Chronomancer (Time Mage Saga Book 1)

by Mackenzie Morris

  "What happens to Niki?" Jack asked.

  "Your Avelayan will be repurposed. You won't have need of him any longer once we give you a highly-trained Avelayan who has been taught since birth to serve even in the harshest conditions. They have no minds of their own, thinking only of their Chronomancer. It keeps them from getting too rowdy. You know how Avelayans can be. They need, they crave structure and to be dominated."

  Was he truly hearing this? "They're people. You're saying these things about fellow human beings."

  "Avelayans aren't people like us. They're just different . . . less than us. Always have been, always will be. It's the way things are. Niki Valentino is holding you back. If you continue to care for him the way you do, you will never fully unlock your true potential as a Chronomancer."

  "And Ellie? What happens to her?"

  Elric relaxed into his chair. "Elizabeth Dawson will be released into our care. As a fellow Iskaydrian, you two will be expected to breed and produce future Chronomancers with your special genetic material."

  "Ellie is Iskaydrian?" Jack asked.

  "She is. That's the only reason we have kept her alive for this long. Those bruises you saw on her in that photograph were from our agents defending themselves against her. She is quite the fighter."

  Ellie attacked them? Jack couldn't help but smile thinking of her defending herself. He knew she had it in her. Maybe she didn't always need someone to protect her. But that did not mean that he was going to give in simply to make things easier. "What happens if I refuse?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "What if I don't want to join you?"

  He sat up and placed his wine glass on the table. "Then we kill one of Niki Valentino's ancestors, making him cease to exist. I marry Ellie Dawson, kill her father, then dispose of Allen Lambert. We will alter time to essentially erase you from existence. Then you will rot away in a cell, watching every night as I take Ellie, and taking your genetic material to artificially inseminate our strongest female agents. That will be your sad, pathetic life. Choose your next words carefully. Your fate is in your hands, young Chronomancer. Will you join the Zurvan Syndicate or not?"

  Jack stared at the Director, looking straight into his haunting eyes for what felt like an eternity. He thought of the divergent road in front of him. One path led to riches, comfort, and stability. The other led to torture, imprisonment, and grief. However, only the second one led to doing what he believed to be right. If there was one thing Jack had learned from Mr. Allen, it was to be the good in the world and to never sacrifice his personal convictions.

  "Well, Chronomancer? Are you ready to begin the induction ceremonies?"

  Jack's hand shook with the force he used to twist the napkin. "No."

  "Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

  "I said . . . I said no. I won't join you. I can't join the Syndicate."

  "Are you crazy?" Elric asked. "Did you not hear me? You're going to be tortured, starved, beaten, and have all manner of inhumane things done to you. You'll be living in your own personal hell. Why would you voluntarily do that to yourself? I know you're not a stupid boy. You understand the gravity of the situation. Yet you choose to suffer. Why?"

  "Because what happens to me doesn't matter. What matters is doing the right thing. You can do whatever you want to me, but I cannot go against what I know is right."

  "But what about Ellie? Your girlfriend is not immune to our treatment because you foolishly want to stand by your ill-informed convictions. Will you allow her to die? If you are this much of a lost cause, then we can simply eliminate her. Are you okay with that?"

  Jack closed his eyes. "Of course I'm not okay with it, but that is on you, not me. Even if I agree to join the Syndicate, Ellie will never be safe. She will be a prisoner here. She deserves better than that."

  "Fine." The Director pressed a button on the panel below a speaker built into the wall behind his chair. "Dante, it's time to take out the trash. Kill the girl. I want to hear it."

  Jack closed his eyes when Ellie's scream shrieked across the speaker. The voice became muffled for nearly two agony-filled minutes until it died away into static-filled silence. A man spoke from the other side. "It's done, Director."

  "Very good. Carry on." Elric turned to Jack and grinned darkly. "There you have it, the first price of you denying us."

  Jack grew sick inside. He knew that scream, he knew it all too well from memory. However, he had to put his initial shock of emotions behind reason. This was a game of manipulation, after all. He swallowed his fear of losing her and steeled himself for whatever the Director had for him next. "What now?"

  "What now?" Elric chuckled. "What now? You just heard the love of your life being murdered and all you can ask is what now?"

  "She's not dead."

  "She is."

  He looked up at him once again. "No. You're lying to me to get me to break. I know you want my help more than anything, so you won't give up the one thing you have to use as a bargaining chip."

  "Clever boy. It's that kind of sharp mind that we need in our ranks. You could help us see the world in new and exciting ways."

  "I am not scared of you or the rest of the Syndicate. Anyone who chooses to hide behind a facade of flashy rituals and some long-lost god of legend is a coward. You killed my family because you were afraid." Jack jumped up to his feet. "Kill me if you want, but I will not break!"

  "I had planned for this. You're stubborn like your father was. Too stubborn for your own good." Elric pressed the button once again. "Dante, please come in here and escort Mr. Carter to his new isolation cell. He is to be on solely liquid rations for the next two weeks. He believes he cannot be swayed, but we have ways of curing stubbornness."

  Jack could have fought back. He could have kicked and clawed at them, but he didn't. Something had awakened in his heart, a pulsating ember that glowed brighter than it ever had before. It stirred and churned, bubbling up from a holy pit, strengthening him with an otherworldly determination. When the short man with the black mask hiding his face from him barged into the room and seized him by the arms, Jack met eyes with Elric once more. "I hope you burn in hell."

  "Enjoy your own hell, Mr. Carter. Take him away, Dante. And don't be afraid to rough him up a bit. He will regret denying the Syndicate what it is owed."

  Chapter 8

  The detective's office was filled with the buzzing of four cell phones going off at once. Dean juggled them, taking call after call from different agencies and officers needing information that he barely knew himself. His laptop had died an hour before from being unplugged for too long while he checked hundreds of emails from around the world, all focusing on the Mana Glen case. A steady stream of spilt coffee trickled from the corner of his cluttered desk, the amber stream pattering on the wooden floor. Droplets had stained the front of his salmon shirt, discoloring the pearly buttons.

  Dean scribbled down some information that was being relayed to him from an agent in Europe. "Russia? Ties all the way to Russia?"

  "You've seen the news."

  "Yes. It has to be. Thank you. I have to take this call." Dean pushed his silver hair out of his eyes before taking another call. "This is Detective Amethyst."

  The rough voice of FBI Director Marlow barked at him. "I need that case file ASAP and you need to call the Secretary of State. She is waiting impatiently for an update. If you can't handle this case, then we will send it to someone who can. I'm sure the FBI can solve this without you."

  "No, sir, that won't be necessary. President Fleur gave me this case himself."

  "Acting President Tomlinson is the one you need to be worried about right now, Amethyst. Get your shit together before I have Homeland Security raid your little renegade office and take matters into their own hands. Do you hear me? Call the Secretary of State and brief her on your investigation. The only reason you still have this case is because of a written document by President Fleur himself. Do what you're told or face the consequences."


  "Yes, yes, I'll give her a call. You can trust me with this. One moment, please." Dean picked up the third cell phone and hit the speaker button. "Detective Dean Amethyst speaking."

  The soft female voice was soothing to his ears after the screaming that had been directed at him all morning. "Dean, it's Annette."

  "Hold on just a moment. I'm swamped with calls and-"

  "I'll call back later."

  "No, no!" Dean opened the top drawer of his desk and slid all the other phones into it. "All right. I'm here, Annette. How are you holding up?"

  "I have friends here. They're keeping me steady. Today was the roughest by far with the funeral and everything."

  "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I meant to fly up there. I forgot with all the work I'm having to do on this case. They're trying to kill me, I swear. I thought they were still looking for him."

  "My sister thought it would be best for everyone if we moved on. You saw the wreckage, Dean. There was no way anyone could have survived that."

  He slumped in his chair. "I'm so sorry, Annette. I loved Nolan like a brother. If there's anything you need, anything I can do, just tell me."

  Annette hissed at him. "Find them and kill them."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Find them and kill them. I want you to find those two demons who did all of this and exterminate them like the rats they are. I know they did this. They killed my husband, your president. Bring them to justice, Dean."

  Killing them was the last thing on his mind. "They're boys, Annette. Teenagers."

  "I don't care if they're crippled toddlers. They and whoever they have working for them killed him. They killed him!"

  "I'll handle this case." He tried to reassure her. "I'll do what needs to be done, whatever that may be. I don't see how two kids could send people to hijack the most heavily-guarded airplane in history, but I'll keep an open mind. With everything happening lately, I don't know what I can believe anymore."

  She began weeping loudly. "I want you to catch those Mana Glen thugs and I want to watch you tear them apart. I want them to beg for their lives as you rip it from them. They need to face the same pain I'm feeling."

  "Oh, Annette . . . why don't you go lie down? Is your family there with you?"

  "I mean it, Dean. We have to avenge him. They killed him in cold blood. They took him from me. Find them and make sure they can never hurt anyone again."

  "I will. Get some rest, Annette. I'm always a call away if you need me."

  Dean held his head in his hands as the cell phones buzzed in the drawer. He took a long breath to calm himself, but that momentary peace was interrupted when Olivia called for him over the speaker on the wall.

  "Are you busy, Dean? You have people here to see you."

  He pressed the button below the speaker and spoke back to her. "Damn it, Olivia. I said to hold all my calls and cancel my appointments. I have the FBI and homeland security breathing down my neck about the Mana Glen boys and a recent hijacking of a high-speed train in France. Nearly three thousand were killed. They're trying to say they're connected. That paired with the missing CIA agents, the entire government is falling apart."

  "These people look shady, Detective. One of them is wearing a ski mask. I think we're being robbed."

  "What do they want?" Dean asked.

  "The girl says they need to speak with you and that it's urgent. Something about the Mana Glen case."

  "Send them in. I mean it, though. No more calls."

  The door opened and two people entered, both wearing black jeans, black shirts, and long black wool coats. The young woman with the auburn hair and hazel eyes stepped in first, holding the door for the apparently male figure whose identity was obscured by the black ski mask. Once they were inside, the woman closed the door then paused as if awaiting instruction.

  Dean motioned to the two chairs on the other side of his desk. "Please, sit. Would you care for some coffee?"

  "No." The young woman took a seat and tucked her bangs behind her ears. "We came here to get some help."

  "What can I do for you?"

  She nodded to the masked man to sit. "You're a detective. You solve crimes and find people, right?"

  "Is this a missing person? Why come to me instead of filing a report with the police department? Were they one of the victims in the Mana Glen shootings?"

  "Um . . ."

  "It's all right. You tell me." Dean turned his attention to the male visitor. "Mr. Ski Mask, I would appreciate knowing who exactly I'm talking to. There are no cameras in here and the walls are soundproof. Whoever you are, know that I will not have you arrested for anything you say while in this office. Every word is completely confidential. I swear that to you."

  While the male hung his head and wrung his hands together in his lap, the woman offered a small smile. "My name is Opal Arrington. This is . . . go ahead."

  The man removed the ski mask then sighed as he smoothed his ruffled hair.

  The face staring back at Dean was one he had only seen in blurry copies of photographs or police sketches, but it was one he had studied for hours at a time. The white-tipped black hair, the medium tan skin, the dark eyes, the slight stubble on his slender chin, even the scar on the right side of his lip . . . it was him.

  Dean smiled. "Nikolas Valentino. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Where is Jack? You two are partners, right?"

  Niki tried to stand up, but Opal kept him seated. "He knows too much. I knew we shouldn't have come here, Opal."

  "Stop. He can help us. Mr. Allen told us so. He wouldn't send us into a trap. Mr. Detective, you can help us, right? Please? We're not dangerous people. We just need help to find our friend. Jack is in trouble. We don't have much time and he might already be gone."

  It was time to be professional, despite the multitude of pressing questions he wanted to discuss with the prime suspect now sitting a couple of feet from him. Dean nodded his head and took out a pad of fresh paper that he put on top of the scattered sheets of coffee-stained paperwork. He clicked his pen open and tapped the end against the paper. "When did you last have contact with Jack?"

  "Venice, Italy. The year 1503."

  Dean eyed the young man, searching his face for any sign of deception. Yet, even with all the years of training, he found nothing. He stood and went to the bookshelf where he refilled his coffee mug. "So, how can we get to-"

  Niki interrupted him. "Hold up. You believe me?"

  "I don't . . . not believe you. Listen, I don't know the first thing about what's going on here, but with the strange events occurring across the globe lately, I have to wonder what's real and what's fiction. Two days ago, the Kremlin went dark. As in no one has heard from Russia and no one can get a call in. The Russian military has been deployed to the borders. It's impenetrable. Then, the Eiffel Tower was attacked by men in purple suits. The higher-ups are thinking they're some new terrorist group, maybe working out of Russia or South Asia. They think all of these events the past three weeks since the president went missing are connected."

  Niki rubbed his face. "Because they are."

  "Detective, you want to know what we're up against?" Opal asked. "You want to know what's going on underneath the radar, the media, and the flashy politics? What I'm about to tell you may be difficult to understand, but it's all the truth. Every single word of it."

  Dean raised his eyebrows. "I may have been on this earth longer than you two, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to learning something new. Try me."

  Opal began. "Since early on in human history, there have been two races of people who are intertwined eternally. One race is the Iskaydrians. Their blood gives them certain abilities when it is awakened. They were victims in the witch trials, victims to churches, to crusades, to any group that felt their abilities were some sort of witchcraft or sorcery. They were butchered left and right, tortured, and burned at the stake as heretics."

  Niki glared at her. "Don't paint Iskaydrians like they're perfect and pure, Opal. You know what the
y've done to our people."

  Opal took Niki's hand. "Our people are the Avelayans, Detective. We have no power of our own, other than the ability to be open to the power of Iskaydrians. We serve as their bodyguards and they bond with us by exchanging a small amount of blood. That is enough to allow us to travel through time with them."

  Niki rolled his eyes. "We are a slave race."

  "Niki!"

  "It's true. When it all started, Iskaydrians were worshiped like gods. Avelayans were given to them as infant sacrifices. Some were killed, butchered right there in front of their wailing parents if they weren't pretty enough or if they were sickly. The ones that lived were forced to live lives of complete submission."

  Dean wrote the names of the two races down on his notepad. "That's horrible. And this practice continues to this day?"

  Opal shook her head. "No."

  Niki snarled. "Yes."

  "Which is it? Do you two serve Iskaydrians?"

  Opal placed her hand over her heart. "I do, and I do it proudly. He's missing right now, but I do. It's a much more civil process today. And we're not slaves. Our Iskaydrians, called Chronomancers, provide for us. It's our duty to keep them safe."

  "Niki, is Jack your Chronomancer?" Dean asked.

  "Yeah . . . I'm his Time Knight, and I failed him. It's my fault that he got taken."

  Opal huffed in her frustration. "Anyway, to understand how to find Jack, you need to know the rest of what's going on, especially in the present. Those agents in purple? They are a group of Chronomancers called the Zurvan Syndicate. Their goal is to go back in time to change the past by saving more Iskaydrians from disasters so they can increase their numbers and rule the world as a master race. However, by doing so, thousands and possibly millions of lives are cut short or never exist. One simple change in the past can alter everything."