“I need to close up. Now.”
“But the ring.” I gestured toward it when he began to put it back in the case. “Your sign says, ‘Open twenty-four hours,’ and the ring—”
“We’ll be open again at ten A.M.” His voice was firm. “Come back then.”
I huffed. “Your customer service is terrible.”
“Complain to the management. There’s a suggestion box. Outside.”
My cell screen lit up the inside of my purse:
911 GET ME OUT 911
Poe was not an all-caps kind of guy.
Desperate now, I held up one finger and tossed my blue hair over my shoulders. “Does the NOLA PD know what you keep behind that big door?”
Danny looked at the flashing light on the camera once more before he shoved the ring back into the case. “You don’t need to worry about what’s behind that door. You just need to leave. Now.” He came out from behind the counter and cupped my elbow in his hand, trying to steer me out of the store.
Nothing pissed me off more than being manhandled. Unless I’d asked to be.
“Let go of me.” I jerked away and clutched my arm. “That hurt.”
“Does a hundred-dollar ring really mean so much that you can’t come back to get it tomorrow?”
“You said two hundred!”
“You’re familiar, somehow. You haven’t been in here before, have you?” He squinted and lifted up his glasses like an old man. “I know your voice.… ”
The one thing I hadn’t figured out how to do was manipulate my vocal cords.
Shock and surprise broke through my concentration, and I could feel my disguise slip a little. Danny blinked in recognition. “Wait a second. You sold me the ring! What the hell is going on?”
A cell phone on the counter began to vibrate, and the accompanying ringtone was a repeating air horn. Danny turned around, and I did the only logical thing I could. I picked up the stool from behind the register and hit him over the head with it.
I didn’t put all my strength into the move, because unlike my father, I didn’t make murder a hobby. Danny still went down hard. Once I knew he was out, I took his key ring off his belt. I navigated my fingers through his hair to get to his skull. Big knot, no blood, nothing concave.
He was probably fine.
I took the ring from the case, left a hundred-dollar bill in its place, and then dropped it into my bag. Once I found the right key, I opened the vault door and pulled it closed behind me. A corridor stretched thirty feet before taking a sharp right turn. Strobe lights near the ceiling signaled a silent alarm.
If any cameras existed, they were well hidden. I let my face and body go back to their natural state. When I reached the turn, I took a quick listen before peeking around the corner. I’d expected some sort of chaos, or at least a guard. All I saw was more tunnel.
I went farther and farther as the strobe lights continued to pulse. The lack of windows made the walls close in and tripped off a rare bout of claustrophobia. By the time I reached the next open space, my chest was tight. Even though I was freezing, sweat trickled down my back. Once again, I listened before turning the corner. Good thing.
Voices echoed against the slick surfaces of the walls and floors. One was Poe’s; I could tell by the lilt of his English accent. The other was male and cocky.
“I won’t tell anyone what you have here,” Poe said. “You can just let me go.”
“Someone already knows what I have or you wouldn’t be here.” A lighter flicked, and a shadow appeared on the wall across from me. “Paul Girard sent you.”
Cigarette smoke wafted toward me, and my body shook with the effort to stay still.
“We’ve discussed joining forces, but couldn’t reach agreeable terms. He leans too far toward greed for my comfort.”
Join forces, my ass. My dad didn’t play well with others.
The man’s shadow grew smaller, his voice louder. He had to be inches away. I reached into the side pocket of my bag. The timing needed to be perfect.
Heels clicked on the concrete floor. “If you came to work for me instead of him, I could make it worth your while.”
“I’m not interested in working for anyone,” Poe said. “I’m telling you—”
“Tell me this,” the man said. “Are you interested in being alive?”
I raised my stun gun and stepped around the corner. “Are you?”
The man’s eyes went wide when I tagged him in the chest. He hit the ground like a full sack of groceries, his limbs akimbo, still twitching. A wet spot spread across the front of his pants.
I looked up at Poe, who exhaled in relief. He had a fat lip and a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, and his left wrist was handcuffed to a doorknob.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I ported into the worst possible place. The guy was on me in seconds. He’s the only one I saw, but I’m pretty sure he was waiting for backup.”
“I hit the backup in the head with a stool. He shouldn’t be a problem.”
“That’s my girl.” Poe used his bloody right hand to gesture to his left. “I’m going to need a little help. Our friend with the bladder control problem made damn sure I wasn’t going to get close enough to a veil to port out of here.”
I checked the guy for the key to the cuffs, found it, and set Poe free.
“Do I want to know how you know what a handcuff key looks like?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Let’s move.” Poe slipped his knife out of his boot and I followed him into a long, wide room with a chill factor worthy of iceberg storage. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
Poe scanned the room, muttering under his breath. “NT27. NT27. NT27—here.”
The labeled shelf held a clock made of solid glass, with no internal hardware, but wildly spinning hands. An astrological chart beside it displayed lit, moving stars. A flat jewelry box held rings in different sizes. Some of them glowed.
“There.” Poe pointed with the knife. “To the far left.”
A small wooden chest stood open, revealing a pocket watch nestled in black velvet. It was the size of a half-dollar, the metal shiny, but not reflective. I picked it up. It was warm rather than cold. The gears on the back were exposed, but that was the only remarkable feature.
“I am not impressed. At all.”
“You don’t have to be.” Poe tilted his head toward the open door. “Let’s go.”
“What about the other stuff?” I pointed to the rings and moving star chart. “We can’t leave it here.”
“What you’re holding was handmade by Nikola Tesla. Thanks to his skills, it’s more than a pocket watch—”
“Obviously.”
“And,” Poe continued, “worth more than everything in this room combined. Take it, and hurry, or you’re going to end up fighting your way out of here.”
I tucked the watch into my purse, and then I froze. Footsteps. More than one set.
“Too late.” I looked at Poe and then handed him my bag. “Leave. Go while you can. I’ll find a way to get out.”
“Shut up.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the door to the storage room. He stopped and seemed to weigh his options. Before I could ask him what he was considering, he wrapped his arms around my waist and took a step back.
Time stopped.
Aching pressure closed around my heart and tightened like a fist. My lungs couldn’t take in oxygen; blood didn’t circulate through my veins. I was colder than I’d ever been, and then hotter. Pressure built up in my ears, like I was traveling over a high mountain or descending too fast while scuba diving.
Poe jerked me to one side and my feet were on solid ground again. All the pressure disappeared, but my head was still spinning.
I leaned over and retched.
“Hallie?” The timbre and tone of Poe’s voice resonated as if he were speaking inside my head. I opened my eyes and saw distinct variations of color in his irises. “Are you o
kay?”
“What … the hell … was that?”
If he answered, I didn’t hear him, because I was throwing up again.
Poe’s hand was on my back. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“If barfing in bushes equals okay, then I am super.”
He gathered my fake blue hair to hold it away from my face. I ripped the wig off and threw it down on the ground. I cupped my hands over my ears to stop the ringing before moving them to my eyes. They wouldn’t stop tearing. I sat and put my head between my knees. A few minutes later, my hearing and vision returned to normal, and my stomach ceased the Tilt-a-Whirl. I was down to dry heaves now.
“What just happened?” I stood up slowly and faced Poe.
“I teleported you.”
“But you can’t teleport anyone. That’s why I take cabs. You could’ve broken the whole of science. Or, you know, me.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, smoothing back my real hair. “Besides, we only moved a few miles, so I knew it would be fast.”
I jerked away from him. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”
“So next time, you want me to leave you to the mercy of men with guns?”
“Please do.” I answered, and then promptly vomited again. Good thing our sexual attraction had played out, or I’d be embarrassed and pissed off. Once my stomach had calmed down, I straightened up. “Where are we? Is this Lafayette Cemetery?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. No one else is here.”
“Except for the dead people. And what if a cop shows up?” After-hours entry was punishable by law, and I didn’t think Dad would be too happy if I got busted puking in a graveyard after hours. Oh, no, Officer, I haven’t been drinking. It was teleportation.
The effects were wearing off, but I still felt weak enough to wonder if there had been some kind of permanent damage. I followed Poe down the broken sidewalk in the dark. As we approached the front gate of the cemetery, the late shift of waiters from Commander’s Palace crowded onto the sidewalk across the street, laughing and teasing, not worried at all about keeping quiet or staying hidden.
“Get us out of here before someone sees us,” I said. Poe held out his hand and I took a step back. “I will only accept a cab or piggyback ride. No more whirlwinds through the space time continuum.”
“It’s a couple of blocks to your house. If you want to walk the rest of the way, will you at least let me help you?”
“Help, please.” I took the proffered arm, and we turned around.
And stopped dead.
A long trail of black-clad mourners snaked around the edge of the cemetery path. A solid mix of brass and percussion filled the air with the “Dead Man Blues,” and church bells pealed. The casket passed by, followed by a second line of mourners with parasols and handkerchiefs, stepping in time to the music.
A jazz funeral, in the middle of the night, yet somehow in the middle of the day.
Completely out of place.
Completely out of time.
Chapter 2
Dune, November, Ivy Springs
“The Infinityglass is what?”
Liam Ballard, head of the Hourglass, and my boss, regarded me from across his desk with a cautious expression. “Human.”
I sat back and let the notion settle in as I felt my eyes glaze over.
“Dune? Are you okay?” Liam asked.
I shook my head.
The Infinityglass was the freaking holy grail of time and believed to contain ultimate power over the space time continuum, among other things.
I’d been obsessed with it since I was a kid, heard endless stories about it from my dad, and imagined the Indiana Jones–type quest I’d eventually go on to find it.
Except that wasn’t going to happen now, because it was human.
“Please tell me what you know.” I leaned forward and gripped the edge of Liam’s desk.
“I did some research.” He tapped his fingers on a yellow legal pad full of chicken scratch. “Made a few phone calls. Got a few back. Went to the hospital to see Poe Sharpe.”
“Poe. What does he have to do with it?”
Liam hesitated. Did some more finger tapping. Met my eyes. “Quite a bit.”
“You’re looking at me like you think my head’s going to fly off and spin around the room.” My forced laugh hung uncomfortably in the air. “Poe’s not the Infinityglass, is he?”
“No. But you losing your head is a distinct possibility.”
“Nothing can be crazier than the Infinityglass being … human.” The word didn’t even sit right on my tongue.
“When Poe came to us in October and gave us the ultimatum from Teague to find Jack Landers, I believed the order came from Chronos.” Teague was the head of Chronos, otherwise known as the bad guys. Poe was her number-one henchman. Jack Landers was a world of trouble, who used to be second-in-command at the Hourglass. “I didn’t even question it.”
“Why would you?” I asked.
“Because I’m a scientist, and scientists are supposed to ask questions.” Liam rubbed his temples. “Instead, I assumed everything was as it had been when I left—that Teague was in charge—and that the Chronos operations were still based in Memphis.”
“But things have changed?”
“Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away, and things evolve, whether you pay attention or not.” Liam picked up a pen and started drawing on his legal pad, circling certain words over and over again. “Teague isn’t in charge, and Chronos is no longer based in Memphis. Not only that, Chronos isn’t our enemy.”
“After everything Poe and Teague did—”
“Teague was acting in her own interests. Poe was duped into carrying out orders issued by her, but he believed he was working for the real organization.”
“If Teague isn’t in charge of Chronos, who is?”
“Paul Girard. Teague’s estranged husband.”
“That doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. What am I missing?”
“It’s not one thing; it’s the combination of many. Lily’s the one who made me realize the Infinityglass is human.” Lily Garcia, the newest member of the Hourglass, had a supernatural ability to find anything or anyone. “She searched for an object and found nothing. Then she looked for a person and got an address.”
I actually put my hands on top of my head, wondering if its removal would be a relief at this point. “You know where the Infinityglass is.”
Liam nodded. “Who it is, too.”
“A him or a her?”
“A her.”
“Human … how?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. “Is she immortal?”
“She’s seventeen.”
“But the lore—not that it’s lore anymore—has been around forever. How can she be so young?”
“There’s an explanation, and I’m certain it’s as elusive as everything else about the Infinityglass.”
“She’s not safe.” It hit me that we were talking about a human. A life. More than a legend.
Liam rubbed his temples again. “She is for the moment, but probably not for long.”
The questions were coming too fast for me to keep up with my own brain. “Does she know what she is? Where is she?”
“I don’t know if she knows, and she’s in New Orleans, at the Girard’s home address.”
“The Girard’s home address. Teague’s home address?” My stomach pitched as I connected the dots. “Teague has the Infinityglass. She’s already beaten us to her.”
“By about seventeen years. I have reason to believe the Infinityglass is Teague Girard’s daughter.”
Holy hell.
“What I need to know now is”—Liam leaned forward and nailed me with a long stare—“are you going with me to find her?”
If I was going to get the Infinityglass, I was going to need to make some changes.
Nate’s mouth hung open so wide I could see his wisdom teeth. “You’re going to do what?”
“Cut them off.” I
dropped the clippers and the scissors on the kitchen counter with a clatter.
“Why? Dreads are sexy,” Lily said, earning a side glance from Kaleb. After he growled, she reached across the kitchen table to run her hand through his hair. He was growing it out after a skull trim. “But I like short better.”
“Maybe you should just leave it long, Dune,” Kaleb said to me, before grabbing her arm and putting his lips to her wrist.
I didn’t bother responding. Kaleb was too busy focusing on Lily and whatever he was doing to make her breath catch. Since they’d gotten together, they never stopped touching, and they were always at our place. The way they connected made me miss something I’d never had.
“It’s time for a change. Don’t you think?” I turned to Nate now, although if I were going to ask for style advice, his would be the last I’d take. His perpetually neon streak of hair was somewhere between pink and orange this week. “Besides, it’s only hair.”
“It’s not just hair,” Nate argued. “It’s your trademark.”
“It’s your excuse to call me Chewbacca.”
“I’ll just call you Bald Chewbacca now.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Fine.” Nate picked up the scissors and snapped them open and closed. A little too joyfully and a little too quickly. “If this is going to happen, do I get to do the honors?”
I preferred a gentle touch, but Lily and Kaleb had disappeared. Again.
“I guess so. Do not shoot for speed, Nate.” Nate had the ability to speed up or slow down his movements. “Aim for accuracy.”
Nate tapped the back of a chair and grinned.
I sat down and shut my eyes.
The bathroom mirror was steamy, so I used my ability to turn the gas to liquid. Condensation rolled down the glass in rivulets.
I stared at the image that remained, trying to adjust. My sideburns kept me from feeling like a plucked chicken, but the lack of hair was going to take some getting used to. I pulled on a pair of worn jeans and went back to the kitchen. Nate had bundled up the remains of my dreads and tied them in a pink ribbon.
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