Timekeeper (21 page)

“I really think you guys just need to talk. You’re too good together to let anything get in the way,” Michele encouraged him.

Matt diverted the subject as he spotted Philip heading toward their table. “So the rumors are true,” he said under his breath. “I’m impressed. No one’s ever taken a guy away from Kaya Morgan before.” He reached up to high-five Michele, but she ignored him.

“I didn’t
take
him from anyone. It was just … we’re supposed to be together.”

“Uh,
o
-kay,” Matt laughed.

Ignoring all the eyes in the dining room focused their way, Philip placed the two lunch trays onto the table and took the seat next to Michele. She smiled at him. As the three of them talked easily, Michele felt the urge to pinch herself to prove that he was actually here—and that this happiness was real.

After school, Michele stepped out of the Windsors’ SUV and in front of the Dorilton on West Seventy-First Street. For a moment she just stood outside, looking at the Beaux-Arts limestone and brick castle of an apartment building. With its massive sculptures, arched balconies, and towering mansard roof, the Dorilton reminded Michele of something out of a Walt Disney fairy tale—except there was nothing childlike or innocent about it. The building looked as if it had stood on New York soil forever, with decades of secrets buried in its walls.

After Elizabeth buzzed her in, the iron gates swung open and Michele walked up to the main entrance and into the formal lobby. Taking the elevator up to the tenth floor, she followed a long hallway until she reached Elizabeth’s apartment.

“So good to see you again!” Elizabeth hugged her warmly, and Michele again felt the instantaneous ease of being in her presence. She followed Elizabeth into the spacious, whimsically decorated apartment, until they reached a New Age-y meditation room. The walls were decorated with colored scarves, and a soft blue chaise stood in the center, surrounded by cozy floor cushions. Crystals hung from the windows, creating rainbows in the room as they caught the light, while burning incense and essential oils filled the space with a soothing scent.

“Go ahead and lie down on the chaise,” Elizabeth instructed Michele. “Today we’ll be following my methodology of using deep breathing and relaxation to awaken the subconscious. Close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. Simply breathe in … and out … in … and out …”

Michele followed the breathing pattern, Elizabeth’s melodic voice lulling her into a state of hypnosis. Michele’s eyes
were closed as if she were sleeping, yet they moved furtively beneath her shut eyelids.

“Now see yourself standing in a big circular room. As you look around, you see that you are standing before a mirror. You watch as the image in the mirror becomes clearer,” Elizabeth instructed. “You touch your face and the image mimics your movement. And you realize that this image is you, as you are now in this lifetime—but you are in the distant past.”

Even in her state of hypnosis, Michele recognized that the girl in the mirror looked
just like
her dream from the night before—the Michele who was trapped in 1904. Her hair was dressed in a poufy pompadour topped off with an elaborate picture hat, and she wore a starched white blouse tucked into a floor-length slate-blue skirt. As Michele looked in the mirror, her fear slipped away. She knew it was time to find her father.

Letting her mind focus on the desired Time like an incantation, Michele felt the air swirl around her body, and her stomach jumped as she rose above the floor. She slowly blinked her eyes open, knowing that everything she was about to see would be different.

Elizabeth and the meditation room had disappeared. In fact,
every thing
in the room was gone. Michele stood in the middle of an abandoned apartment, with nothing surrounding her but cherrywood floors and bare walls. It was completely silent until she heard the
swish
of ice skates, and Michele hurried to the window, catching her breath at the sight.

New York was blanketed in snow. The rolling hills of Central Park were a glistening white, while the trees glittered with flurries instead of leaves. Spread out below the Dorilton was a
small pond of ice, with two smiling young boys dressed in winter leggings, wool coats, and fur hats skating along its surface. At the edge of the rink, Michele spotted a liveried footman helping a lady shrouded in a heavy velvet coat exit a horse-drawn carriage.

I did it. I went back in time—without the key!
Did that mean she, Michele Windsor, was one of the Timekeepers with this rare ability? Or was this all a byproduct of hypnosis?

Michele stepped out of the empty apartment and raced through the corridor into the elevator, her eyes widening as she reached the lobby and main entrance of the Dorilton. A line of carriages bordered the porte cochere, and displays of turn-of-the-century winter fashions adorned the men and women who swarmed the entrance, from voluminous coats and veils on the ladies to fur-collar overcoats and homburg hats on the gentlemen. Though fascinated by the wintry Old New York scene, Michele shifted her focus to the Windsor Mansion. She remembered Walter’s words, that in the 1900s Irving was not just the family lawyer but also a close friend, and she knew home was the first place to begin her search.

Using nothing more than the power of her mind, Michele directed her thoughts to the Windsor Mansion of 1904. With a jolt, she was lifted off the snow, her body sent spinning, until she landed with a stumble on familiar ground.

As she stood outside the entrance gates, the Walker Mansion pulled her gaze. Philip was likely somewhere inside; only he would be just twelve years old in 1904, far too young to know her. Michele glanced up at the house that would one day be a modern apartment building and saw a shocking flash of
yellow—a familiar ponytail darting past the front window. The figure hurried out the door, bounding down the steps in jeans and a trench coat.

Michele watched, stunned, as the girl strode toward Windsor Mansion. Her expression was alight with awe as she took in the surroundings of 1904, oblivious to who was waiting for her. Michele could practically hear her heart thudding through her chest as she followed the blond ponytail, the distance between them growing smaller until they were both at the same streetlamp covered in snow at the end of the block.

“Caissie.”

She jumped at the sound of Michele’s voice. Slowly, she turned around.

“It
is
you,” Michele whispered in horror.

Caissie’s eyes filled with panic as she looked at Michele. Before Michele could say another word Caissie took off, sprinting away from her toward the hotel next door. Still in shock, Michele needed a few moments to register what had happened. Her legs felt weak as she ran after Caissie, hurrying up the stairs to an unfamiliar Renaissance building that bore the name
PLAZA HOTEL
. Her mind numbly registered that this must be the first Plaza, the short-lived hotel that was later rebuilt into a landmark.

Michele pushed through the front doors of the old Plaza, adrenaline surging through her as she scanned the lobby. She saw a blur of furs and mufflers as guests socialized before the fire, but no sign of Caissie. Michele turned around just in time to spot the blond ponytail disappearing out the Plaza doors. She raced after Caissie. As her feet hit the curb outside the
Plaza, she felt a scream rise in her throat, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stop it.

A sinister, dark-haired woman was just feet away from Michele, marching purposefully toward the Windsor Mansion. She stared straight ahead with steely eyes, unaware of Michele’s presence.

It’s Rebecca—in her own Time
, Michele realized with horror. She was older now, in her thirties, and her face had a pinched and puckered expression, as if permanently repulsed. Rebecca pulled a stopwatch from the pocket of her floor-length skirt and then quickened her pace toward the Windsor Mansion. Michele hung back, her palms clammy with fear as she hid in the shadows of the Plaza’s awning.

As soon as Rebecca disappeared from view, Michele sped across the street, darting between two horse-drawn carriages, her eyes searching frantically for Caissie. Her heart leaped into her throat when she finally saw Caissie running toward Central Park. Michele took a deep breath and sprinted through the oncoming traffic, her feet throbbing as she ran, until she reached the Artists Gate entrance to the park. At last she caught up to Caissie. Michele took her by surprise, yanking her ponytail, and Caissie fell backward.

“OW!”

Without missing a beat, Michele snatched her key from around Caissie’s neck and grabbed onto Caissie with her other hand.

“Windsor Mansion, present-day!” she cried into the air.

Caissie screamed bloody murder as their bodies rose and spun through the air. When they landed on the ground in
front of the Windsor Mansion gates, she leaned over to retch in the bushes, causing a passing couple to exclaim with disgust. Michele ignored them, relief filling her lungs as she fastened the key around her neck. There was hope again. But when she turned back to Caissie, shock and anger flooded her anew.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

“H-how did you do it?” Caissie’s voice was a terrified squeak. “How did you get there?”

“You mean without my key that you
stole
?” Michele’s voice rose as she stared at her friend in dismay. It was Irving and Rebecca’s story all over again. “I trusted you, I confided in you! How could you do that to me?”

“It’s not—it’s not what you think,” Caissie stammered. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Oh, right, because it’s
so
easy to just accidentally steal a necklace,” Michele scoffed.

“That’s not what I mean.” Caissie took a shaky breath. “It was … this
voice
I heard. When the blackout happened, I was passing the choir room on my way to class and I kept hearing someone calling to me—telling me I had to take your key, that it wasn’t just for my benefit but yours too.”

Michele looked at her in disbelief. “You actually expect me to buy this?”

“I couldn’t see anyone, but the voice kept telling me that you were in trouble—that you weren’t supposed to time travel anymore, that you’re
time-crossed
and if I wanted you to stay alive, I had to take your key away—and bring it here.”

Michele froze at the words
time-crossed
. She had definitely never told Caissie anything about that.

“Did you see the person whose voice you heard?” Michele asked urgently.
Did Caissie have the Gift of Sight?

“No, I couldn’t see anyone or anything,” Caissie admitted. “It was just a woman’s voice—but I swear, I’m telling the truth. She told me to bring the key to the Windsor Mansion in 1904, that she’d be waiting for me there—waiting to help us both.”

Michele drew in a sharp breath.

“That person is trying to kill me. So unless you’re on her side, which maybe you are, I suggest you stop listening to voices.”

Caissie’s jaw dropped. “I—you never told me—I didn’t realize …” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

“Was that the real reason you stole my key and pretended like you knew nothing about it when I told you it was missing?” Michele asked evenly.

Caissie’s face crumpled. “Okay, I’ll admit that I wanted to see the past. I mean, it wasn’t
fair
that you were the one who got to have all these adventures, and I had to be the lowly sidekick just hearing about it all! When I thought that I could experience time travel too, and help you in the process … it just seemed too good not to try. I never meant to hurt you. And besides, it turns out you don’t even need the key! What’s that about?” Caissie looked at her in amazement.

“I don’t know
what’s
going on. If you had any idea how crazy my life has been …” Michele’s voice trailed off. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Maybe you didn’t mean to hurt me, but the fact that you would lie like that and steal from me … that changes things. I don’t know how I can trust you anymore.”

Caissie looked away. “I get it.” She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Michele nodded but didn’t speak. Caissie lingered a moment, then got to her feet.

“I should go home,” she mumbled. “I’ll see you at school.”

Michele watched Caissie walk away, a knot forming in her stomach. If Rebecca could convince her own friend to turn on her, then things were even more dire than she’d thought. And if Michele hadn’t seen Rebecca in the nick of time, she would have walked straight into Rebecca’s clutches. Michele had encroached on Rebecca’s own Timeline by entering a year where she lived and possessed her full strength and power—a Time when Rebecca had no need to wait seven days.

Rebecca had somehow known that 1904 was where Michele would go.

T
here have only been a few Timekeepers to possess the ability to travel without their Key. Those of us with this rare skill experience a stronger presence when time traveling, and may find additional powers within as the years pass. Like petals opening on a budding flower, we too seem to be constantly in bloom
.