Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3)

by Rysa Walker

  “What?”

  He repeats in a slow voice, like he’s explaining to a child, “Are you the one who jumped back and created the splinter, or are you the splinter that was created?”

  “Okay. I get it. I’m the original one.”

  “Then she’ll vanish. I don’t know if it’s something to do with two copies of the same key coexisting in the same space and time, or if the timeline sort of . . . repairs . . . or what, but she’s only temporary.”

  I feel a rather unreasonable sense of relief that this me is the one that doesn’t vanish. I mean, that other one is still me, so it shouldn’t matter. But it kind of does. I’m . . . unique. I’m the one who didn’t see the fire extinguisher by the grill. The one who called the fire department.

  Neither of those facts seems to suggest that the continuation of this me and the disappearance of that me is survival of the fittest. But she had the advantage of my warning. Right?

  “If she disappears, I’ll jump back and go find some neighbors—”

  “Who will call the fire department. Wait. Except the neighbor who lives in the green house. The one with the blue van.”

  “The one you hired to spy on us?”

  “That would be the one.” Kiernan finds a piece of paper, scribbles something on it, and folds it. “Give this to him. I can’t understand why he didn’t intervene when Simon grabbed Katherine.”

  “Why would he?”

  Kiernan doesn’t answer. He gives me a strange look—sad, maybe a little disappointed. “Just give him the note. And if you can’t find him or he can’t help for some reason, come back. Six more months in this cabin won’t kill me.”

  NEAR DAMASCUS, MARYLAND

  September 12, 11:26 a.m.

  The parking lot is still mercifully empty when Trey pulls in and parks under the tree. He pops the trunk, and I see six big, fat fire extinguishers.

  “Did you know I love you?” I ask.

  He gives me a shaky smile. “You’d better.”

  BETHESDA, MARYLAND

  September 12, 10:58 a.m.

  Two fire extinguishers stand at attention along the wall when I blink in with the last three. That means one is missing. I hear a whooshing noise in the library, so my double must have grabbed it to fight the flames. The smoke seems worse now, and I hear a symphony of fire alarms throughout the house, including one downstairs that repeats “Fire . . . Fire” in a robotic monotone.

  I reach down to check Connor’s pulse again. It’s strong, but I can’t help worrying. It feels like he’s been out a long time.

  I rush downstairs in search of the mystery guy in the van. Kiernan’s note is just a single nonsense word—Skaneateles. It must be a password of some sort.

  The blue van is across from the woods separating Katherine’s house from the next lot. No one is inside, so I hurry up the sidewalk to the door of the green house. I ring the bell twice, but there’s no answer.

  I’m running back to Katherine’s when it occurs to me that the man could be in the rear of the van, monitoring surveillance feeds. I run back across the street and tap on the side door, tilting my head to the left to peek in the driver side window.

  The man is slumped across the seat. I can’t see the wound, but there’s a dark stain beneath his head. And now that I’m closer I see a tiny hole in the passenger side window with a halo of spiderweb cracks around it.

  I try to open the driver side door to see if he’s still alive, but it’s locked. So is the sliding door.

  “Damn it!” I kick the tire and yank out my CHRONOS key, preparing to jump back to Kiernan. But then the battered Subaru that Dad and I fondly refer to as the Gray Ghost pulls into view.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Dad is already inside when I catch up with him.

  “Connor’s upstairs. We need to get him out.”

  When we reach the landing, Dad hoists Connor’s upper body and we begin working our way down the stairs.

  “You said you were going back to Delaware!”

  “No, I said I understood. Katherine’s gone. Deborah—” He shakes his head. “Dear God, Kate! Even if I hadn’t been less than ten minutes from here, there’s no way I’d leave you alone with this mess.”

  I’m so very happy to see him. And so very angry that he didn’t turn around and go back to Delaware as I asked.

  “I love you.” My voice sounds as conflicted as I feel—happy, sad, pissed off.

  “Love you, too, kiddo.”

  Daphne’s right where I left her. She whimpers and limps toward us when we lay Connor on the grass. “Stay with Connor. We’ll be right back. And you’re a good, good girl.”

  “What happened to her leg?” Dad asks as we run back toward the house.

  “Simon. I think she attacked him when he took Katherine. He must have kicked her. I haven’t had a chance to examine it.”

  We snag the last two canisters from against the wall. The second me is no longer in the library, so apparently Kiernan was right that we’d . . . merge or whatever. I’m glad, but it raises new headache-inducing questions. Where did that other version go? I know she’s me, and I’m here, but . . .

  Although the smoke is still thick, the fire looks like it’s nearly out. Of course, it looked like it was nearly out before, back when Simon’s face appeared on the computer, so I don’t want to take chances. We crouch low, spraying in a wide arc. I had no idea the extinguishers emptied that quickly—they spew white gunk for about fifteen seconds and that’s it.

  Dad’s hair and clothes are flecked with white. Mine, too, probably, but I’ll be staying that way unless I spray off with the hose. No way am I showering in this house after Simon’s comment.

  We head down to check on Connor. I grab two bags of frozen vegetables from the freezer. Dad tilts Connor’s head gently to one side, revealing a large red lump behind his ear, split slightly near the middle. He moans when Dad presses the makeshift ice pack to the lump, so maybe he’s beginning to come around.

  Daphne rests her muzzle on Connor’s stomach. I check her fur carefully, but there’s no visible wound. My guess that Simon kicked her is probably a good one. I feel a slight twinge of guilt about kicking the Cyrist Doberman at the Sixteenth Street Temple. He was protecting his owners the same way Daphne tried to protect Connor and Katherine. Of course, his owners are pure evil, and he’d been trained to do maximum damage, whereas poor Daphne . . .

  She’s not interested in the frozen corn cold pack, except as something to sniff, so I just rub her ears and pull her closer. “It’s okay, girl. We’ll get Katherine back. And I’ll make Simon pay for hurting you and Connor.” She responds by giving my chin a gentle lick and then settles down with her head on my lap until she hears Connor’s voice.

  “Harry. Where’s Kate? Katherine? What . . .” He tries to prop himself up and decides it’s not a good idea. I slide over so he can see me without moving. Daphne follows, nuzzling his face.

  “I’m fine, Connor. You took a blow to the head. Simon.”

  “Kath—”

  “He’s got Katherine,” Dad says. “Deborah, too.”

  “The fire—”

  He struggles again, but Dad holds him steady. “You should stay put for a bit, Connor.”

  “Yeah. You were unconscious for . . .” I stop and think, but given the way I was jumping back and adding an extra minute here and five extra minutes there, I have no idea. “For a while. The fire is out. You nearly had it out before Simon showed up. He dialed in through your computer after he left with Katherine, so I think it’s safe to say the network isn’t secure.”

  I start to tell him about Julia. And the dead guy in the van. But he still looks disoriented, so maybe I’ll hold off on more bad news.

  “We were trying to put out the fire . . . I didn’t even hear him come in.”

  “It’s okay, Connor. We’ll get them back.”

  He glances down at the key around my neck, and I shake my head. “Not that way. I can’t. He’s got Mom. C
laims he tried to get Prudence, too, but she slipped away. Anyway, Simon’s wearing a key, and he’ll know if I change anything to stop him from grabbing Katherine. I have to do what he asks—or at least make him think I’m doing it.”

  “What does he want?” Dad asks.

  “He wants me to get the keys from CHRONOS headquarters. Instead of Pru. Simon and Saul don’t want any control in her hands.”

  Connor’s face falls even further. “Ah, damn it, Kate. That’s how you end up in Rio, isn’t—”

  I make a little kill motion. He squelches pretty quickly for someone who’s just taken a whack to the head. But it’s too late.

  Dad’s eyes move from Connor to me. “Rio?”

  ∞16∞

  LAUREL, MARYLAND

  September 12, 2:16 p.m.

  A large plate of cheese fries sits in the center of the table. There are a few fries missing from the side facing Charlayne and Ben, but otherwise it’s untouched. They look good, smell good, and I probably should be hungry, but none of us has much appetite. Tilson just felt we should order something besides beverages to justify taking up a table for six. And we will be six if Max ever arrives.

  We had to meet somewhere, and the only reasonably safe option that anyone could think of at this point was somewhere public. I would have preferred random and public, instead of this spot that Max and Tilson have used in the past, but I wasn’t in on that part of the arrangements.

  I lean back into the padded bench and pull up the stable point in Katherine’s library while we wait, watching Dad and Connor clear away the soggy mess in the center of the room. Connor still seemed a little shaky when I left, so I’m glad to see him sitting down, going through the books to see if any are salvageable.

  Dad was pretty shaky, too, mostly from seeing the video of me in Rio. He took the same tack Connor had at first, claiming it wasn’t me. But I think he knows better, because he really wasn’t acting like himself. We had a shouting match over my decision to leave the gun with him and Connor, and I can’t remember when Dad has ever shouted at me. I finally won because I told him I could get another one much more easily than they could. And now that I know Simon has been in the house, leaving the two of them there with no protection other than Daphne and the kitchen knives was unthinkable.

  I wanted Dad and Connor to get into the car with Daphne and get the hell out of there. It scares me to think that Simon could be watching them at this very moment, just like I am, maybe planning to take a few extra bits of insurance by grabbing them, too. But Connor was adamant about staying behind to keep an eye on Katherine’s library. He kept referring to it that way, as Katherine’s library. And since we couldn’t leave him there alone, they’re there and I’m here, and . . .

  Trey can’t see the display, but he can see my expression. “Are they okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah. For now.”

  He pushes a strand of still-damp hair back behind my ear. Hosing off outside and changing in the hall closet wasn’t fun, but it was immensely preferable to showering upstairs where Simon the Creeper might see.

  Trey looks like he’s going to say something—probably tell me not to worry. Again. But he just pulls me closer.

  We’ve been waiting the past ten minutes or so for Max. Tilson left a message on his phone, using a code Julia devised. I’m not sure telling him where we’re meeting, even in a code Tilson says Eve won’t understand, was a good idea. I have a tough time believing he’d be okay with killing his own grandmother. But then again, he’s apparently been with Eve for over a year. Who knows how much nasty has rubbed off?

  Tilson’s eyes dart toward the door for about the dozenth time. He glances down at his phone again and shakes his head. “We should probably start. I can fill Max in later.”

  Everyone’s eyes shift to me, so apparently I’m tasked with running this meeting. Between finding Julia’s body, learning that Simon has Mom and Katherine, and playing firefighter, my thoughts are flying in so many directions that what I really want to do is hide in a dark room and scream.

  I try to take a sip of my coffee, but it’s full and I’m shaky, so I wrap both hands around the base. The mug is much too hot to hold this way, but I grip it tighter. The painful twinge in my palms seems to calm the chaos in my brain.

  “So . . . the Houdini key that Julia said I should wait on? Well, we now have it, and it’s going to make things a lot easier. That’s what I’d planned to tell Julia when I went to her office. Before Houdini had this key, it belonged to Prudence. She set some local stable points in DC after CHRONOS headquarters was destroyed. I haven’t had time to go through them yet, between Julia and the fire and . . .” I press my palms against the hot mug again and take a deep breath. “Anyway, the good news is we can skip the jet pack, although I guess that’s a mix of good and bad news given how much time you guys put into it.”

  Charlayne and Ben exchange glances, and she says, “The suit’s okay for tooling around in the backyard . . .” She stops when Ben snorts. “That is, in a backyard that doesn’t have a flimsy storage shed in the middle. Max wasn’t any better. He hit the house when he used it.”

  “I’ve never been completely convinced you’ll be able to fire the thing up quickly enough to beat gravity when you jump in,” Ben says. “It’s just the only thing we had that might work. If you have a better way, it’s a win all around.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” I give him a quick smile, even though I can’t help wishing they’d voiced those reservations earlier. “I assume you’re all aware of what’s happened with my mom and Katherine. What you may not yet be aware of is why they were taken. Simon doesn’t want the keys housed at CHRONOS to end up with Pru.”

  Charlayne gives me a nervous look. “You’re not considering . . . actually giving them to him, are you?”

  “No. But I am planning to let him think that I will until I can get my mom and Katherine back. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it was your family, because we both know better.”

  “Hmph. Depends on which members of my family.” Charlayne snags another fry and takes a vicious chomp out of it.

  My Charlayne would never have made that sort of comment about any of the Singleton clan. Even though she’d grumble occasionally about Joseph, the oldest, getting special treatment, it was good-natured griping. She loved her mom, her dad, and even the brothers who delighted in tormenting their baby sister. What happened?

  “So you’ll do some sort of bait and switch,” Tilson says. “Do you think it will work?”

  Probably not, but I don’t want to admit that. “Yes, I think so. But we need to come up with a reasonably safe location for me to jump back to after I get the keys. Not Langley, not Katherine’s, and not your place, either. I don’t think we can assume any location Eve knew about is secure.”

  There are no disagreements on that point, so I go on. “Julia referred to this as a cell, so I’m guessing information is pretty compartmentalized, right? Do any of you know how this cell connects to the rest of the Fifth Column?”

  Tilson, Ben, and Charlayne exchange glances, and I don’t especially like what I’m reading in their eyes.

  “Oh, that’s just great—”

  “No, no.” Tilson holds up his hand. “It’s just . . . Julia’s backup for that kind of information is Max, and he’s not here.”

  I sigh. And though I’m not sure I like that any better than the information having died with Julia, I nod and say, “Okay. Next—the vaccine. Is it in a safe location?”

  Tilson nods, and this time he looks confident about the answer. “It’s not at my house, and I’m fairly certain that no one, not even Max, knows the location.”

  “Did Julia know?”

  “Yes.” His expression grows grim. “You’re thinking she may have given that information up.”

  “Actually, no. Simon said something that . . . well . . . I don’t think he knows about the vaccine. To be honest, I’m more worried she told Max.”

  Tilson considers this for a m
oment. “Unlikely. Max was Julia’s backup for political and bureaucratic connections. I was her backup for scientific connections. Senator Ellicott and the others were at the meeting yesterday because they’re at the nexus of those worlds. Ellicott is on some Senate health committee. Powers is with the CDC, and West is Homeland Security.”

  “Speaking of the vaccine,” Charlayne says, rummaging through her backpack. After a brief search, she pulls out a clear Ziploc bag containing two squat cylinders of some sort—one pink, one blue.

  “What are those?” I ask, eyeing the tubes with suspicion.

  “The vaccine. It’s like a rubber stamp. Doesn’t hurt a bit. I re-inked mine and Ben’s yesterday, which is why they’re both a little blurry. It was hard to line up with the original tattoo.”

  “This ink is temporary,” Bensen adds. “It’s intradermal, like the vaccine. And this is the same application device they’ve been using at the initiation ceremony for Acolytes since around 1940. Before that, everyone sat around waiting while someone actually tattooed your hand, but now they do that part a few days later. In private. In case you’re a wuss about needles, like Charlayne.”

  “Says the guy who squealed like a baby before the needles even touched his skin.” Charlayne reaches across the table for Trey’s hand.

  “Wait!” I grab her wrist. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

  “I used it on myself back in 2002,” Tilson says. “Right after they finished the last round of tests on rhesus monkeys. No side effects, other than irritation around the site for a few days.”

  I glance down at Tilson’s hand, which doesn’t have a tattoo.

  “The ink is only temporary,” Ben repeats. “It fades away in a few days.”

  “But . . . why use the ink at all?” Trey asks. “Couldn’t you give the vaccine without it?”

  Tilson shrugs. “Yes. But it was easier to simply re-create what the Cyrists did. And Julia thought we could pass this off as a recommitment ceremony for New Cyrists, once we learned their original tattoos didn’t carry the vaccine. It’s probably too late for that to matter now, but if this preemptive strike fails, it’s part of the backup plan.”