return, this was a breakthrough.

  “War and Treachery! A most dangerous temporal trust. The strong shall become weak—a slave!”

  Seeing no one else in the room, Ian took a deep breath and entered, approaching her bed with mild trepidation. Would she recognize him?

  “A slave with a cruel master.”

  Her eyes were open, but they were thoughtlessly directed up to the ceiling. Only her lips moved.

  “Catherine,” said Ian as he approached and took her hand. “Can you hear me?”

  She stopped her speaking and then moved her head toward Ian. As before, her movements were clinical. She leisurely tilted her head until her glazed over eyes locked on Ian’s. She did not smile or make any other expression. Ian, at first, thought she did not recognize him.