“Warning! Unauthorized subject at the Warehouse Door 1.” The woman’s voice was more insistent. The chaise lifted Aislen upright, the music stopped, and the room became brighter. The screen on the wall came to life. On it, Raziel was standing at the door, arms full of groceries, looking frustrated.
Aislen was surrounded by evil. That man was a murderer, too! He’d used a helpless child to assassinate his own father. He had stalked her ethereally and then had kidnapped her.
She watched him on the screen as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and placed his hand up to the reader. The screen filled with the color of his signature frequency, but it wasn’t the color that Aislen had acquired to get through the house. That signature was obsidian and midnight blue, like an oil spill in the ocean, threaded with thick sinews of steel. The signature on the display was a swirl of silver with threads of midnight blue running through it. Same colors, only inverted. It matched what she’d felt just a while ago, but not the one she felt yesterday.
Had he changed? Aislen thought of Troy, the man she had thought was her safety net. She’d been running to Troy at the hospital, trying to get to him. And Raziel had stopped her. Raziel had actually saved her. Did he know that? Did he know what Troy was? Or did he have his own evil agenda?
Raziel tried the Qi yet again.
“Access denied. Unauthorized subject at Warehouse Door 1. Calling the authorities in 10…9…8–”
Raziel's face looked muddled; rage, confusion, and panic fought for dominance across his face. This could be her chance; an opportunity to escape. But he’d brought her juice and water earlier. He was bringing her food now. He’d validated her dreams as real and her time traveling as possible.
“7…6…5–”
A gut instinct took over, and Aislen put her hand up to the screen. She projected Raziel’s signature, the signature she remembered, toward the panel.
“4…3…2–” The countdown stopped.
“Hello, Raze. Authorize entry?”
“Yes” and “No” buttons appeared on the screen. Aislen touched the “Yes.”
Nineteen
Aislen watched as the back door clicked open and Raziel tentatively walked through.
The door to the lab slid open, beckoning freedom.
Aislen didn’t know what she was supposed to do next. She felt the same as Raziel must feel. What had just happened? He was not going to be happy that she was free, but if he couldn’t get into his own house anymore, he wouldn’t be able to get to her in the lab. She didn’t want the lab to change its mind and shut the door on her for good, so she moved hesitantly through the doorway into the dark stairwell of the warehouse.
The thought of making a run for it crossed her mind–through the warehouse to an emergency exit, to the police, and then home. But Raziel hadn’t left the door open earlier because he trusted her. He’d done it because there was no way out.
And although he had kidnapped her and was holding her hostage, he was getting her food and water–taking care of her–for some reason.
Aislen bolstered Raziel’s signature throughout her space. If she was going to do this, she’d better do it right. A surge of confidence emboldened her, and she began climbing the old metal stairs to the back of the bedroom mirror. It slid open instantly, and she stepped into the bedroom.
The house had shrugged off its high alert and was chilling in the soft jazz mix again. Aislen walked through the bedroom. She felt like a stranger invading someone’s private space, but she could also feel his sense of pride and a dominion for what he’d created here.
Aislen surveyed the room. She would have expected someone like him, someone who created chaos and wreaked havoc in the world, to live in chaos himself. A man like him would be too busy for laundry or to care about things being orderly. But it was exactly that: immaculate, sophisticated in its minimalism. Everything was in its place. Everything had a reason it was there.
Aislen brushed her hand over the smooth, gray silk of the bedspread and turned to the artwork painted across the brick wall overlooking the bed.
Rising from the floor to the ceiling high above her, was an angel; her serene face looking down into the room, blindfolded, wings spread open—not to take flight, but to provide protection for the sleeping person she watched over. It was breathtaking.
Who was this man that he would have such a masterpiece painted in his room? The person Aislen felt like, cloaked in his frequency, was not such a person. That person was hard and cold with a singular focus. Aislen had faced that person eye to eye, had felt his apathy and hatred freeze her to the core. A person who would have this painted in his room had layers, depth…feelings. It didn’t match up.
But Raziel wasn’t matching up anymore, either. And it was time to face him.
Aislen moved toward the bedroom door onto the landing of the spiral staircase. The living space opened up below her, and Raziel was standing three stories down, groceries still in his arms, looking up at her. He looked so small, almost helpless. Aislen almost felt sorry for him but shook it off. She couldn’t let herself forget who he was.
Raziel raised a single finger to his lips, then hand signaled for her to stay where she was. He gently set the bags down at his feet, then bounded up the staircase, taking them two at a time. He was there before she could think, not at all helpless or small. He grabbed her hand, sending a jolt of energy through her that made her knees weak, and pulled her with him, practically dragging her across a catwalk that led toward a series of 20-foot arched windows. They moved through a glass doorway that led out to a rooftop patio.
The silhouette of the city rose up around them, darkening in the fading light of day. She recognized its particular outline: the pyramid of the Transamerica building, the cascading lights of the Bay Bridge, its unique acoustic atmosphere of water, seagulls and traffic, the wet scent of brine and exhaust. She was in San Francisco.
Raziel didn’t stop to let her take in the view, nor did he seem to care if she was figuring out where she was. He pulled her across the rooftop until they were standing near a wall. Water poured down the mossy brick, trickling over outcroppings and plants into a pool below: an urban waterfall. Raze whipped around and faced her, grabbing her by the shoulders roughly.
“Did you let me in?” He was his old self, cold, hard and angry. This self could have made it through that door.
Aislen shrank back, feeling defensive. “You weren’t projecting the right signature frequency. Well, not the one you told me to match before…”
Raziel’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look surprised but didn’t look happy about that either. “You could tell?”
“I saw it–on the panel in the lab–” she stuttered. “It was different. And the voice was saying she was going to call the authorities. So I opened the door using the frequency you showed me earlier.”
Raziel looked bewildered. “Why? Why would you do that?”
That was a really good question. Aislen shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”
Raziel dropped his hands off her shoulders and looked at her intently. “Well, you did the right thing. They wouldn’t have been saving you.”
He sighed and looked back toward the house. “This is going to be a problem.” He thought for a moment then looked back at Aislen. “We need to see where you’re at and get you prepared. You need to be able to start taking care of yourself because I don’t know how much longer I can protect you.”
“Protect me?” Aislen snapped. “You kidnapped me!” She knew it wasn’t the whole truth. Whether Raziel knew it or not, he had also saved her…from Troy.
A wave of sadness and disappointment washed over her. “Troy...” she sighed his name.
“What about Troy?!” Raze was vicious again.
Aislen shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“I won’t never mind. You don’t know shit about Kellen–or anything else for that matter. You have no fucking idea!”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I do!” Aislen sna
pped back.
He snorted. “Oh, you do now, huh? Do tell.”
Raziel glared at her, and a kinetic force surged between them, an alternating undercurrent of hard resistance and magnetic resonance. It sizzled across her skin without him even touching her. She felt lit on fire, and her heart caught in her chest.
He waited for her to speak, the intensity of his gaze burning through her. She didn’t want to tell him–didn’t want to admit her stupidity. But she couldn’t do this on her own. She needed his help. He was all she had.
“I was wrong about Troy,” she confessed, feeling the shame flush her face. “I thought he was a friend. But he’s not. He never was.”
Raze was taken aback. “When did you figure that out?”
“Just now. While you were gone. I fell back asleep.”
“I told you not to do that.”
“I know, but I couldn’t help it. And I wish I hadn’t.” The memory of Troy killing Lange with his bare hands came back, and she shuddered.
Raziel softened a bit. “What did you see?”
“That he’s a fake,” Aislen spat in disgust. “That he acts like he cares…like he cares about people… like he cared about Blake and Rachel…like he cared about me! But it was all a lie. Everything he says and does is just a manipulation.” She stopped and glared at Raziel. “He’s just like you.”
“Like me?” His anger flared, and he got in Aislen’s face. “Troy Kellen is nothing like me. First, I don’t act like I care. Because I really don’t care. Second, Kellen only wishes he was capable of what I am. But he is far from it.”
“Well, he’s capable of murder,” Aislen threw at him. “So he’s exactly like you. You both are murderers!”
“Murder?” Raze looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You murdered Blake’s father, and who knows how many other people, doing what you do. And he just murdered my great-grandfather! Suffocated him with his bare hands!”
“He what?!” Raze shouted in disbelief. “He killed Sigmund Lange?!”
A dam broke in Aislen, and it all came pouring out. “I saw it all…just now. He went into Sigmund’s room. They had him in restraints, and Lange couldn’t do anything to stop it. Troy waited until Rachel left, and he clamped his hand over Sigmund’s mouth and suffocated him!”
“That motherfucker! That was not what I told him to do!” Raziel began pacing the rooftop.
“Not what you told him to do?!” Aislen followed him across the roof, hysterical. “What does that mean? Are you two working together?”
Raze stopped, grabbed Aislen by the shoulders again and pushed her back to the waterfall. He was angry, but he made an effort to speak quietly. “Look, I need you to keep your voice down and listen to me. Troy and I do not work together. We work for the same corporation.”
Aislen shook her head in disbelief. “What? But he works for the hospital.”
“That’s a cover. He was placed there to babysit your great-grandfather, the wayward founder of our company.”
“Infinium Incorporated,” she whispered, understanding.
Raze was shocked. “How do you know that?”
“The dreams–I mean the Traveling.”
“Where exactly are you going?”
“Back in time, I guess…1968. To Sigmund’s house…to the experiments he did in the brothel with my grandfather…to when my grandfather met my grandmother and got her pregnant…to when Sigmund started creating the company.”
“All of that? Damn, you’ve been busy!” Raziel seemed impressed but then grew concerned. “Has Lange been in all of your Travels?”
Aislen thought about that. “Well, he’s not there all the time. He comes in and out. But he always knows I am there. Sometimes he talks to me in the dream–I mean the Viewing–but he also talks to me in my head, too. Like telepathy, but different. The young version of him talks to me in the Viewing, like he knows I am there but can’t see me. But the old version, he talks in my head. He is showing me the history. He says it’s important.”
Aislen could have sworn that Raziel went white. “Holy shit! He’s been prepping you! Well, he was. Kellen may have actually done us a favor by killing him. That’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
“I don’t understand.”
Raziel got serious and looked in her eyes. “Your great-grandfather has been looking for another body. He was getting too old and feeble and didn’t have much time left. He was able to use Blake at first, channeled into his head so he could get into Demesne, and I am pretty sure the reason you showed up there was because he was luring you. He was trying to get an in with you.”
Aislen shuddered. She knew what Raziel said was true. She remembered feeling him scratching at her skull, literally trying to get in her head. Now she knew why.
“Why me?”
“Because of your DNA. You are a match for him, being related, where Blake was not. You are also capable, genetically mastered to do what he wants.”
“What does he want?”
“He wanted to take over your body, to use you and your skills to take back Infinium and exact revenge on The 8.”
Aislen felt lightheaded and sick to her stomach. She faltered, but Raziel reached out and caught her before she lost her balance. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. He’s gone, so you are at least safe from that. Now we only have to worry about Troy and The 8.”
Aislen ripped her arm away from him and backed away. “But you work with them! You gave him orders, so he works for you! What are you having him do?!”
“I sent him to Modesto to hunt you down and kidnap you.”
Aislen was incredulous. “But you already did that! Hello?! I’m right here! Why would you send Troy to find me when you already have me?”
“To buy us time.”
She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You didn’t kidnap me so you could kill me?”
Raziel shook his head. “I wish it was that simple, trust me.”
Aislen scanned his face, looking for deception. He looked torn about his decision. It had come at a price. Aislen realized he really had saved her, had done all this to help her, even though a bigger part of who he was didn’t want to.
He broke the silence.
“Look, we aren’t going to be able to stay here long. I only bought us a day or two. We need to get you inside, get you some food and real rest so we can figure out what we should do next.”
Aislen nodded her head, speechless. The man before her was nothing like what she thought. He was her guardian angel, even if she didn’t know it…or want it.
Raziel got serious and looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me very carefully; here’s what we need to do.”
Twenty
Another turn in the maze. The game had changed yet again, and again, and again.
When Aislen had appeared at the top of the stairs, Raze was both in awe and freaked the fuck out. She had solved an immediate and deadly problem. But in the process, she had also gained control of his house, and in essence, of him.
She knew he wasn’t resonating as himself, which gave her an advantage, yet she didn’t let The Womb call the authorities. She could have saved herself, at least in the short term, but instead she let Raze in. She was a walking contradiction, and she confounded him.
And she'd been extremely busy since he’d picked her up. Sigmund had been guiding her through a history lesson about MKUltra, Infinium Incorporated, her family. This was beneficial. At least she would have a clear idea about what they were up against.
Sigmund had been trying to bond with her in the process, which would have been disastrous if it had continued much longer. But thankfully that crisis was averted. Raze wanted to kill Kellen for killing Lange without permission, but Kellen had done them a huge favor. At least Aislen was safe from Lange trying to take over her body and using her to destroy Infinium, and Raze in the process.
And now that Aislen knew the truth about Kellen–that he wasn't trying to help her–it would be
easier to convince her of what they should do next. They still had work to do. With Sigmund out of the way, Troy would be looking for Aislen next. And it wouldn't take long for him to figure out that Aislen was not in Modesto. The 8 would be calling for Raze real soon.
They needed to get her physically healthy and prepared if they were going to get to the next level.
“Listen to me very carefully; here’s what we need to do. You have to be me, energetically, in the house…the me I was this morning. It is imperative that you maintain that frequency cloak. That is the frequency the security system recognizes, and it will allow us to stay here undetected by Infinium and The 8.”
“You can’t go back to that?” Aislen asked.
Raze swallowed down his agitation. It exposed his weakness. But if he snapped, he’d lose her, and he needed her cooperation.
“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “It was something that was natural, not something I had to acquire or commit to memory.”
“Could you read me if I am channeling yours and learn it again?”
It was a good idea. “We can try. Go ahead.”
Aislen closed her eyes. Raze could feel her shift her energy instantly. She was good. Raze couldn’t help but be impressed. He closed his eyes and brushed his hand through her space, feeling for the charge that used to be his. He could see it, the obsidian darkness. It felt familiar and inviting.
He pulled at it through the palm of his hand, trying to rechannel his old essence, but it wouldn't flow through. It was dead; a discarded molt that he couldn’t crawl back into.
He reached in deeper, trying to crawl into the lifeless skein. Just underneath his now-foreign energy, Raze could feel the pull of Aislen’s natural frequency and the irresistible temptation to fall into it overcame him.
“That won’t work,” he said gruffly. He jerked his hand out of her space and pushed her energy away. She staggered back as though he’d actually touched her.
Time Walker: Episode 2 of The Walker Saga Page 14