The Syndicate (Timewaves Book 1) (55 page)

“Thank you for being my gallant knight,” he intoned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Not the time!” I yelled, pulling on his arm. “Ninety seconds!”

We scurried out of the cell and into the walkway. Molly scrambled out of Gaige’s arms.

“Plan?” he demanded.

“We’re jumping,” I replied simply. My partner’s eyes swept from me to Molly to the explosives on the pipe as he filled in the details.

Without warning, two men entered the cellblock. The first was another uniformed officer, this one with a baby face and bewildered expression. The second man made my heart stop. His golden-brown eyes smiled when they landed on me.

“Charles?” I breathed.

For a pulse-pounding second, Molly, Gaige, and I just stared at each other. I shot a frantic gaze at Charles and the guard.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice frenzied and high-pitched. My eyes darted to the officer, who was staring dumbly at the chaos around him. Between the unconscious guard, the unconscious prisoner, the open cell door, and our crowd in the hallway, the poor rookie was clearly overwhelmed. Thank heavens.

“You are not answering my calls or my letters,” Charles was saying. “I thought your brother might know what…” He trailed off as his eyes landed on my partner. Realization dawned as Charles noticed that Gaige was on the wrong side of the bars.

“Do you have any more memory mod?” Gaige hissed to Molly.

She wasted no time answering, her stocking-clad feet slapping against the stone as Molly headed towards the men.

“Guard first!” I yelled at her.

“Stassi, what is going on here?” Charles asked. His tone was eerily even and calm, given the situation. Our eyes locked.

“Take cover,” I demanded. “Now!”

The sight of my rabid-looking supermodel roommate barreling at him with a needle in hand finally jolted the officer out of his daze. He began shouting shrilly in French. Syringe in one fist, Molly collided with the man at full speed. Surprised, he caught her in his arms and they began to struggle. Charles wore an almost comical expression of disbelief as he watched the two fight for the syringe. Wordlessly, Gaige and I hurried to help Molly.

The first explosive detonated.

One hundred and eighty pounds of stinky man flesh knocked into me with the force of a moving truck. We hit the ground together, Gaige’s body shielding me from the flying bits of metal. The force of my skull hitting the stone floor left a ringing in my ears and spots in my vision. I lifted my head to see Charles grab the officer from behind, wrenching his arms behind his back and providing Molly with a clear shot at the guy’s jugular. The rookie stopped struggling the instant the needle pierced his skin.

Gaige rolled off me, groaning and moaning while shaking shrapnel out of his hair. Water gushed from the pipe, leaking out into the hallway and soaking through my dress.

Charles held the unconscious officer in his arms, looking utterly stunned. As the reality of the situation came crashing down, Charles dropped him and stepped back.

“What have I done? What the hell have I done?” he groaned, repeating the phrase as he ran his hands through his hair.

Unable to help myself, I moved towards Charles.

“He’s fine,” I promised. “Just asleep. And you saved us. You saved
me.
”

The second two explosives detonated in fast succession, the force knocking me flat on my stomach in the pool of water. Charles scrambled over to where I lay. When he met my gaze, Charles looked like a bewildered child.

“It’s okay,” I continued. “I swear, it’s going to be okay.”

“Dose him, Molls!” Gaige shouted.

My roommate turned terrified blue eyes on us. “I can’t. I’m out,” she said weakly.

Gaige darted to where I lay in the hallway. In one fluid movement, he grabbed both of my arms and hauled me to my feet, dragging me over to the stone wall just outside his cell.

“We have to go, Stass,” my partner said, compassion brimming in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

My neck snapped as I whipped my gaze between the two men.

“What are we going to do about him?” asked Molly, her voice tinged with panic.

“We’re going to leave him,” Gaige called back. “It’s fine. He won’t say anything.”

Stunned, Charles’s looked from Molly to Gaige to me, unable to comprehend the situation.

“Stassi?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the water pouring from the pipes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, unsure if Charles could even hear me.

Gaige held his hand out to Molly. She sprinted in our direction, not breaking stride as she bent to retrieve the briefcase with the manuscripts. Her fingers slid between Gaige’s.

My partner was still clutching my arm as I reached for the stone wall with my other hand. The
prima
within my wrist warmed instantly. I focused on what was about to come, welcoming the golden glow that began to swirl in front of me.

“Stassi, wait!” Charles yelled, his voice already sounding as if it were a million miles away. Or perhaps a million years.

My tattoo was singing powerfully when I felt his fingers brush the bare skin of my arm.

And then I was gone.

MY BODY HUMMED
with the beat of the siren’s song within as I greedily gulped the cool air enveloping me. I felt cold, smooth stone beneath my hand. No longer was the stone slimy, nor the air fetid. Comfort washed over me. I was in the familiar vortex, deep within the island I called home.

Gaige’s hands ran up and down my goosebump-covered arms, his touch as reassuring and familiar as the vortex. Several feet away, someone coughed, then gagged. I heard the sound of liquid hitting stone as she—it had to be Molly—spewed the contents of her stomach. My own gut flip-flopped out of sympathy.

Gaige pulled me closer. With my eyes squeezed tightly shut to stop the spinning sensation in my head, I leaned my forehead against my partner’s chest. He stroked my hair and murmured soothing words in my ear, as though I was a child who’d just awoken from a nightmare.

“Go help Molly,” I told my partner. “I’m fine. We’re home. I’m fine now.”

“Molly has all the help she needs,” he replied.

More coughing. More sickness.

“I feel like death,” a hoarse voice proclaimed.

Gaige’s hoarse voice. Coming from several feet away. Not inches.

I shoved back, struggling free of the arms that held me. Golden-brown eyes, wide and bright with shock, stared back at me in the darkness.

“No. No. No!” I cried. “No, no, no
no
. No! You can’t be here! You
can’t.
Oh shant. This is not happening. It
cannot
be happening!”

“Calm down, Stassi,” Charles DuPree said calmly. He reached for me.

Shooting backwards, I batted him away. Charles let his hands fall to his sides, but moved towards me. For every step I took back, he took one forward. I continued to backpedal until the comforting stone wall was pressed against my spine.

“Stassi?” Molly’s voice called. “You good?”

“Not exactly,” I replied, my voice wavering with hysteria.

“I know,” she replied. “My stomach did
not
appreciate our exit strategy. Though, oddly enough, I don’t feel nearly as bad as last time I did this.” Her silhouette emerged from the darkness as she moved towards me, but quickly came to a dead halt. “Oh
shite
.”

For a long, quiet moment, she took in the scene—me pressed against the cave wall as if it might somehow save me, Charles only a foot away. In our time.

“Shant!” Molly exclaimed. “Is that Charles? Oh, frack. Frack, frack,
frack
. Cyrus is going to—” My roommate broke off mid-sentence, collapsing against the side of the cave as she dry-heaved. Though he wasn’t doing well either, Gaige stumbled over to stand beside her. He rubbed her back and held her hair as Molly’s entire body convulsed.

“Stassi? Is that you?” a voice called from the entrance to the vortex.

“We need medics!” I called, not bothering to look at the newcomer. It was Rupert. His sleepy voice was music to my ears.

“Um, who’s your friend?” Rupert asked uncertainly. “Should I call security?”

An unauthorized jumper coming through the vortex was usually cause for alarm. Protocol demanded that both security and Cyrus be notified immediately.

“No, don’t call them,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Just get the medics down here. Both Molly and Gaige need attention. Tell them that two runners are down here with time sickness.”

“Okay.” Rupert’s voice sounded small and uncertain.

“Please, Rupert?” I pleaded. “I have this under control.”

The attendant scurried back to his post.

Send Charles back,
I thought, my brain switching into survival mode.
Get him out of here before anyone else sees him.

Looking over at my roommate and my partner, I hesitated. I didn’t want to choose between helping them and saving my own ass from exile.

“Go!” Molly prodded. “I’m telling you, I don’t feel
that
bad. You need to handle this, now.”

I grabbed Charles’s arm and dragged him from the vortex into the main gate. He didn’t resist.

“Medics are on their way,” Rupert told me from behind his console of knobs and buttons.

“Move,” I demanded. “No, wait. I need you to program a jump to Paris. 1925. Same date we left. Um, I guess that would be April 4
th
? 5
th
?”

Rupert stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

“You can’t jump again so soon,” he protested weakly. “Especially since you didn’t use the—”

“Just do it,” I snapped. Softening my tone, I implored Rupert to play accomplice to my crime. “
Please
, Rupert. Please just do it?”

Boots pounded stone—the medics running down the steps. They’d be inside the gate any second.

“We need to hurry,” I pleaded.

The teenager chewed his bottom lip and ran a hand through his hair. What I was asking him to do went against a number of syndicate rules and regulations. But Cyrus was going to kill me if he found Charles on the island. Exile would be the best-case scenario.

Just as he looked like he was going to relent, Rupert’s eyes widened so much that white was visible all around the iris. The color drained from his face in an instant. He stepped back from the controls.

“Stassi, what is going on?” The voice came from behind me.

Cyrus’s voice.

Too late,
I thought.

My boss’s tone was utterly calm, which made it all the more terrifying.

“Cyrus, I can explain,” I began, whirling to face him.

“So do it.”

Medics came crashing down the stairs.

“Vortex five!” Rupert told them.

The four men hurried inside the tunnel.

I met Cyrus’s expressionless green gaze and swallowed thickly.

“I didn’t mean to bring him here, Cyrus, I swear. I don’t know how or why, but I
swear
, I didn’t bring him here on purpose,” I began, my voice quickly picking up pace. “It all happened so fast. We were in the middle of a prison break when he showed up. Molly had used all the memory mod. We were just going to leave him. I mean, who would believe him anyway? Three people vanishing into thin air? Not exactly something that happens every day, you know? But, I don’t know what happened. I guess…I guess he grabbed me right as I was jumping.”

Aware that my explanation was devolving into incoherent rambling, I clamped my lips shut and took a deep breath through my nose. Cyrus’s blank mask never wavered. Charles shifted uneasily from foot to foot beside me. I didn’t dare look at him.

“Two patients. One female, one male,” a medic barked into his walkie-talkie as he reentered the gate. “Both made a jump without customs. Prepare beds.” The other three were close on his heels, half-carrying, half-dragging Molly and Gaige from the vortex.

Arms crossed over his chest, Cyrus never took his eyes off of me.

“Both of you report to medical,” he finally said.

I opened my mouth to protest, to say that I was fine and didn’t need medical attention.

“That is an order, Stassi,” Cyrus warned. “I want you both checked out. Then I will determine the best course of action. For now, do not let him out of your sight. At all. Stick to him like white on rice, do you understand?” Not waiting for an answer from me, my boss turned to Charles. “Welcome to Branson Isle, Mr. DuPree. Your stay here will be brief.”

Cyrus spun on his heel and left the gate without another word.

“Come on, let’s go get poked and prodded,” I muttered to Charles.

Pale but determined, Charles nodded. Together, we trailed my boss up the stairs.

As we emerged, I saw the bright stars twinkling above, like diamonds strewn across blue velvet.

Charles sucked in a breath of air. “Where are we?”

“Branson Isle, like Cyrus said,” I replied stiffly.

“Which is where, exactly?”

I stopped walking and stared at Charles, appreciating for the first time how bizarre this had to be for him. And it was only going to get more bizarre when we reached the infirmary, and he saw all of the syndicate’s medical gadgets.

Charles stopped, too. I reached out and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“It’ll all make sense soon,” I promised, not sure that it would. How was Cyrus going to explain everything to him? Would Cyrus explain anything to him? Or would my boss simply hit Charles with memory mod and call it a day?

“I trust you, Stassi.”

You shouldn’t,
I thought.

Aloud, I said, “Come on. Cyrus will be pissed if we don’t get our butts up to the infirmary.”

“We would not want that,” Charles replied in a light tone. He reached for my hand, but I pretended not to notice and started walking again.

Along the path to the infirmary, we passed a group of off-duty runners who were enjoying a dip in the hot springs. Loud music and raucous laughter rang out from the pools down below. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Charles staring with interest at the spectacle.

“Hey, Stassi!” a silky voice called out. I glanced in the direction it came from—one of the bungalows not far from the path. Squinting into the darkness, I found the source with relative ease, thanks to a neon pink bikini. Arin, whose swimsuit was secured by little more than dental floss, was standing on the back porch of her bungalow. Her hair was wet and her eyes slightly unfocused.

“Totes bummer about Paris and the whole serial killer thing,” she continued, sipping from a red plastic cup in her hand. “Cyrus was majorly P.O.’ed about that rogue runner. Wouldn’t want to be him right now, you know?”

“Yeah, me neither,” I called back.

I really don’t want to be me right now, either
, I thought.

Charles simply gaped at the exchange, his expression a mix of embarrassment and fascination.

“You’re drooling,” I said. Tugging him forward, I hurried on before Arin sobered up enough to realize there was a new hot guy on the island.

“What is she wearing?” Charles asked. “And why was she walking around outside in it?”

“She was swimming,” I replied.

“Is that a bathing costume?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“But it is so…small.”

I didn’t bother telling him that the neon two-piece was probably one of her more modest suits.

Unfortunately, he’d opened the can of questions and couldn’t seem to get the lid back on. From there, Charles peppered me with every query I would’ve expected, and then even more: Are we near Baltimore? Who lives here? Do you live here? Is Cyrus really your uncle? Is Gaige really your adoptive brother? Why are we going to an infirmary? Are we sick?

The last one gave me pause. We’d reached the medical center, but had yet to enter.

“You aren’t sick,” I said definitively, realizing for the first time that Charles, unlike Molly and Gaige, was not puking his guts out. I studied him. No pale or waxy complexion. No feverish eyes. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he did wear a look of confusion, but both were explainable under the circumstances. “Do you feel sick?”

“I am well,” Charles replied.

“It’s the adrenaline,” I said. “Jumping gives you lots of adrenaline. Just let me know when it wears off and you start to feel sick.”

But the more I looked at him, the less certain I felt that it would prove true. Myself excluded, I couldn’t think of a runner immune to time sickness. And Charles didn’t even have a tattoo. No
prima
embedded in his skin to help ease the journey through the space-time continuum. I shook my head. He was going to be hurting very soon.

“Jumping?” Charles was asking. “Is that what you call what we just did? We ‘jumped’ from Paris to here? Branson Isle, was it? I have never heard of it.”

I sighed heavily and stepped within range of the door sensor. Frosted glass doors slid smoothly apart. Charles sucked in air as he was struck speechless by our not-so-modern marvel.