Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3)

by Rysa Walker

  “Maybe Saul forced him to choose?” June says in a softer voice. “And Simon’s never been the type you want to back into a corner. Saul should have known that.”

  The sound of a slamming door in the distance reminds me that I probably don’t have much time before Prudence joins us. “Could we just back up a bit? Back to the part where you helped Prudence find my mom? Because I’m having a hard time getting past that.”

  Kiernan sighs. “Prudence has debated contacting her sister every single day I’ve known her. All I did was say it might not be a bad idea.”

  “Which intentionally put Mom in harm’s way!”

  “Your mother is safe, Kate. So is Katherine.”

  This is the second or third time he’s told me this. “I get that you’re trying to be reassuring, but it really isn’t helping since there’s no way you can know that.”

  “Yes. I can. They’re both at the Sixteenth Street Temple. They’re both okay.” He pulls the CHRONOS key out of his shirt and scans for a stable point. “Do you want to see them?”

  I clench my teeth, angry tears springing to my eyes. “You know damned well I do.”

  I snatch his key toward me. Once I stabilize the view, I see Katherine and Mom in a dimly lit room. The time stamp is 8:45, right after Kiernan and I left Katherine’s house with Prudence. Mom and Katherine are seated facing each other across a metal bench-style table. It looks familiar, kind of like a gym or . . .

  It’s the room where Trey and I attended the Cyrist youth meeting. Mom and Katherine are eating doughnuts. Neither of them seems too enthusiastic about it, but their hands aren’t tied. They look much more comfortable than either of them did when Simon let me see them earlier.

  Two men are seated at the next table, talking. I don’t recognize either of them. There are guns on the table in front of them. Two Dobermans, quite possibly the two that I fought in the other timeline, rest nearby.

  There’s a flash of blue light as one of the doors along the wall opens. Another man enters, and I do recognize him. It’s Kiernan.

  I break eye contact with the medallion and stare up at him. “How?”

  “Come on, Kate, you know how.”

  “Fine then. Why? When?”

  “Because we need someone on the inside. We’re walking a bloody tightrope, and we need every advantage we can get. I’m the reason the phone is still on your mom. I made sure I was the one who searched her. I even slipped Katherine some pain medicine around five, and while I don’t think it’s what she usually takes, she’s doing okay. They’re both okay. And when? On and off between all of my other jumps. This was . . . between leaving you in 2308 and giving Max your coordinates.”

  “How long are you there?”

  “Until around nine-ten. Then I went back to my time. Rested up a few days, then jumped to the location you gave me at the hotel.”

  I understand a little better how Connor and the others feel now, because I’m ticked off that he left me waiting there in a Juvapod in 2308 while he made all of these side trips. And that’s stupid. I waited exactly the same amount of time either way, but it still feels inconsiderate.

  “But why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve been worried sick—”

  “And so have I!” he yells. “I’ve been worried for the past six years! Hiding away for weeks on end so I’d be able to use the key to spend a day with Pru and get information to feed Simon. A few more weeks at the cabin, or at Jess’s, so that I could spend a day feeding Simon that info and then doing whatever the hell he wanted, because it almost always included two or three jumps—another bloody Yankees game, popping up in the middle of some battlefield, planting ourselves into the crowd scene in some film. Do you know how many movies have me and Simon in them now? At least a dozen, including that one with the DeLorean.”

  He stops for a second, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “So . . . I get that you’re angry, love, but don’t talk to me about being worried for a few hours, okay? No offense, but you’re not the best actress, and you’re being watched when you’re there. You needed to look scared. You needed to look worried. And don’t blame me for lying to you about any of this. Not when you know bloody well you’d have lied to me every hour of every day if someone was holding Trey.”

  I have every reason to still be angry, no matter what Kiernan has just said, but it’s hard to ignore the anguish in his voice. And while I’m not comfortable with some of the choices he’s made, he’s dead on with that last statement about Trey. I know it, and he knows I know it, so we might as well just move on.

  “We don’t have time for this discussion,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm.

  “I agree. But I need you to trust me . . .” He pauses, probably because I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration at those two words. “I need you to trust me if we’re going to get through the rest of this. Anything I’ve done has been to keep you—both versions of you—and everyone else safe.”

  Another door bangs shut, closer this time. I jump to my feet, turning toward the sound. It seems to have come from the direction of the barn. A moment later, Prudence barrels down the path between the buildings, her body leaning forward, her face pressed close to the horse’s white mane.

  Kiernan mutters a curse. “June, can you follow her in the jeep? Maybe it’s best that she has something to occupy her for a bit, but we do need to keep her in sight.” June nods, and he adds, “Oh, and is that key you’ve got in the field expander the one my Kate was wearing?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because I need to run a test before Kate meets Kate.”

  ∞22∞

  ESTERO, FLORIDA

  July 13, 2030, 10:47 a.m.

  It’s not the same as being in the room with the other Other-Me, the one at Katherine’s during the fire. No feedback loop this time, and this Kate is so thin and so obviously pregnant that even though I was in an almost identical toga not so long ago, I don’t feel like I’m looking in the mirror. But it’s the nonphysical similarities that are the most eerie. We’ve jinxed each other three times in the past five minutes. It’s to the point where we both hesitate momentarily before speaking, certain we’re about to make the exact same observation.

  Her right hand, the one with knuckles chafed like my own, grips Kiernan’s arm fiercely, almost as though she’s scared he’ll vanish if she lets go. Two pairs of black cuffs secure her to the bed—one around her left wrist and the other around her right ankle. Her upper arms are marked with small circular bruises where someone—Conwell, probably—grabbed her.

  The good news? We don’t carry the same key. I sat outside, under the protection of my spare, for ten minutes while Kiernan was inside this CHRONOS field with the other one. And then he tested my spare key, too. All of the keys are still here. It was more a case of double-checking, anyway, since Other-Kate says the key in this field-extender gizmo of Simon’s is Katherine’s original key—the one Katherine wore at CHRONOS, the first key I ever held, the one I’m pretty sure Katherine is wearing today.

  The field extender, wedged into a corner of the examination room near the sink, is an odd contraption. It looks kind of steam-punk to me. The only similarity to Connor’s gadget is that it extends the range of the key. It’s shaped a bit like a hand mirror, with the CHRONOS key embedded in a wire brace at the top, and has a long handle that branches off into two separate grips. Dozens of booster cells are attached to the clinic walls. They look more like stick-up air fresheners than the tiny booster cells Connor uses to extend the range of the key to clothing or other items.

  “No,” she says, tapping the sheet of paper where Kiernan is making a note. “Sydney was before Brussels. Patrick would hand over the tray, I’d say a few words to bless it before giving it to the Templar to distribute. And then we’d leave. And I think most of the district leaders—whoever those forty people were who got the vials—believed they were something that would save the faithful, not the thing that’s going to kill them.”

  “But the regional Te
mplars know?” I ask.

  “I think so. Rio was the last jump, the only one where there was a public appearance. Simon and Conwell argued about it. Conwell wanted it, Simon didn’t, since he was worried Saul might see, might notice differences between me and Younger Pru. And Simon was livid that I made a scene. He said my screaming out like that could ruin everything. Big fight between him and Conwell. Simon wanted to go back and change it so I never gave the speech, but Conwell wasn’t down with that. When we came back here, Simon was raging about how Saul would figure out he’d saved me, and now he’d probably have to kill all of us—me, Mom, Katherine, even Pru—just to shut Saul up. He didn’t mention killing you, Kiernan, so I guess you’re still his golden boy.”

  There’s a teasing note to her voice, and she smiles as Kiernan strings together several choice words about Simon.

  “But,” Kiernan says, “we’d better hope I’m still in his good graces. Otherwise getting your mum and Katherine out of the temple is going to be complicated.”

  He’s looking at her when he says it, and I really want to scream that it’s my mother and my Katherine in danger. I squash it down because it’s unfair, unkind, and unimportant—and because it hurts to even think about the fact that Mom and Katherine, not to mention Dad and Connor, don’t exist in her timeline. Or do they just exist without her?

  “Did Saul figure out that Simon didn’t erase you?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. The last I saw of Simon was when he dropped me here at the clinic. I fainted back in Rio. Just after I threw up on Conwell’s shoes.”

  “Why did Simon bring you here? Or rather, now?”

  “I guess because he knew June would be here. And probably Saul. June took care of me when I nearly miscarried a few months ago. It was . . . earlier . . . an earlier time period, though, maybe 1960s? The medical equipment in here doesn’t change much, but . . .” She nods toward the screen on the wall. “That was a small square box with rabbit ears when I was here before. Black and white. I spent about a week watching Gilligan’s Island and a bunch of other old shows, but they weren’t reruns. This time when we arrived, I didn’t find out we were in the same time as Saul until June found the body. Simon wanted me to leave when he did, but June told him I needed at least a day to rest before I jump again. It’s partly the pregnancy, but mostly it’s that thing.” She gives the field extender a hateful look.

  “I get that it extends the CHRONOS field, but why does it make you sick?”

  “It makes everybody sick,” Kiernan says. “It was designed by one of the guys who joined the Koreshans back in my time. He came down with Edison one summer and stayed. I think he worked with Tesla before that. Kind of an oddball. I talked to him occasionally. Saul sent back some plans, and the guy spent a couple of years working on the bloody thing. I think the principle is the same as the device Connor put together, except it allows two people with the gene to jump using a single key. It’s fine for the person actually holding the key, but hell on the hitchhiker, especially for really long jumps. I tried it a few times, since Simon thought it might be a solution to my difficulties jumping, a way that I could bounce around time with him even when I was tapped out.”

  “He keeps going, and going, and going,” Other-Kate says softly, and a smile sneaks across her face. Kiernan rolls his eyes and returns the smile, but neither of them bothers to explain what’s so amusing.

  How cute. They have a shared joke.

  And although that really shouldn’t annoy me, it kind of does, so I direct their attention back to the device. “But why would Saul need it? Didn’t you say they had at least as many keys as jumpers?”

  “Yes,” Kiernan says, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from Other-Kate. “I think the original idea was to maximize the number of people with the gene who could travel under a single key before Pru got the ones from CHRONOS. But it was probably a control thing, too. Anyone with a key had a lot of autonomy. They could change things Saul didn’t want changed, and maybe he was a bit jealous that Pru and the rest of us had the freedom to go place to place when he was stuck here. For that matter, more freedom than Saul had at CHRONOS. Eventually people stopped using the gadget. They’d wait until someone—Saul, Simon, or Pru—gave them access to a key rather than feeling disoriented, or worse, puking your guts out after tagging along with that thing.”

  “So that’s how Conwell’s taken you along to pose as Sister Pru?” I ask Other-Kate. “And how Simon took you on the trips to watch Kiernan’s show at Norumbega?” She nods, and I add, “But . . . if it made you sick . . . why go? I mean, those trips to see Kiernan were—”

  “My idea, yes,” she says, ripping the words out of my mouth. “It was stupid. I just kept thinking he’d look out and see me in the crowd. That he would put it all together . . . the stars on the ceiling . . . and somehow he’d know I was—” She catches Kiernan’s expression out of the corner of her eye. “No! It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing. Of course, Simon knew the whole damned time that she was around, that you’d never even realized . . .”

  The word she sounds a bit accusatory. I guess Other-Kate realizes it, too, because she quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m not blaming you, either. It’s just . . . all of this is new to me. I’m trying to get a handle on things. I didn’t know about you until Kiernan told me just now and . . . Simon took advantage of that. Hmph. Of course, he took advantage. He’s freakin’ Simon.”

  “It’s okay . . . Kate.” I force myself to use the name. It’s as much hers as it is mine. “Could we just get back to the vials?”

  I’m pretty sure the look on her face is the same one I wear when I’m annoyed and don’t want to admit it. I doubt she likes being chided for straying off task any more than I do, especially when I’m the one who keeps asking questions.

  “Fine.” She looks back at Kiernan. “If you activate the key, I’ll walk you through the jumps—although we went into an adjoining room for two of them. The date coordinates are easy. September 11th, 8:45 a.m., Eastern Standard. Just adjust the time zone for each temple.”

  “That’s when—” I begin.

  She nods, finishing the sentence. “When the first plane hit the twin towers on 9/11. Yeah. Guess they couldn’t resist. But it makes it easier in a way—since they’re all hit at the same moment, they won’t have time to contact the other temples to warn them.”

  Kiernan runs his hand across the front of the device that holds the key, and I discover another difference. Usually when you pull up a stable point, only the person holding the key can see the location. Even if there are others in the room with the gene, it’s a one-person show. This time, however, I can see small beams of light projecting from the key. I guess that would be necessary if two people were blinking in—

  “What if two people are supposed to jump but only one blinks?” I ask. “Or only one holds the handle?”

  “If the person holding the device has firm contact with the second jumper, she still travels,” Other-Kate says, her eyes flicking down toward the bruises on her arm. “But the side effects are magnified in that case. I guess the brain has less chance to . . . acclimate to the location, since it doesn’t have the visual. It’s disorienting. No one does that twice, believe me.”

  “Pull that chair over here so you can see,” Kiernan says, nodding toward the space just to his right. “Or . . . um . . .” He glances at me, then back to his Kate. “Maybe the other side of the bed there would work better.”

  It wouldn’t. Other-Kate only has one free hand, so he’ll have to lean across her in order for all three of us to see. But he’s clearly feeling awkward about being too close to me in her presence. I flash back to the memory of the two of us outside his cabin the day he was shot in Copenhagen, my hands in his hair, my legs wrapped around his waist. A hot flush rises to my cheeks, and I tug the chair around to the other side of the hospital bed without comment.

  Kiernan pulls up the first location, and I see a small auditorium. I instinctively flick my eyes sharpl
y to the left in order to pan, but the view shifts down to these specks of colored light glimmering on the wooden floor and then up again to the right. That’s when I realize it’s not responding to me but to Kiernan, since he’s the one holding the device.

  A flash of white comes into view. It’s Other-Kate’s dress . . . the one she’s wearing now or else a carbon copy.

  “How long ago was this for you?”

  “Three days. I think. It’s hard to keep track when . . .” She chuckles softly. “Never mind. You know that as well as I do. Anyway, this first jump is in Sydney.”

  In the display, she and Conwell walk toward a middle-aged woman wearing a gray dress and a long gold brocade clerical scarf like the one I remember seeing Conwell himself wear at the temple. He’s not wearing it now, so I guess it’s something reserved for the six regional Templars.

  “That’s Jeanine,” Kiernan says. “Regional Templar for East Asia.”

  She’s pretty, with dark hair and pale skin. In fact, she looks like Saul and . . . someone else, but I can’t quite make the connection. Her smile is nervous as she leads the two of them toward a doorway.

  “The other Templars were waiting in the main chapel,” Other-Kate says. “There were about forty of them. Conwell said a few words, supposedly on behalf of Brother Cyrus, and then I led them all in the Creed. Afterward, I blessed the vials—they’re in this round holder that I’m pretty sure is a communion tray. Anyway, I say a line from the Book of Prophecy. ‘We cleanse the Earth that we may find mercy.’ And then we leave.”

  She talks us through the other four jumps. We also take a peek at the one she hasn’t taken yet—to the Sixteenth Street Temple—just long enough to see Conwell and Other-Kate arrive in the large atrium near the bookstore. Apparently our finding her wasn’t enough to change things, and she’s still on course to make that jump with Conwell. That’s unnerving. We quickly move on to the next jump.