Girl Gone Nova (54 page)

Her heart thumped again—hard—as she froze on another thought.

She pulled up her sleeve and turned her wrist to the light.

It was bare. It was gone. Her
ma’rasile
mark was gone.

Her hand wrapped around the spot.

It is what you said you wanted.
The peeps sounded reproachful.

I did. I do. It’s just—

You like him.

Her chest felt tight, like something wanted to explode out of the center. It wasn’t tears. She didn’t do tears. Okay, she’d had a rotten couple of timelines and maybe she’d earned a good cry, but that didn’t mean she’d do it. She’d escaped Smith, but not the law of unintended consequences. She needed to get a new law to live by, but until then, well, Hel was better off not bonded to her. She was dangerous and creepy. His sons needed him more than she did. People didn’t die from their heart shattering into millions of pieces—not that hers had. It felt like it had, but it hadn’t. It was a biological impossibility.

She could stay in the bathroom and whine, or she could go find out where she was and why. Her brain made the case for leaving. Her heart voted for whining. The brain won. Whining made her head hurt.

She resisted the impulse to pull a weapon as she eased the door open onto an empty bedroom. She did a quick search of the pleasant space, found her stuff neatly stowed. She had a window, so she looked out. It was still light enough to tell that she’d been quartered on the Kikk outpost. Be nice to know why. Be better to curl up and die.

A tap at the door to the corridor almost put her on the ceiling. She had her weapon in hand without being aware she’d grabbed it. A little time shifting and she turns jumpy?
Get a grip, girl
, she ordered as she eased up to the door.

“Yes?”

“Doc?”

Briggs.
She sagged. “Give me a minute.” She stowed the weapon and shrugged on a persona that went with her clothes. Then she opened the door.

Briggs was in his dress uniform. He looked good.

His once over was thorough and appreciative enough to bring a half smile to her face, despite the hollow core in the center of her chest where she used to have what passed for a heart. He held out his arm, so she took it, pulling her door closed. It appeared they were going somewhere together, somewhere that required the dress and dress blues. She could do this. She could bluff it out. They walked in silence for the length of a semi-medieval corridor. It reminded her of an upscale castle—one without the damp and the gloom. No suits of armor either.

“Can I ask you something, Doc?”

She looked at him, wrapped in exterior calm. “Sure.”

“Are you all right?”

Okay, maybe her exterior wasn’t as calm as she thought. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” At least her voice sounded the same, cool and too much like her mum.

He stopped, turning to face her, forcing Doc to face him right when she could have used a hair screen while she figured out what he was talking about.

“If you don’t want to do this, screw Giddioni and the alliance.”

Doc’s jaw sagged about the same moment the hole in her chest started to close.
Time is persistent.
She felt a smile tipping up the edges of her mouth, despite a reminder to herself that this didn’t mean Hel remembered her. The peeps were still too rattled to do any research for her.

Briggs sighed. “The General said you like him.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe it.

Doc made a face and shrugged. “At least we know I’ll be bad at whatever it is an alliance mate does.” Doc still wasn’t a diplomat, probably never would be.

He looked more cheerful. “That’s what the General said.”

They resumed their walk toward the party—if it was a party. Had to be a party. She was wearing a freaking dress. With all the practice she’d had with working in the dark, she should be better at it by now. The crowd murmur built as they approached open double doors. Men in pretty uniforms stood on each side. Did that mean the party was hosted by the Gadi? Did that mean the Gadi were on the outpost? In possession of the outpost?

The food smell reached her first. It smelled great. Had to be a Gadi party. Doc’s nose quivered. As far as she knew, she hadn’t eaten great food in this timeline. And she had no equation to help her do the math on how long it had been since food had hit her stomach.

People smells came next, some of them not quite as good as others, though none of them rampantly unpleasant. No one had obvious BO, though the mix had an alien tinge to it. Her eye didn’t twitch. Maybe she was getting the hang of the time paradox crap. Or her eyelids were just tired of twitching. They reached the entrance and paused. Doc could feel Briggs longing to retreat as keenly as she felt her own. If she hadn’t spotted Hel, she might have given into it.

He looked
good.

You like him.

What’s not to like?
She’d never have asked that question of the General. He’d have a long list. The peeps just agreed with her. As if her thoughts had summoned him, General Halliwell appeared on her two o’clock, wearing his dress blues and stone face. At least he’d left the thunder cloud in his quarters. Something in his eyes told her they were friends again, which further eased the chill of the reset. She felt those tendrils again, those roots connecting her to both men and hopefully to this time. She was as adaptable as anyone she knew, but she’d had it with adapting—at least adapting in the dark.

Briggs came to attention. Doc did a variation more suited to the dress and killer heels.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

It was too late two timelines ago, but telling him that would make
his
eye twitch. She smiled, channeling her mum’s calm and cool.
 

“I’m good, sir.” It was almost true. She’d almost destroyed time. Had no clue what day of the week, month or year it was, or why she was wearing a dress. Or if Hel remembered her. But he wanted her enough to do that alliance thing—unless she’d done it. Her chest hollowed out again.

The general’s gaze sharpened, his voice dropped. “It’s happened again, hasn’t it?”

She nodded. He’d seen through her before. That he still could wasn’t as big a shock as it should have been. She smiled, a cool and confident one. “I have no clue what this is all about, sir.”

Before the General could respond, a Gadi man slithered up to them, undressing her with his close-set eyes.
Glarmere
. Perhaps he was the reason she’d decided to pack creepy. She felt a sudden longing for a flash bang. She could hope time was
that
persistent.

“My lady. I am Minister Glarmere.” His gaze ran over her again, leaving a slime trail.

Were there laws about beating up on a Minister? A cool, male hand cupped her elbow and every nerve ending in her body perked up. They might have done the Macarena.

Hel.

Time slowed in a nice way as she turned her head to look at him. She felt the air rasp in her throat as she inhaled his scent, felt the electrical current passing between them where his skin met hers. There was an internal buzz as both their peeps tried to reconnect. Physical contact helped them, though both sets were rattled.

“Delilah.”

That’s all he said, but it told her all she needed to know right now:
he wanted her.

She didn’t know if he remembered her, didn’t know if he remembered everything that had happened, but right now it was enough to know
he wanted her
.

She kept her façade, taking her cue from him. She didn’t want to look away. She did. She looked at Glarmere, met his close-set gaze, then let her gaze trail over him with the same thoroughness he’d used on her, though she didn’t do the slime trail and her scrutiny had a hearty measure of lethal. She gotten some practice with Conan and she used what she’d learned. He was almost Hel’s height and was pretty in an oily way, but he lacked Hel’s presence, his clarity of purpose, his hotness factor, and the eyes were just too close together.

Did Dusan mercenaries lurk in his life somewhere?

Time is persistent.

Last timeline their
ma’rasile
had made Hel vulnerable to his cousin, but that wasn’t an issue this time. Her gaze made it back to Glarmere’s. She let out some lethal and saw him pale. She added a tiny, very tiny wrinkle of the nose, just in case his ego didn’t get the memo that messing with her was a bad idea. Now color surged into his face. He was easier to wind up than Conan. Before he could implode or explode, hard to say which way a guy like that would go, another Gadi man edged in close, riding in a bubble of self-importance.

“Minister Carig,” Hel murmured, bending close so that his breath ruffled the hair covering her ear.

She shivered, wondering when the wedding was. It took a couple of blinks to focus on the new player. Hel wasn’t the only one made vulnerable by the sizzle between them. These men would use any advantage they could find against them.

Carig was about her height and darker skinned then Hel or his cousin. Doc hadn’t realized they had variations, since Carig had missed the other party, not wanting to get blown up. Was he still plotting or just frustrated and bitter? Were there rumblings among the expedition for him to tap into this time?

Time is persistent.

She didn’t see Neil Caldwell, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here somewhere.

She had a sense, perhaps from the knowledge the peeps had downloaded from their time in the slip stream, that this reset was dang near back to square one. Where did that leave Dr. Smith? She didn’t see him anywhere either, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t somewhere.

“I don’t see Dr. Smith, General Halliwell?”

Hel’s fingers on her arm contracted once. The General frowned.

“Who?”

“Tobias Smith?”

“Never heard of him.” His gaze asked a question she couldn’t answer in this place, but she let her gaze tell him the question was related to the time reset. His nod was almost imperceptible. He was a good, no, make that a great man. He’d…saved her in his way, as much as the peeps and Hel. It had started with Sara and Fyn, continued with Briggs and finished here. She was officially a real girl.

Time is persistent.

Flinging him back into his own time wouldn’t stop Smith from trying again. It was the one thing she knew for sure about him, almost the only thing.

Time is persistent.

As if to add emphasis to that thought, Doc saw Conan. Freaking Conan. He strode toward her scattering pretty Gadi guys like they were bowling pins and he was the ball. Just looking at him made her headache. Just how persistent was time? She couldn’t see a bandage on his hand. Was he playing tag again or had he arrived like he was supposed to this time? She wanted to ask who he was, but what if she already knew?

The General shifted, blocking her view, and said in a low voice, “His name is Vidor Shan. He’s from another galaxy. Said he was curious.”

The General’s tone said he didn’t believe Conan. Doc didn’t either. The peeps wanted to help out, but they were lucky to connect with each other. Clarity would have to wait.

At least the party was interesting enough to distract. Her gaze glanced off Glarmere, Carig and Conan, before finding Hel again. Even without Dr. Smith, it was the most interesting party she’d ever attended.

* * * * *

Doc wasn’t sure when she realized Hel was steering her, not just through the crowd, but some
where
. Since they’d met every Gadi person in the room, and he wasn’t pushing her into another timeline, Doc didn’t fight him. The limelight was not SOP for her, so she was happy to get out of it. The door was hard to spot. A tapestry hung down, but Hel found it and nudged her through it, then slipped inside after her. It was a small room, a small office maybe. It had a desk and shelves, though it was way nicer than her office on the
Doolittle
—well, the one last timeline. She didn’t know if she had an office in this timeline.

She trailed a finger along the smooth edge of the desk, feeling the subtle changes in the grain. She’d been longing to see Hel, to talk to him, but now they were alone, her heart fluttered with an unfamiliar panic.

“Delilah.”

Just her name, but his tone pulled her around to face him. Her lashes lifted, taking more time than needed to connect with his deep, blue gaze. This was the moment for the law of unintended consequences to pull the rug out. She leaned against the desk, maybe gripped it with both hands. She knew she looked calm, because she knew what calm felt like on her face, knew each muscle in her face was where she wanted them to be, knew they gave nothing away. Her heartbeat too fast and her eyes ate him up, so he wouldn’t be fooled by the calm. Even if he didn’t know her, he
knew
her.

She needed to break the silence, so she did. “Glarmere isn’t going to be Leader, is he?”

Hel’s perfect mouth curved. “No.”

Doc’s throat dried, as the heat in his eyes ramped up. Maybe she didn’t need him to remember. This was good…

“I remember the first time I saw you. At the party, you paced like you were looking for a way out.”

“I’m lousy at parties, unless I’m supposed to shoot someone. Then I’m good.”

Not the best quality in an alliance mate.

He took a step toward her. “I remember the first time I kissed you. And the second.”

Color stung Doc’s cheeks as she remembered them, too. A current of something formed between them. She swallowed.

“I had influenza.” It sounded better than, “I was almost a corpse.”

He took another step. “I remember that, too. I almost lost you.” He stopped bare inches from her, trailed a finger down her cheek and across her mouth. “I remember hurting you.”

She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “Your cousin was trying to torture you. I’d have been cranky, too.”

“That was not what unsettled me, and you know this.”

She gave a tiny, happy shrug. Maybe she smiled. “We have a tradition on my planet called kissing it better.”

His mouth curved up. “We have this tradition as well.” He leaned closer. “Where does it hurt?”