by Mia Downing
“If you’re still alive?” My God. My hand went to my throat as I swallowed the lump. “I didn’t crawl back to you to lose you.”
“Well, you did a crappy job of crawling,” he teased.
I glared and crossed my arms over my corseted chest.
“Sweetness.” He ran a hand through his hair, destroying the perfect order his comb had just fixed. “If something happens, you need to know how to get us back. I’m hoping if I tell you, then we won’t need it.”
I nodded, wishing I could feel numb instead of this level of fear laced with anxiety. He’d jumped to save us before, and everything had gone wrong. Or maybe, everything had gone right. We wouldn’t know until this mission was finished.
“And if you need it, our code word is ‘Sarsaparilla.’ If someone—a stranger—comes to you and uses that code, you know it’s safe to trust them. I doubt you’ll need it, but it’s good to know.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Can you whistle?”
“A little.”
“A long whistle followed by two short ones means you’re changing the plan. For example, if you needed to find safety in a new location, you’d use that. I’m not as good as you are at location, but I can get close enough.” Puckering his lips, he showed me what he meant, the tones clear yet soft.
“Okay.”
He had no clue how long we’d be gone, so I watered the plants in the greenhouse while he finished up a few things. He said he’d paid Jay to watch the plants until we returned. And if something dreadful went wrong, the Whitcombes would watch the home, just as their family had for the past century. I found that odd still, but Marek wasn’t worried. He paid them well to be loyal to the Young family.
An hour before dawn, we parked my car in front of my house and sneaked through the back gate of the graveyard. The old meetinghouse loomed on the hill above M.S. Storm’s grave, the white steeple backlit with the graying eastern sky. Marek had given me the other Skye’s black, woolen cloak to ward off the chill. Despite what the gravestone said for a death date, we were actually heading to summer weather, so I looked forward to that. The streetlight lit enough of a path for us to find our way to the back corner where M.S. Storm’s grave rested. The snow from the last storm had melted, the ground frozen and dark under our feet.
“You ready?” he whispered as he took my chilly but free hand.
My other held the leather bag with the supplies we’d need. He had a bag, too. The knife was strapped to my waist, hidden under the thick fabric of my dress and petticoat.
“No,” I murmured, “but if we don’t go now, I’ll back out.”
He nodded. “I have us dialed in. We should arrive right after…you know. You’ll be disoriented. That happens if you’re not experienced in re-entry. So just get yourself behind the gravestone for safety. I can protect you. I swear, I’ll do better than last time.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“This is my do-over. Your do-over. We can do this.” He squeezed my trembling hand. “Skye. I—”
“No goodbyes or sappy crap,” I warned. “You said this is a routine jump.”
The wind picked up, but my shiver had nothing to do with the drop in temperature. I could lose him after a jump through time. He swore it wouldn’t happen, but I knew better. And I was still too chicken to say the words I wanted to say. The ones he needed to hear.
He sighed and nodded. “Okay, I’m going to initiate the jump sequence. You ready?”
“No.” I gulped as my heart raced. “Yes.”
“Okay. May the light carry us forward.” He twisted his wrist and pressed the brass button, then lifted my hand to his lips, his gaze locked on mine. White light flared around the dial.
As he smiled down at me, his face growing fainter and fainter in the bright glow, the terror faded. Through my fear, his bond pulsed between us, steady and bright yellow meeting my dark blue with spots of teal that I didn’t bother to hide. I squeezed his hand, gripping it as tight as I could, focusing only on the energy. Maybe that was what love felt like, that steady glow that never faded.
Then…we jumped.
Chapter twenty-two
Skye
I opened my eyes to a different night sky, this one lit with a huge moon rising in the east and a zillion stars. The cold of March gave way to sultry summer heat, immediately oppressive and stifling, yet the air was cleaner—sweeter. I wasn’t ready for that. I also wasn’t ready for the differences—no streetlights, no newer graves in the back of the cemetery, and that huge cedar tree I loved so much had been reduced to a sapling. The meetinghouse stood tall and imposing on the hill, the steeple gleaming white in the moonlight.
But I was me!
I patted down the front of my outfit, the corset stiff under my hand. And I remembered my old life—the bookstore, Grace, my crappy childhood in foster homes. The memories from the other Skye were still dream-like and distant. They weren’t me. I was me. My heart raced with new intent, the joy as heady as the disorientation of being in a new time.
My hands froze on my stomach, and that joy fled. My hand…it no longer held his.
“Marek?” I gasped for breath as I blindly grabbed for him in the darkness, the panic seizing me.
“Steady, Skye. Breathe,” Marek whispered from behind me. “I let go of your hand when we landed so I could grab a weapon. I’m here. But we’ve got a problem.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not sure when we are. This isn’t the right time, and I’m not sure why.”
“What?”
“There should be some sort of commotion, people, noise…something.” He squinted in the moonlight, trying to read his watch dial. Frowning, he tapped the glass. “This isn’t right. We can’t be early. We can’t be in two places at once.” He shook his head. “The watch has to be broken.”
“Then when are we?”
“I don’t know. The watch says we’re early, but that’s not right.” He dropped a quick kiss to my lips. “I want you to go be somewhere safe while I check it out. Go to the mausoleum.”
“No. If it’s earlier, that means the other events could still happen.” My eyes had adjusted, and moonbeams edged along the path up the hill. “I’ll go up to the meetinghouse. I can see more on the hill by the building. I’ll wait in the darker shadows.”
“Okay. You have a knife. Use it.” He kissed me one last time and quietly jogged off, sticking to the darker shadows as he made his way to the front of the cemetery.
I gathered the skirt of my dress and hurried through the shadows along the barren expanse of grass by the fence. The trees didn’t dwarf me, the sugar maples on the edge of the main path mere saplings. On the other side, the mausoleum stood alone against a backdrop of woods, the house I lived in not even built yet.
As I turned down the side of the fence that headed toward the meetinghouse, a faint rustling that didn’t come from my dress caught my ears. As I ducked under a larger oak branch over the fence line, I glanced behind me…
And I ran smack into someone.
Marek
I stuck to the shadows of the trees along the center lane as I ran down the middle of the cemetery, ducking under a lower branch, careful not to brush up against the leaves. I hadn’t planned for showing up early. That wasn’t possible. It had to be the wrong date.
I had no plan, no clue where to start. I paused, listening in the dark for more than crickets. I heard nothing. Before, a guy had jumped us in front of the meetinghouse, and Skye had run to safety. But as I’d dragged the body into the woods, I’d heard a gunshot, and I’d found Skye with the dead guy at the jump stone.
Maybe I needed to loop around and assess threats in other areas. Turning, I cut into the woods along the side of the cemetery that ran behind the mausoleum, stepping carefully and quietly. Usually, we would have jumped to a warmer time to train with foliage for something like this. I’d done what I could in winter. I’d practiced with knives, at the range, and anything else I could think of to ho
ne my skills. I now regretted not involving Skye in this. I should have made her better prepared. I’d hidden most of my training from her after she’d shown that initial distaste for my job. I’d been a thief and a killer, and until I met her, I hadn’t thought anything of it except the rules we’d agreed on for treasure procurement.
But the look on her face when she’d watched me load my gun… She’d been terrified. Oh, she’d played brave, and she didn’t want to be outshone by anything the other Skye could do. If she only knew, though, what that woman could do, she’d hate us both.
A blur of movement at the back corner of the mausoleum caught my eye. A dark shadow leaned against the fence, smoking an unfamiliar tobacco. As non-gifted, he wouldn’t have seen our re-entry at the jump stone.
Quietly, I pulled my knife, crept up to the fence, and knocked him out with the steel pommel on the butt of the handle. He went down hard as I leapt over the fence. But as I turned the blade in my hand to finish the job, my Skye’s light-blue eyes judged me. I hesitated. Did I need to kill him? Yes. He’d gain consciousness and kill us if I didn’t.
But her fearful look haunted me, so I gave him a closer look as I rolled him over. He seemed familiar, a lot like the guy who had helped me leave Leah’s house. I definitely couldn’t kill him.
“Fuck,” I whispered. Praying to the Fates that I hadn’t made the wrong decision, I spun the knife and hit him one last time with the butt of it for good measure.
Thunder rumbled, rippling the air as the timeline changed. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and rose as dread washed over me.
“Skye.” I did a quick bond check and found her still alive, though something had happened to upset her greatly. I couldn’t locate her more than the general direction of the meetinghouse.
Leaping over the guy’s unconscious body, I sprinted across the cemetery.
Skye
As I bounced off a stranger’s body in the darkness, fear shot up my spine. My free hand dove into my pocket for the knife. As I pulled it and rose to strike, I froze. I stared into a woman’s pale face, her dark eyes widening at the same height as mine, her hair pulled back in the exact same fashion as mine, but hers had jet-black curls. She held her hand at the same height, a knife clutched in hers. We both gasped, our free hands fluttering to our throats in the same gesture.
Oh, God. The other Skye. That cold bitch stared at me with disbelief that morphed into a level of contempt that would freeze hell in a flash. I shuddered. Did I look at people that way? I hoped to hell not.
All the hatred and anger I’d harbored since Marek had told me about my origins rumbled to the surface. I hated her. Granted, I had wrecked Marek, too, but she did far worse by him when she’d written that letter.
“You bitch.” I hauled back and slapped her across the face with every ounce of strength I had. “That’s for Marek.”
Her head snapped to the side, and before I could gloat over the damage, she grabbed me by the neck, spun me, and held me to her chest with her forearm pressed to my throat. A sharp blade bit into my skin, drawing blood above where she choked me.
“Who. Are. You,” she bit out in a clipped English accent. “Talk, or I’ll kill you.”
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Marek said I’d know when to use the code word. It was now or never. “Sarsaparilla.”
Releasing me, she shoved me away, and I had to grab a neighboring tree to keep from falling to my knees as I heaved in a raspy breath.
She glanced over her shoulder, the point of her knife still pointing at me. “Talk. Make it quick.”
“I’m a fraction. From the future. I’m supposed to warn you not to break the bond and jump, because when some bitch shoots you, you’ll end up shattering into me.”
“No.” She shook her head and muttered something in their language. “I didn’t break the bond.”
“Didn’t you? He found the note.”
“Who?” Her brows raised in disbelief.
“Marek.”
“Damnation.” She checked over her shoulder again. “We’re not safe here. Let’s go to the mausoleum.” She grabbed my wrist.
I planted my feet as she tried to drag me back through the gate into the cemetery. “You won’t make it there. Some guy shoots you at the jump stone, and you stab him. I told Marek we’d go to the meetinghouse.”
“Fine.” She whirled, pinching my wrist, practically dragging me behind her. For me, she was pretty strong. Pausing, she let out a soft whistle followed by two shorter ones.
A whistle answered. Something rumbled like thunder, and the weirdest ripple of energy shot through me, making every hair stand on end.
The grip on my wrist tightened like a vise. “The timeline just changed.”
“Oh.” I had no clue what to say. Marek had said I’d know it when it happened…and now, I did.
Sticking to the shadows, she dragged me up the hill to the side of the meetinghouse. She paused at the granite steps and shoved me behind some big shrubs in a darker spot. Though we’d climbed higher up the small hill, the summer foliage made it hard to see more than the fence surrounding the plot of land.
Uninterested in the surroundings, she shoved me against the clapboard wall. “Talk.” Her knife still pointed at me. “Who are you?”
“You know who the fuck I am.” Bolder, I batted the knife away. “Why would you break the bond and jump when you know that’s dangerous?”
“I didn’t.” She shook her head. “Leah must have broken it. She said she could.”
“Wait.” This made no sense. “Do you have the bond now?”
Her eyes closed a brief moment as she assessed her energy. “Yes. She said she has to touch me to break it.”
So I’d been wrong, and the bond had been broken between now and when she had gotten shot. But how? “How can Leah just…break the bond?”
“She’s a time traveler. A healer. She can heal energy, but that means she has the power to destroy it, too. I don’t know how she does it, but Marek’s not safe. I have to get him out of here.” Peering into the darkness around us, she swallowed. “He shouldn’t be taking this long.”
I recalled what Marek had said he’d done after he left her and shuddered. “How long does that take?”
Her angry gaze shot to mine. “As long as it takes.”
Geesh. “So Leah is a time traveler. What does she want with Marek?”
“She wants to go home. Her partner died, so she’s stuck here.”
“Lofton Burke?” Maybe she wouldn’t know him under that name. “Team name L.L. Winters?”
“Yes, but she goes by Leah Smith now. Burke was injured during a battle after hiding the necklace. They jumped forward to sometime in the late 1770s, but he died when he got here. Jumping can heal some level of injuries, but I guess he had too much damage. The plan had been to heal him and jump to the future when they could access the necklace again. Then, they’d jump home and retire.”
“Retire?”
“We don’t stop working until we procure enough from a specific list of items. This necklace is on a list of its own.”
Clarity dawned. Who wouldn’t want to retire, especially when the job was this dangerous? “And that’s why you wanted it, too. Why you made Marek go to the cliffs even though he wasn’t well.”
She shook her head, her curls bouncing. “I’m not that cold of a bitch. Leah wants the necklace still. I tried to broker a deal. She agreed to spare my life for the necklace.” She dragged her cold gaze over my form to scan the darkness. “But if I was shot and our bond broken, she must have gone back on it.”
I thought bartering her life was pretty cold. “Why did she have to kill you? Couldn’t she just sever the bond and you both live?”
“She’s not as powerful as I am. His bond would always choose me first unless I were dead. And she can’t kill me if there’s an existing bond. If I die while bonded to him, he dies, too.”
I thought about Burke and his demise. Leah had survived that. “But if he
dies, you don’t?”
“Yes.”
Maybe bartering for her life had been a smart thing as it would ensure Marek stayed alive. But he’d never told me that aspect, that he would die if I died.
Her fingers clutched my arm. “So did she shoot me?”
“Marek said he found you already shot, and you’d taken a guy out with your knife. The bond was almost broken at that point.”
“Leah said she’d get me within an inch of my life and peel the rest of the bond away as I died so that he’d survive it. Marek must have found me before she could finish me off.”
“And you couldn’t repair it?”
“Even if I had time to do so, I don’t know how.” She gave a hoarse, mocking laugh. “Sure, the Association teaches the gifted men we know how to break our bond. That’s how they keep the gifted males in line. There’s some trick with finding the seam. No one in our time knows how to break it that I know of except Leah. Believe me, some women would be thrilled to know how and get reassigned. I love Marek. My bond chose well, but I can’t speak for others about their partner.”
“You really don’t know how.” My mouth went dry as I ignored the fact that she loved my man. I knew how to break the bond. I’d done it just last week, and then, I’d repaired it.
“No.” She bit her lip in the same fashion I did when I contemplated things that made me uneasy. “You said he found the note I’d written?”
“Yes. It nearly destroyed him.”
“Did he tell you about the party, then?”
“Yes.”