Then the Department of Temporal Affairs was established. Rules were created and order was imposed. All emergency trips to the recent past have to be completed by a special team from the DTA who only observe the events. The past has to stay the same or the world we live in today could be destroyed.
It doesn’t make the hurt any easier, though. Pain rips through my chest, one stab after another. Professor March said it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t feel that way. It should’ve been me.
My voice sounds hollow as I ask, “Can I see her?”
“I’m sorry. Only immediate family can visit her.” Chancellor Tyson says, then he clears his throat. “And there’s one more thing.”
Professor March scowls at Chancellor Tyson. “Do you have to sentence him now?”
Sentence? What sentence? I look between them. It’s like a bad dream, like I’m not really here.
“I have to,” Chancellor Tyson says. “Bridger, I’m sorry, but because you violated orders and left your position, and because your partner was seriously injured, I have to suspend you from the Academy, pending a full investigation.”
4
ALORA
APRIL 8, 2013
“Well, are you gonna answer me or just look around the room?” Aunt Grace asks. Her hands are on her hips and the worried expression she wore moments before has morphed into one that screams I’m in trouble.
I close my eyes. The last thing I remember was sitting under the tree at school. I don’t remember going to my afternoon classes, or how I made it through the history test. Not even riding home with Sela after school. A sick sensation churns in my stomach.
“Don’t even think about lying, young lady. I can practically hear the excuses racing through your head.”
What can I say? So, Aunt Grace, funny thing is I don’t remember how I got here. That’ll go over real well. I glance at the alarm clock on the small table next to my bed. It reads 4:17 in neon green numbers. Jeez, I’ve lost nearly four hours.
Aunt Grace runs her hands over her light brown hair, trying to smooth the flyaway pieces back against the soft curls. “I nearly had a heart attack when Sela called wanting to know how you were.”
“What? Why’d she do that?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want the answer. I bet I made a complete idiot of myself.
“Don’t play dumb, Alora. I swear, I can’t believe you of all people skipped school.”
Wait, I ditched my classes? This is worse than I thought. I cover my face with my hands.
“Do you know what you’ve put me through for the last hour? I’ll tell you. Hell. First I got the call from Sela and she said you were acting weird at lunch. She thought you were sick and told me to pick you up early. Then the school called and said you didn’t bother going to your afternoon classes. You have detention tomorrow, by the way.”
Oh, this is getting better by the minute.
“I nearly went crazy trying to figure out where you were. I’ve been everywhere looking for you!” she exclaims, waving her hands all over the place. “I was fixing to call the police to report you missing.”
Yep, I’m dead. Aunt Grace is going all drama queen on me.
“So, what do you have to say for yourself?” She finishes by crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
Silence louder than any screaming hangs between us. I can’t believe I did this. Cutting class isn’t something I’d do. It took a lot of convincing to get Aunt Grace to even let me go to public school this year.
I’m saved from having to answer by a shrill horn honking. Aunt Grace checks out my window. “Oh, shit.”
This can’t be good. Aunt Grace never cusses unless she’s really upset. I hurry to her side. Parked on the circle driveway in front of the house is a gleaming white Cadillac. I try not to cuss myself.
It’s Trevor and Kate Monroe’s mother, Celeste. She also happens to be Aunt Grace’s sister-in-law. Celeste’s husband is the president of one of the banks in town, so she thinks she’s too good for most everybody, especially us. She’s been bugging Aunt Grace to sell this house back to her ever since Darrel, Aunt Grace’s husband and Celeste’s brother, passed away eleven years ago. She thinks it’s a disgrace that Darrel and Aunt Grace turned the Evans family ancestral home into a bed-and-breakfast inn and she wants it back. Bad. Aunt Grace says hell will freeze over before she gives in to Celeste.
Aunt Grace whirls around, fixing her ice-blue eyes on me. “We’re not finished.”
I follow her as she heads out of my room. I don’t want to be around Aunt Grace when she’s in this kind of mood, but I don’t want her to face Celeste alone, either. Celeste has a way of making Aunt Grace feel like crap. I should know. Kate does the same thing to me whenever she gets the chance at school. I close my eyes, remembering Kate’s bitchy comment back in the cafeteria.
The doorbell chimes when we’re halfway down the stairs. Aunt Grace’s back stiffens, like she’s getting ready to head into a fierce battle. I hope it’s not that bad. Who knows? Maybe this time Celeste is here to make peace. Maybe she’s decided to be nicer to her brother’s widow.
Or pigs could fly.
At the bottom of the stairs, Aunt Grace fusses with the flowers on the antique foyer table and straightens the mirror hanging over it, and then she smoothes down her hair. “Do I look okay?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Yes, you always do.”
Aunt Grace nods and opens the door. “Hello, Celeste,” she says in a too-high voice. “What brings you out here today?”
Celeste gives Aunt Grace a condescending smile. “Why, Grace, I tried to call you several times today but you never answered.” She sweeps past Aunt Grace like she owns the place, her floral perfume filling the area. Kate follows her. Suddenly, coming downstairs with Aunt Grace doesn’t seem like it was a good idea. I tug at my T-shirt, wishing it wasn’t so wrinkled. Both Celeste and Kate look like they could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. Celeste is wearing a killer red dress and her dark hair is pulled up in a complicated style. Kate has on a pair of denim capris that hug every curve and a gold shirt that would probably look hideous on anyone else. Of course, it’s perfect on her.
Celeste takes in the area and walks slowly toward the dining room that’s just off the foyer. Her heels click on the hardwood floor when she steps off the oriental rug. “Anyway, Kate and I were running errands and I thought I’d stop by for a bit. I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, have I?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Aunt Grace replies. She’s wearing the fake smile she usually reserves for extremely annoying guests. “How have y’all been?”
“Oh, busy as usual. Rob and I just got back from the Bahamas last week. He took me there for my birthday. And Trevor and Kate have been great.”
At the mention of her name, Kate glances up from her phone and gives us a thin smile. What a fake. Then she makes eye contact with me. From her look, I can tell she’s just noticed I am in the room with them. A malicious smirk replaces the smile.
“Alora, where were you this afternoon? I didn’t see you in history.”
Heat floods my face. “I . . . wasn’t feeling too well.”
Do I have to sound so lame?
“Really?” Kate asks. “I heard that you cut class.”
Celeste gasps. “Oh my goodness. Is that true?”
Just great. First I knock Naomi’s tray out of her hands in front of the whole cafeteria, and now Kate is humiliating me in front of her mom. She probably thinks Aunt Grace doesn’t know and wants to get me in trouble. I try to think of some brilliant comeback, something to illustrate her immaturity, but my brain won’t cooperate.
“Alora wasn’t feeling well.” Aunt Grace’s voice has a razor’s edge as she stares at Celeste. I gape at Aunt Grace, both happy and mortified. I could fist bump her for standing up for me, yet I could die because she had to stick up for me. I can imagine what Kate is thinking. Look at Alora, having to get her aunt to make excuses for her. How pathetic.
“Right, sh
e wasn’t feeling well,” Celeste echoes with a shrug. “Now if she did skip, I do hope you punish her. That’s such unbecoming behavior, don’t you agree? Of course, Kate would never do something like that.”
Aunt Grace is as still as a statue. She takes a few slow breaths and says, “Of course not. Kate would never think to do something like that.”
The two women stare daggers at each other, their smiles never leaving their faces. It’s like a contest to see who can kill the other first by false friendliness.
Finally Celeste checks her slender silver watch and lets out a regretful sounding sigh. “Oh dear, time’s gotten away from me. Kate has to be at tumbling practice by six. I’ll be so glad when her car is fixed and I don’t have to chauffer her around anymore.” Celeste’s gaze flicks from Aunt Grace to me. “Did you ever get Alora something to drive?”
“Not. Yet.”
I want to melt into the floor. Celeste knows I turned sixteen two months ago. And I’m sure she knows Aunt Grace didn’t have the extra money to buy me a car of my own.
“Oh, what a shame. Maybe you can get her something soon. Well, Kate, are you ready?”
Kate rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mama. I’ve been ready.”
Celeste strides back to the front door, but pauses as she reaches out her hand to open it. “Before I forget,” she says, turning to face Aunt Grace again. “Have you reconsidered selling the house? Rob got a huge bonus at work, so I can add another thousand to my last offer.”
And there it is—the real reason for this so-called visit. Gag me.
“No, Celeste. I’ve already told you Darrel and I worked too hard to build up this business, and I have no desire to give it up.” Aunt Grace isn’t even trying to pretend to be nice anymore. Her words are coated with ice.
“Are you sure about that? I’ve heard business has been slow for a while.”
I can’t believe her nerve. With those words, Aunt Grace seems to visibly deflate. It makes me want to slap Celeste, but Aunt Grace would never let me.
“Things are fine, Celeste. I don’t need your money.”
“Oh, I think otherwise. You’ll come around eventually.” She opens the door and lets Kate out first. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Not if I can help it,” Aunt Grace mutters. As soon as the front door closes, she slumps down on the bottom step of the stairs. “I know I say this every time she stops by, but I can’t believe she and Darrel share genes.”
I sit next to her and rub her back. At least this visit was better than the last. I remember how Celeste ranted the whole time about how the house should belong to her. Aunt Grace thinks Celeste is bipolar or something.
Anyway, Celeste is determined to get the house back. From what Aunt Grace told me, Celeste and Darrel’s grandmother was the last owner of the house before she willed the entire estate to Darrel. Celeste was seriously pissed because her grandmother didn’t leave her anything, but Aunt Grace said that’s because Celeste never came around unless she wanted something. When Darrel died of cancer, Celeste thought Aunt Grace would turn the house over to her because it had been in her family for generations. Aunt Grace refused.
But what if Celeste is right? Money has been tight around here for a few years, but Aunt Grace never said anything about it being so bad that she’d have to sell the place.
I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know the truth. “Are things as bad as Celeste makes them out to be?”
Aunt Grace doesn’t look at me. She stares straight ahead, unmoving for a few seconds, then she nods. “Yeah, things aren’t so great.”
My stomach twists more than a pretzel. “Are you going to sell the inn?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but if business doesn’t pick up soon, I’ll have to do something. The bank doesn’t care if I can’t get customers. I have to pay, or they’ll foreclose the property.”
Even though Darrel inherited the house, there wasn’t a lot of money in the estate. They had to take out a loan to cover the cost of the renovations for the bed-and-breakfast, which Aunt Grace is still paying for to this day.
I can’t think of anything brilliant to say, so I stick with, “That seriously sucks.”
“Yes,” Aunt Grace says, rubbing her forehead. “It does suck.”
I start to stand, but she puts a hand on my leg. “Hold up, missy. I haven’t forgotten about your little stunt earlier.”
Great. I was hoping she had forgotten. “Okay,” I drawl out. “What are you going to do to me?”
She frowns at me. “Something’s not right. I don’t understand why you’d skip class. You’ve called me before when you didn’t feel well. Why skip now?”
The truth fills my mouth, trying to force its way out, but I swallow it back. If I tell her what really happened—that I don’t remember how I got home—she’ll probably want to drag me to the doctor. That means lots of tests and bills she can’t afford. I can’t do that to her. Not when it’s probably nothing. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, after all.
So I lie. “I don’t know. I really didn’t feel well, so I just left.”
5
BRIDGER
MARCH 11, 2146
It’s my fault. All of it.
Those words pound in my skull with each step I take. I hurry down the hallway leading from the exam room to the elevators. I keep my head lowered, ignoring the few people I pass. But I can hear the whispers. Hear Vika’s name on their lips.
By the time I get to the elevator, I want to tear my hair out. At least I’m alone. I don’t know if I could stand having to ride with someone else. Even for the few seconds it takes to get from the third floor to the lobby.
The silver door shuts with a hiss. Then a feminine voice asks, “What level?”
“One,” I snap. I check my DataLink for the time. It’s almost five in the afternoon. After Chancellor Tyson suspended me, he returned my DataLink and told me I have one hour to clear off the campus. I don’t plan to take that long. Most of the other cadets should still be in class or returning from whatever time trip they’ve been on today. I have no intention of staying around long enough to face them.
As I cross the grassy area between the Academy’s glass and steel main building to my quarters in Phoenix Hall, I keep replaying the day’s events. Chasing Dad. Seeing Vika lying on the ground. Suddenly I can’t breathe. A cool wind blows, but I feel like I’m on fire. The doc should’ve given me a larger dose of Calmer.
I stop just before going inside my building and lean against the brick wall. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out, in, out. Focus. Just focus.
It’s weird how my life is falling apart, but everything around me still seems normal. The girls’ hall and the academic building still overlook the eastern part of the campus to my left. The Rockies still slice across my view to the right.
A few Nulls are weeding the flowerbeds between the buildings. My heart races as I watch the smooth rhythm in which they work. They’re dressed entirely in gray. Their faces are covered by a shield that keeps them from being recognized. They’re criminals. Those whose past actions can’t be redeemed in the eyes of the North American Federation. They’ve had their minds completely wiped. They’re now brainless drones. Little more than slaves for the government.
What if that’s my sentence after the Academy finishes its investigation?
I check my DataLink again. I’m down to fifty minutes. I square my shoulders and hurry inside.
It doesn’t take long to get to my apartment—it’s on the first floor. I pause just outside the door, hoping Elijah and Zed aren’t here. Facing them right now would be too hard.
No such luck. Both of them are sitting in uncomfortable silence on the black couch in the living area. They’re watching a woman dressed in a navy suit talking to someone through her DataLink. It’s my mother.
I close my eyes and swear under my breath. Why does she of all people have to be here? But I can’t just stand here. I’ve got to get my things.
Elijah sees me first and sp
rings to his feet. “Man, where have you been? Have you seen Vika?”
“Yeah, Creed, what happened back there?” Zed asks, joining us.
I almost answer them, but Mom spots me. Her face takes on a hard edge as she says, “He’s here. I’ve got to go.”
I shake my head and push past them. In my bedroom, I search through the top drawer of my dresser until I find the brown box containing my stash of Calmer. I grab a vial and inject the gold liquid in the right side of my neck. My muscles loosen up instantly. The pressure on my chest disappears.
Outside, I hear Mom ordering Elijah and Zed to leave even though they live here. I can’t believe her nerve. She has no authority here. But tell her that. She’s a big shot artifact retrieval expert for the Department of Temporal Affairs. She’s used to getting her way.
That’s one reason I haven’t used a home pass in over a month. I can barely stand to stay in the same room with her, much less the same apartment. And now I’m about to have to do just that. I don’t know if I can.
Mom’s heels crash like thunder as she crosses the living area. This is one of the few times I wish I could bend space.
She stops in the doorway and studies my room. Her nose wrinkles like she’s disgusted. I didn’t make the bed this morning or pick up my dirty uniforms. “This,” she finally says, her eyes snapping back to me, “is unacceptable.”
“What is?” I ask. My face grows warm despite the Calmer I just took. That’s the effect she usually has on me.
“Everything.” She crosses the threshold and points at the mess. “I raised you better than this. Your room is a disgrace. And to top things off, I get called out of a very important briefing because my son decided to wild out on a time trip. Do you know how this could affect my position? Or what about your brother? He could get assigned to an inferior professor like Telfair because of this!”
Her voice has risen to a piercing screech by the time she finishes. The typical beginning of a Morgan Creed rant. I don’t need this. Not now.
The Edge of Forever Page 4