“Can I help you, Miss O’Leary?” Detective Polanski asked.
“You will be able to when my ship arrives in about—” Tegan glanced at the Spirit’s fight plan. She knew full well what time she would arrive, but he wasn’t the only one who could make his opposite sweat. “Ten hours. And that’s Agent O’Leary to you.”
“I really don’t see why the OBI needs to get involved. We have things under control.”
Moron. You’re lucky I’m getting involved instead of the actual OBI, or worse, ZimmerCorp security. Well, lucky until you find out you’re not actually transferring your prisoners to the OBI. Then you’ll probably get fired.
“You may think you have things under control, but I assure you, you do not. ZimmerCorp takes this theft very seriously, and Jack and Cobalt Zhao are to be considered very dangerous criminals.” Tegan looked behind Polanski at where people were walking outside the door. Speak of the devils, she thought. They were hard to make out, but Tegan would recognize her fellow Transients anywhere.
Jack barely glanced at her, but Cobalt gave a start when he saw her. His skin visibly paled, and he stumbled. He recognizes me. That is… not good. If the twins knew she specifically was coming for them, they would try to escape. She had, after all, killed them in their last lives.
The detective made a dismissive noise. “Please. I have met these two. They’re petty crooks who have clearly gotten in over their heads.”
Tegan turned her attention back to Polanski. Oh, really? You wouldn’t even know they were the ones you were looking for if I hadn’t given you the tip. They’re running circles around you.
“Believe what you want, Detective. The fact is, I have jurisdiction, and I’m choosing to exercise it. I’ll be there in ten hours.”
She hung up and put the Spirit into gear. Ten hours was far too long a trip if Cobalt had recognized her. The stupid detective had probably intentionally had the conversation where the two could hear, trying to scare them with OBI intervention. He should have figured out already that Jack, at least, was immune to fear.
As she struggled in the traffic taking off from Orpheus, she wished she had Lexi to pilot for her. That girl could drive any vehicle she put her mind to, and Tegan had seen her maneuver the Spirit through that kind of backup faster than any cop who could give her a ticket. Tegan lacked Lexi’s precision and knew she would wind up in an accident if she tried any such thing.
A ship skidded in front of her, and Tegan had to slam on the brakes. Cronos take me. This is going to be a long trip.
Chapter 11
Present Day
Roslyn stood outside Olden Dayes Antiquities and stared at the gold cursive letters that shone from the vidscreen on the door. Their old-fashioned nature made her think of Old Earth kinds of antiques, but the displays in the window showed pieces of tech from about one hundred years ago—old vidscreens, communicators, and a few of those attempts at thought-to-action devices that had failed to catch on. In short, the store was just like the one she owned in her dreams.
She stood far enough from the automatic door that it did not open, and she hesitated to take a step forward, unsure if she was afraid the store would contradict her dreams or confirm them.
“What do you think, Snookems?” she asked the miniature poodle standing obediently at her feet. “Should we go in?”
A man with yellow hair stared at his datapad as he walked down the automatic sidewalk. As he passed, he jostled her, and his velocity caused her to stumble as he turned to give her a dirty look. She glowered as she stood up, rubbing her shoulder, her thoughts a mix of Like that was my fault and I bet that would never happen to Old Roslyn. Idealizing the old Roslyn was ridiculous, though. Old Roslyn had been tripping over her heels in her dream the previous night.
Either way, she decided that Old Roslyn would not stand on the sidewalk, terrified of the future. She would step inside and find out who she was. Roslyn picked up Snookems’s leash, grateful the well-behaved dog hadn’t decided to bolt, and with an outward purpose she didn’t quite feel, she strode through the automatic door to the shop.
Olden Dayes Antiquities both was and was not as Roslyn remembered it from her dreams. The building structure was the same—two rooms on the main floor and stairs leading up—but the contents were laid out differently. Old Roslyn had made the store look classy, with each precious artifact given its own space. The current store’s merchandise lay jumbled about, the lower-quality pieces displayed to encourage more hands-on browsing.
The current owner probably moves more product but at a lower price to less select clientele. Her profit margins are probably poorer overall. Exact values of the products on display ran through her head. How do I know that?
Sounds of modern music burst through the speakers into the room, and Roslyn remembered techno remixes of Old Earth classics like Bach and Mozart. A subtle floral aroma blew through the vents, making her nose wrinkle. She had never been a fan of shops scenting their air, mainly because the smells gave her a headache.
Still, she thought. None of this means my dreams are real. I could have visited this shop a long time ago when it had a different owner, or Bliss could have dragged me here last year, and I could have redesigned it in my head. Nonetheless, the similar-yet-different building to the one she had dreamt about shook her.
“I’m sorry. We don’t allow dogs in here.” A heavyset, gray-haired woman in a long black dress emerged from the second downstairs room. “I’m going to have to ask you to—Roslyn?”
Roslyn looked about the room as if some other Roslyn with a dog were going to emerge from behind the metal wall art. You’re stalling, Rosie, she thought. She had never thought of herself as “Rosie” before she heard Jack call her that the night before, but something about the nickname both chastened and comforted her.
She looked back at the woman, who had only the barest grip on a carafe of what Roslyn was pretty sure was tea. Nora always drank tea, Roslyn thought. She had no idea where she had pulled the woman’s name from, because she felt certain she had never seen her before, or at least, not with gray hair.
“I mean, you can’t be,” Nora continued. “She died twenty years ago, and if she hadn’t, she would be my age. You’re just the spitting image of the woman who left me this shop.”
“I…” Roslyn felt a lump form in her throat. She wondered if she was dreaming, because if she wasn’t, the woman had just confirmed all those other dreams were real. “My mother,” she said, spitting out the first excuse that came into her head. “My mother owned this shop before she had me. I wanted to see it.”
The old woman’s face softened. “Of course, that makes sense. I never knew she had a daughter. I’m Nora, dear. I was a friend of your mother’s, once upon a time.”
I knew it! Roslyn felt at once satisfied and terrified of having known the woman’s name. She pushed the terror down and put on a smile for her “mother’s friend.” “She mentioned you.”
“Did she?” Nora looked surprised. “She must have died just after she had you. She didn’t live long after she went to Arachne. It’s so nice you have any memories of her at all.”
Roslyn wasn’t surprised that Old Roslyn had ended up going to Arachne. Her resolve in the previous night’s dream had mostly been bravado.
“Oh, I meant she wrote about you in her journals.” Art historians keep journals, right? I mean, I have a personal journal, a dream journal, and a Snookems journal.
“She did love her journals, didn’t she?” Nora smiled, apparently reminiscing. “And she never let anyone read them. I’m glad she left them for you.”
Old Roslyn left journals? Maybe I can find them! “That’s part of why I stopped by. Some years are missing, and I wondered if any backups were here.”
Nora’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, dear. I loved your mother, but she could be so terribly old-fashioned. After she left me the shop, I redid the comput
er system. Her files were so well-protected, I just got rid of them.”
Roslyn didn’t have to feign disappointment. “It’s all right. You had no way of knowing I would come back for them.”
“Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea?” Nora gestured toward the other room. “I could tell you about your mother, and I would love to hear about your father. It’s clear Roslyn didn’t marry the man she was with when I knew her. I can’t say I’m sorry for that. He was amazing and talented, and he adored her, but she never quite felt the same way about him.”
Snookems barked then whined, and Roslyn was grateful for the excuse. “I don’t know that Snookems is up for sitting that long. Rain check?”
Nora chuckled. “You are different from your mother. I can’t imagine her ever naming her dog Snookems.”
A pox upon you, Bliss. Roslyn gave Nora a polite smile and promised to return then rushed out the door.
Her thoughts spun as she hurried down the moving sidewalk toward the train station. For a few moments, she had almost convinced herself that Old Roslyn was her mother. That would be normal, and she could deal with it. But she had to face the fact that Old Roslyn was real, and somehow, Old Roslyn was her.
She didn’t think she would fall asleep that night, but she did.
Twenty Years Ago
“When are you going to admit that you’re packing for Arachne?” Gavin asked as Roslyn put a pair of pants into her second travel case.
He didn’t sound angry. He sounded resigned and even a little amused. Still, Roslyn felt guilty for even going to Arachne. With Jack.
“I’m not packing for Arachne. I’m packing for Orpheus—where we’re moving. Remember?” Roslyn pushed a button to rotate the clothes in her closet. When did I get so many? “We can’t bring everything we have, so I’m being selective.”
Gavin stared into her suitcase. “You’re packing clothes. Only clothes. Specifically, your roughing-it pants and shirts, none of your professional attire or formal wear.”
Roslyn glanced around their luxurious apartment filled with the genuine Old Earth antiques that felt like home to them. They had spent years acquiring the right accoutrements, and they had no way to move so many expensive items without drawing attention to themselves. Wherever she went, she would miss the place. No, not “wherever.” Orpheus. I’m going to Orpheus.
“Well, we’re hardly famous on Orpheus. We’re not going to need all that formal wear.” To prove him wrong, Roslyn grabbed the first suit she saw off the rack and shoved it into her travel case. “You should start packing too.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to Arachne, and I’m staying here.”
“No, I’m not!”
“You just packed the lime-green suit Bliss got you for your last birthday. You hate that suit. If you had any intention of going somewhere you would wear a suit, you would have packed literally any other thing in your closet.”
Roslyn looked Gavin in the eyes for what she realized was the first time since she had seen Jack. “I don’t want—”
“You do.” Gavin had a small smile on his face. “It’s okay. I always knew he would come back someday, and you would go with him. It’s how it goes with us.”
Somehow, his acceptance of her abandonment made red-hot anger rise inside her. “So that’s it? I say I’m going to stay. I say I’m going to fight for us, and you’re going to throw it all away? You say you love me. Why don’t you fight for me?”
Gavin’s smile grew wider, but his eyes were sad. “Because I won’t win. And I have never learned to lose gracefully, so it’s better if I step aside.”
Roslyn felt something on her cheek. She reached up to touch it, and when she pulled her hand away, it was wet with tears. “I don’t deserve you.”
He shook his head. “We don’t deserve things or people. That’s not how the world works.” He kissed her forehead. “Now finish packing and go to him before he changes his mind.”
She hated that her primary thought as she finished packing was that Jack was going to see her with puffy eyes.
“Roslyn.”
“Blueboy.”
Roslyn was standing outside the ship that Jack had sworn he had not stolen. She had worried it would be difficult to find, but Jack was never one for secrecy, and no one else would dare name their ship the Night Thief after the unlucky zodiac sign. She had found the ship and only had to face one last gatekeeper.
“So you’re coming after all,” Cobalt said.
“Did Jack say I wasn’t?”
“No, he said you would be by in the morning.” Cobalt looked at his datapad. “Which I suppose fourteen thirty technically is.”
Roslyn sighed. Of course Jack knew she was coming. She hated being that predictable to both Jack and Gavin. “Look, I know you hate me, but can we do the usual get-along-for-Jack’s-benefit thing?”
“I don’t h—”
A figure ran down the gangway of the ship. “You came!”
Roslyn felt some comfort in the excitement in Jack’s voice, as if he had not been one hundred percent sure she would come. He swooped her off her feet, and she let herself get caught up in the feeling of Jack’s—Jack’s—arms around her as her heart beat faster and a huge grin spread across her face.
When he finally put her down, she nodded to where Cobalt had been standing, though she was too focused on the heat of Jack’s hands on her waist and the glint of excitement in his brown eyes to see if Cobalt was still standing there.
“Blueboy said you knew I was coming.”
“We-ell, I might have exaggerated a bit for his benefit.”
Roslyn arched an eyebrow. “You? Exaggerate? Perish the thought.”
Jack’s lip turned up in the half smile she was so fond of. “So you’re in?”
“You knew I couldn’t resist Arachne.”
He leaned so close to her she could feel his warm breath on her lips. “And me?”
“And y—”
A thud filled the air as something landed at Roslyn’s feet. She looked up, ready to glower at Cobalt for ruining the moment. Instead, she saw Gavin, still holding onto the straps of the travel case, standing only a few inches away. He was out of breath and sweaty, as if he had run all the way from their apartment.
“Got room for one more?” he asked.
Jack had stepped back from Roslyn. He laughed, a bitter sound that did more to shake Roslyn out of her romantic haze than Gavin’s presence. “Always room for a fellow Transient.” Jack turned and walked back up the gangplank. “We leave at dawn.”
Roslyn stared at Gavin openmouthed for a good minute, and he gazed back at her, expression blank.
“What are you doing?” she finally asked.
He stepped close to her. “What do you think? I’m fighting for you.” Then he picked up his travel case and walked onto the ship.
Chapter 12
Twenty Years Ago
Cobalt knew he was going to die. He was vaguely aware he was dreaming, but somehow, that knowledge didn’t make him feel as secure as it usually did.
He wasn’t certain of much else. He didn’t recognize the strange green sigils on the cold stone ground, or the blond woman brandishing the knife. The air smelled damp, almost misty, and instinct—or maybe the blonde’s gas mask—told him to keep his breaths shallow. He tried to sit up but found ropes cutting across his arms and gut.
Soft voices came from his right, and he didn’t need to turn to know Jack was next to him. Cobalt turned his head but couldn’t make out the two forms beyond his brother. The one talking to Jack had a woman’s voice, and the other was either as unconscious as Cobalt had been or was keeping silent.
Cobalt’s head pounded. Someone must have hit him. Maybe the blonde—she looked strong. He felt like he should recognize her. He muttered the word that came to mind when he looked at her. “Cutt
lefish.”
Her head whipped around, even though he hadn’t thought he had spoken loud enough for her to hear. She strode over to where he lay and crouched next to him, pressing the knife against his face. “Don’t call me Cuttlefish.”
He inhaled, and the motion brought his cheek close enough to the blade to draw the tiniest sliver of blood. It felt hot on his face, contrasting with the cool air. “What does it matter what I call you? You’re going to kill me anyway.”
The woman smiled. “That’s right. I’m not one of you anymore.”
Cobalt suspected she was trying for a cold, cruel smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. She doesn’t want to kill me. “Cuttl—”
“Don’t call me that.” She stood up, pulling the knife away, pushed a button on her wristpad, and held it up to her mouth. “Can we end this now?”
He couldn’t make out the words on the other end of the line, so he turned to Jack. If he had only a few minutes left to live, he wanted to spend them with his brother. Jack, though, was deep in conversation with the woman on his other side.
A burst of resentment flared in Cobalt’s chest. Who is this girl to steal my brother from me?
Before he could make any further effort to identify her, the blonde who did not want to be called Cuttlefish stopped speaking to her wrist. “Okay, everybody. Time’s up. Any last words?”
“You only need three of us, right, Tegan?” Jack asked. “So you could let one of us go?”
“Trying to save yourself, Jack? Why am I not surprised?” The blonde—whose name was apparently Tegan—stepped toward Jack. “Just for that, I’m happy to let you die first.”
“I wasn’t asking for me.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re willing to sacrifice yourself for your lady love? That’s new.”
Cobalt looked at Jack, expecting to see one of his crazy plans in the works, but the only expression on Jack’s face was steadfast determination.
“Please,” Jack said. “I’m begging you, Cuttlefish.”
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