Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) (22 page)

That’s it.

The Shifters came with the Elders. There are a few I’ve never met, along with the three other Elders, and Michael. He has a right to say goodbye to Lark, I understand that, but that fact doesn’t make it easier to see him. So I keep my distance by staying at the front and hanging on to Donovan’s arm throughout the service. He needs the support, and maybe I do too.

Michael stands on the opposite side of the grave, directly across from me. Even with his head bowed, his eyes keep skirting to me throughout the minister’s talk. But I ignore him. I’m not here to address the issues brewing between him and me. I’m here because I cared about Lark. Period.

Eddie’s arm brushes against mine, making me look his way. He didn’t sleep last night, did he? His red, unblinking eyes answer my question. There’s a chance he spent the whole night digging her grave. It’s not like they have backhoes in this time period. I slip my free hand around the crook in his elbow.

For the first time, he takes his eyes off Lark’s casket. “You were with her to the last?” He ducks his head, whispering.

“I was.”
Don’t ask me about it. I won’t be able to lie about all the blood.

“I’m glad she had you.”

“I wish she hadn’t needed me. I wish—” A tear slips down my cheek.

“As do I.”

“What will you do? The Pairing—”

“I’ll live.” He closes his eyes for a moment and flares his nostrils. “I’ll live because that’s what she would want.”

Together, the three of us stay rooted in our spot like sentinels against the coming storm. We’re there even after the casket is lowered and the final shovelful of dirt seals her away forever.

Donovan sighs, long and slow. “I had thought to stay in this time for a while. To go back to my house. Sort through her belongings … but  …” He turns his head toward the woods that line the other side of the small family graveyard and narrows his eyes.

On a scale of one to impending doom, the fog is horror movie thick. It’s impossible to see beyond the first few trees. The Shifters who came for the funeral have stayed nearby—hovering twenty feet away—but I can only see their outlines, like shadows waiting. Everyone else who attended the funeral headed back to Eddie’s home to be with him. 

Still straining to see past the mist, Donovan continues. “It will be safer if we head back to Keleusma immediately.”

“Safer?”

Looking back at me, he pats my hand where it still rests in the crook of his elbow. “For you. Yes. Safer.”

My brows dive as I pull back a little. “Just for me?”  

His frown deepens. “Did you hear them on the way here? What they said in regards to you?”

“The Shades?”

Donovan’s eyes widen. “Shh.”

“Are youafraid of them?” I fight against my shock, but disbelief colors my tone. Donovan is strong. He’s a leader. Cowering from a handful of Shades doesn’t seem his style.

He shakes his head. “Long ago, on a mission, I came across a taipan. It’s a venomous snake that makes the cobra and the black mamba look tame. Did I fear the taipan?” His brow scrunches. “No. Not for itself. At face value, it’s a creature simply trying to survive. Its means may appear cruel to us, but the taipan only ever acts like a snake. Which is what it is. Why should I expect behavior in opposition to a creature’s very being?”

He lays a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “Even still, because of the power it possesses to kill, the taipan deserves to be treated with a certain form of respect. There’s no reason to poke one or agitate it unless you absolutely need to in order to accomplish your mission.”

In his mind, Erik is the taipan, isn’t he?

Donovan’s hand on my shoulder feels so heavy. As if he can read my mind, he removes it and folds his hands together in front of him, standing wide with his feet planted like a guard on duty. “Erik is powerful and driven. At this time, we have no reason to rile him. Parading you around outside of Keleusma—for too long, within his grasp—might do that. I will not risk it.”

A million questions collide in my head as if they’re vehicles traveling too quickly on an icy highway. What would Donovan say if he knew that I have already met Erik? That Erik was the reason I started shifting again? The reason Michael was rescued?

I lick my lips. Maybe I should come clean to Donovan about everything—even about my fear. He’s proven he’s not the scary dictator I originally pegged him for. Even asked for my forgiveness and admitted he acted terribly. There seems to be a growing respect between us. Then again, he just said he’d respect something or someone that he dreads.

So perhaps, in the end, respect doesn’t mean all that much.

But still, I should come clean to someone. Right? A part of me wants him to convince me there’s a way out of shifting and this mess with Michael. Something less drastic than joining the Shades.

Why is it so difficult to share my doubts?

To admit that I don’t understand and am … afraid?

At home, I can’t say those kinds of things. If I told my dad how much his drinking freaks me out and how terrified I am that the next call I get will be the police telling me he’s dead somewhere, it would drive him even deeper into depression. He’d spiral further into depression
because
I opened up. Giving my fears a voice only makes things worse.

Makes them real.

Donovan is not toxic like that, but he is facing the most devastating loss of his life. Do I dare burden him by sharing everything that’s buzzing through my mind?

He stays silent the whole time I’m thinking. Bless him. Donovan isn’t one to force conversation. Looking past me to where the other Shifters are waiting, he motions for someone to join us.

Without even glancing my way, he says, “I think it’s best going forward if we continue to have Michael watch over you. Like he’s agreed to do in the past.”

My heart jolts once. Hard.

I slap my hands over my chest because I feel like that might help.

Michael agreed to watch over me in the past?

Wait. So was Michael ever with me by choice? My stomach recoils as the thump of blood in my veins suddenly takes over my temples, making me press the heels of my hands into them.

“What do you mean? You told Michael to watch over me? As in—he’s been
ordered
to stick near to me all this time?”

Donovan’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course. I thought you knew.”

Bile scorches its way up my throat. I swallow, forcing it back down. Michael’s been instructed to be my friend. This whole time. I’ve been played. Completely. And I kissed him. Tears burn at the edge of my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to need a minute.”

I take a step back and slam into Beatrix, who must be the person Donovan waved over.

“Easy there, dear.” Wearing her normal, good-natured smile, she tries to catch me by the arms, but then I spin out of her reach.

I need to leave. These are not my friends. I can’t trust them. Not a single one.

Weak-kneed, I stagger a bit before forcing myself to walk straight. Three more of the Shifters—ones I don’t know—brush past me on their way to speak with Donovan as well.
Go. Please. Distract him.
Then I can leave. I can be done with all of this forever.

“We’ll head to Keleusma momentarily,” Donovan calls after me. Even though he’s facing Beatrix, he watches me with hawkish vigilance. “Stick near the others.”

“Sure thing.” I toss the words over my shoulder, but the second he takes his eyes off me and turns to address the group around him, I stop looking back and veer in the opposite direction of the Shifters, taking off at a fast clip into the mist. I weave around a tree and continue across the uneven terrain.

Distance. I need distance.

And if I come across the Shades? Who cares? That would actually save me some time and effort.

Crunching leaves behind me announce that someone is following me. Donovan?

I speed up, trip over a half-dead fern plant, and catch myself by hugging a tree trunk. The damp smell of earth and decaying leaves fills my senses.

“Where are you going?” Michael’s voice is a low growl.

Steeling my nerves, I roll my shoulders once, dig my fingernails into my palms, and face him. My breath catches. Curse him. Michael stands there, backlit by the rays of sun piercing the fog. The way the light hits him cuts every sharp angle on his face to maximum effect. His chocolate eyes are full-on boiling with an intensity that makes me take a half step back. All wide-shouldered and broad-chested, he looks like a dark and brooding angel, ready for battle.

He’s been instructed by Donovan to protect me, and Michael is nothing, if not good at his job. A soldier following orders. He doesn’t care about me. Not really.

The truth gives me strength to face him. I take a step toward him and square my shoulders in an effort to reclaim my dignity.

“What does it matter to you?” I ask through clenched teeth.

Like someone about to walk into a mine field, he puts his hands out. “Don’t do this. If you … don’t do this, Gabby.” His voice is soft, soothing—a product of his training—not an indication of actual concern.

“I. Am. Not. Weak.” I spit the words at him. Amidst everything, that needs to be said. I didn’t need a bodyguard or a double agent watching me. He needs to know.

“No. But you’re foolish if you go through with this.” He’s always been able to read me, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he clearly realizes I’m trying to leave the Shifters, Keleusma, him.

In an effort to mask the trembling in my arms, I fist my hands as hard as I can. I hold myself back from flying at him. Yelling. Pounding my fists repeatedly into his solid chest. Digging my claws into his shirt and shaking him. Doing any of those things will only end with me in tears and him wrapping his arms around me, supporting me … because he has to.

Not because he ever wanted to.

For the record, humble pie is made with thorns in it. Once you swallow, the barbs rip through every tender part on the way down to your stomach. Making you bleed inwardly. It hurts, a lot. And I’m not quite sure if the damage ever fully heals. Check back with me in a couple years.

A boat horn sounds in the distance. It’s loud, but Michael doesn’t flinch or acknowledge it. Are we that close to the cliffs still? I thought I’d cut farther into the woods than that.

“You were only my friend because Donovan told you to be.” I hate how much my voice shakes but press on. “All the lies. How do you keep everything straight? You’re no different from the rest of them.”

“Don’t.” The muscle that creates the hollow near the joint in his jaw pops. “I was never pretending to be your friend. That has always been real.”

Unbelievable. I throw my hands in the air. “You won’t even admit it.” My voice starts to rise, but I curb it. I don’t want the other Shifters joining us. “I thought … I’ve been so stupid.”

He inches closer. “You know those dreams I’ve been having? The nightmares?”

I glare at him.

Michael’s hand fists his hair, and he closes his eyes. “It was never shell shock.” His voice is so quiet now. It would help if I leaned in close to hear him better, but I’m not about to. “I keep seeing you joining Erik. That’s what’s been keeping me up at night.”

“Great.” I fight an eye roll. “Let’s just add fortuneteller to your ever growing list of accomplishments.”

The skin around his eyes pinches. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind.” I work my jaw back and forth. “So sorry to have ruined your sleep. Even though, I mean, I’m hardly to blame for dreams you have.” I sidestep him.

“Stop.” He moves to block my path. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare bring that up.” I turn and try to head deeper into the woods, but he catches my arm.

“Dammit, Gabby. Stop.”

Though I refuse to face him, my muscles all lock in place. Michael doesn’t swear. Ever. I peek at him. His gaze rakes over my face, like he’s memorizing every inch of me. It almost destroys my resolve. Almost.

I focus on his hand around my arm. “Are you going to force me to come with you? Toss me over your shoulder like some cave man and lock me in the Keleusma dungeon again?”

His grip lightens, but he doesn’t let go. “I don’t ever want to make you do something against your will.” His eyes search mine. “I can trust you, can’t I?”

“Did Donovan tell you to follow me?”

“Donovan didn’t—”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes from my mouth. “I can just imagine you reporting back to him,
she made me sleep in her bed, sir
.” I drop my voice, mocking him. Every word draped with bitter points meant to inflict damage. “
What should I do, sir? What next
?”

“Donovan did not tell me to kiss you!” His voice ratchets up a notch. The vein on the side of his neck pops against his skin.

“Of course he didn’t.” I shove his hand off my arm. But the spot by my elbow still burns with the memory of his touch. “If he had ordered you to, you would have actually forced yourself to kiss me back instead of freaking out and making things awkward.” My throat spasms. He shouldn’t have this effect on me. I shouldn’t let him. “Because if there’s one thing Michael Pace does, it’s obey his leaders without question. You’re nothing but a yes man.”