Infinityglass h-3

by Myra Mcentire

  “It’s already afternoon.” I wondered if she was in a different time zone. I strained to listen for background noises on her end of the line.

  “Why must you always split hairs?”

  “What do you want?” I dropped down onto the red velvet cushion and watched a dragonfly repeatedly crash into the window. I figured they’d all have taken to the swamps with the recent cold snap.

  “You’ve usually hung up by this point in our conversations. What’s stopping you today?”

  Poe. The fact that my mother always had me on a hook. The endless pull between wanting her approval and wishing she didn’t exist at all. It tore at me constantly, leaving my insides busted up and oozing. “I know you want something. Might as well find out what it is now.”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Please.”

  She sighed. “There’s something you and Poe retrieved for your father. I need to know its location.”

  “Oh. That’s why I rank a phone call.”

  “You rank a phone call because you’re my daughter.”

  “Don’t.” I knew it was wrong to roll around in all my upper handedness, but damned if it didn’t feel good. “You know my involvement ends after the jobs are done. I’m not privy to the location of things, and I seriously doubt Dad would leave whatever you’re looking for lying around for some idiot to come across.”

  The implication that she was the idiot remained unspoken, but I rolled around and got dirty in it, too.

  She paused. “It doesn’t have to be this way between us.”

  I stared at the dragonfly, still bumping against the glass. You’d think it would’ve given up by now.

  “Yes, it does. Maybe you should call Dad. Maybe he’ll accidentally pick up, and you can try to weasel the answer out of him.”

  I knew she’d already tried. The Poe information had been offered up to try to grease the wheel, and when she hadn’t gotten anything from Dad, she’d bounced to me. Good thing Dad and I could always see her coming.

  “Don’t hang up on me, Hallie.” It was said in a definite “mother” tone.

  “You almost sound like you’re pulling the parent discipline card. And I know that didn’t just happen.” My grip on the phone was deathly. I breathed in through my nose, down to my stomach, like Gina taught me. When I exhaled through my mouth, I loosened my fingers. “Can we be done now?”

  “Did you tell your father that you were seeing ripples?”

  How did she know?

  “I’m not a traveler,” I said cautiously. “Why would I see rips?”

  “You aren’t the only one. So am I. It’s impacting everyone with the time gene. Poe, too.”

  The mention of Poe sparked my anger, but I didn’t show it. Giving her the satisfaction of knowing how much it bugged me would burn me from the inside out. I wanted to ask her where he was, but held back on that, too. It wasn’t like I could trust her answer, anyway.

  “I talked to Amelia and Zooey,” she continued, and I could swear I heard a tinge of smug. “They both tell me the usual rules don’t apply anymore. They used to be able to talk to a rip when they saw one, singular. Now they see multiples, and the rips don’t acknowledge them.”

  Someone was going to need to get on the horn and tell A. and Z. to keep their traps shut when it came to my mom.

  “Thanks for the info.” If she thought I was giving her anything in exchange, she’d cracked. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “Seeing rips isn’t all that’s happening to you, is it, Hallie?”

  So sly. Trepidation coiled in my gut. “What do you mean?”

  She paused for a minute, and I could see her pacing as she considered what to say, looking out a window onto an unknown city.

  “Your cells are regenerating faster and faster. All your faculties now operate at optimal performance. You’re getting stronger every day.”

  I sniffed. “I hope it’s after five wherever you are, because you sound like you’re three sheets to the wind.”

  “You aren’t sleeping. Your mouth can’t keep up with your brain. I can help you, Hallie.” Her voice was soft, but there was nothing gentle about it. “I’m your mother, and you can trust me.”

  I bit back a laugh.

  “Say the word. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll be there.”

  “Here’s a word. Good-bye.”

  “Remember the bedtime stories?” she asked before I could hang up.

  I stilled, my grip on the phone tightening again. She was persistent. I’d give her that.

  “The ones I used to tell you about an object with abilities that couldn’t be imagined. The Infinityglass had power that could change worlds. You used to believe in that power.”

  Our bedtime ritual had been my one constant when Mom lived with us. From the time I was a preschooler until I was ten, every night, I had my bath, a cup of chamomile tea, and story time with my mama. Then she left.

  To this day, the smell of chamomile gave me a stomachache.

  “Turns out it wasn’t an object, Hallie. It was a person. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? You can feel it.”

  “I can’t feel anything.” I meant it, just not in the way she was referring to.

  “When you decide you want to know the truth, I’m a phone call away.”

  “If I wanted the truth, Mother, I most certainly wouldn’t get it from you.”

  I disconnected, and dropped the phone on the red velvet cushion.

  Chapter 4

  Dune

  When the cab dropped me off in front of the Georgian Apartments, I asked the driver to double-check we were at the right address. A brown portico extended over the entryway, and deep green ivy covered the entire facade. I stepped onto the sidewalk, finally understanding how huge the southern live oaks were.

  What I didn’t understand was how a job as a faux security guard had scored me a place in a swank apartment building like this one.

  The lobby was just as impressive, black-and-white-tiled floors, tasteful art, chandeliers that sparkled, and a doorman in a uniform. I walked past him to the manager’s office and found a college-aged girl sitting behind a receptionist desk. “I’m Dune Ta’ala. I’m looking for Jodi.”

  “That’s me,” she said brightly, giving me the once-over. “Welcome. Here’s your new resident information. The key card inside will get you to your floor. At some point, I’ll need to make a copy of your driver’s license, but go ahead and get settled first.”

  “Thanks.” I took the envelope from her hand, barely brushing her fingers with mine. Her face flushed pink.

  “I’ll be happy to take you up if you’d like.”

  “I think I can handle it.” I smiled at her. Thought about asking for her number. Probably not a good idea to get involved with someone who had access to your apartment and could see you entering and leaving your building. Or to get involved with anyone at all, considering I came to New Orleans with a job to do.

  “Nice to meet you, Jodi.”

  “Nice to meet you back.” She giggled a little, and then bit her lip as she forced composure. “The elevator is to your right. The key card inside will—wait. I already said that.”

  “No worries,” I said, flashing another smile. “Important information bears repeating.”

  “In that case, my name is Jodi. And I’m here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons.”

  “Duly noted.”

  I left the office, feeling her eyes on me as I went. I entered the elevator, pushed the button for the fourth floor, and put the flirting out of my mind. I stepped out of the elevator and opened the door to 4B.

  The apartment wasn’t empty.

  “What the hell …”

  “Come on in.” Poe Sharpe sat on the couch. “Pardon me if I don’t get up.”

  His bloodshot eyes were sunk deep in his pale face. His battered body held a liver that nearly took a nosedive and blood that had once belonged to someone else.

  “What
are you doing here? I thought you were still in ICU.” I dropped my suitcases beside the door.

  “Me being here is part of Paul and Liam’s plan to keep me off Teague’s radar. That’s why they didn’t tell you.” The recently removed breathing tube left his voice scratchy, and fatigue made his accent heavy. “But, please, check with Liam to confirm. I would, if I were in your position.”

  I didn’t want to be an asshole and jump for the phone, but I didn’t want to get stabbed in my sleep, either.

  “Really, I insist. I’ll be right here. I’ve been a couch potato since I ported in. The recent skewering kind of took it out of me.”

  “Liam’s getting ready to get on the plane for Nashville, so I’ll go ahead and call.” Flimsy excuse. I stepped out to the hall and dialed.

  “You found Poe, I assume?” Liam asked, in lieu of saying hello.

  “Maybe you could’ve warned me?” I paced back and forth. “Why is he in my apartment?”

  “You’re in his. When I visited Poe in the hospital at Vanderbilt, I asked a lot of questions, and he gave a lot of answers. The right answers.”

  I stopped, watching the arrows on the wall light up as the elevators traveled from floor to floor. “I know he saved Em’s and Michael’s lives, but he’s done some pretty damn questionable things, too, Liam.”

  “Here are the basics. Poe can give you details. When he helped Teague, he truly believed he was working for Chronos. She lied to him, and Jack manipulated his memories. When he discovered the truth and confronted them, Jack stabbed him. He ignored his injuries to save Em and Michael, and showed up on the front lawn of the Hourglass.”

  “Okay.” An acknowledgment that I heard him, not that I understood.

  “Your being in the apartment will help hide the fact he’s there, as an excuse for lights and sounds and motion. He’ll help you in any way he can, and you just have to believe me when I tell you that he’s trustworthy.”

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  “I need a more coherent answer than that, Dune.”

  I heard the last call for the Nashville flight come over the airport loudspeaker and through the phone. “Okay is kind of all I’ve got at the moment.”

  “They’re boarding my plane. Talk to Poe. Call me in a couple of hours if you want confirmation. All right?”

  “All right.”

  Liam laughed. “At least it’s not okay.”

  I stepped back into the apartment and looked at Poe. “So … hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry to crash, and thanks for the room. I wouldn’t like recovering with someone new in my apartment.”

  “I wouldn’t like moving into my new apartment and finding a roommate. You’re providing a cover for me.” Poe shrugged. “How about we’re just mutually appreciative?”

  I nodded and grabbed my bags.

  Poe pointed to the left. “Your room is that way.”

  A light blue quilt covered the queen-sized bed. A walnut dresser stood against one wall, a matching desk on the other. I put my suitcases on the bed and wondered how much Chronos paid per job. How could one guy afford a two-bedroom in one of the nicest apartment buildings in the Garden District? Poe was nineteen, and he was living large. Really, really large.

  I checked out the rest of the place. Hardwood floors linked a large living area with a kitchen. The walls were a soft yellow, and the furniture was low and modern, all in neutral colors. It smelled like laundry detergent and fabric softener. The spice rack was organized alphabetically. The canisters on the counter were arranged largest to smallest. A dishcloth and towel were both folded in exact thirds.

  I went back into the living area. “You either have a maid, or you’re OCD.”

  “Hope that’s not a problem.”

  “So not a problem.” I thrived on order. The pool house I’d been living in with Michael and Nate had been nice, but obviously overrun by teenage boys for a few years. This place made me feel like an adult.

  “Thanks for keeping me off the streets.” He readjusted his position on the couch pillows. “You interviewed with Paul today. And you start tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m lucky he believed me and grateful to Liam for helping Paul understand that Teague and Jack tricked me. Paul Girard isn’t the kind of guy you want on your bad side. Same goes for his daughter. And, by the way, Hallie doesn’t know I’m back. We should probably keep it that way for a little while.”

  “You two were friends?”

  “We still are, I hope. The hardest thing about all of this has been not being able to talk to her.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “The less she knows, the safer she is. Teague has lied about everything. Everything. Your job is getting to the bottom of those lies, and I’ll be happy to help you, if you want it.”

  I gazed down on the perfect, streetlamp-lit view of Saint Charles. The trolley whizzed by. My stomach jumped when I thought about meeting Hallie. “What’s she like?”

  “Demanding. Occasionally bitchy, but she has good reasons. Just so you’re prepared, she has a way about her.”

  “What kind of way?” I asked.

  “Sexy.” Satisfaction ghosted across Poe’s face. “Like you’ve never seen.”

  “You’re together?”

  “Friends. Hallie knows what she wants and how to ask for it. How to get it. I was fun, and that was it. She manages to play, even though she’s basically trapped in that house. There was an accident a few years back. So now she goes on Chronos jobs, and she dances seriously. Otherwise, ivory tower.”

  “What about school?”

  “Online. College classes. She finished high school at sixteen. She’s a genius.” Poe grinned. “All I can say is good luck.”

  A sneaky, sexy genius with a target on her back.

  I’d need all the luck I could get.

  Chapter 5

  Hallie, One Week Later

  “I told you, Dad. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “As I’ve explained several thousand times, you are a minor. You live under my roof. You need what I say you need.”

  “He’s creepy.”

  “How?”

  “He looks at me.”

  “He’s your bodyguard, Hallie. What’s he supposed to look at? He’s staying. I’m your father. What I say goes, and I’m done having this conversation.”

  I stepped out of Dad’s office, slammed the door behind me, and turned my anger on the unreasonably hot yet still annoying bodyguard. “You”—I pointed a finger in his face—“are a complete pain in my ass.”

  He blinked and looked terrified, which was comforting, considering I was the one he was supposed to be protecting.

  “Stay at least ten feet away. And stop looking at me.”

  I went through bodyguards the way insolent children went through nannies. It wasn’t that I hated them personally; it was just that I didn’t have anything else to do. It usually took me under a week to sneak out, lose their tail, and get them fired. This one chapped my ass more aggressively than most, because he was inside my house. Outside my room. Constantly around. Always watching. I expected today to be his last.

  He followed me through the courtyard into the kitchen after my morning dance class, on my heels like a puppy at dinnertime, sealing his fate. I showered and went down to the kitchen in my robe. My shortest robe. Once I finished my yogurt, I scraped the bottom of the container for the last bite. He watched me walk to the trash can, step on the pedal, and dispose of the plastic.

  “Oh.” I tapped the silver spoon against my bottom lip. “Should I recycle?”

  The only response was the controlled stare I’d learned to expect.

  “Okay, then.” I dropped my utensil in the sink and left the kitchen.

  He was, of course, right behind me.

  “Do you sleep?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Pain in the ass or not, he was pretty to look at, with short black hair and a broad face. Gray green eyes with smile lines around them,
though he couldn’t have been over twenty. Maybe not shredded, but strong. His body had presence. “I only ask because you’ve been here constantly. For three days. Don’t you ever need to eat? How about pee?”

  His lips twitched and I thought I’d won a smile, but he cut it off before it could bloom. I made sure to put a little swing in my step when I turned around to go upstairs.

  He sighed and followed.

  At the top, I spun around and caught him off guard. He grabbed at the curved banister to keep his balance. “Tell me something,” I said. “Anything. I’ll even settle for your name.”

  Stoic stance. No facial expression.

  “Is my father paying you a crap ton of money not to talk or what?”

  Now he focused on something behind me instead of me and leaned forward like he was ready to take another step.

  I was all hands on hips, blocking his way. “Talk to me. About anything. The NFL? The NBA? Heck, the WWE?”

  From the way his mouth shaped itself, I thought he could be biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing.

  “Have you been lobotomized?” I spoke slowly, with perfect enunciation, and mimicked sawing my own head open.

  He gave his head a slight shake and stared at the floor. This time he couldn’t stop the smile.

  Gotcha.

  “Look at that,” I said. “Signs of intelligent life.”

  Maybe his brain muscle was as well developed as the rest of them.

  “Are you going to your room,” he asked, “or back downstairs?”

  “He has a voice!” A deep one. “Wherever you’ll follow. That’s where.”

  “I’m your bodyguard,” he said in a monotone. “I have to follow you.”

  “To the ends of the earth.”

  “Your room or back downstairs?” he repeated.

  In one quick movement, I reached up and pulled off his earpiece. It slapped down against his chest. “Turn it off.”

  He clicked a button, and the green indicator light switched to red.

  “I’m staying right here. You’re going to talk to me,” I said.

  The downstairs door slammed shut. We both jumped, and his whole body tensed.