Hourglass (10 page)

Chapter 19

I
met resistance.

It wasn’t solid matter exactly, more like thick mud or wet sand. Jack twisted out of my way at the same time I jerked away from him.

“What the hell?” I looked at the traces of the substance on my hand. Whatever it was, it sort of … glowed.

When I looked up, Jack was gone. I got out of Michael’s apartment as quickly as possible, not even bothering to lock the door behind me. I had no idea what to do next.

Besides wash my hands.

Even though I was more than freaked out by Jack and his semisolid state, the address for the Hourglass was burning a hole in my pocket. I could be there in less than twenty minutes.

I had to risk it.

After a thorough hand scrub in my bathroom sink, I threw some essentials and dark clothing—in case I needed to blend—into a bag, as well as the binder Michael told me not to let out of my sight. I twisted up my hair to keep it out of my face before stopping in the freshly tidied kitchen to pour my coffee into a travel mug. I wrote a quick note for Thomas and Dru and left the loft with Michael’s card in my hand.

Thomas had installed GPS in Dru’s SUV for her birthday. All I had to do was enter in the address listed on the business card. I checked the gas gauge, then took a deep breath, putting the vehicle in reverse. I was a decent driver, but I didn’t do it very often. Good thing driving a car was like riding a bicycle.

Or whatever.

Jack. If he wasn’t a rip, what was he? What if he’d existed for so long that he picked up some matter along the way? If that was the case, why hadn’t Scarlett been semisolid, too?

I could ask Michael, but for reasons I didn’t exactly understand, I wanted to keep Jack to myself. My face grew hot just thinking about it.

I’d expected the Hourglass to be in some kind of an office building. Instead, the GPS system led me through downtown to rolling green farmland and rural country estates. I lowered my window to let in the breeze, along with the smell of harvested hay and other earthy things. Soon, the GPS indicated I’d reached my destination, and I stopped, noting the property was lined with a stone fence guarded by an iron gate. It stood open.

Tall oaks blocked the view from the main road. A gravel drive curved beneath them, leading to something I couldn’t see.

I’d have to take a chance.

One benefit of being a survivor was that there was no fear when it came to taking risks. What could happen? I could go to jail for trespassing. Couldn’t be worse than a mental hospital. Whoever lived behind the stone fence could capture me and hold me prisoner while performing experiments on me. Not unlike a mental hospital. I hesitated, my turn signal blinking so brightly it felt like a beacon for the security officers and guard dogs I imagined hiding just beyond the property line.

I
needed
answers.

I needed to know if Michael was telling me the truth—and what he was still hiding.

I took a deep breath and drove through the gate.

Chapter 20

W
ondering if I had entered the wrong address in the GPS, I looked at the business card again to make sure I was in the right place. A Greek Revival style plantation house spread out in front of me—big, rambling, and red brick, with tall white columns flanking the wide front door. No armed guards, no dogs, nothing like I expected. Part of the driveway extended past the house, creating a small parking area under some trees.

After I pulled in, I decided in my typical fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fashion that if anyone asked, I was going to be “lost.” I hoped no one would have the opportunity to look in the car. Lost and a fancy GPS system didn’t go together. I decided to case the joint—since I was such a superspy and all.

Sliding out of the car into the humidity, I hurried to hide myself behind the trees. The sunset burned orange on the edge of the horizon, all Creamsicle and heat. In the scant amount of daylight left, the outline of a stable as well as some other outbuildings rose against the backdrop of dark forest.

I crept closer.

Perspiration formed at the base of my neck and ran down my back as I slid along the side of the house, ducking at the occasional low window. The effort I expended to stay quiet combined with the heavy air made me glad I’d pulled my hair up. Once I reached the corner of the house, I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe my forehead. The leaves might be changing, but it didn’t feel like fall was almost here.

The back of the property reminded me of one of those grandiose 1980s television shows I had seen in reruns. A well-lit lap pool was lined by pencil-thin evergreens in urns. Four columns stood at each corner of the Italian ceramic tile patio. A three-tiered stone terrace extended from the back of the house. Tiny café tables with matching chairs and plush outdoor furniture were scattered about, along with electric torches and more evergreens in urns. It certainly didn’t feel like Top Secret Time Travel Headquarters.

I ducked behind a retaining wall when I heard voices. I could barely make out the shape of two people at the other end of the patio. They were leaning over the railing, and their voices carried. Distinctly male.

One stood out.

Michael.

Moving closer, I placed my back against the stone retaining wall and slid down into a sitting position. Might as well get comfortable. As comfortable as I could get against rocks.

“So what’s she like?” asked the voice I didn’t recognize.

“Frustrating. Unbelievable.” Michael sighed. “More than I ever thought possible.”

There was a brief silence. “What does she know?”

“Pretty much everything, except why I need her.”

“How did she take it?”

“How do you think she took it? How would you?”

I stiffened. I had a feeling I knew who they were talking about.

“You
have
to tell her the rest.” The unknown voice carried urgency.

“The timing is wrong, Kaleb. She’s starting to trust me.”

“You need to fill her in before something happens.” Kaleb’s voice was rougher, more gravelly than Michael’s. I wished I could see Kaleb’s face. I wondered if it matched his voice. “She needs to know what’s going on. You can’t let her go into this blind.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Michael sounded as if he were speaking through gritted teeth.

“Do,” Kaleb said. At least he wanted me to be able to protect myself instead of keeping me in the dark. I liked him. Whoever he was. “Remember, we’re a team. I’ll handle the files; you handle her. A lot is on the line for a lot of people.”

“I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back, whatever the sacrifice.”

“You think she’ll go for it?”

Michael paused before answering. “I can’t be sure. But I wouldn’t doubt it. She’s pretty amazing.”

The sound of surprised laughter echoed off the stone wall. “Mike! Are you into her?”

“I can’t be. You know the rules.”

Kaleb snorted. “That wouldn’t stop me.”

“I know. Besides, I’m not into her.” Michael’s voice was firm. Kaleb must have given him a doubtful look, because Michael repeated, “I’m not into her. I have my reasons.”

My stomach dropped a little.

“Brother, I can
sense
. I
know
. If this girl is as ‘amazing’ as you say she is, you’re just being stupid. But I keep forgetting, you’re all about chivalry and honor,” Kaleb said in a singsong voice.

“You should try it sometime,” Michael answered quietly.

“Just
please
don’t tell me you’re holding back because of Ava.”

“Kaleb,” Michael said, sounding frustrated, “I’ve already told you how things are with Ava—”

He stopped talking when light flashed on in one of the upstairs windows, throwing a yellow square on the stone terrace floor. “I’d better go back inside,” Kaleb said in a rushed voice. “Tell her—don’t treat her like a kid.”

“Go!” I heard Michael make a hissing sound through his teeth, and then a door closed.

The light in the upstairs window went off.

I sat for a minute, trying to process. I couldn’t swear they were discussing me; no one said my name. Call it massive paranoia, which was entirely possible, or incredible intuition—I was pretty sure I was the “she” in the conversation.

But who was the “he”?

Sneaking away from the terrace, I crept back the way I’d come. I didn’t hurry, giving Michael time to clear out so I could avoid running into him. As I neared the front of the house I got curious and peeked in one of the low windows.

On one wall hung several photographs. Even though they were lit from above, a strange reflection shone off the faces, making them hard to see. Scanning them one by one, I paused when I reached the last picture in the row. Something about the face seemed familiar. Before I could place it, another light went on inside the house, causing my shadow to stand out in sharp relief on the grass. I flattened myself against the wall until the light went off again, then I took off in the direction of the car, flinging the door open when I reached it.

I let out a scream.

Someone was already sitting there.

Chapter 21

B
e quiet,” Michael whispered. “Are you trying to wake the dead?”

“What are you doing?” I managed to choke out, clutching my hand to my chest, my heart pounding.

He’d turned off the inside car lights, but I could still see his angry expression in the fading light. “I think the better question is what are
you
doing?”

I briefly considered telling him I was lost and tried to think fast. Nope, nothing. I shook my head, gasping for breath.

“How did you find me?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. I was looking for the Hourglass,” I said. “I got the address from the business cards on your bedside table.” Okay, not helpful. “Dru’s keys. Just sort of … there on my kitchen floor … needed me to let the couch guys into your loft. I’m sorry.”

Spies should be able to endure torture and still keep their secrets. I spilled mine out like pennies from a broken piggy bank.

Michael sighed and leaned back on the headrest. “Great. What else did you find?”

“Nothing really.”

Except a picture of a gorgeous girl and some notes written in code.

“It’s not safe for you to be here,” Michael said, reaching up to grip the steering wheel. “We need to get you off the property before anyone sees you.”

“You mean someone like Kaleb?”

“Kaleb is the least of your worries right now.”

“At least he thinks I should know what’s going on,” I taunted. “He’s never even met me, and he gives me more credit than you do.”

Michael shook his head in disgust and motioned to the seat beside him. “Get in.” When I didn’t move, he reached out with both hands to pull me across his lap, dumping me in the passenger seat. “Did they teach you to eavesdrop at boarding school, too?”

“What makes you think you can manhandle me?” The heat from his touch racing across my skin didn’t do a thing to cool me down. He cranked the car. I looked at his face, now fully illuminated from the light of the dash. “And I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was in the right place—okay,” I amended when he raised his eyebrows, “the wrong place at the right time.”

More head shaking.

Michael drove slowly down the long driveway, not switching on the headlights until we reached the main road. He turned in the opposite direction of Ivy Springs.

“What about your car?” I asked.

“We’ll pick it up on the way back.”

“On the way back from where?” Ah, my old friend, anxiety—throwing itself into the blender with sheer terror and embarrassment.

“My place,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Isn’t it in the same direction as my place?”

“No,” he answered with forced patience. “I meant I’m going back to my place at school. And you’re coming with me. There’s someone I need you to meet.”

“Can’t it wait? Who is it? You have a place at school?”

“Would you please stop asking questions for one second? I have to figure out how to handle this.” The tiny muscles in his jaw tightened.

I waited exactly one beat. “When you left today, why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

Michael let out a loud groan of frustration. “Didn’t I just ask you to stop asking questions?”

“You asked me to stop for one second. You should have been more specific if you wanted longer.” Having a big brother taught me quite a bit about arguing with the intent to wear down my opponent. Like a rat terrier with a pork chop. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the Hourglass?”

“Well, Emerson, I obviously didn’t want you to follow me.” He turned up the radio in a noticeable ploy to silence me.

“I didn’t follow you. Exactly,” I argued, turning it back down.

“No, you invaded my privacy and then happened to end up at the one place I wanted you to avoid.” He kept his voice controlled, but anger simmered beneath the surface. “You should have stayed away.”

I briefly wondered if I should be afraid instead of mad. Michael had basically carjacked me and was driving somewhere unknown, against my will. That equaled kidnapping. I dug deep, searching for any indication I was scared.

Nope. Just pissed.

We turned down a small side street behind campus. The houses I could see were early-twentieth-century bungalow homes, all well appointed. We pulled into the driveway of one of the nicer ones. It boasted a low-pitched gabled roof, black shutters, and a wide front porch.

Michael came around to open my door. I didn’t move or speak as he took my bag and started for the house. When he realized I wasn’t with him, he turned back to the car, blowing out a gust of air that lifted the hair from his forehead. “Emerson? Don’t make me come and get you.”

I followed him to the front door.

I tiptoed behind him through a dark entryway into a high-ceilinged room with elaborate moldings and wooden floors. A long mahogany table in the back of the room boasted laptops and multiple mugs of coffee in different stages of use. He placed my bag on a side table and dropped down onto one of the leather couches.

“Am I supposed to sit?” I asked, pointing to the cushion beside him. The leather reminded me of a worn baseball glove. “Or did you prefer I wait on the porch?”

He reached up to grab my sleeve and pulled. I landed a little closer to him than I would’ve liked at that moment, but I didn’t move.

“I guess you’re still mad.”

Michael tilted his head to look at me, his lips twisted in disapproval.

“This whole thing is so unfair,” I protested. “You’re keeping secrets. Secrets about
me
. I know it, you know it—why aren’t we talking about it?”

“Isn’t the information about your ability enough to digest right now?”

“
The info is digested
, Michael. As a matter of fact, it’s so digested it’s getting ready to come out as a big pile of sh—”

“Don’t get snippy with me.” His eyes flashed a warning.

“I’m not snippy,
I’m mad
,” I returned through gritted teeth. “And your personal health is in danger if you don’t fess up about what’s going on.”

“I
really
underestimated you.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

Michael stared at me for a moment. “You’re too brave for your own damn good. You have no idea what kind of situation you put yourself in tonight.” He stood, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Seeing you at that house …”

“What are you talking about? Fill in the blanks,” I snapped.

His wide shoulders slumped over in defeat. In one second, all the anger disappeared. “If something had happened to you tonight, it would’ve been my fault. Kaleb warned me not to treat you like a kid. I did it anyway, and I’m sorry.”

I struggled for words, but none came.

“I can’t take another step without involving you.” He clasped his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. “Tonight, when you overheard Kaleb and me, we were talking about—”

“Michael?” A soft voice called from the entryway.

He dropped his hands and his eyes flew open. “Dr. Rooks?”

A woman stepped into the room. A drop-stinking-dead gorgeous woman. Her bronze skin was flawless, her dark hair cropped close to her head. Probably she didn’t bother with her hair because nothing could compete with her face. I knew I was staring, and I hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging open.

“Emerson, this is Dr. Rooks, the person I wanted you to meet. She’s a theoretical physicist, and she teaches at the college. She’s also kind of like a housemother.”

I doubted seriously there’d ever been a theoretical physicist and housemother in the history of the world who looked like this one. She appeared to be in her late twenties, tall, with delicate features and wide eyes. When she turned her head to smile at me, her tiny nose ring caught the light, taking me by surprise.

“Lovely to meet you, Emerson.” Something about the lilt of her voice made me think of warm rays of sunshine and tropical breezes. “Are you visiting?” she asked, puzzled.

I didn’t know how to answer, so I looked at Michael. He checked the grandfather clock in the corner.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said to me. “You should probably call Thomas.”

I didn’t move.

“Please? I don’t want either one of us in trouble.”

“I’ll call, but we’re not finished here. I’m going to tell him not to expect me until tomorrow morning.” I stood to retrieve my cell phone from my bag, silently daring him to contradict me, at the same time shocked by my own defiance. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s your life.”

Dr. Rooks smiled as I excused myself.

Michael didn’t.

I stepped into the hallway to make the call, my hands shaking as I dialed. Thomas didn’t answer. Relieved, I left him a quick voice mail. Better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission and all that. Dr. Rooks and Michael were whispering furiously when I reentered the room.

“Um, we were just discussing where you could sleep,” Michael explained as they stepped apart, but the flush creeping up his neck told a different story. “Dr. Rooks is going to set up an air mattress in her room.”

“Upstairs.” She gestured to my bag. “Are you ready now?”

I looked at Michael. I didn’t want to pitch a fit, but I wasn’t above it.

“Go on,” he told her. “I’ll bring her up in a while. We have some things to discuss.”