“But he healed Michael. He laid one hand on his chest, and he said something I didn’t understand, and then Michael’s eyes opened. He’s sitting up and talking to us and eating. It’s a miracle.”
I sighed. “I’m glad. And whether Doc’s an angel or just a gifted healer—and by that, I mean that he may be paranormally gifted—I’m grateful that he came to us. It occurs to me that knowing Michael’s going to be okay will ease your mind for the day after tomorrow, too.”
“You’re right.” She hesitated. “Cathryn, I’m still terrified that I’m going to freeze up. I’ve been working with Nell and even with Marica, but the power doesn’t come as easily as it should. I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” It had been a long time since I’d had occasion to use this tone of voice with Tasmyn. “You’re not going to freeze up, and you won’t be a detriment to our team. When the time comes, you’ll find the power, and you’ll do what you must. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
To my relief, she laughed. “I can always count on you to boost me up and make me feel better, Cathryn.”
One side of my mouth curved up. “You know I don’t believe in mollycoddling. It wouldn’t help you, at any rate. Woman up and be strong.”
“Aye-aye, captain.” She mock-saluted me. “Message received.”
“Excellent.” I nodded. “Now go in and spend this evening with your husband. Enjoy yourself. Relax and try to forget about everything. Then tomorrow, get out there with Nell and Marica, and work your ass off, so the two of you can have that happily-ever-after you’re working on.”
But it don’t make no difference baby, no, no,
Cause I know that I could always try.
There’s a fire inside of everyone of us, huh-uh,
I’m gonna need it now,
I’m gonna hold it yeah,
I’m gonna use it till the day I die.
“Kozmic Blues” Lyrics by Janis Joplin
1967
Veronica
“I think I sleep better in the past.” Sionnach yawned, stretching as she came into the kitchen. “Or maybe the time travel just wore me out more than I’d thought. Whatever, I slept like a log.”
“That’s good, because you’re going to need to be rested for today and tomorrow.” I poured the fox a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter to her. “We all must be. Particularly after yesterday’s little complication.”
Running into Paige Parcy had been . . . unexpected. I’d had to do some dancing around to explain why I wasn’t heading back to the commune last night, and I’d worried that Paige would return and run into Veronica from 1967, who of course wouldn’t know anything about our encounter or about the friends from Florida I’d introduced to Paige. There was a slim chance that Paige would write off any apparent amnesia to drugs—that was the good thing about the sixties; just about any weirdness could be explained away by chalking it up to a drug-addled brain.
To my relief, she’d announced that she was staying in town with friends until later the next day. That would give me enough time to get to the commune and talk to—well, myself, circa 1967. I could explain what was going on and hopefully convince her—me—to lay low until we’d derailed the ritual. It wasn’t ideal, and we’d hoped to avoid any contact between me and myself, but I couldn’t see any way around it.
At least I had an excuse to explain me bringing the others to the commune now that Paige had met them. It would be easier for Rafe to manipulate Donald’s mind if he could be physically closer to him. I hoped that we could convince Donald to call off the entire thing, which would mean Paige would live, and the demon would remain contained, and the 2017 contingent would have a greater chance of ending the Hive once and for all.
It was in this hopeful state of mind that we left my townhouse that morning. Lucas was slightly out of sorts; he’d asked me what sort of public transportation would get us closest to the commune, and I’d laughed.
“We’re not catching a bus or taking a train, dear one. We’re hitching.”
His eyebrows had shot up nearly to his hairline. “Hitchhiking? That’s dangerous.”
Rafe had chuckled. “Once the professor, always the professor.”
I’d laid a hand on his arm. “Lucas, I understand your misgivings, but in the here and now, hitching a ride is how we get places. We’ll go out onto the street and start walking . . . we might come across someone heading our way, or close to our way. If not, we’ll get more aggressive about it.”
“I don’t like this,” Lucas had muttered. “It feels like it could get us into a lot of trouble.”
“If you haven’t noticed, we’re already in a lot of trouble, Lucas.” Sionnach had spoken up. “Let’s trust Veronica. It’ll work out.”
As it happened, four blocks from my house, we found a van idling curbside, with a few guys leaning against it. I asked where they were heading, and if they might have room to squeeze in six more.
“Hey, sure. We’re just driving to a gig up north, but you can totally hitch with us. We’re just waiting on Janis.”
I cocked my head. “Janis. That wouldn’t be . . .” Stepping back to look up, I realized where we were. “Janis. Yeah, of course. Uh, groovy. I know her, actually.”
“Veronica? Is that you, baby?” The gritty voice was a dead giveaway, and I couldn’t hide my smile as I turned.
“Janis!” I wrapped my arms around her, emotion choking me up. When we’d known each other back in the sixties during my first go-round, we’d been fast friends, hanging out at parties and traveling the same circuit of concerts and bar shows. But now, knowing what I did—knowing that this bright, beautiful soul would make her final exit in a little over three years—I wanted to just keeping hugging her.
“Hey, hey, hey.” She pulled back, laughing. “Yeah, it’s been a long time. Where you been?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been living out on a commune, outside the city. I was just asking your guys here if my friends and I could ride with you, at least partway. We’re trying to get back there.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem. The more, the merrier. C’mon, everyone. Pile in. Let’s go.”
Joss grabbed my arm as we clamored into the open back of the van. “Oh, my God, Veronica! Is that really Janis Joplin?”
I nodded. “Be cool, though. In 1967, she’s not huge yet. She’s still with Big Brother and the Holding Company, and she hasn’t even played the Monterey Pop Festival yet.”
The doors slammed, and the van began to roll. Janis turned from facing the front and held out a bottle. I recognized her ever-present Southern Comfort.
“Help yourselves. Pass it around.”
“Thanks.” I took a small slug, wincing at the burn. Rafe, Lucas, Sionnach and Seamus did likewise, while only Joss declined.
“Oh, my God, Veronica. You’ve been missing everything, not being in Haight-Ashbury. The music, man! And the crowds. It’s been wild.”
“I can only imagine.” I searched her face. “And you? How are you doing?” I knew that Janis had been forced to return home to Port Arthur, Texas, when her drug abuse had gotten out of hand. She’d been better since being back this time, but I knew also that appearances could be deceiving.
“I’m good, baby. I met this guy, Joe, and I’ve been shacking up with him, but you know me, it might not last. Hey, what’s going on with these communes? I’ve been hearing some weird shit coming out of them. Crazy stuff. You keeping clear of that?”
I lifted one shoulder. “Not that bad. You know what it’s like. We’re all working toward the same thing, right? They just want to try to bring us all together. Live in peace.”
“Yeah. Nice idea. Never works for me, but maybe that’s just the way I am.” She took another long swig of the bottle before settling it between her knees and reaching for her autoharp. “C’mon. We’ve got some time. Let’s sing.”
And so, the six of us rumbled over the road, singing along with Janis, heading to the fight of our live
s.
“Veronica. Welcome home.” Donald Parcy greeted me from his seat on the floor in the main hut of the Hive commune. “I didn’t know you’d gone into San Francisco. You didn’t mention it when we spoke yesterday.”
Frowning, I glanced around the room at those seated with the leader. Paige wasn’t among them. “Um, who said that I had?” Hedging my bets at this point was the safest. It was wiser not to confirm or deny anything until I knew what had been happening on the commune in the last few days.
“Ben was in town and saw you at the meet-up.” Donald cocked his head, his eyes bland and benevolent. “He said you were with Paige.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “Yeah, I was. I didn’t know she was going to be there, though. I met some friends from . . . Florida. I brought them back here with me. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.” He spread his hands. “You know everyone’s welcome at the Hive. Bring them in after you’re settled. I’d like to meet them.”
“Sure.” I turned to leave, pausing when Donald called out to me again.
“Veronica . . . Paige isn’t back yet. Liesel is . . . worried. Did she say what her plans were?” There was underlying thread of tension in his voice.
“I think she mentioned coming back this afternoon.” I’d wanted desperately to convince her to stay in the city, where she’d be safe no matter what, but she’d insisted that she had to be back at the Hive by this evening for an important meeting with her brother.
“Good. Thanks.” He studied me. “You know what tomorrow is. You know how important this is. Peace, Veronica. It’s within our reach. We can make it happen. Remember, I’m going to need you out among the people while the rest of us, ah, complete the final steps.”
I stared at him, daring him to be honest with me. “I’m curious. What are the final steps?”
Donald chuckled. “It’s complex and involved. You and the rest have to trust me. I know what I’m doing, and in the end, it’s going to be worth it for all of us.”
I wanted to scream in frustration that he was wrong. I wanted to tell him why this wasn’t going to work. But I didn’t. I left him with a quick nod and returned to the rest of my team.
“It’s cool,” I murmured. “Let’s go to my place and hope I’m there. We’ll explain everything to 1967 me, and then . . . we’ll get to work.”
I opened the door to my hut cautiously, praying like hell I wasn’t going to interrupt anything embarrassing. I’d had my share of fun in the sixties, and free love was encouraged in the Hive. But no, there I was, lying on my unmade bed, reading. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.
When she spotted me, past-Veronica leaped to her feet, striking the automatic vampire pose, ready to defend herself. I held out one hand, cautioning her to be quiet.
“Shhhh. Just listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time. The ritual that you’re trying to stop, the one to bring about peace . . . I came here from fifty years in the future to keep it from happening. I only want to do that and then go back to my own time, but in order to get it done, I need you to stay out of sight for a few days. Go into hiding.”
Past-Veronica frowned at me. “How do I know you’re not here representing evil, and you want to keep me from interfering with the ritual?”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t. But I promise, I’m not evil, and I want this stopped. The fate of the world lies in the balance. If they perform that ritual . . . well, I can’t give you details, because it might mess up the whole time-space continuum. But please trust me. Just go away for a few days.” I paused. “Oh, and I left you a note in the townhouse.”
“You were in my townhouse?” She popped her hand onto her hips and glared.
“Yes, and it’s my townhouse, too.” I wasn’t going to bring up the fact that I’d sold the property in the 50 years between now and then. Or then and now. Whatever. “The note has some important information in it that I probably shouldn’t have shared with you, but I did it anyway. I think you can call us even.”
She looked over my shoulder to where Joss, Sionnach, Rafe, Lucas and Seamus were waiting. “You’re really here from 2017? You time traveled with those people?”
“I did, and after everything we’ve seen—uh, I’ve seen, does it really surprise you?”
She laughed and shrugged. “I guess not. Okay, I’ll go . . . elsewhere for a few days. I have friends in the Valley who’ve been begging me to come visit, so I’ll do that. They’re not connected to the Hive at all.”
“Oh, is that Riley and Fay? You should totally go see them. I love those two.” I smiled reminiscently.
Past Veronica narrowed her eyes at me. “Is there something I should know about my—I mean, our friends in the future? Anything I should warn them about?”
I shook my head. “Not a thing. Just go enjoy yourself.” As she pulled out a patchwork duffel bag and began stuffing clothes into it, I added, “Oh, and by the way . . . you rode back to the commune today with Janis. She told you about being with Country Joe MacDonald now, asked you about rumors she’d heard about this place, and you all sang the whole way.”
She smirked. “I’m not too worried. If it was Janis, she was probably chugging Southern Comfort and won’t remember it anyway. And who knows when I’ll see her again?”
I bit the side of my lip. “Right. Good point.”
Past Veronica lifted the bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “Okay. Well, good luck, I guess. Remember, Mars is in Libra.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“And I’m not going far, just in case you screw this up.” She lowered her voice, glancing toward the door as she spoke softly. “You know he’s got the wrong timing, don’t you? It’s not going to work. They’re off by a lot of years, because he used a mistranslated text to make the determination.”
“I know. But we’re not completely out of the woods. There are . . . complications.”
“Ah.” She pursed her lips. “Well, then. Guess I’ll see you later—or not. Will I end up coming back here to see another previous me, once I reach 2017?”
“No. I can’t go into all the details, but if we do our job, my friends and me, this is a one-time shot. And we’re going to do everything we can to make sure we’re successful.”
“I can’t believe we’re walking right into the belly of the beast,” Sionnach muttered as we made our back to the main hut so that I could introduce my friends to Donald, as he’d requested. “I feel like Luke Skywalker marching into Jabba’s palace.”
“Hey.” Lucas lifted his hand. “Kudos on the absolutely appropriate cultural reference.”
She smacked his palm. “Thanks.”
“Remember, please, that this particular cultural reference has no framework for another ten years,” I murmured. “Keep it on the down low. And just keep your stories basic: you hitchhiked across the country from Florida. Say as little as possible.”
As it turned out, they weren’t with Donald long enough to get into trouble. I could tell the minute I stepped into the room where he was waiting that something was up; he was jittery, pacing and looking out the window.
He made a good show of feigning interest in the newly-arrived pseudo-hippies, but after a few attempts at small talk, he cut his gaze to me. “Veronica, I need to speak with you privately. Would your friends excuse us?” He flashed the others a smile. “I think food’s cooking in the mess hut. We eat well here, and you don’t want to be late. Veronica can join you shortly.”
I gave Lucas a small nod and watched them file out. I was at sea as to why Donald wanted to speak with me alone, because everything from the past had changed the minute 2017 me had arrived at the commune. Lucas was holding time in tension, but I was also making every attempt to stick to my interactions as they had originally taken place in the past.
I knew my little group wasn’t going to go far. Rafe had already told me that he was going to take the first opportunity he could to get inside Donald’s mind and try to manipulate it. This was the perfect set-up, with me h
ere to help him along and confirm what Rafe was conveying mentally.
“Veronica, I think we’re going to have a change in plans.” Donald rubbed his chin. “Instead of being out with the people, I want you to be part of the ritual tomorrow. Marcus was bitten by a spider, and Moonlight had to take him to the clinic. They probably won’t get back in time tomorrow.”
I’d forgotten about this. Marcus had indeed been bitten by a poisonous spider, and his girlfriend, the incongruously-named Moonlight (I happened to know her real name was Edna) had been allowed to use one of the Hive’s cars to drive him to a nearby town for medical attention. In the original 1967, he’d been kept at the clinic for several days, missing the ritual completely. By the time he and Moonlight had returned, the commune had been all but empty. Marcus hadn’t realized it then, but he’d dodged a bullet back in 1967. It seemed history was repeating itself. Or something like that.
But in the original screenplay, they’d simply attempted the ritual one man short . . . or so I’d thought. I hadn’t been asked to be present until now. I was slightly suspicious.
“Uh, I guess I can.” It would actually be helpful for me to be there, where I could oversee everything and ensure the demon stayed on his side of the divide. “What do I need to know?”
He pasted on a bright smile. “Not a thing. Just make sure you’re here . . . and don’t tell anyone, of course. We don’t want jealousy over the fact that I asked you and not one of the others.”
“I understand.” I nodded. “Donald, are you sure—”
“Donald. Is everything in place here? I heard from Liesel that there’s a possible situation with—” Ben Ryan halted, frowning at me. “Hello, Veronica. Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
I tilted my head, smiling. Ben Ryan was an interesting character. I’d met him here on the commune shortly after my arrival in early 1967, and I’d known even then that there was something odd about him—odd and powerful. But I couldn’t get a good read on what or who he was. From my current perspective, though, I was fairly certain that the original Ben—this one—was a Nephilim.
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