by Rysa Walker
We eventually turn into the main entrance of the hotel and, a few yards of stone tunnel later, enter the lobby. It’s a large room, partially lit by the bluish glow of the glass-domed ceiling. While it’s not exactly crowded, I feel conspicuous in the scarf, like everyone is watching me. And they may be, but I’m guessing their minds are registering girl in head scarf rather than anything else about my appearance.
I sit on one of the padded benches in the center of the lobby and pull out my phone, double-checking the time. It’s 3:25, which means I’m just past the point where I had my last conversation with Mom. “Cross your fingers that Prudence isn’t in the room with her. I’m hoping she’ll meet us down here. Alone. It’ll be hard enough explaining this to her without Prudence twisting everything I say.”
“Yeah. I’m fine with avoiding Pru.”
I can’t blame him. The last time Trey saw my aunt, she was wearing a lacy white next-to-nothing, trying to pass herself off as me in his bedroom, in the dark of night. While nothing actually happened, she managed to deliver her message to me very clearly: she can get to the people I love, so I’d better not cross her. I can only assume this latest stunt, contacting Mom after disappearing for three decades, is her way of hammering that message home.
“Kate?” Mom’s voice is surprised when she answers the phone and also a little amused. I jumped forward a day and phoned her before I left Katherine’s, mostly to make sure she and Pru actually arrived on schedule. From Mom’s perspective, we just hung up less than three minutes ago.
“Did you forget to tell me something?” she asks.
“Not exactly. Listen, Mom—are you alone?”
“Yes.” She draws the word out, like she’s humoring me. “Why?”
“Because I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Okay,” she says, lowering her voice a little. “Go ahead. Prudence isn’t here—we have adjoining rooms, but I knocked just now, and she didn’t answer. I guess she’s stepped out for a moment.”
I glance around the lobby for Prudence, even though I suspect that she’s “stepped out” with her CHRONOS key rather than in the more conventional fashion. She’s probably many miles and many years away from this hotel.
“No, Mom. I need to talk to you face-to-face. Could you come down to the lobby?”
“Oh, really funny, Kate.”
“Mom, please. I’m downstairs. I swear. There’s this big glass dome in the lobby ceiling that looks like a sundial.” Yes, I could have gotten that from the hotel website, but I’m hoping that doesn’t occur to her. “I’ll explain everything when I see you, but I need you to come down alone. Without Prudence. Please. I’m wearing a burgundy scarf, and we’re sitting on one of these square benches—”
“We? Is Mother with you?”
“No.”
There’s a pause, and then she huffs, “Well, of course not. Why would I even assume that she’d want to see her daughter who’s been miss—” She breaks off suddenly, and when she continues a few seconds later, her voice is more subdued. “Oh. That’s why you’re here. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
My throat catches as I remember standing in Katherine’s living room last night, asking the very same thing about Mom. “No! No, Mom. Katherine’s not dead. Please. Could you just meet me in the lobby?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be right down. Alone, since you insist. This had better not be some sort of cross-Atlantic practical joke.”
But she’s not alone. I can tell as soon as the elevator doors begin to open, because the cube is filled with a familiar blue light. Mom gives me an apologetic look as she walks toward us. Prudence is close on her heels, the CHRONOS key hanging openly from a long silver chain. The blue light of the medallion stands in stark contrast to the black, long-sleeved turtleneck Pru is wearing. It seems a rather odd fashion choice in this warm weather.
Two men follow them out of the elevator, and I think at first that the men are with them. One is tall, the other a bit below average height, and both look like they spend a lot of time at the gym. The tall one catches my eye briefly and looks confused for a moment, then they both walk toward the concierge desk, their heads huddled in conversation.
“Sorry,” Mom whispers into my ear as she hugs me. While I suspect she couldn’t help Pru tagging along, it’s going to complicate things.
“Oh my God, Deborah!” Prudence says with a little squeal before she steps forward, pulling me into a hug. I stiffen, half expecting to feel the blade of a knife slip between my ribs, but she just raises her hands to my shoulders and then holds me out at arm’s length. “You didn’t tell me Kate was coming! And you didn’t tell me she was so gorgeous.”
That’s not even remotely true. Still, I have to admit I’m a little annoyed to hear Mom laugh. I mean, moms are supposed to think their daughters are gorgeous, right?
The laugh, however, is at Pru’s expense. “Why am I not surprised to hear you say that? I’ve had the strangest feeling for the past seventeen years that I somehow gave birth to your daughter. Your face, your curls—” She gives me a long, puzzled look and shakes her head. “Although you can’t see those right now, under that . . . why on earth are you wearing hijab, Kate? And she has Harry’s green eyes, so I’m not sure there’s much of me in the mix.”
Mom glances back at Prudence. “Not that I’m complaining. Kate looking like you always made me happy with you . . . gone . . .”
Her voice trails off as she watches Prudence, who’s still gripping my shoulders. I feel a quick tug, and the scarf puddles around my shoulder.
“I never really understood the point in those things,” Pru says. “It’s just hair.”
“Better than a lotus tattoo,” I hiss loud enough that Prudence can hear but soft enough that Mom can’t make it out.
As I shrug my shoulders to pull away from her, I catch a glimpse of the two men who followed them out of the elevator. Both look like they are on full alert, and they’re staring straight at me. They’re clearly security of some sort. The question, of course, is whose security. The shorter of the two has something clipped to his ear. The taller one might be wearing an earpiece as well, but his hair is a bit on the long side, so I can’t really see it. What I can see is the arm angled across his waist in an awkward fashion, with his hand just inside his suit jacket. Which means they’re armed security.
“And who is this handsome young man?” Pru asks.
I reluctantly look away from the security guys and glance at Trey, who is standing a few feet to my left, looking awkward and out of place.
He moves a step toward Mom, pointedly ignoring Prudence. “Trey Coleman, Ms. Pierce. I’m pleased to finally meet you.”
Mom takes the hand he offers, giving it a momentary squeeze. “You can call me Deborah,” she says, and then she turns to Pru. “As happy as I am to see Kate, I had no idea she was joining us. I certainly didn’t know she was traveling with her . . . boyfriend. They’ve only been dating a few weeks, and—”
“Really, Deborah,” Pru says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You’re so old-fashioned. Can’t you see they’re in love? I’m sure neither of them has eyes for anyone else.”
The last sentence fairly drips with sarcasm, although I’m not sure whether Pru is digging at me about the time I’ve spent lately with Kiernan or at both of us about her own little adventure in Trey’s bedroom.
Mom seems to pick up on the tone as well, because she gives Prudence a confused look before turning back to us. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Trey, even if I’m baffled at the circumstances. Does Harry know you’re here, Kate—and that you’re traveling together?”
I debate my answer for a moment. Dad has enough stress right now without landing on my mom’s dreaded List. Finally, I just nod.
“But why, Kate? It’s such a huge expense, and I told you Prudence and I would be traveling back to DC soon. I’m taking the rest of the month off—my supervisor at the university in Genoa was very understanding when I explained the situation.”
So Prudence hasn’t admitted that she was behind the research grant. Great. It may pale in comparison to everything else she’s about to hear, but that’s one more bit of unpleasantness I’ll have to break to Mom.
“It should be obvious, Deb. She couldn’t wait to meet her Auntie Prudence after all this time!”
The smile on Pru’s face is too big and too bright to seem at all sincere, at least to my eyes. Mom seems uncertain, too, but she returns the smile, nervously at first, and then her lower lip starts to tremble. She reaches out and puts one arm around Prudence and one around me, squeezing us both into a hug.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” she says, her eyes a little teary. “Of course you wanted to come. This is just so unbelievable, to find her after all this time. Are you staying here, or . . .” She glances over at Trey again, a little embarrassed.
“I have a room,” Trey says. “Not here—they were booked solid. I’m at the Park Plaza a few blocks over. I think Kate was planning to stay with you?”
I nod and smile, even though I have no intention of sleeping in London tonight. If things go as planned, Mom will be on a plane to DC and I’ll be sleeping in my bed at Katherine’s.
Prudence claps her hands, as though she feels compelled to pull everyone’s attention back to her. When her arms move, a faint sliver of vivid blue light peeks through the thick cabled fabric of her left sleeve, just below the elbow. It seems like a weird spot to strap a spare CHRONOS key, but I guess it explains her out-of-season sweater.
“Enough with the logistics!” she says. “We should celebrate! They have the most divine afternoon tea in the Library, with champagne and these little sandwiches and—”
Mom holds up a hand. “Remember, Pru?” she says in the slightly patronizing voice I recall all too well from when I was a kid and she was trying to put the brakes on my suggestion that we go to Disney World, or get a puppy, or whatever. “You asked when we checked in. We’d need reservations weeks in advance.”
Pru’s shoulders slump like a kid who’s just missed the ice cream truck. Then her eyes widen and the smile returns. She grabs the CHRONOS key on her silver chain and blinks out.
I expect Mom to be stunned, but she looks annoyed more than anything else. “Damn it! She did it again! You saw it, too, didn’t you, Kate? Trey?”
We both nod, and she continues, her voice too loud, like it always is when she’s stressed. “Well, thank God. I thought I was going crazy. It’s the third time in the past few days. Last night, before we left Italy, I was looking straight at her and . . . poof. Just poof. It’s not . . . possible!”
People are staring at us now, and not just the security guys, who are still on alert near the concierge desk. I’m not sure if anyone else saw Prudence disappear or if it’s just because Mom is freaking out, but we’re drawing far too much attention. I make a shushing noise and lead Mom back to the bench.
“That’s why I’m here, Mom. Could we go up to your room now? There’s a logical explanation for what you saw—”
“No,” she insists. “There’s not. She touches that . . . thing . . . and vanishes. How can there possibly be a logical explanation for that?”
“That thing,” I hiss in a low voice, “is called a CHRONOS key, and it’s the reason Prudence disappeared just now. Also when she was fourteen. It allows her to jump backward—or forward—in time.”
Mom’s eyes narrow, and she gives me her yeah, right look, but it’s not convincing. She knows something really bizarre is going on, and she must know it’s connected to the medallion. She just doesn’t want to believe it.
The quickest way to convince her would be a demonstration. Unlike Prudence, however, I’m not inclined to jump out in a crowded lobby, especially with the security guys watching us.
“Let’s go back to your room, okay?”
“No. We need to wait here. Pru will be back. At least, she came back the other times. But . . .” She starts looking around the lobby again. “It didn’t take this long before. She came right back.”
I tug on her arm. “Pru will go to your room if we’re not here, right?”
Trey, who has kept silent so far, leans in and adds, “You probably don’t want everyone looking on when Kate tells you what she knows about all of this.”
Mom starts to object again, then notices a middle-aged couple two benches away watching us. They look more annoyed than anything else, so I’m guessing they’re reacting to the noise rather than Prudence’s unconventional exit. The man quickly shifts his gaze to a large planter a few feet to our left when I stare back. The woman next to him watches a moment longer before deciding that same planter is fascinating.
Mom’s mouth tightens. “Let’s go.”
I watch the security guys from the corner of my eye as we head to the elevators. They seem confused. After a moment, the shorter man nods toward us, and the tall one hurries across the room. Fortunately the lobby is wide and we’re a good distance ahead of him. When the door closes in front of us, he’s still about ten paces away.
Once we’re in Mom’s room, she heads straight for the minibar. I’ve rarely seen her drink anything stronger than wine, but she tips back a tiny bottle of vodka, straight, her eyes tightly closed. A small shudder runs through her, and then she sits on the edge of one of the double beds.
After a moment, she opens her eyes. “Okay. Start explaining.”
I pull out the CHRONOS key and am about to start when I notice the window. Although Mom may have been kidding about being able to reach out and touch the Eye from her balcony, she wasn’t kidding by much. I don’t know how well the passengers can see into the rooms from the clear observation capsules that are moving slowly back toward the ground, but there’s no point in risking it.
Trey follows my gaze and pulls the curtains together. Without the bright sunlight streaming in, the medallion bathes everything in blue light. Mom and Trey can’t see it, though, so I flick on the lamp by the bed.
Sitting back down next to Mom, I hold the key out. “I know you hate this thing, and I get it. Believe me, I totally get it. I might be able to explain without using it, but it would take much, much longer for you to believe me.”
I run my fingers over the key to set a stable point and then roll the time back to 3:25, just after I called Mom from the lobby. “This is going to be a little uncomforta—”
“No.” Mom grabs my hand. Her fingers brush the side of the key, and she pulls them back, almost like she’s been burnt. “I don’t want you using that thing, Kate. Take it off. Put it away.”
“Sorry, Mom. I wish I could, but . . .” I pull up the stable point again, moving more quickly this time, so that I can blink out before she reacts.
Mom is standing at the window, staring out at the Thames, when I pop in. I clear my throat softly to get her attention.
She looks toward the bed where I’m sitting and says, “Oh, there you are—” before realizing it’s her daughter and not her sister in the room. Her jaw hangs open for a moment and she stands there, speechless.
“Sorry, Mom,” I repeat. “This will make more sense in about twenty minutes.” And then I jump back to 2:46, about ten seconds after I left.
Mom is sitting on the bed now instead of standing next to the window, but the stunned expression on her face is almost identical to the one she wore when I blinked in. Except she also looks like she might hurl on the rug.
“You were here . . . earlier. Why do I remember that now, when I didn’t before? What’s going on, Kate?”
“That queasy feeling would go away much faster if you’d just hold your hand against—”
“No! I’m not touching that thing. I want you to take it off. Right now. I mean it, Kate.”
“I can’t. I really, really wish I could, but things are complicated beyond belief right now, and I have to keep this on. In fact, I’ve brought a spare for you.”
“No,” she says again, scooting toward the nightstand. “Keep that thing away from me. And take it off. Please, Kate. I don’t kno
w what kind of magic makes it work, but it’s cursed.”
“It’s not magic.” I’m about to add that it’s not cursed, either, but given the trouble the thing has brought me in the past few months, she may have a point.
“It’s from the future, early twenty-fourth century. Katherine brought it back with her to 1969. That’s the year she was stranded in. She was with a group called CHRONOS that studies history by sending people back to view events as they happened. There was . . . well, it wasn’t an accident, more of a sabotage. Since Katherine was pregnant at the time, you and Prudence were stranded, too. Pru inherited the gene that enables her to use the key. That’s why she disappeared all those years ago. The gene isn’t . . .” I pause for a moment, trying to remember the correct word. “It’s not expressed in your DNA, but you passed the trait along to me. That’s why I can see the light—remember how I called it ‘Blue Light’ when I was little? Anyway, when the gene is active, like it is for me and Prudence, the person can use the key to travel between stable points to different times and places. It’s how I got to London.”
She looks over at Trey, and he shakes his head. “No. I can’t see the light or use the key. I took the normal route—eight hours, British Airways.”
“The key is also how I went back and changed your memory. I set a stable point for this room, which means I could adjust the time on the coordinates and go back to when you were here before, just after we spoke on the phone.”
I stop for a moment, expecting her to chime in with questions. The glazed look in her eyes worries me, and I decide to give her the rest of it in small, bite-sized pieces. The part about her biological father being a megalomaniac hell-bent on destroying a sizable chunk of humanity has to be discussed, preferably before Prudence gets back. Learning that Katherine arranged her failed marriage to Dad on the off chance that they’d produce me? I’m thinking that can probably wait, along with many of the other elements that make my head spin each time I try to sort them out.