Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) (25 page)

I have to focus. “Where are the training facilities?”

“Training facilities?” He laughs, but his smile falls when he sees I’m serious. “Oh, no. No. No. No. There’s none of that here. No training. No classes. We enjoy life. My family here spends their time as they wish. You’ll see.”

We weave deeper into Mónatos and head down another spiral staircase which leads to a dimly lit area with blood red carpeting. Music with an annoying beat pumps through huge speakers, sending vibrations through my body. Hundreds of Shades are here, some dancing, others squished close together on couches, while still more pound back drinks and puff something sweet-smelling into the air.

Erik tightens his arm around my shoulders and steers us through the crush of people. Even though I realize it’s a silly notion, I scan the room as if I might spot someone I recognize. Along the edge there are pairs of Shades pressed close together—making out. Like a high speed accident on the expressway, I know I should look away but can’t. What about their Pairings?

Someone jostles against me, and I rock into Erik’s side. He catches my elbow, making sure I have my balance before winking and then positioning his hand on my back again. He resumes guiding me. I glance over my shoulder and play
count the couples
: one … two … seven … twelve.

His chin grazes my cheek. “Close now.”

To my mom. Finally. After so many years of believing she was dead. I hope she likes me.

A series of waves surge through my stomach.

He ushers me out of the large dance area and leads me down another sparse hallway. Metal beams line the ceiling—we’re deep underground now. Mónatos is bigger than it appeared from the outside. The thump of the music echoes in the long corridor. I rub my palm against the ache in my forehead. A person could easily get lost with all these twists and turns.

“What happens to a Shade’s Pairing?”

The muscle lining his jaw flexes. “Such a curious question.”

“Not really. They all had Pairings at one time. Do they still?”

Erik rocks back, folds his arms, and props his shoulder against the wall. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I believe it was already established that your Pairing failed. Correct?”

“I’m not asking for me.” I’m not. Really. I’m not. My father is a forgotten Pairing. I’m asking for him. But if Michael chose Mónatos, would we be allowed to …? I shove that thought into the basement of my mind. Into a box labeled: For Donation. I can’t entertain such ideas.

“In general. Are they able to see their Pairings if they want to?”

Erik examines the light fixtures on the ceiling. “If they wanted to, sure.”

“But most don’t?”

He shrugs.

“In that … was it a club?”

“Of sorts.”

“In that club there were Shades—” Do I say
making out
to Erik? “Together.”

“Ah. Yes. Well.” He pushes off from the wall. “The thing about Shades is they cannot reproduce, so there is no … risk.”

Of course, I knew that already. Lark told me that Shades aren’t born. They’re made when a Shifter chooses to leave Keleusma and Nicholas. That’s not news.

“But they were—”

“I’ll put it delicately for you.” Shoulder to shoulder, he peers down at me. He’s not that much taller than I am, but somehow I feel very, very small. “They can enjoy
every
aspect of a physical relationship without any unwanted consequences.”

“Oh. I wasn’t meaning …”

Erik waggles his eyebrows.

So he’s
trying
to embarrass me. And—might I add—succeeding famously.

I clear my throat. “So Shades can live together. They can be in love with another Shade if they want?” I lick my lips. “That’s allowed?”

Frowning, he closes his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I get it. I do. It’s hard to comprehend after living under Nick’s thumb, but you’ll see.” He steps closer. “Anything is allowed. Anything you want. Especially where you’re concerned.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll delight in spoiling you.”

I step back but hit the wall in the narrow hallway. Immediately, he rests his forearm above my head, bringing his face a breath away. Spice and cinnamon—the exotic hints of his cologne—wash over me, and I close my eyes for a second.

Shadows dance through my mind. And nothing else. My heartbeat ratchets up. Why can’t I think clearly?

I shake my head, focus on Erik’s piercing blue eyes, and try to concentrate on what we were talking about. “Have you?” I swallow hard. “Do you …?”

“I wonder. Are you ready to meet your mother?” He straightens his spine and then wipes his hand along the wall a few feet away from me. A door appears. “We’re here.”

He reaches for the knob, but I grab his arm, preventing him. “Give me a minute.” I work my shaky fingers through my hair and take three deep breaths in and out. Then I nod to Erik. It’s time.

Please like me
.

Erik knocks on the door, and it slowly opens. The woman on the other side shares my height and build. She has a better chest than I do, her skin is tinted darker, and her curves are more feminine, but our thick, almost black hair fans out the same way.

My mom.

She’s alive and safe and beautiful.

Her eyes flick from me to Erik, back to me, and then zero in on him.

Erik positions himself behind me and lays his hands on my shoulders, gently walking me through the doorway. “Rosa, meet Gabriella. Your daughter.”

Rosa dips her chin.

Not exactly the greeting I wanted to receive, but I’ll take it.

Erik backs into the hallway. “I’ll give you two a few minutes. Just a few though.” His smile is wider than it needs to be. “I’m certain you’re both tired. A member of my security team—Yasmine—will come to collect you shortly. I regret that it can’t be me, but I have something that requires my immediate attention. I’ll come find you when I’m done. Rosa.” He spears her with a hard look. “Remember what I said.”

With that, he closes the door, leaving us alone. Together.

I open my mouth to speak, but what do I say? For eighteen years, I’ve ached for a mother. Imagined the kind of person she would be if she were still alive. Hoped she would be proud of me. Pretended not to miss her, even though I did every single day.

I enter the small living room where she’s standing, watching me.

“You’re alive.” My voice holds a note of awe.

Yes. I saw her at the
Eastland
, but this is different. Now she’s close enough to touch. Or hug.

She fingers the turquoise beads of her bubble necklace. “Of course I am.”

Say my name
. Is it weird I want to hear what it would sound like? To hug a virtual stranger? But this experience is probably as surreal for her as it is for me. I need to make her feel comfortable. Let her know I don’t hate her for the years she was gone. We can make up for them now.

“Are … are you okay?” I hold out my hands, level to the ground as if I’m approaching an animal that might dart off if I make any sudden movements.

A smile parts her lips. “Better than okay.” Her cheeks move in an unnatural way, as if she’s had Botox injections. “Won’t you sit?” She motions toward a chair.

Sit? “He said we only have minutes. We need to figure this out.” I round a table, coming within an arm’s reach of her. She smells like plumeria body spray. “I came to take you back to Dad.”

“Take me back?”

“He loves you. He’s a wreck and—”

“What makes you think I want to see him again?” She backs away from me.

“But he—”

“No.”

My gut clenches. “Are you afraid of him? Of Erik? Does he have you here against your will?”

Her laugh sounds like one of those small bells shopkeepers hang on their door—light and high. She steps around a low chair and rests her fingers on the back. “Erik is wonderful.”

“So wonderful he won’t let you leave?”

“I’ve been able to leave every day for the past eighteen years.”

“Then why didn’t you … you never … you could have?”

“I didn’t want to leave.”

Not true. She would have come if she could have. It’s Erik’s influence.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I inch closer to her. “He has magic. He has you under some kind of spell.” Time is crucial. Forget worrying about our shifting bracelets and the logistics of staying with Dad. I need to get her as far away from Mónatos as possible. Now.

I soften my voice. “You want your family.”

Her brow dives into a V. “I don’t.”

I clamp onto her wrist and tug her toward the door. “Once you’re free of this place, you’ll be able to remember.”

“How dare you.” She jerks her arm, but I hold tight. Fire flicks in her eyes. “Let go of me.”

I have to get her out. To safety. She’ll be fine. She’ll want us.

Using every ounce of my strength, I drag her closer to the door. “You’ll—”

“Let. Go.” Rosa’s nails sink into my flesh, lancing pain up my arm. I release her, and she crashes her hands into my chest and shoves me. Unprepared, I trip backwards. My lower back slams into the pointed edge of a desk, and I cry out. My knees buckle, and I sink to the ground. Heat radiates from the injury on my back.

She advances.

I throw my arm up to block my face.

But she stops a foot away and towers over me. “Who do you think you are?”

I lower my arm. “Your daughter.” Why does my voice have to quiver like that?

Her eyes narrow for the space of a breath, and then she shakes her head. “I never wanted you. Not then. Not now.”

I wrap my arms around my stomach and curl my shoulders forward. As if I can hold my heart in place. But pieces of it fall into the pits of my soul. Shattered. Lost.

Mom never missed me. She doesn’t want me. She won’t go back with me.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror on the wall and stops to put her hair back in place. “The day I found out I was pregnant was the worst day of my life.”

 
Unwanted. Unloved. Worthless.

A tremor goes through my arms, my legs, but I flex my muscles to fight it. Push the palms of my hands harder into my sides as I hug myself.

My father is stuck with me. Porter liked Emma when he should have only wanted me. Most of Keleusma kept a wide berth. Michael never cared. And now Mom … so it really is true. No one’s ever wanted me.

I strain for a breath as my eyes burn heavy with tears.

It would have been better to keep believing she was dead.

Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. Not over her. Not over someone who never cried over me. No. Feeling this—now—would be no different than allowing myself to publicly bleed to death.

“No one forced you to be here?” I know the answer but can’t stop my words.

She looks down at me. “I begged Erik to take me. I pleaded with him to deal with you. It was my idea to be injected. To see what it would make you.” A light flames behind her deep brown eyes. “And it worked. The plans he has for you are magnificent. I wish …” She shakes her head. “At least I contributed to it through you.”

I stare up at her blankly. I should feel something right now, shouldn’t I? No … I can’t. People feel with their hearts. She just destroyed mine. I have nothing left to feel with.

I look away and catch sight of the blemish on my shifting bracelet. It’s like a birthmark of hate. Forever reminding me I deserve to be pushed aside.

Stop. Get up. Get up and face her.

I pull myself to my feet using the desk along the wall to hold most of my weight. “What are you talking about?”

Her perfectly sculpted brows dive, and her lips form an exaggerated pout. “He hasn’t told you?”

I cup my hand over my shifting bracelet. “Told me what?”

All expression drops from her face. “It’s not for me to say. But it’s what we’ve all been waiting for. You have the ability to make Erik’s dream come true in a way I never can.”

A sensation like ghost fingers walks up my spine, and I shiver. “Is that what he was talking about … when he told you to remember what he said?”

She looks away.

Her inability to look me in the eye lights the kindling of my resolve. A blaze goes through my chest. I don’t want tears. But anger? Bring it. Anger is my ally. She doesn’t get to not answer. Not after abandoning me. Not after allowing Dad to believe she’s dead.

I let my hands drop to my sides and then fist them, widening my stance. “Tell me.” My voice is a low growl. “Tell me his plan.”

“I don’t owe you—”

“Wrong.” I surge forward. Which is stupid. She might hit me again. But I don’t care. “You owe me this. I gave up everything to try to rescue you. Everything.” The word rips through me, as if admitting my failure out loud tears my flesh away.

“No one asked you to.” She turns her back on me. “My allegiance is to Erik. Not to you.”

I follow on her heels, my voice rising. “Why did you leave him—Dad?”

How could she walk away from love that strong and steadfast?

She runs her hand over the spotless counter, sweeping at nonexistent crumbs.

“Why?” I grab her arm and force her to face me.

She jerks away from my touch. “There was no reason to stay.”

“You had Dad. He loves you.” I thump my chest. “You had me.”

I would have loved you
.

Why weren’t we enough? Why am I not ever enough?

“Here with Erik. This is my home.” She slips around the kitchen island so there’s a counter between us. As if she can’t stand to be near me. “This is everything.” She flattens her hands on the white granite. “You’ll understand soon enough.”