by Casey Wyatt
“Is it coming this way?” I asked, disbelieving that thing could be alive.
“It’s headed in our direction,” Jonathan confirmed.
Slapping the controls, I willed the damn thing to start. “Come on, come on.”
The sky turned deep purple. It was nearly on us. I reached forward to bang the controls again. The cuff sparked. An energy bolt shot into the panel. The hovercraft jumped forward. I set it on max speed.
“I hope this is fast enough,” he said, checking over his shoulder.
You know the situation is dire if a ghost is afraid.
“Me too,” I said, steering to skirt around Olympus Mons. The cuff had other ideas. Overriding the controls, the vehicle changed trajectory, heading straight for solid rock.
“Cherry! What the hell?” Jonathan shouted over the rising wind.
“It’s not me!” I cussed the bracelet but stopped. “We have to trust it. It’s never led me into danger before.”
In fact, it always seemed to know what it was doing even if I didn’t understand at the time. I hugged my daughter against my chest and prayed we’d make it.
Jonathan grew fainter the closer the cloud came. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
For some reason, it reassured me to know he was there, even if he wasn’t real.
The communication panel spit out static, meaning no one knew I was in danger. I doubted even Ian could find me, given the distance. Plus, the cloud was probably blocking the signal.
Red rock filled the view screen.
“Here we go.” I stopped short of reaching for Jonathan’s hand. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if he really was just a mirage.
I fought the instinct to close my eyes. If I was dying, I was facing it. I braced for impact.
Everything went dark, then cold. The hovercraft’s lights kicked on, peeling away a layer of black. “Did we just pass through solid rock?”
Jonathan nodded, his head swiveling like a tourist. “That surprised even me.”
“Not sure why. Don’t ghosts phase through walls to get from place to place?” I spoke in quiet tones, worried we might not be alone. Foolish perhaps. But I’d learned nothing on Mars was ever what it seemed.
“I don’t like being steered in a direction.”
“That’s funny coming from you.”
He huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I gaped at him before responding. “Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t answer my question with a question. You know I find it annoying.” He looked affronted.
“Pardon me, Puppet Master. I think it’s hilarious that you don’t like being manipulated.” Even though I was arguing with him, I wasn’t about to admit that he was right. I doubted we had coincidentally ended up inside a secret chamber in an extinct volcano.
We neared what I thought were large columns.
“Whoa. Look at those.” I pointed. “Are those giant statues?”
Jonathan folded his arms. “They remind me of guardians.”
“Not stone. Look at how the light catches the surface.” A shudder passed over me. They reminded me of mecha robots like in Japanese anime. Their lifeless round eyes stared straight ahead. Arms and feet ramrod straight. The articulated joints hinted at the movements they could make if they came to life.
“Do you think they move?” Jonathan watched them warily.
“Shush. Don’t even suggest it.”
Soon enough we were past them, much to my relief. The hovercraft stopped, ending the discussion. Lights flicked on, revealing a golden chamber, eerily similar to the one we’d found in our caves.
The hovercraft’s protective dome slid open.
“I guess that’s our cue to disembark,” Jonathan said, like we were getting off a steamer ship. He leapt down, his feet making no sound. When he offered me his hand, I ignored it.
“What do you want?” I shouted into the empty space.
Oddly, there was no echo even though the room was wide and empty. The faint whir of a control panel activating caught my attention.
“You brought us here, so speak.” Shrill feedback assaulted our ears. Vala wailed her disapproval and I concurred. “Was that necessary?”
No response. Annoying. “Look. Either state your business or we’re leaving.”
A sharp pop, like a giant suction cup releasing itself, came from where Jonathan was standing. He shimmered with silver light. Turning stiffly toward me, he spoke in the same genderless voice I’d heard before but had forgotten until now. Odd.
“We have waited a long time for you to come to us,” they said.
“Why?” I said, shifting Vala in my arms.
“Your entire life has been orchestrated for this one purpose.”
And not what I wanted to hear. I choked back a sarcastic comment and waited.
“Charity Belmont, you are key to saving us all. Your friends are succumbing.”
A holographic image of the sick bay appeared in the center of the room. Nina had joined the ranks of the sick. Joan was running from person to person while Ian and Jay were hunched over lab equipment. The image disappeared.
“Will you not aid your friends and family?”
“Did you have something to do with the plague?” I didn’t like the attempted guilt trip. Not one bit.
“Will you not save them?” The voice said again, through Jonathan’s ghost. And they ignored my question.
“It may have escaped your notice, but I have a baby. Her safety is my first priority.” Vala rested in my arms, her eyes bright with a curiosity startling to see in an infant. “How about you answer some questions for me? What is that purple storm outside?”
“A memory. Nothing you need be concerned with.”
“I don’t agree. That thing is sentient, isn’t it?”
The lights dimmed. Jonathan’s ghost walked backward, hand outstretched. “Come. There isn’t much time. You must make a choice.”
I didn’t like being rushed. Not when I didn’t have all the facts. “What is it I have to do?”
“Travel.”
“Nope. I told you. I’m not leaving Vala.” And not alone with a ghost and a bunch of disembodied voices. “We’ve spoken before, haven’t we?”
“In a fashion.” Panels shimmered and re-formed. A golden path appeared under my feet, similar to the conveyors. I braced myself for movement. If I acted quickly, I could make it back to the hovercraft. And then what? Take my chances with the angry purple monster outside? The colony was off-limits too.
No matter what Philip had said earlier, this situation was my fault. I didn’t have a choice. I had to try something.
“What does that mean?” I asked, rubbing my temple. Snippets of a half-remembered conversation floated in my mind. The harder I tried to grasp them the faster they slipped away. “Did you mess with my memory? God. I hate that.”
“You do not have to leave the child. She can sit on your lap.” Golden liquid rose from the floor to form an armchair. “The solution only requires a conscious effort on your part.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “This doesn’t make any sense. How is my sitting in a chair going to cure everyone?”
“You will go back in time and find the Lost Ship.”
“Wait. What?” I didn’t even know where to start. “Time travel isn’t possible. Even I know that.”
“The Lost Ship must be found. The cure you seek is there.”
“What do you want in return?”
“Freedom to live.”
The chair glided toward me. I stepped back from it only to bang into something solid behind me. Without meaning to, I lost my balance. Before I could stop my momentum, I was seated in the golden chair.
“Oh, come on!” When I tried to stand, I couldn’t. My grip on Vala tightened. If they tried to take her from me, I’d kill someone. Or something.
Jonathan’s ghost drifted in front of me. His mournful look told me he didn’t like being commandeered.
“L
isten. Time is of the essence,” he said.
“Why does it matter, if we have a time machine?”
Laughter rang in my ears. “Oh no. There is no such thing as a time machine.”
“Seriously?” I licked my lips. The chair moved forward, taking me further into the chamber. “There’s no blue box? No phone booth? Nothing?”
Golden walls parted. Blinding light spilled forth. I covered Vala’s face as best I could. “Could we stop, please? What you want me to do?”
“Your mind will travel to your own body in the past. On the time stream.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Was that even a thing?
“Hush, Cherry,” said Jonathan, sounding more like himself than whatever was borrowing his mouth. “You will be in the past in your own body.”
“This is insane. What about Vala?” Panic bubbled up. “Are you saying I’ll become a vegetable if this fails?”
The thought that my daughter might be trapped with my spent body scared the crap out of me. The chair stopped and turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Like in a beauty parlor, it tilted backward at an angle. Cold metal pressed against my temples.
“Listen carefully. Linger too long or let events take hold, and you will be lost in the time stream. If you stray, we can’t help you.”
“Yeah, I got it. Don’t be a tourist. How am I going to find the Lost Ship?” Numbness coated my lips and tongue.
“The cuff will help you.”
“The world is a big place. Could you at least narrow it down?”
“We think the Lost Ship is located somewhere in England. Remember, Charity. This is important. Time will have its way.” Jonathan captured my gaze, the look saying, “Don’t mess this up.”
“England? The cuff will tell me? Geez. Can’t anyone give me a straight ansher . . .” I slurred, my rubbery tongue disobeying me. Grogginess took hold, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. “If anything happens to my kid, I’ll—”
The floor dropped out from under me, as my consciousness detached from my body. I fought to stay anchored to reality.
Jonathan’s voice whispered in my head. Let go, Charity.
A thousand different images appeared. All barely perceptible, phantoms on the winds of time. I no longer had a body. I just was.
The falling. It lasted forever.
And ever . . .
Until it didn’t . . .
One moment slowed like a driver rubbernecking at an accident. The private garden on a veranda in India.
The sweet smell of flowers. Pungent spices. Humidity that went bone deep.
A girlish giggle.
It was me in 1882. I’d snuck champagne and cigarettes because they were forbidden. I wanted to sing because I’d met a man, handsome and brash. He wasn’t the first man enthralled by my beauty. Or the first to try and kiss me. But this man, he was different. I don’t know how I knew it, but he could take me away from my dull existence. Free me from being doomed to spend my days being decorative and purposeless.
The scene played out with me as a spectator. Past Me opened her mouth and sang. Past Jay nodded appreciatively. My only audience. Or so I thought.
Death lurked nearby, enchanted by my voice.
My mortal life was on its last leg. I just didn’t know it yet.
Should I warn myself? The thought shocked me. Until that moment, it had been as possible as meeting the Easter Bunny.
Before I could decide, the scene’s edges warped and twisted, curling like paper touched by flame.
Then it shattered into a million shards, each piece piercing my skull with a million cuts.
I screamed into the void, then I knew nothing.
Chapter Seven
Morning Breath
Tiny pokers stabbed my eyes.
Another body, warm and hard, spooned against my backside.
Ian always felt so good, comforting and real.
His hand wrapped around my waist, cupping the underside of my breast. A cool sheet slid off my bare shoulder.
I was naked and in bed. A snippet of memory interrupted my appreciation of my husband’s hand.
Wasn’t I running from something . . .?
Fingers trailed along my spine, heading south. The touch was wrong, unfamiliar and rough.
Hold on. That wasn’t Ian. I shouldn’t feel the warmth of sun against my skin either. We lived on Mars, where it was colder than a witch’s tit.
If not Ian, then who was touching my inner thigh?
My eyelids snapped open like a shade on a spring. Bolting upright, I bared my fangs and grabbed the man’s wrist.
Oh, holy hell. I was in bed with another man. I rolled away and slammed into a different body. Shit, make that two other men. Two eye-poppingly gorgeous men.
Hey, I might be dead, but I’m not dead dead.
“Mistress? Have I displeased you?” said the man whose wrist I was about to shatter. Stunning blue-gray eyes. Dark stubble lined his chiseled jawline. His dark hair was mussed and complimented his swarthy skin tone. Dried blood smeared his neck. A red trail led to puncture marks.
The other man’s brown muscled chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. His body was fully exposed on the white sheet. Puncture marks lined his neck, his groin and his very erect penis.
My cheeks heated like a furnace. Clearly, we’d had a good time.
“No. Leave me. Both of you go to your rooms.” I dropped his wrist. The man woke his drowsing companion, and they left as I’d commanded.
Damn. I wished I could get the other men in my life to be so compliant.
Other men? There were other people important to me. Why couldn’t I remember them?
I’d kill Jonathan if he was messing with my mind again.
But yet... that idea didn’t feel right.
Somewhere in a dead corner of my memory, this moment seemed familiar. Jonathan, sensing my unhappiness with our “arrangement,” had spent the early years of our relationship attempting to please me.
This must have been my slut phase, where we’d bring home gorgeous men and I would feast and fuck while he watched. I enjoyed knowing it bothered him that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Only the mortals that we found in gaming dens, brothels, even at society events. The only other thing I would take from Jonathan besides his money was his blood, and only out of necessity.
Fucking hell. Ian’s go-to phrase—I remembered him now—helped resurface the reason why I was reliving this not-so-proud moment in my past.
The plague. The Lost Ship. The time stream. My daughter.
Oh, dear God. I hoped she was safe.
“Good morning, my pet.” Jonathan read a page of the morning newspaper while sipping tea from a dainty cup. He sat on the balcony situated outside my bedroom. From his vantage point, he could view the bed and my doings in Technicolor glory.
My heart lurched at the sight of his arrogant beauty. I had forgotten how full of life he’d been, especially in this time period. And, oh, how handsome he was. His raven hair glossy with blue highlights sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The strong line of his jaw and perfect Roman nose coupled with full lips made it hard not to stare at him. He hadn’t yet acquired the weariness that having a Family would place on him.
In later years, after much bitterness between us, I no longer saw him anymore. The beauty was tarnished, and we became as passionate as two coworkers passing the time until their shift ended. He had become someone I had to endure rather than enjoy. Not that I ever really “enjoyed” him because of the circumstances surrounding our sham marriage.
The horrid image of his death, when he’d knelt, offering Thalia his head, shattered the peaceful moment. With a plaintive look, he commanded that I accept his fate and mine. We both knew that Thalia, the dead queen’s heir apparent, was a vindictive bitch. She blamed me for her mother’s death and Jonathan refused to bow down to her. So, he did what he always did. He protected his Family by sacrificing himself so we could escape. In his last moments, regret had filled his eyes.
The wish that we could have been different together had been silenced forever.
Seeing Jonathan again and remembering was worse than reopening a wound and rubbing salt in it with a lemon juice chaser. If only I could apologize to him for how awful I’d been. I hadn’t been blameless in wrecking our relationship. I could have tried harder to accept my fate instead of punishing him at every turn.
The temptation to blurt out the truth bubbled inside, until I had to force myself to look away from him. Would this Jonathan be willing to help me? Or would he use my current predicament to his advantage?
No. I couldn’t, wouldn’t chance it. Not with the entire colony’s lives hanging in the balance.
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve. Sew it on a patch and you’d have my life’s motto.
Yup. Regrets sucked.
Jonathan placed the teacup down and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed a bit surprised when you awoke.”
Surprise didn’t cover how I felt. That word was too puny, too inadequate. After a few seconds, I found my voice again.
“Yes, we had a good time. Thank you.” It sure looked that way.
He acted like finding his wife in bed with other men was no big deal. It wasn’t like I would keep them. To him they were more like pets or meals with legs.
But now, with a century of wisdom tucked under my belt, instead of relishing in his annoyance, I realized something. He was sad. With himself or me, I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. I had a mission to accomplish. A future to save.
Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Well, my darling, it must have been wonderful if you’re thanking me.”
Shit. Old Me would have never done that. I needed to play it cool. The last thing I needed was Jonathan becoming suspicious. If memory served, this was the eve before he’d left for India on business. I needed him on that boat and away from me so I could make my way to England.
How could I move the conversation along? Future Jonathan had said the cuff would help me narrow down a location. In any case, I couldn’t remain in France.
“Don’t get used to it. It was a momentary weakness, I assure you.” I rose from the bed and walked to the table. I didn’t bother covering up. If I did, he’d know something was wrong.