Silver Storm: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 2 (12 page)

She was now alone at the top of the world with the sexiest man alive.

Tim reached for her hand and frowned when she deftly dodged the contact.

“I can see the pain in your eyes, Sarah. Let me help you.”

Shaking her head, Sarah moved until she stood inches from the glass. “No. I need all my energy to scan the skies for that ship. I’m not sure how this is going to work, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

That wasn’t the complete truth, and judging by the raised eyebrows, clenched jaw and tight lips, Tim knew it. The truth was she couldn’t bear the comfort of his touch right now. She had a big battle to win tonight in bending the energy to her will and searching for the alien ship. She didn’t have the will to fight her heart, too. The traitorous organ yearned to be in his arms again instead of standing alone a thousand feet off the ground with the weight of millions of lives on her shoulders.

The big, epic adventure stories with heroes who faced impossible odds to save the world were fun to read.

Living this reality required an entirely different mindset. This was more than a game. This was a championship death match between her and the bad guys. If she could eliminate their best play before the opening serve, she’d win.

“Let’s go to the top.” Tim swept his arm like a true gentleman, waiting for her to precede him into the stairwell.

A few minutes of climbing and they emerged onto the roof of the building. It was cold now, with the thunderstorm coming in off the lake, and Sarah was glad she’d bought the warm hoodie. The sales clerk had laughed at her. It was summer, hot and humid, but not up here. Up here it was bone-numbing cold. The lake made its own weather, and anyone who’d lived here longer than a week knew it. Sarah wasn’t sure if it was the actual temperature affecting her, or her own fear stealing the warmth from her bones.

Nothing stops fear faster than action, lovebug
. Granny T’s voice whispered to her from memory.

“Okay, Tim, I’m going to send the energy out into the skies and try to find them. I don’t know how to describe this to you, but I think it’s like sonar. I think I’ll be able to read the energy patterns in the air like bats use sound.”

Tim nodded, but his intense gaze stripped her bare and exposed her terror. Thankfully, he didn’t comment on what she knew must be in her eyes. “I’ll keep watch.”

Of course he would. She’d seen him catalog every exit, every stairwell, and every rooftop within sight of their position in the hour they’d spent wandering the deck as tourists before the building closed. No doubt he knew the layout of the streets below and three alternate exit plans were simultaneously floating around in his head. He never stopped watching, never stopped analyzing, and never stopped thinking of her as a tactical weapon.

Maybe, when this was over, he’d think of her as a woman. Assuming they survived. And what if they did, but she failed in her mission and Chicago burned? Could he live with that? Could she?

No. She couldn’t. Standing there, with the lights and life of Chicago spread before her, the knowledge that she’d either save these people or die with them settled in deep, a cold and calculated mantle of conviction that melded to her skin and filled her bones with dread. She could not live if they all died. The babies, the kids, the cute grandmas with curly white hair and warm cookies in the kitchen.

She had to do this.

Sarah chose the north-facing edge and stepped out as far as she could go before closing her eyes. She allowed the buzzing in her head to expand and grow.

The energy of movement, of friction, swirled around her like currents of noise in an ocean as the wind blew with its usual enthusiasm.

Mentally, she grabbed on to the energy of one of those wind waves and rode with it until her awareness was high above the tower. She latched on to another current and rode it even higher, repeating the process until she was no longer Sarah St. Pierre, but part and particle of the storm. She became simply wind and wild kinetic energy rippling over and around Chicago with as much riotous abandon as any ocean storm. She was a hurricane of magnetic current, hopping to and fro, flitting from molecule to molecule as the gases and vapors in the sky danced around one another.

It was beautiful and enthralling, and Sarah wanted more. She willed the powers of the storm to answer her call, to coalesce and tease one another in a high-powered waltz between air, water, and the charged particles of dust and pollution that joined the dance, changed the molecules, fighting for supremacy in the mix.

Lightning struck a tree near the lake below and the bolt fired through her consciousness with the clarity of a completely formed thought. She
was
the lightning bolt. She
was
the joyous burst of light and fire that exploded into the tree and burst, exultant, into the ground.

The resulting crash of thunder shook her physical body, momentarily drawing her attention back to the sad limitations of the physical form standing with arms wide open, head thrown back staring into the storm with wild eyes that did not see.

That form was small, and weak, and Sarah had no desire to return to it. She turned away and glided on the currents in the sky once again, calling lightning in a rush of pleasure so intense it thrummed inside her essential self with each strike.

The storm grew and spread out over the lake until the waves crashed over the manmade barricades and onto the streets, all because she willed them to. The sweet thunder of the surf, the power of it relentlessly pounding the ground, added to the wild energy at her command until her awareness expanded beyond the pulsing of the city’s electrical grid, the thunder and howling winds. And there, higher than she’d dared go before, nearly to the limits of mother Earth’s atmosphere was a calm, cold, controlled ball of energy that would not respond to her. It rested like an anchor in the chaos straight above the city.

The ship.
She’d found the ship.

The moment the thought formed lightning surrounded the ship in a cobweb of illuminating strikes.

She’d kill them now and be done. She’d win this match and the bad guys could rot in hell.

There was no Chicago, no people, no Sarah of flesh and blood. There was only the wild call of the storm and the seductive pull of power. She called to the charged ions flowing through the highest levels of the atmosphere, speeding and clashing against one another at nearly light speed through the sky. Just a bit more and she’d order the energy to invade each individual particle on that ship. All would be vaporized in an instant.

If she’d been human, if she were still tied to flesh and bone, she would have smiled.

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Tim grimaced as another gale of wind pushed at the limits of the building. He felt the concrete and metal sway under his feet in response to the storm’s attempts to topple it. Lightning flashed repeatedly, illuminating the Chicago skyline like a giant sparkling strobe light. There was no break in the flashes of brilliant white fire, or the howling wind that beat against everything in its path with unrelenting force.

Sarah stood, immobile, head thrown back, arms splayed wide as if she meant to embrace the stars. He didn’t dare move too close, but he knew her eyes were open and the electrical buzz surrounding her was causing visible sparks of electricity to fire off his clothes every time he moved.

He could deal with that. Hell, he’d been shot at, stabbed, nearly drowned, had his friends blown to bits next to him and held them bleeding to death in his arms. He’d faced just about every combat nightmare he could think of.

He’d never been this rattled.

He could handle piss-your-pants scared, but standing there helpless while a slender, doe-eyed female threw lightning bolts around like softballs? Sarah swayed and the skies raged in response. She sighed, and the lake surged over the barricades and pounded the streets. The wind had nearly lifted him off his feet more than once. The elements answered her call, just as she’d claimed. And to top it all off, she battled an unseen enemy without him. A cold-blooded, murderous, plague-inducing alien enemy from another time…

He growled and paced the side of the deck, keeping her in sight and scanning what little he could see of the surrounding sky for attack. Sarah was stirring up a shitload of chaos. If he were the commander of that enemy ship, he’d aim a missile at the top of this building and take her out with one shot. If he knew where she was. Hell, the bad guys might not even know she existed. Wasn’t that the whole point of pulling her out of her own time? No one would miss her? She was alone and untraceable.

No. She wasn’t alone. He was here. He was definitely here. And research or no research, Sarah was what she claimed to be. No one could stand next to her on this rooftop and doubt her incredible power.

Relief flooded him that at least one problem was solved. He could believe her now. No more doubts or second guessing. Thank God, because that kiss had taken his proverbial knees out from under him. There would forever after be two distinct phases of his life, two different realities in his head, pre-Sarah and post-Sarah. Pre-kiss and post-kiss. Now that he knew her touch, he’d never be able to forget the fire that coursed through his veins when she’d laid her hand over the Mark on his neck. Pure lust had exploded through his bloodstream and the Mark had throbbed with awareness of her every moment since.

Until now.

Tim frowned and rubbed at the scar on his neck, trying to awaken the Mark again. Nothing. It was dead and silent, numb, just like it had been before Sarah had dropped into his life with all the subtlety of an earthquake.

Numb, as if she’d cut the invisible connection between them with a finely honed blade.

What the hell was she doing? How could he ground her, or keep her from blowing herself to pieces, if he couldn’t feel the energy building inside her? How the hell was he supposed to keep her alive if she cut him off?

The strobe light effect of the storm’s lightning strikes nearly blinded him as he took a step toward her.

In his right front pocket his cell phone vibed at him. Quick check of caller I.D.

Luke. Shit.

“Tucker.”

“Stop her right now. She’s attacking the Archiver’s ship.”

Tim didn’t answer, just ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket. The woman standing before him with her arms raised looked like a goddess come to life. The rain danced and the wind blew in a futile effort to reach her. She stood untouched in the eye of the storm. He was soaking wet, leaning into the wind, and half deaf from thunder.

“Sarah.” Tim closed the distance between them until he stood inches away. She didn’t respond. Not even a flicker of an eyelash.

“Sarah!” He raised his voice and stepped in front of her, squeezed himself into the two feet of space that magically separated her from fury around them.

Her sightless eyes were focused on something far from here and did not see him. She remained frozen in place and unmoving, like a mannequin. No spark in her eyes, no
life
in her face at all.

She looked like a standing corpse.

The phone in his pocket buzzed again. He ignored it.

“Sarah, come back to me. You’re attacking the wrong ship.” Tim braced himself for electrocution and placed his palm on her shoulder.

No response. Not even a sizzle.

He gently shook her.

Nothing. She was gone. What stood before him was a shell, nothing more.

“Damn it.” Tim ignored the wrenching pain in his chest. He was losing her to the storm. He could feel it. The numbness of his Mark spread down his back like a cold smear of jelly.

What would happen to her physical body if her mind, her consciousness, her very soul didn’t return to it? A coma? Death?

Of course, she’d die, you dumb ass
. And that smug bastard, Luke, warned you this was going to happen, warned you that the Timewalkers were something more, something so far beyond his experience that he hadn’t been able to comprehend what she was capable of.

How the hell could he? If the wind and lightning weren’t about to tear the top off the building right now, he still wouldn’t believe it.

A startling array of lightning snaked across the sky in a giant web of light unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It stretched for miles across the sky. A second later thunder literally shook the building he stood on. Car alarms sounded throughout the entire city in an eerie, collective scream from the ground.

He was a highly trained soldier, a killer when he had to be, but she could fry him with a twitch of her little finger. It was intimidating and humbling. This Archiver had chosen him to watch over her, to help her learn control. Failure was not an option. He couldn’t let her fry the whole fucking city trying to take out the wrong ship.

“Sarah!” Tim grabbed both shoulders and shook her briefly, looking for a spark of recognition. Still nothing. The cold spread down his back, through his buttocks and into his legs. Weakness followed and he realized what he felt was her leaving him behind. He’d grown so used to the additional heat of the Mark continually pulsing on his neck that the absence of its warmth was now a shock to his entire system. She was shutting off his internal sun and the cold darkness of night couldn’t wait to take over and drown him from the inside out.