Blue Abyss: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 3 (The Timewalker Chronicles)

by Michele Callahan

  Just how long had the shark taxi trip lasted? One hour? Fifteen minutes? She had no idea. She looked at the skin covering the back of her hand. It was coated with white. Salt.

  Just how much salt had she absorbed through her lungs? She didn’t know much about it, but knew too much salt could kill her. If she didn’t start drinking water now, was she going to get worse?

  She needed to get to the hotel. Water. Bed. She had to get out of the sun. Panic ate away at her calm. Her hamstrings cramped, an agonizing clutch of muscle that twisted her body into a pretzel. She cried out.

  “Mari. I’ve got you.” Raiden lifted her in his arms and it was the only thing that saved her. Eyes closed, she listened to Raiden’s heart beating like a soft drum inside her mind. Not just beating, but pounding with adrenaline. She tried to wrap her head around what it must be like for him, an alien prince on an unknown beach. No money, no map, no idea where on Earth he was. Two years in statis. A Triscani attack. Sharks. A woman he didn’t know lying in death throes on the beach.

  Mari debated. She could let Raiden carry her to her hotel room. She could call out to some tourists for help. Or, she could just lie here a few minutes longer to see if her body would knock off the feel-like-I’m-dying game. She’d done it before, in the cave. Maybe she just needed a bit more time to recover?

  Turning her head, she watched as two people, a man and woman, walked straight toward them. Perhaps she should be alarmed, but she couldn’t work up the energy to worry, not while Raiden’s arms were around her and the encroachers were human. ’Nuff said.

  Raiden tensed as if to spring. She reached over to squeeze his forearm before he could move or threaten their visitors. She shook her head. “Wait.”

  “You look like you could use some help.” The woman stopped opposite Raiden a few steps away, hands held out where Raiden could see them. Somehow, Mari wasn’t convinced that would matter, the woman made Mari’s whole body hum, like she was standing too close to an electrical wire.

  “I’m Sarah.” Her male companion paced a few steps behind her where he could see both women, Raiden and the entire beach. He sized up Raiden in a blink and kept moving. Alert. He turned away from them. Keeping watch? Watch for what?

  Triscani? Or something else?

  Mari wasn’t normally one to stare, but it wasn’t every day she saw a hulking, scarred, bald, soldier type with a six-foot-tall girl-next-door for a companion. The man would’ve drawn attention anywhere he went. First he was big. Second he was packing a lot of muscle. And last but not least, he had a vicious scar covering most of the right side of his head and neck that disappeared into his shirt.

  With Raiden’s heat pouring into her, Mari’s head cleared a bit and her stomach settled from hurricane level to mild storm. Mari studied the man’s scar, it was her nature to be curious. Her imagination was already running wild the multitude of ways he could’ve gotten it…until she saw the symbol embedded in scary guy’s neck.

  Her grip tightened on Raiden’s muscled forearm. Raiden frowned but didn’t take his eyes off their visitors. She had no idea who this bald man was, or whether or not she could trust him, but she intended to figure it out.

  She went cold, then hot, squeezed Raiden’s arm once more, like a child looking for reassurance, before she caught herself and loosened her death grip. He didn’t know these people. She’d held him back, asked him to wait. If things got ugly, it would be her fault.

  Screw it. She’d just swum with an alpha of a great white shark clan, found an underwater prince and annihilated two of the scariest creatures she’d ever seen. Two humans didn’t scare her much. Quick flick of the wrist and she’d fry them both on the spot.

  Fighting down her nausea enough to focus, she worked at it until she felt her hand warm up, weapon at the ready before she looked away from Raiden and into the face of the woman who waited. Sarah chose that moment to reach out and pull her man closer. As soon as the couple’s skin connected the Shen Mari now wore on her left shoulder tingled like she’d just had a mixture of peppermint oil and jalapeno juice injected under the mark.

  Scarred guy and Sarah both rubbed their necks at the same time. Mari’s mind twisted into a jumbled mess of past and present. Raiden’s hold on her and his utterly stoic face anchored her. He gave nothing away, his eyes as deadly focused as the shark’s had been. A predator’s eyes.

  Bald guy had turned his complete attention to them, watching Raiden now, and Mari somehow knew that his calculating stare missed nothing. He looked away from Raiden to meet her gaze, a demand in every stiff muscle of his massive frame. “Where’s your Mark?”

  Mari looked away from him to meet the woman’s questioning gaze and blurted an answer. “Left shoulder.”

  He nodded at Sarah, then turned away, a grim expression on his face. “Check it. Then let’s get the hell out of here. I feel like we’re being watched.”

  Watched? By whom? Somehow, Mari didn’t think he was referring to the smattering of tourists that wanted to take advantage of the beach before the afternoon crowds moved in. And by the sour look on Raiden’s face, he didn’t think so, either.

  The woman reached out but Raiden blocked her hand. “Don’t touch her.”

  Mari wanted to kiss him and hit him at the same time. His protectiveness stirred old feelings to life, awakened a yearning she’d fought long and hard to rid herself of. Yes, they were human, and Mr. Muscles had the mark on his neck. But what about the girl? Mari studied her with eyes that burned, met a sympathetic hazel gaze and smiled weakly. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Sarah grinned. “Thank God you have a sense of humor. It’s been boring as hell without Alexa around.”

  “Who’s Alexa?”

  Sarah was adorable, all freckles and sunshine with an open, outgoing smile and warm eyes. Sarah was nearly as tall as Raiden, six foot or taller, with a thin, althetic body and a sun-kissed tangle of golden-brown hair streaked with blonde. Her hair tangled with the breeze and settled just below her shoulders. Sarah was cute. Just cute. Mari decided to hate her for all that slim, tall-girl perfection later. Mari was short, and curvy, like her mother. A runt.

  Sarah interrupted that pitiful train of thought.

  “Alexa’s a friend. She’s a Walker, too. One of us. What’s your name?”

  One of us. There were more? Allies. People who knew the truth, who would have some answers? Friends. The thought was as seductive to Mari as the idea of kissing her prince again. Nearly irresistible. She was so damn tired. What would it be like to have real friends, people she could trust? It had been years. Well, since grade school. It would be so very nice to have someone to rely on other than herself. Seductive as that thought was, she held back his true name.

  “I’m Mari. This is…Ryan.”

  “Nice to meet you both. As I said, I’m Sarah. That’s my husband, Tim.” Sarah shrugged, an apology in the faint motion. “Sorry, but I have to see it. We can’t take any chances.”

  That Mari understood perfectly, but she couldn’t move. It hurt too much.

  Mari looked up from Sarah’s kind face to find Tim’s gaze focused on her like a laser. His knuckles had turned white where his hands were fisted as his sides. “Are you hurt?”

  “Yes.” Mari closed her eyes and gave in to the comforting lure of Raiden’s embrace. She tucked her nose into his neck and drifted.

  “Get the dive suit off her, Sarah. We need to be sure.”

  Tim’s attention remained on Mari, and Raiden’s hackles rose.

  “You won’t touch her.” Raiden held Mari closer, prepared to fight to the death if they made a single threatening move.

  “Come on, Ryan.” Sarah turned her back on him and lifted her hair away from her neck. A Timewalker’s Mark graced her pale skin to the right of her spine. She turned back to face him. “Please. Let us help her.”

  Raiden considered his options. He had few. Not with Mari injured so severely. The Timewalkers were human. Her people. Marked. Still… “How did you
find us, Sarah? How did you know we were here?”

  Sarah tilted her head to look up at him, honesty shining in her hazel eyes. “A Seer told us to be here. Told us you would need help.”

  “Celestina?” That was one name he was rapidly becoming tired of hearing. Seers were nothing but trouble most of the time.

  “No. Her name was Tilly. She was my grandmother.”

  Tim stepped forward. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Raiden felt it, too. A sense of impending battle if they didn’t move.

  “All right. She’s bleeding, Sarah. I don’t know why.” He settled her gently on the sand and peeled the wet suit from Mari’s curvy frame. First a shoulder. Then one arm. He hugged Mari to his chest and tried to ignore the soft compression of her breasts so Sarah could see the Mark he knew would be on Mari’s shoulder…the same place his senses burned.

  “Oh, my God.” Sarah paled, her freckles in sharp contrast to her bloodless face. “The blood…it’s green.”

  “Don’t touch it.” Raiden twisted his neck, trying to inspect Mari’s injury.

  Sarah didn’t answer, just grabbed a towel from its hiding place in her large shoulder bag and pressed it firmly to Mari’s back. Tim’s eyes scanned the horizon and Raiden tore his gaze from Mari’s still form to do the same. The uneasy feeling grew. No aircraft or ships in sight, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Cloaking was an old technology and readily available if one had the funds to pay for it.

  He looked farther up the beach at the nosy tourists who were beginning to take more than a casual interest in their presence. Tim moved closer and looked over Sarah’s shoulder to inspect Mari’s back.

  Tim reached over his wife’s shoulder, lifted the towel, and replaced it with a string of curses. Two pair of hostile eyes glared at him over Mari’s limp body. Lightning cracked and spread across the sky like a giant spider web, the accompanying thunder painful in Raiden’s ears.

  “She’ll be all right.” Tim’s thumbs caressed the sides of his wife’s neck in a gentle reassurance.

  She tore her gaze away from Raiden and looked at Mari’s shoulder again. “What happened to her?”

  Raiden shook his head and lied. Until he was completely sure of these people, he’d keep Mari’s secrets for her. “I don’t know. I woke up from stasis, saw her through the cover, and she collapsed onto the floor.”

  Lightning sizzled ominously overhead and the smattering of vacationers who’d looked like they might wander over out of curiosity headed back for the safety of the buildings Raiden could see within walking distance of the beach.

  Raiden checked the skies with Mari still pressed to the front of his chest. Where had the storm come from? Moments ago the sky had been clear as far as the eye could see. “We need to find shelter and tend to her wounds.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Tim practically growled at him and Raiden bit back his own aggressive response. He had no idea who Sherlock was, but he got the gist of the male’s insult.

  “On my honor, I would never intentionally harm her.” Icy dread filled him as he laid Mari gently on the sand and rolled her over just enough to see her shoulder wound for himself.

  Her eyes did not open and he had his first opportunity to truly study her features. Thick black hair hung well past her shoulders. He knew her eyes were the color of the fine whiskey they imported from Earth to serve at the royal table. Arched brows, high cheekbones and a stubborn chin rested beneath full lips that still held a tinge of green. She was probably average height for a human woman with a small waist, generous curves and full breasts. Perfect. She was perfect.

  Except for the blood pooling and sliding over the smooth skin of her shoulder. It was still flowing green with poison.

  “Dammit.”

  Raiden grappled with the truth. The faint green tinge to her blood could only mean one thing. Tim ran his hands over Mari’s legs, checking for injuries. Raiden clenched his fists in Mari’s hair to keep himself from punching the man. He shouldn’t care for this woman he barely knew, but he did. It was maddening. And stupid. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t tag and catalog these people for the Queen. War still raged and he had a job to do. Priority number one was to keep his vow to Gerrick. Number two? Purge the Triscani evil he’d absorbed the last hundred years in battle before he lost his hold on reality. And three? Get that Remnant bitch out of him. One man could help him with the last two problems. The Dark One. Teagh. Guardian of the Gate.

  Mari would help him with the first. Mari was his best chance at finding his ship.

  Sarah pulled a small medical box from her bag, the humans’ red mark on its cover. Tim opened it and pulled out a white gauze and elastic bandage. “Okay. Let’s do this fast. Hold her.”

  “Why are her lips green?” Sarah reached a tentative finger toward Mari.

  Raiden blocked the tentative touch. “No! I told you not to touch her.”

  “Careful, brother.” Tim was frozen in place, hands inches from Mari’s torn flesh, tensed to spring.

  “It’s poison. I’ve seen it before. It can be absorbed through the skin. Don’t touch her lips or allow her blood to come into contact with your skin.” Raiden shook his head and grabbed the bandage from Tim’s hand. He’d never heard of a healer taking on Triscani poison like this. They were supposed to use their energy to burn the wounds or poison from their patients’ systems, never did they take it into themselves. And if they did? They were supposed to be able to heal themselves as well as others. Why wasn’t she healing? “I don’t know how this is possible.”

  “What do we do then?” Sarah knelt next to her husband, a hand resting on his shoulder in a unified front. The storm had calmed somewhat, but energy crackled in the air and raised the hair at the base of his spine. If what Raiden suspected were true, these two held much power.

  Raiden lifted her in his arms, careful to tuck the bandage and then the towel tightly to her wound. He rose to his feet, holding her like precious cargo. “Let’s get under cover. I will tend her. Her body needs to expel the poison.”

  “But your skin? What about the poison?” Sarah looked doubtful, but carefully tucked the medical box back into her yellow beach bag.

  “It won’t kill me now, not while I’m strong.” Raiden studied the unconscious woman lying in his arms. He had field dressed thousands of wounds, but he knew nothing about the water-breathing clans. Before the Crux, they had stayed in the island regions far from his mountain home. They had all mysteriously vanished with the rest. Youthful arrogance had prevented him studying their people. Then came the Crux, as the Immortals called it. War after that, and studying her people became irrelevant. “Tell me what to do for her. I have not studied her people.”

  “Her people?” Sarah looked confused.

  “Yes. Those of the Isles. The water-breathers.”

  “She has an entire people…” Sarah whispered.

  “What are you saying? She’s not human?” Tim grabbed Sarah’s elbow and led her away, toward a flat area lined with vehicles of some sort. Tim tilted his head, a silent order for Raiden to follow.

  “I don’t know. But if she was, she’s not anymore.” Beneath his palm, the towel now blocked his view of the smooth edges of her sliced flesh. Her soft skin had been cut through like warm butter. The Triscani would drain a man dry or gut him with black ice, but a nice, clean slice of the blade? That was Ryu’s handiwork, the injury transferred from Raiden’s flesh to hers.

  Adjusting his grip, he lifted the towel for another look and cursed the gods.

  Chapter Five

  Celestina huddled beneath her heated blankets for warmth, unable to still the trembling in her limbs. The last clear memory she had was calling out to Bran for help, upset and confused. Afraid. That was two days ago. Every moment between was a jumbled snarl of memories in her mind.

  She’d done something to alter the past and turned her methodical mind into a mash of scrambled eggs. She’d lost a few hours, perhaps a day. She couldn’t be sure until
she did some research and searched her visions for answers. But whatever she’d done, it had worked. Something had changed. The twisted snarl of memory in her mind would never unravel, she knew from experience. She’d done this once before…

  She did recall that Bran had come to her room and laid her on her bed when she proved too weak to stand. He’d pulled her blanket up to her chin and walked out without a word, as always. Her silent warrior. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

  The tears refused to come. There was nothing left of herself to give. Bran owned every tiny piece of her heart, but another had trapped her soul long ago. An evil manipulator and a liar. A monster among men. That bastard was the reason she must refuse Bran, must protect him at all costs. The monster could force her to live in isolation, but he couldn’t stop her from finishing this.

  No one would stop her.

  After seven centuries of battle on the Earth plane, in this timeline, the endgame was near. Urgency beat at her, demanding that she continually search her visions for answers. After almost half a millennia, time was running out. But how were the Timewalkers defeated? How had the Crux occurred? What event had she so desparately needed to avert that she’d sacrificed a piece of her sanity to see it done?

  Perhaps she’d find out. Perhaps not. Gods above, if she didn’t know, no one did. She was one of the most gifted among her people. She saw more than anyone else dared dream. And she still had no idea what the Triscani were up to, who or what they now hunted. Their tactics, their goal, had definitely changed. For many centuries before now, they’d been targeting the masses of humanity with plagues, famine and warfare. Now they acted like bloodhounds chasing a single fox.

  She hoped the fox was wily and very difficult to catch. Whatever they hunted, it would be bad for Earth and the other worlds if they captured the prize. Very bad.

  Her stomach clenched in pain, but she had no will to rise and eat, wasn’t sure her legs would support her even if she did. She just wanted to rest, desperate for sleep without pain, without the memories of hundreds of mortal humans meeting their deaths hovering behind her eyelids. Sleep had eluded her for days. Weeks? Every time she closed her eyes, any one of a myriad of nightmares would revisit her. Not simply dreams, but memories, things she’d experienced in visions. Suffering and dying, over and over again.