Final Hours (16 page)

Gryffyth kept a tight grip on her hand as he ran down the now
narrow hall. The fact that they hadn’t run into Guy yet terrified her.

They reached the wall, and Elizabeth realized it was the
side of an office. Halfway down, the builders switched sides—now the offices
lined the left side. Gryffyth pulled her into a narrow pass through and over to
the other side of the hall, finally giving her line of sight to their
destination. Voice filtered out of the offices as they ran past. Maybe the
Admiral was in one of them, hunched over a table or a desk, safe from Guy—

That hope died when she saw a slight figure in uniform walk
past the open doorway of his office. She recognized Ramsay from the photos
she’d seen. They were almost there—she would save him this time, stop Guy
before he even got in shooting distance.

Her heart skipped when she saw Guy step out of a connecting
hall, practically in front of them, and slip into the office. The door closed
behind him.

“No—” Gryffyth let her go and bolted forward. By the time
she caught up with him, he had already checked the knob. “Stand back.”

He slammed his foot into the door. It flew open. Elizabeth sprinted
inside and rammed into Guy’s back.

A thin laser blast hit the window frame next to Ramsay’s
shoulder. The wood sizzled, the only other sound the short, low whine as Guy’s
pistol recharged. No one would have heard a thing with the door closed. Ramsay
would have died alone.

“What the hell—” Guy jerked around. Elizabeth pointed her
pistol at him, moving until she stood between him and Ramsay. Guy had trapped
him against the wide window at the end of his office, between the wall and a
waist high cabinet.

She glanced over her shoulder, just long enough to see that
Ramsay was upright, and looked like he was in one piece. “Are you okay,
Admiral?”

“A moment ago, I would have said no. But you and Sergeant
Gryffyth arrived in the nick of time.”

“How fortunate for you, Admiral,” Guy said. He sounded
furious, even though a smile tugged at his mouth. “Are you going to shoot me,
sweet, innocent Elizabeth?”

“Only if you try to harm the Admiral.” She expected to
panic, or at the very least, feel disgusted at the need to hold a weapon.
Instead, she felt strong, in control. That terrified her more than an impending
panic attack. “Leave now, Guy, never come back, and no one will stop you.” She
caught Gryffyth’s eye. He nodded, once, clearly not happy at her proposal.

“You know I won’t be able to come back, don’t you,
Elizabeth? The vulgar Texan must have told you of the portal’s particular
quirk. A shame, that. I could have done so much more for them, if I had been
able to return after I changed events.”

God—he
was
crazy. “Which is why that quirk exists.”

Guy smiled. “You are delightful. I can see why Kane is
enamored. But you are also in my way.”

He aimed the pistol behind her and she did the one thing she
never thought she’d be able to do. She shot him.

He stumbled back a step and stared at her for an endless
second. Then he snarled and aimed his pistol. At her.

She stilled, keeping herself between him and Ramsay. She
couldn’t let the shot get past her—

Gryffyth slammed into Guy’s back as the pistol fired.
Elizabeth screamed when a line of fire burned across her right shoulder.

Warm hands caught her as she stumbled. She looked up in time
to see Guy shove Gryffyth out of the way and dart past him, out of the office.

“No—”

“Slowly, now.” Ramsay steadied her. “You need to sit.”

“Thank you, but I have to go.” She pulled herself out of his
grip and ran after Guy. Every step jarred the burning in her shoulder.

“Wait!” Gryffyth stopped her just outside the office.
“You’re hurt—”

“I can’t let him leave. Did I wound him?”

He blinked at her. “Yes. Left side.”

“Stay here, keep Ramsay safe.”

“How did you know he planned to harm the Admiral?”

“He told me. How do I get out of here?”

“Put your pistol away. We won’t get two steps if the others
see it.”

Elizabeth tucked it in her jacket pocket. Her actions had
gained her an ally; hopefully, that alliance wouldn’t hurt Gryffyth.

He took her up himself, stopped long enough to grab one of
the officers who stood in the hall and whisper to him. Elizabeth caught the
officer’s name, and stared at him before Gryffyth pulled her out of sight. He
was James Stopford.

They ran back the way they came. Gryffyth slowed, and she
understood why when she saw the slumped figure at the corner of the tunnel that
led up to the exit.

Gryffyth let go of her hand and crouched next to him. He
looked at her when she joined him. “One of mine.” The anger in his eyes stunned
her. “He is still alive.”

“Get him help and stay here, in case Guy comes back.” Elizabeth
recognized this part of the tunnel from the tour, and knew her way from here.
She stood, reached out to touch his cheek. He was so young, too young for what
was coming. “Keep yourself safe, Gryffyth.”

She moved before he could stop her, and ran up the long
tunnel to the double doors. She glanced down at the concrete floor, saw a trail
of blood. It had to be Guy’s, and if he was injured, he wouldn’t be able to
step into the portal—not alone. Or was he crazy enough to go anyway?

She kept running, ignored the blood that slid down her arm,
the hot ache that jolted her with every step. If Guy left, he couldn’t come
back. But it meant he would be out there, somewhere in the past, ready to wreak
havoc again. They had to stop him here.

She had to stop him here. Without Kane.

She pushed open the door, and the wind slapped her as soon
as she stepped outside. Her lungs fought for air after her mad sprint up the
steep tunnel. She forced herself to slow, to check for more blood.

There were drops on the concrete, just outside the door,
more on the path leading away from the cliff, toward the main part of the
castle grounds. She followed them until she stood on the edge of another steep
path, heading to Admiralty Outlook, and open ground. He could escape before she
reached him—

A burst of adrenaline pushed her forward. She cradled her
throbbing arm and ran up the hill.

~ ~ ~

Bridget kept Kane
occupied, and he found
himself enjoying her company, her wicked sense of humor, her view of the world.

He tried not to fidget, or stand up to pace. The tender spot
on the back of his head was a throbbing reminder of the low ceiling.

When the electric hum of the portal brushed over his skin,
he rose, kept himself hunched, and stood in front of Bridget.

“Is this what you’ve been expecting?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Was I so obvious?”

She smiled at him and folded her hands in her lap. Kane
marveled at her calm, but after what she had endured, this was most likely just
another challenge to overcome.

A black square shimmered in the middle of the attic. It was
supposed to be round. Everything associated with the portal had always been—

Lighting burst across the center of the opening. Kane
grabbed Bridget, hauled her up.

“Under the bed! Something is wrong—”

Before he could finish his warning a transport flew out of
the portal, followed by a smoking rectangle. They bounced once, landed at his
feet. The black square shuddered, and crumpled, like a giant hand was crushing
it, until it winked out of existence.

As soon as the portal entrance disappeared, the transport
screen shimmered, highlighting a long, narrow crack across the front. Paper
crunched under his fingers when he picked it up. A note had been skewered to
the prong of the buckle.

Kane sat, and unfolded it. Mac’s illegible scrawl filled the
page.

I corrupted your DNA. Don’t ask me how—ever. It’s only
good for one trip, and only with this transport. It’ll probably kill you, but I
know that won’t stop you from trying. A friendly warning: I put in both
Elizabeth’s and Guy’s transport codes, to give you a better chance of actually
getting there. I can’t guarantee which one it will latch on to. Or if it will
at all.

Take care of Elizabeth. You’re good for each other, so
don’t screw it up. Hope to see you again, my friend.

Mac

P.S.—the attached notebook is Elizabeth’s—if it makes the
trip through, give it to her for me. And take a look inside before you do.

And in small, almost illegible script, Mac added a message
to the very bottom of the paper.

SIS has control.

“What the—” He felt the blood drain out of his face as he
understood the cryptic message.

SIS. MI-6.

Kane closed his eyes. Guy never stood a chance. Staring at
the message, he wondered what the bastard Harper had on his friend. Enough to
force him to kill, to betray.

Because he knew, like Mac knew, that Harper was neck deep.

There was nothing he could do about it now. But later, when
he was home—he would do one bloody hell of a lot about it.

He shoved his temper away, and picked up the scorched
notebook. The sturdy piece of electrical wire that had attached it to the
transport was burned down to nothing, the bare wire so brittle it snapped off
the notebook when he touched it.

“Did you get everything you were waiting for, Jackson?”

He glanced over at Bridget. “And a bit more.” The screen
flared into life, a countdown flashing across it. Hell.

He had two minutes.

“Time for you to go, my dear boy.” Bridget stood, leaned
down for a kiss. “Say hello to Elizabeth for me. Take care of each other, now.
You are stronger together.”

She backed away, watching him as he stood, and strapped the
transport to his wrist. The backplate hummed against his skin, hot enough to
make him flinch. This was not going to be a pleasant journey. He picked up the
notebook, remembered Mac’s postscript as he moved to the center of the attic.
Finally able to stand upright, he opened a random page—and nearly dropped it
when he saw his face.

Sketched in pencil, with so much detail it looked like a
photo, he recognized the moment she captured; when he stood with Mac, watching
the timeline screen in the lab. Elizabeth had left the background soft, just a
suggestion of his surroundings, which made him the focal point.

“So this was her scribbling.” She had some confessing to do.
He tucked the notebook in his back pocket, and gave Bridget a jaunty salute.
“Thank you for the hospitality, madam.”

Her smile was shaky. She obviously had the same thought that
he did—pushing the button might be the last action he ever took.

“Bloody hell.” He swallowed, braced himself for pain, and
pushed the button.

~ ~ ~

Kane flew out
at the other end, doubled
over—and slammed into a body.

They tumbled over damp grass. The deep grunt told him he had
found Guy.

Because he could hardly breathe for the pain, Guy recovered
first, and punched Kane’s half-healed shoulder. He clutched the ground as pain
roared through him. Guy’s voice filtered through, low and angry.

“I will have to find the time to ask that Texan how he
managed to send you back to the same place twice.” Guy never called Mac by
name; he considered him an uneducated lout. It used to be the only thing they
fought over—Guy’s snobbery. A harsh cry escaped Kane when Guy turned him over.
“Did you come to save the mighty Admiral Ramsay, or your precious Elizabeth?
Either way, you’re too late, old friend.” Leaning in, he whispered against
Kane’s ear. “I killed them both.”

“Liar.” He had to be lying. Kane would not accept the
alternative—he refused to accept that Elizabeth was gone, before he—

“She did manage to take a nip out of me, before I shot her.”
Guy leaned back. Blood spread over the left side of his shirt. A great deal of
blood. It had to be sapping his energy, especially since he had done nothing,
that Kane could see, to bind the wound. “I need you to forfeit the game, old
friend. So I am going to cripple your side of the board.”

Before Kane could move, Guy yanked a knife off his belt and
plunged it into Kane’s right shoulder.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth heard the
hoarse scream, just above
the whoosh of the wind battering her.

No one else.
She forced herself to move faster, caught
her hair in her left hand as the wind grabbed at it.
Please don’t let him
hurt anyone else.

The field at the top of the hill came into view—and she
jerked to a halt.

Guy had his knee braced on a writhing figure, an already
bloody knife in his hand, raised to stab again. She didn’t think—she just
moved.

Her left shoulder rammed into Guy’s back. They flew over his
victim, hitting the grass so hard her bones protested. She struggled to her
feet, just before Guy let out a furious roar and threw himself at her. She
danced backward, and tripped over his victim’s legs, landing on her back with a
painful jolt.

She pushed herself up, her shoulder throbbing, and froze
when she saw the victim’s hand, fingers curled around a tuft of grass. A
strong, familiar hand.

“Kane?” Her gaze shot up, found the aristocratic profile.
“Oh, God—Kane—” Movement jerked her attention away from him. She yanked the
pistol out of her pocket and hit the charge button, firing blindly. The furious
curse told her she hit something.

Torn between protecting Kane and stopping Guy, she took Kane
first, and checked for a pulse as she swept her gaze around them. It beat under
her shaking fingers, slow but steady. Relief flooded her, and disappeared just
as fast when she couldn’t find Guy. She shoved wind tangled hair out of her
face—and froze when a pistol pressed between her shoulder blades.