Her eyes narrowed. “This thing?” Her tone was withering.
The woman at the opening to the tent shrugged. “You can’t take care of him, can you, Gamala?” There was a note of viciousness in her voice that made Sydney blink, because the woman made no attempt to hide it.
Gamala struggled to get to her feet. Once she was on them, she moved freely enough in the loose white shift she was wearing. She stepped over the cushions, the other women making way for her. Sydney thought she was heading for the nasty woman by the door, but she stopped in front of Sydney.
Gamala smacked Sydney across the face, her arm swinging with a power that was unexpected.
Sydney was thrown backward by the blow, her teeth clicking together and cutting open her tongue with a sharp bite of pain, cutting off her cry. She fell back on the carpet as Gamala bent over her. “Whore!” She spat.
Suddenly, the rest of the women were on their knees around her, pummeling her. Blows landed everywhere, some of them light. Some of them not light at all.
Sydney managed to curl up on her side and protect her head. That was when the kicking started. Not long after, she passed out and was glad to do so.
Chapter Eight
Alex wiped up the trickle of blood that had appeared at the corner of Sydney’s mouth, closing off in his mind any speculation about what was happening to her in the past. He treated her wounds and injuries mechanically and meticulously, while starving his imagination.
“It’s just a minor cut to her tongue,” he told Rafe. “Maybe she bit it while eating.” Although he didn’t believe that himself, he offered it to Rafe as a lifebuoy, for Rafe was sitting on the stool next to the narrow cot, staring at Sydney with unblinking ferocity. He had been there for hours and had curtly told Brody to go away when Brody suggested he take a break and get some air.
The cot was one of a dozen of them, in two rows along the sides of the basement wall. The others were all empty. Each had a set of monitoring equipment and IV poles. He had set up the basement when they had first arrived in Spain, figuring it was better to have the secret room ready to go, as time travel was rarely planned.
Rafe stirred, straightening his back. His gaze didn’t move, though. “Mişr. That’s where she is, right?”
Alex stiffened. Rafe didn’t pronounce it perfectly. It came out sounding more like “miz-rah” instead of the “miss-ra” he was used to hearing. Even so, the name of the place made him feel ill. “Egypt,” he said shortly, using the English name instead of the Arabic one. “That’s what Marit says.”
“Back where you were,” Rafe added.
Alex turned to the monitor panel to check Sydney’s vitals yet again.
“How is it that you don’t remember her being there, if she is?” Rafe demanded. There was a hard note in his voice that Alex didn’t like.
“Maybe she doesn’t meet me there,” Alex said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm. “She jumped back on her own, without me guiding the jump, so she could be anywhere.”
“Where else would she want to go?” Rafe demanded. “Of course she found you.” The bitterness was rich in his tone. “It would be a bookmark for her.”
“Your life is full of bookmarks for her, too,” Alex pointed out.
“Yeah, but I was never a fucking savage!” Rafe railed at him.
Alex flinched.
“You know exactly what you were like, back then,” Rafe said, his voice low. “I met plenty of assholes just like you, in my time. Nothing stopped them getting what they wanted. I watched one of them burn down a house with three families in it, because he wanted their horses. He stood there, even when the smoke and the stench was making the rest of us puke and pass out. It didn’t touch him. Nothing touched them.”
Alex didn’t say anything, because Rafe was right. He had been that man.
He looked away. He couldn’t meet Rafe’s accusatory gaze.
“You’ve refused to tell even Sydney and me about when you were human,” Rafe said. “Now I want to know. All of it. Every shitty thing you ever did. I want to know what Sydney is facing.”
“You don’t know that she is with me. Even Marit can’t be that precise about her location.”
Rafe shook his head. “Everything,” he repeated.
Alex hung his head. “I can’t,” he breathed. The idea of speaking about those times filled him with panic. Better to have Rafe angry, than to watch the disgust and horror grow in his face if he did speak.
“Rafael.” It was Veris’ strong voice, from over by the door.
Rafe looked up. Alex didn’t dare turn around. He trembled with relief at being interrupted. If Veris saw his face, he would see far too much. Alex had no control right now. The fear was close to overwhelming him.
Rafe scowled. “What?”
“You need to rest. Feed. You’re white.”
“I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Veris said quietly.
Rafe stared at him.
“Do you doubt I could make you do it, if I have to?” Veris asked.
Rafe looked at Alex. There was more than fury in his eyes. There was condemnation. Then he got off the stool and stalked away.
Alex gripped the rails on the cot, holding himself up, waiting for them to be safely out of the room, leaving him alone once more. Then he turned around.
Veris was still standing just inside the door, watching him.
Alex’s heart squeezed.
Veris crossed his arms. “You won’t remember the past any differently until she’s back. It’s the return that trips off the changes and pushes them down the timeline to where you are now.”
Alex nodded. He still didn’t dare speak.
Veris made no move to leave. “I had two sisters. Marit, the older, Taylor got to meet when she jumped back to Norway. Taylor didn’t meet Gerda. That’s because when Gerda was three, I watched my father slit her throat and offer her up to the gods in return for a good harvest.”
Alex drew in a breath, startled.
Veris’ expression didn’t change. No emotion flickered in his eyes. He just watched Alex calmly. “Thing is,” he said, his voice soft, “Rafe was a boy, then a slave, then a freeman. He’s never had to change—not the deep, complete change you and I have faced. That Brody has gone through, too. Rafe believes change isn’t possible. It’s not for most humans, because their lives are too short. We know different. We have the perspective to know how relentless time is about making us change.”
Alex swallowed. “He’s a good man and always has been.” It came out in a whisper.
“So are you,” Veris said. “Or you wouldn’t be here. You’ll get through this if you hold on to that fact.” He nodded and left.
Alex sank down onto the stool beside him and let the trembling take him, while no one was there to see it.
Alim, watch over her! he whispered to the man he had once been.
* * * * *
Veris looked thoughtful when he came back from the basement. Rafe had passed through the big room a few minutes ago, too, looking as if he would spontaneously ignite if anyone stopped him, so Brody had kept his mouth shut.
Veris came up to the sofa and held Brody’s face in his hands. He studied him for a moment, then bent and kissed him.
Brody held still, always happy to be kissed by Veris.
As his thoughts drifted to the carnal and delicious, Veris let him go and sat beside him. He stared down at his hands for a moment. “Just for the record, I love you.”
Brody bumped his shoulder with his own. “Me, Taylor, Marit, even Alan and Aran, bless their mischief-bent hearts. It’s good company to be in. Thank you.”
Veris glanced at him. His mouth shifted into a small smile. “That stunt, going back to Panormos in bed sheets. That was pure you.”
Brody snorted. “They would have gone back to take a photo of me, if I had been the influence, but it’s your ugly mug in the picture, not mine.”
Veris sighed. “We’re going to have to do somethi
ng about them.”
“They’re terrified now and that will hold them for a bit.”
“Aran is terrified. Alan is only pouting. She’s her mother through and through. Absolutely fearless.”
Brody was glad Taylor was at the other end of the big house, doing something domestic with Marit. There was no danger she would have heard that. “Leave it,” he said firmly. “We can deal with it another day. There’s something else.”
Veris raised a brow.
Brody turned the laptop on the coffee table around so that Veris could see the screen. “Given what Zoric told us about wide jumps, it’s not a shock that there’s another version of him in this world.”
Veris shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to check for myself. Things keep cropping up around here, though. What’s he like, this subjective version?”
“That’s just it. I started digging into him not long after we hauled him out of the pool. It has taken this long to find anything.” He pointed at the single grainy figure on the screen. “That’s the only photo I could find.”
“Long, long lens,” Veris judged. “Hidden photographer, most likely, so Zoric is someone the paparazzi think is worth some effort.” He looked at Brody and waited.
“Thing is,” Brody said. “I can only figure out who he is because of what isn’t said. He’s living in Serbia and has been all his life, even during the war. Fought for the Serbians and was probably underage. After that, details get sketchy. He’s a businessman, I think. He’s into real estate, I think. He might have a wife, he might be divorced, it’s hard to tell.”
“Then he’s a private guy,” Veris said.
Brody shook his head. “He lives in Božidarko. That’s what made me sit up.”
“Pretend I don’t have a clue about Eastern Europe and tell me why that is significant,” Veris said.
Brody clutched his chest. “Omigod, I’m gonna die of surprise! He doesn’t know something!”
“I said pretend,” Veris said, scowling.
Brody stopped teasing. “Božidarko has just under thirty thousand people in it and everyone is either a hacker, or supports the industry. Božidarko is Europe’s hackerville. They run courses on programming and encryption breaking at the local adult extension center, while the police and authorities turn a blind eye, because it’s just business and it’s keeping everyone clothed and fed and props up the district’s economy.”
“Everyone?” Veris repeated.
“There might be one or two driving trucks for a living instead.” Brody tapped the screen. The photo, although grainy, was clear enough to show Zoric in a silk business suit of the same quality as Veris’ precious professor outfits. “Does he look like a truck driver to you?”
“If he’s living in a town that cares so little for rules and authority, then it’s likely that anything he has a hand in—the real estate, the whatever—is just as crooked.”
Brody nodded. “It’s a good bet. Oh, and that’s something else. He’s into horse racing.”
“Fixing them?” Veris asked.
“Given everything else, probably.” Brody closed the laptop and pushed it away. “Do you know anyone over there, who can dig farther, without stirring anything up?”
Veris frowned, his gaze turning inward. “I know Jovan,” he said at last.
Brody would have bet on Veris knowing someone there. After so many years wandering the world, his legion of contacts and friends was just as long as Brody’s, only Brody’s were all western world contacts. Veris had been more adventurous. Possibly, it was the Viking blood in his veins. “Jovan is in Serbia?”
“He’s Macedonian. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew Alexander in the day.”
“The Great?” Brody raised his brow. “How long ago did you speak to Jovan? Is he still around?”
“Last I heard, he was in Greece, running a private resort on his own group of islands. That was in the 1930s. Not too long ago. I should be able to track him down. You want him to verify Zoric is the douchebag you think he is?”
Brody nodded. “I think it’s worth knowing what the Zoric from this timeline is like. Zoric said timelines that are close together are almost exactly the same and we already know that the timeline Zoric came from isn’t so very different from ours.”
“And if that one isn’t different, why would Zoric be different?” Veris finished. He got up. “I’ll ask Jovan to rush it.”
Brody caught his hand and got up, too. “That can wait for a bit.”
Veris’ eyes always looked their bluest when he was aroused. They glittered like jewels as he considered Brody now. “Is that so?” he asked softly. His hand tightened on Brody’s. “Lead the way.”
* * * * *
Zoric looked nervous. Alex didn’t blame him. He had Veris and Brody standing in front of him, demanding explanations. Veris alone was unnerving enough when he was feeling threatened. Brody in the mix made the two of them lethal to anyone, anywhere.
Brody had brought Taylor down to the basement an hour ago and made Alex hand over to her. “You’ve been down here three days,” Brody said. “If Sydney’s status changes, Taylor will yell. Veris wants you in the room.”
“In the room for what?” Alex asked.
“Come and find out,” Brody told him.
Even though moving off the stool was the last thing Alex wanted to do, he reluctantly followed Brody upstairs. Brody picked up his laptop on the way through the big room. They by-passed the swimming pool, where Aran and Alan and Marit were splashing and shouting. The sound was cheerful.
Brody led Alex into Rafe’s study. This was the only book-lined room in the house. Rafe had a very personal collection, while Alex had access to the worlds’ libraries via the university and didn’t need to collect. He did most of his reading electronically, anyway.
Rafe was sitting on the second rung of the ladder, which he had slid around next to the window. Veris was sitting on the edge of the desk. It was something he did when he wanted to emphasize his size to intimidate someone.
The someone today was Zoric, who sat in the bucket chair in front of the desk, looking mildly curious. Someone must have bought him new clothes that fit properly, for he didn’t match any of their sizes in the house. His gunmetal gray eyes flicked toward Alex and he frowned.
Alex didn’t feel like sitting. He had been perched on the stool for too long. Standing and moving felt good. Perhaps Veris had been right about taking a break.
Brody sat next to Veris on the edge of the desk and opened the laptop. “We thought you should know about the Zoric who actually belongs to this timeline,” he said and swiped the mousepad.
“Okay…” Zoric said slowly.
Brody and Veris had done their research. Alex was impressed at the documentation and facts they produced over the next hour. Photos, scans of official documents, including police reports and even an Interpol file that was full of speculation and little substance, yet was the most fascinating of all. Brody sent that one to Alex, who scanned it on his phone while Brody and Veris talked.
Rafe said nothing. Neither did Alex. This was all news to them, too. Shadow flipping real estate—and not just small homes, but entire business developments. Sucker list sales. Race fixing. Currency exchange rip-offs. Stripper pick-pocket gangs in the biggest tourist spots in Europe, where tourism was one of the primary industries for every country on the map. Alex admired that one the most. A beautiful young con artist would get “caught” just outside an exclusive shop, the angry “shopkeeper” accusing her of shop-lifting, while she, tearful and pouting, would deny it. Then, to prove her point, she would start taking off her clothes. Slowly. By the time she was down to her bra and panties, their team mates had fleeced every gawking tourist of their wallet and valuables.
It was an old con, that Zoric had put an industrial strength spin upon, including young men doing the stripping and multiple pick-pockets who looked just like any other tourist to do the fleecing. The teams were mobile and fast, moving from city to city across
Europe and into Scandinavia, never staying long enough for the police to catch up with them.
Zoric also had a healthy on-line car sales industry. There were dozens of sites selling non-existent cars that came with authentic-looking documentation, histories and high quality photographs. The salesmen on the end of the phone would work with buyers in remote locations, sending them all the information they needed, setting up finance, acquiring the deposit…then the site would disappear from the Internet.
Zoric had a hand in a dozen different types of scams. Some of them were less visible. Some were very much darker in nature…and that was where the documentation spluttered to a stop.
By the time Veris and Brody reached the end of the litany of Zoric’s business interests, the version of Zoric sitting in the chair looked acutely uncomfortable. He looked down at the eight-by-ten photo that Veris had produced and shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “If this Zoric is so bad, what about me?” He held up the photo. “This isn’t me. I can’t prove it. I can’t do anything but deny it. He’s not me. I’m not like that.”
“Our two timelines are so similar. You can see our problem with this, can’t you?” Brody asked.
“Yet there are differences,” Zoric said. “Cyrus, the council…why can’t this be another difference?”
“It might be. It would be a large coincidence if it was,” Veris said. “The other Zoric…” He frowned. “Do you have a second name?”
Zoric frowned. “Excuse me?”
Brody read off from his laptop. “Kristijan Neven Zoric.”
“That’s your name, then. Neven. That guy,” and Veris pointed at the photo, “That’s Kristijan. It’ll simplify the conversation.” He let his hand drop. “Thing is, Neven, Tira and Cyrus singled you out. I’m wondering if they had a reason for doing so.”
“If they did, I disappointed them,” Neven said. “Look, without going back into that guy’s history, I can’t tell you what changed. Something did, though. Maybe it was the war—”
“Were you in the war?” Brody asked.
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