Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) (12 page)

I stay rooted in my spot. This feels too easy. Like a trap. Shouldn’t I have to argue or bargain in order to be granted an audience with one of the big wigs? Aren’t they fearful that I’m a loose cannon and might be dangerous? That was the mode of operation before.

Doesn’t matter. Take advantage of it. Move. Seriously. One foot in front of the other.

Donovan may be elected to a high position here in Keleusma, but he’s still a Shifter, a mere human with the ability to move through time—no different than me. Someone needs to hold him accountable. There is no reason to be afraid of him. Well, besides the whole tossing me in a dungeon thing.

I cross the hallway and stand in front of the door to his office. My hand rises to knock, but I freeze. My heart hammers against my ribs. What am I doing? This man possesses the power to ruin me. Doesn’t he?

My father taught me to be respectful—and I will be—but that doesn’t mean I have to be intimidated. People say respect is earned, but I haven’t ever believed that. Respect is given. There’s a difference. Either way, I care about Lark, and I definitely care about not being tossed into the dungeons again, so Donovan will have my respect. But he doesn’t need to see my knees wobbling.

Though I’m frightened of the man, I have to do this. So many questions have gone unanswered, and I’m sick of it. Donovan has answers. However, whether he’s willing to give them to me is debatable. But I have to try. If I took Erik’s offer without asking, I’d always wonder.

I drag in a long breath and knock on the door.

“Come in,” Donovan’s voice booms from the other side.

Grasping the door handle, I push it open. His office is decorated like the set of a British period drama. Maybe he’s a big
Downton Abbey
fan. Then again, if Lark’s a teenager during World War One, that puts Donovan as growing up at the end of the eighteen hundreds. This style might be normal for him. That would also explain the formal way he talks. I always thought he was just being rude. Maybe I was wrong.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

The room smells like liquorice tea. Red-painted walls are inlayed with white detailing. Black and gold sconces illuminate certain areas but toss shadows into others. Four dark leather chairs face each other on one side of the room, while a desk with a pile of paperwork and a single picture frame fills the other. Framed black and white photographs form a border near the ceiling. I shuffle, slowly spinning to see all the people in the pictures.

From a leather chair facing the door, Donovan lays down the book he’s reading. “Those are Shifters. Elders who have gone before us.” He stands. “Welcome back, Gabby.”

I face him. “Do you actually mean that?”

His brows pinch together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

People who answer questions with a question should be shipped to Antarctica where they can sit around never answering each other for the rest of their lives. Some network could film it and put the show on cable. We could all place bets on how long it would take them to get annoyed enough to start going full
Hunger Games
on each other.

My bet is before nightfall on day one.

I raise my eyebrows. “Considering my welcome last time …”

With pale skin, almost white blond hair, a full black suit—even though he’s been in here reading—and piercing blue eyes, Donovan is just as unapproachable as I remembered. Then again, he can’t help how he looks any more than I can. Though he could learn to relax a bit. A pair of flip flops, an umbrella drink in his hand, and the occasional laugh would do him a world of good as far as first impressions go.    

Donovan sighs. “Knowing what you know now, do you blame me for acting with caution?”

Not at all. “You could have explained things first.”

He closes his eyes and offers a nod that says he agrees before reclaiming his plush leather chair. He folds his hands together. “How can I help you today?”

I cross the office and pick up the framed photo from the desk. A younger Lark laughs at me from the image. There is a stunning, blonde haired woman, maybe thirty years old, with her arms tossed around Lark. She smiles into the camera as her eyes sparkle. “Your wife was very beautiful.” I lay the picture back down.

Donovan grips the armrests. “She was.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

His brows draw low. “You didn’t come here to talk about my wife. What’s on your mind?”

After witnessing the sadness in his eyes when I mentioned his wife and him greeting me like an equal, I’ve lost the nerve to pick a fight. The man who locked me in a dungeon I could have confronted about the Portals. But this Donovan? I don’t know how to interact with him.

I jut my thumb toward the door. “You know, you really have to start dressing your monkey squad in something other than teal. A red or a navy blue would garner more of the image you’re trying to portray.”

His face stays passive. “You’re stalling.”

I cross to the grouping of chairs and take the one opposite him so we face each other. I have to confront him, because no one else will. I hold my chin level and look him in the eyes. I gulp. Say what he wants to hear. “I’m here because I believe you’re fair and that you sincerely care about the good of Shifters. I came to you for answers.”

Donovan tilts his head a little, as if considering me, but he doesn’t speak.

I clear my throat. “Michael told me my mother had the Elixir injected into her when she was pregnant with me. Is that true?”

“We assume so.”

“But you don’t know for certain?”

“I wasn’t there when it happened, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Yes
or
no
. It’s really not that difficult. I press my molars together so hard it sends pain up into my temples. But frustration won’t get me answers. I force the muscles in my face to relax. “Then why do you assume that’s what happened?”

“Rosa wanted out. We all sensed it. There were rumors of her meeting with Erik—not that she ever confessed at the time. Had she …” A sad smile takes over his face, and he looks away for a moment before continuing. “Perhaps this would have all ended differently.” When he makes eye contact again, his icy stare sends a shiver down my back. “But that’s the thing about trust, isn’t it? Both sides have to be willing to give it or else it’s useless. Both people must deem the price of trust worth the risk of betrayal.”

He’s lost me in the middle of his musing. And it takes a second to pick up my line of questioning again. “Let’s say some of the Elixir is in my blood, what does that mean for me?”

Donovan leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together. “There I must disappoint you, which—sadly—seems to be the norm when it comes to your estimation of me. You ask what it means for you? All I can say is, I don’t know.” Almost as if he’s uncomfortable, he leans back in his chair again. “That’s why we have to watch you so closely. Don’t you understand? We don’t know what it means.” He repositions himself again. “Perhaps it means nothing, and if so, wonderful. Perhaps it means you’ll become the model Shifter, and I’ll be first in line to applaud you.”

“I don’t want applause,” I mumble.

He rises to his feet, heads toward his desk, and runs his finger over the top of the picture frame. “Or perhaps it means you have a stronger pull to the Shades than the rest of us. Maybe even a feeling of allegiance. If so, I’m ready to step in. To do whatever it takes to save you.” He turns and stalks toward me. The look in his face is intense. “We won’t fail you. I promise we won’t allow anything bad to happen. Nicholas won’t—”

“Not him. Don’t say his name to me.” I’m on my feet. “He would have let Michael die.”

“Nicholas didn’t keep Michael there.” Donovan’s voice is soft, as if he’s speaking to a sick child.

“You can’t say that. You weren’t there.” Tears threaten to spill. The stress of everything—building from when I first saw Erik until now—has made me snap. I know I wanted to shift again. To find out more about my mother, see Michael, and be in Keleusma because I no longer belonged in my old world with my dad.

But not like this.

Not with Michael recovering from a near death experience. Not with Donovan promising to keep tabs on me in case I go all Shade happy. Not with the rest of the Shifters still disliking me for some perceived fault over the Portals being torn down and the Shades becoming more powerful.

I tip my head toward the ceiling to keep my tears at bay. Donovan waits silently. Smart man. He does have a daughter after all. However, I can’t believe I almost lost my cool in front of him. Why did I even come to speak with him?

He’s not getting how serious the situation was. “Michael would have died.”

Donovan pulls an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and presses it into my hand. “You’re right. There is a possibility that we could have lost Michael.”

I snatch my hand away from his but have the good sense to keep the handkerchief, which I use. “You say it so flippantly. Does Michael mean nothing to you?”
Pawns.
Erik was right. “Are we all expendable in your eyes?”     

He castles his hands and presses them to his lips. “No. You’re not listening. Consider this—the Portal was there the whole time. Nicholas didn’t keep Michael there. Michael kept Michael there. Perhaps you should question him about that instead of doubting Nicholas.”

Hearing Portals and Michael together brings to mind my conversation with Eugene—the entire reason I came to Donovan. “They’re ripping down the Portals. The Shades. And you know about it and haven’t told any of the Shifters.”

“They don’t need to know right now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I fist my hands. “It’s not your call to withhold information. If Michael had known the Portal could have been ripped down at any moment, he wouldn’t have waited.” He would’ve also been able to piece together that the Portal near my house no longer exists.

Donovan’s eyebrows form a deep V. “How can you be certain?”

I toss his handkerchief on the floor. If only it was something that would have actually made noise. “I guess we won’t know as long as you keep hording vital information from the masses.”

“There are times when it’s safer for a population to be kept in the dark.” His voice is soft again, almost caring. “You must understand. I act in a way only to protect those I care about. To protect the Shifters. You included.”

I take a few steps backward and fumble for the door handle. “Don’t pretend to care about me.” My hand closes around the doorknob. “As a matter of fact, I don’t know why I even bothered coming to talk to you. As if you’d actually tell me the truth.” Flinging the door open, I keep my head down and head toward the turn in the hallway.

So what if Donovan won’t give me answers? Erik promised to. I’ll ask him about everything when I go to my mom. I’d leave now, except I can’t walk away from Keleusma right this second. I want time with Michael. Is that too much to ask?

Looking behind me, I round the corner and slam right into someone. We both crash to the ground.

“Sorry. Sorry.” I’m shoving up on my hands when the other person lunges forward and wraps me in a hug.

“You are seriously the most clumsy Shifter in the history of Shifters.” Lark squeezes me even tighter.

“Lark.” I squeak out her name.

She releases me and rocks back on her heels to look me in the face. “I heard you were back. I looked for you in the medical ward because I figured you’d stick close to Michael. Man, does he look like a pack of donkeys ran over him on a Tuesday, or what?” It takes my brain a second to adjust to her funny way of speaking. All the Shifters do it occasionally, but more than anyone, Lark grabs bits of phrasing from all the times she’s traveled to and mushes them together.

“I wasn’t even going to go into his room. Would you blame me? The Spanish flu is supposedly pretty terrible. But Darnell said he was fine.” Her eyes narrow. “Wait. Have you been tested? Are you contagious?”

I hold up my hands and bite back a laugh. “Darnell said I’m clear.”  Lark hasn’t changed much. She still talks a mile a minute. Thankfully, she’s ignoring the blotchy, red, crying mess that must be my face.

She rolls her eyes. “Of course he did. He wouldn’t have let you go strolling about Keleusma spreading the plague. Anyway, when I didn’t see you with Michael and you weren’t in your room, I figured maybe my dad would know where you were and was going to ask him.” Her smile fades. “Were you just in his office?”

“Yeah. And I wouldn’t suggest going in and seeing him for at least an hour. I think I got him pretty worked up.” Actually … he seemed fine. I’m the worked up one. Stupid strung out emotions.

“As only you can.” She winks. Lark has huge, shiny eyes that always remind me of a cartoon princess. She stands and offers me her hand. I take it, finally getting up because we probably look like two fools, catching up while sitting in the hallway.

“It’s good to see you.” And it is. The last time I saw her she’d been shot by Confederate soldiers and Michael was carrying her through a Portal. Michael assured me later that she recovered, but it’s so much better seeing for myself. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, good.” She thrusts out her hand. On her ring finger rests a large turquoise stone surrounded by small diamonds set in rose gold. Eddie definitely knows how to pick an engagement ring.

I grab her hand for a closer inspection. “It’s gorgeous. Eddie told me you two were getting married, but he failed to mention this killer ring.”

She pulls her hand away and cocks her head. “You met Eddie?”

“He was one of the soldiers Michael and I ran into on our last mission.”

“But he’s okay, right?”

I open my mouth then shut it and open it again. I can’t find it in me to tell her Eddie would be dead right now if I hadn’t been there talking to him during the raid. That story can stay between Eddie and me.

I shrug, trying to play off my pause. “As safe as anyone is on a battlefield.”

“Didn’t I tell you he was handsome?” She waggles her eyebrows.

“He looks like a movie star.”

“How about your Porter?” She bumps me with her shoulder. “I bet he could co-star with my hottie.”