Chronomancer

by Mackenzie Morris

  Dean's hand tightened around the gun. "I won't let you hurt him."

  "The only way to make sure that doesn't happen is to do what I say."

  "So, he is alive?"

  The inquisitor nodded his head. "Nikolas is alive."

  "Oh, thank God."

  His ice cold eyes caught Dean's. "But it's up to you if he remains that way."

  "If you wanted me to join the Inquisition willingly, for the good of humanity, why do it like this? Why would I want to join an organization that does this to people?"

  "Everything we do is for a reason, Dean. Your time is running out. Personally, I have all the time in the world, but you don't. Now, get out there and do what you have been commanded to do."

  Dean bit his lip as he trailed his fingers across the ridges on the rifle. He lifted it up towards Shay and narrowed his eyes. With a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger. With lightning reflexes, Shay grabbed the barrel and pushed it out of the way, sending a rapid hail of bullets through the roof of the car. Grungy sunlight spilled in through the bullet holes along with specks of soot from a nearby fire.

  Shay pried the gun out of Dean's hands and tossed it into the backseat. He laughed and inched closer to him. "Oh, Dean. You are such a fun game to play. I never know what you're thinking. Surely during your time in the police force, you received some sort of training of what to do in a hostage situation, yes? Is this what you were trained to do? Piss off your captor?"

  "So I am your captive. I'm not here because you want me to join the Inquisition. I'm here because you think I can be easily manipulated."

  "Yes. You're right. What great deductive skills you have, Detective. If you wanted out of this so badly, why haven't you opened that door and tried to run? I'll tell you why. Because you're an intelligent man. You know that I could gun you down before you turned a corner. If I missed, I could go back in time and let you try to flee over and over until I hit my mark. You are trapped, Dean. It's over. It will be best for everyone involved if you submit now. Face the truth of your existence. You are a slave. You are my slave, leashed to me by time. I've chosen you for this because I know the skills you have. I am a stubborn man, Mr. Amethyst. I will do anything I can to get what I want. I'm going to give you the rifle back and you are going to march into the police station and do what I order you to do."

  "And if I don't?" Dean asked, taking in every inch of the man's harsh features.

  "Is your brain still mixed up from the warp? If you fail to do what I tell you to do, then I resort to violent means. I'm not a violent man, Dean, unless someone pushes me to that point."

  Dean felt the hit to his face before his head knocked against the frozen passenger side window. He doubled over, leaving a smear of blood behind. "Damn it. Do it again."

  Shay snickered as he reared back and slapped the detective across the face, sending him crashing into the console with a crack. Two more punches pummeled into Dean's back until he was reduced to coughing and cowering in the corner. "Are you done fighting me? Will you submit, Dean? Will you submit?"

  "I'll submit." Dean held up his hands to protect himself from another hit. "I'll submit. I'll do what you want, anything."

  "Good. Good."

  Dean wiped the blood from the injury to the back of his head. It was matted in his hair and trickled down his neck. "Hand me the gun."

  "Hold on. I'm getting a call." Shay pressed the earpiece in his ear. "This is Inquisitor Terringer. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I understand. I will transport him as soon as possible. Yes, that was me. He shot himself, so I . . . yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir."

  "Sounds like you're in trouble."

  Shay held up a threatening fist, but he lowered it. "Change of plans. We're going to the present where you've been assigned another task."

  "The present? I'm dead in the present."

  "No. Not now. That was written over, undone forever. All this jumping around in time messes with the current main timeline. It's December 26 now, I believe, in the present."

  How did this happen? Dean held his arms around himself, observing the carnage and debris around him. His life was falling apart more than he thought it had been. Time travel was real and he had taken his own life only to be brought back to a time before it happened. It was overwhelming, and yet somehow comforting.

  Shay snarled at him. "Wake up."

  "I'm awake. I'm just . . . trying to understand."

  "It's overwhelming for someone normal like you to fully grasp what we do here. You've traveled through time, Dean. Congratulations. Maybe knowing this is real will encourage you to work with us and do what is best for all of humanity."

  "You've shown me nothing to make me believe that the Inquisition of Purity wants the best for humanity."

  "Maybe this will." Shay leaned back in his seat and raked his nails through his spiky black hair that was stiff with too much hair gel. "Right now, FBI agents are storming the Sand Headquarters in Washington State. They are raiding the place under the assumption that it is an underground terrorist group, one that Jackson and Nikolas have been radicalized by within the past year, leading to the series of attacks across the globe. As we speak, Jackson and Nikolas are more than likely being transported to an undisclosed FBI compound where they will be interrogated . . . or worse. You're a detective, or you were until recently. You know what happens to federal prisoners who are declared to be enemy combatants."

  "Gitmo."

  "Guantanamo Bay. Is that where you want to see those boys end up? You know what happens down there. The government tries to hide it, to cover it up, but you and I both know the horrors that go on there. And Niki's Iranian. He'd fit in, right?"

  Dean glared at him. "This has nothing to do with race. Those boys are innocent. Neither one of them belongs in a place like that."

  "But that's where they're going to be for the rest of their lives unless you do what we say and help us get them back."

  "Like you're going to treat them any better?" Dean asked.

  "I don't know what you've heard, but I may have been too rough with Jackson, initially. I was misinformed on how he could be beneficial to the Inquisition. I now know that he is important and should be protected instead."

  "So, what do you want me to do about it?"

  "Very soon, one or both of those boys will be put onto a plane from FBI Headquarters to Guantanamo Bay. You and I are going to hijack that plane and bring it down or get them out of FBI custody before they get there. It's a simple process, one we've employed before. We can make people disappear while making it look like an accident with mass casualties."

  So, it was the Inquisition. "Like you did with Air Force One. You hijacked Air Force One then took President Fleur somewhere with your time abilities, right? Is he alive? Where is he?"

  "That is sensitive information that only our inquisitors have privilege to, I'm afraid. But in essence, yes, you are correct."

  "And if I help you get Jack and Niki out of FBI custody?"

  "Then you've earned your right to join us and to live with your children, just like you wanted. That is what you still want, isn't it?" Shay asked.

  "What do I have to do?"

  "They won't be taking a normal plane. It will be private and undetectable. Off the radar. We have ways of finding where it will be taking off from. It is at that point that we will interfere, sneak inside, then wait until we are at 20,000 feet before we make our move."

  Sneaking onto an FBI plane filled with agents and hijacking it was far from what he ever thought he would do. "I'm not prepared for this."

  "You will be. We have a drive ahead of us and we're not warping back to the present. We have information about something happening two days from now, so we can drive and make the most of our trip." Shay started the engine and drove towards the interstate as darker clouds choked out what little sunlight remained in the polluted afternoon. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."

  "They'll kill Niki in there, you know? He's a kid, but the things they do in there .
. ."

  "So you need to save them. It's simple, really. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Check this out. We've gotta pull over."

  Dean squinted through the spotlights that glared down onto the interstate from the nearby overpass where soldiers in grey fatigues with their faces hidden behind black visors on helmets had set up a checkpoint. Tanks and concrete barriers barricaded the entire interstate on both sides, preventing traffic moving through the area. Cars had been abandoned, their drivers and passengers dragged out of them and lined up on their knees at gunpoint. A young man shouted at the soldiers, throwing empty soda bottles at them while they moved into position with riot shields raised.

  "What's going on?" Dean asked.

  "Security checkpoint, by the looks of it. Something's not right, though. Check out the way the soldiers are treating the citizens. They're looking at their arms, their hands, making them roll up their sleeves. What do you see them doing over there, at the front of the line?"

  "Drawing blood? Is that what they're doing? What are they testing blood for?"

  "DNA." Shay slowed to a stop behind the car in front of him as they were diverted onto the shoulder by a soldier with a rifle. "I bet a thousand dollars that those soldiers are screening for Avelayans and Iskaydrians. If you see any hourglass pendants or brooches, let me know. Come on, get out. They'll want to check the car."

  Dean ground his teeth together when one of the soldiers opened fire on the protester, dropping him in cold blood in the middle of the interstate. The onlookers screamed, but they didn't run. Instead, they turned their heads and hid their children behind their legs so they didn't have to see it. The blood steamed as it seeped out from the body and squished below the boots of the soldiers who returned to work as if nothing had happened. "Oh, God. They're killing civilians."

  "Dean, back to the problem at hand."

  "Right. Blood testing. You're Iskaydrian, though. They'll screen you and find out. What then?"

  "Then we deal with it when it's a problem. Right now, we need to blend in. We're two business partners on a trip. We're trying to get to D.C. to secure a bank loan for our watchmaking business."

  A time-traveler pretending to be a watch maker? "Watches? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

  "It's the best we've got. Now, play along or I will kill the boy. Better yet, I'll let Nikolas go to Guantanamo and I'll force Jack to watch him be humiliated and beaten. I'll then find you and make you break Jackson until he's an unthinking robot, programmed to do what the Inquisition wants. You may think you're smarter than me, but you are not, Mr. Amethyst. You are living under a delusion, a false sense of security from your career that placed you in authority over others. But underneath your title and your badge, you are nothing but a sniveling coward. Now, walk."

  Dean stumbled forward when he was shoved, but quickly regained his footing. He straightened his back and held his head high. He even moved closer to Shay to play along with his plan. Shay was not the direct enemy at that point. The power-crazed soldiers exerting force over the citizens were. Dean could deal with Shay at a later point in time, but if they were shot and killed at this barricade, he wouldn't get the chance to save Niki and Jack. That was all he had to keep living for, after all. Nothing else mattered.

  A male soldier with a megaphone shouted at the crowds of people. "Have your identification and travel permits at the ready. Anyone found without proper paperwork will be subject to searches and further screenings. Single-file line, people. This isn't first grade. You know how to do this. And no talking. Keep your mouths shut. Do what we say when we say it and no one gets hurt. Then you will all be free to continue on your way."

  A young woman at the front of the line held out her arm to the soldier doing the screenings. She jumped when the needle pricked her arm. The solider placed the blood sample into a small computer on a table next to the line. After a few moments, the screen flashed green and the soldier nodded his head. "Clear. Next."

  Once the girl was escorted back to her van, a man stepped up next and the process was repeated. The screen flashed green again and he, too, was led to his vehicle. Ten more times, the screen was green and the citizens were allowed to drive away relatively unharmed. Then it was Dean's turn. He followed as he had seen, stepping up to the line of reflective tape on the asphalt and rolling up his sleeve. He held out his arm to the soldier with the needle."

  "Identification and travel permit."

  "I don't . . . I don't have it with me."

  The soldier mocked him with a sing-song voice. "You don't have it with you? Convenient, isn't it? All right. Blood test it is. Arm."

  Dean studied the soldier as the needle plunged into his skin. He tried to see through the tinted shade of the helmet, but the light only glazed off it, distorting the view of any features he might have been able to discern behind hit. That's when something sparkling caught his eye. A tiny bronze pin in the shape of an hourglass on the soldier's chest next to the various other patches and insignias that were unlike any he had seen from any branch of the military. These weren't normal soldiers. What would the hourglass pin mean? He quickly made the connection just as the screen flashed green. Zurvan Syndicate.

  "You're free to go. Next."

  Dean fixed his sleeve as he started to walk back towards the car with a soldier trailing close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Shay's blood being drawn.

  The soldier next to him spoke harshly. "Keep walking. That doesn't concern you anymore."

  He kept his head down, feeling the gazes of the citizens who were obviously upset about the militarized police state. They were hungry, tired, and weary. Some of them appeared to be on the verge of rage. A woman wept into her husband's chest while a burly man in a leather biker vest shouted at the soldiers about freedom, liberty, and the constitution. On the other side of the interstate, two semi trucks were parked with long tables stretched out beside them. Cans of beans, bags of rice, and containers of dehydrated milk were stacked up where citizens traded in red tokens in exchange for one of each.

  Food rationing? Dean chewed on his lip. This wasn't good. If they were doing this to help quell more uprisings, they were in for a big surprise. He knew full well what would happen when the government stripped freedom away from its people and forced them to live on rations, herded them like cattle, and controlled them with an iron fist. If the government had allowed the Zurvan Syndicate to come in like hired guns to crack down on riots, then the reports from around the world had to be true. They were in a world-wide state of war.

  Dean heard the readying of rifles before he saw the flash of red from the computer screen. He spun around to see eight soldiers with their guns raised, poised to fire at Shay. The inquisitor stood there with a grin on his face and his long white robe fluttering in the breeze. The golden axes on the crimson sash around his neck glittered in the spotlights.

  "On the ground now, Inquisitor!"

  Shay held up one hand, but he reached into a pocket on his robe with the other. He took out a slender plastic device with a button on the top. "You don't want to shoot me. I'm wearing twenty pounds of military grade C4. All I have to do is press this button and everyone here dies."

  What was he doing?

  The inquisitor slowly began to back away from the screaming citizens who tried to escape over the barricades. He made his way to Dean's side. "Okay, screw this. We're going to the present now. Forget the rest of the plan."

  "How are you doing this with me? I thought you could only take a Time Knight, someone of Avelayan blood."

  "Normally, yes. But you have Avelayan blood inside you now, so it can work temporarily."

  "Avelayan blood? How?" Dean was more concerned with the rifles aimed at him. "How do I have Avelayan blood in me?"

  Shay grinned. "That wasn't normal tomato juice I gave you this morning. And it sure as hell wasn't pork sausage."

  "Oh my God. No. I'm gonna be sick."

  "It should still be strong enough in your system to warp once more." W
ith his free hand, Shay retrieved a syringe filled with what looked to be partially clotted blood from his pocket. He kept his eyes on the soldiers with his thumb poised on the button for the explosives. "If not, here's another dose."

  Dean flinched when the needle was jabbed at him, piercing his arm. He stared down in horror as the dark blood was injected into his vein. "Whose blood is that?"

  "It doesn't matter." Shay tossed the syringe to the ground. "Take my hand now, Dean. We're going to the present. Damn it, we've screwed up big this time. My father needs to know the mess we've made."

  Chapter 17

  Condensation dripped down the side of the soda can when it was slammed onto the plain metal table in front of Jack. A bag of sour cream and onion potato chips slid to a stop next to it. Still dressed in the jumpsuit from Sand, Jack sat with shoulders slumped, watching the tiny blinking red light in the corner of the ceiling from a camera that was recording everything that happened in the room. While his wrists were free of handcuffs, his ankles were shackled to a bolt in the floor below the cold steel chair.

  With no windows and no clock on the plain white walls, there was no way to tell how long he had been there. The last thing he remembered was grabbing Thyme's hand and closing his eyes to warp away from Sand Headquarters. But there was a flash of white. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was wrapped in a leather band around his mark, he was in handcuffs, and being shoved into the back of an unmarked FBI van. Something happened when he tried to time travel, and judging by the way they knew to lock his tattoo away, someone in the FBI knew what he was and what he could do.

  It was a short drive to whatever facility he was in. He was taken in with a blindfold on before being put in the room and left alone for what felt like hours. But he was not alone any longer. Feeling oddly calm, Jack kept his eyes focused on the female detective in her late forties with the comforting brown eyes and wind-swept dirty blonde hair. Instead of being angry or pushy like he thought an interrogator would have been, the agent was soft-spoken and even smiled at him when she pulled up a chair on the other side of the table.