Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3) (40 page)

“What’s that stuff on the floor?” I ask.

“One of the sofa pillows,” Dad says. “Your aunt ripped a hole in the side and then methodically pulled out the stuffing piece by piece. She got a little upset when I mentioned it.”

Connor gives a short, nervous laugh. “A
little
upset? She threw a lamp at you.”

I must have skimmed past that bit when watching on the key. That’s why the area around the sofa looked different—no lamp.

“He ducked,” Connor adds. “But Prudence is a real trip. Not always a pleasant one, either. Did you get the keys?”

“Yes. But I couldn’t bring them here once I saw her. And I’m pretty sure Simon’s watching the library, so we can’t put them in the safe, either.”

Dad looks a little uneasy. “You left them with those Fifth Column people?”

“Not exactly.”

“Good, because Connor found something on the security camera. In the library.”

“We have security cameras?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “I told you we have two different systems guarding the house. Anyway, Simon didn’t set that fire. It was Max.”

“What? You’re sure?”

A moment ago, I was feeling bad about him vanishing. Now I feel confused, but also strangely vindicated. A sixth sense told me from the very beginning that Max couldn’t be trusted. Why would he torch the library?

“It was definitely him,” Connor says. “I got a clear look. So I guess he’s working with Simon.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Max . . . he’s the one who rescued me in 2308.”

I give them a quick summary, ending with Max and Eve’s disappearance, but they both seem more interested in the fact that it’s not me, or at least not
this
me, in Rio.

“So I was right,” Connor says.

“How can there be two of you?” Dad asks.

“Because we’re both under a key. Without a key, Other-Kate would disappear.”

“Or maybe go back to her original timeline,” Connor says.

“Maybe.” My voice is hesitant, because I’m not really sure about that last part, although to be honest, I’m not sure about anything at this point.

“But . . .” Dad pauses for a moment, his expression troubled. “If that’s the case, there should be two Prudences, too. Right? There wouldn’t be duplicates of Deborah or Katherine because they weren’t wearing keys. But Prudence must have been under a key when the shift happened. Where’s the other Pru?”

That hadn’t really occurred to me, but he’s right. “Add that to the list of things to ask her when she wakes up.”

“What about the rest of the Fifth Column?” Connor asks. “You mentioned before that this was just one cell, so . . .”

“Max gave Tilson and Ben the contact information he had before he vanished. Tilson was going to get in touch, let them know what’s up. Before Max vanished he was insistent that I bring the keys to them, that they’d handle deactivating them.”

“Because Pru’s here?” Dad asks.

“No, I didn’t exactly tell them about Prudence. I think it’s more of a control thing, and . . .” I shake my head. “It doesn’t feel right. Can you deactivate them the way you did the others, Connor? Although I’m not sure how you’d handle it with Simon watching the library.”

“Not a problem unless he’s also watching the shed.” He nods toward the small building in the backyard where the lawnmower and assorted tools are stored. “I did the first one inside, but I had to heat the metal to a high temperature, and the chemicals gave off fumes. Katherine’s already queasy from her medicines, so I moved the gear outside.”

“That’s good,” I say. “I’ll bring them to you there. I have to get back soon. I think they’d have tried to stop me from leaving the hotel if Kiernan and Trey weren’t staying behind as . . . collateral, I guess? Especially Kiernan, since he knows where the keys are.”

A squirrel is perched on the swinging bench, eating an acorn as the early evening sun dips behind the trees. Daphne would normally have chased it away by now, but she just watches from the edge of the patio, probably due to her injured leg. That’s when I realize her key—the one we attached to her collar—is missing. Simon must have yanked it. I suddenly imagine her blinking out like Max and Eve, which is exactly what would happen if she took off after that squirrel.

“Daphne?” I click my tongue to call her, and she limps over, stretching out near my feet. “Do we have another spare?”

Connor turns a little pale when he realizes why I’m asking. “No. Trey and your mom have the last two—and then there’s the spare you take when you jump. I’ll just keep her close.”

“Okay.” I draw in a long, slightly shuddery breath. I feel wired. Maybe there are some caffeinelike side effects to that Juva-boost stuff. “I’m so glad I ignored Julia and went to London. If Mom hadn’t been wearing a key when that last shift happened, she’d have vanished. Although I guess we can’t be sure either she or Katherine still has it. Simon could easily have—”

“Shh.” Dad puts his arm around me. “That’s part of what had Prudence so wound up about an hour ago, before Connor gave her . . . What was it you gave her, Connor?”

“Some of Katherine’s sleeping meds. Although she was back to acting like a little kid even before the stuff kicked in. Her moods turn on a dime. It’s sad, but also kind of creepy.” He glances through the window at where she’s sleeping. “She kept talking about Simon grabbing Deborah and then a bunch of people we’ve never heard of, going on about how they’re gone now. Not dead. Just gone. Kids, too. You’d think Saul would have made sure his people were under a CHRONOS field.”

“Do you think they vanished because we have those medallions now?” Dad asks. “The ones that would have protected them?”

“I think a lot of those people were never under a key. Kiernan said most of them couldn’t jump. Saul kept them around as workers, but I doubt he’d have cared whether they were protected by a CHRONOS field. And even those who will eventually wear these keys . . . they wouldn’t have them yet.”

“But the keys are a constant,” Dad says. “That’s why you were able to find them, even though the timeline changed. So wouldn’t they . . .” He shakes his head, unable to find a way to frame the question.

I sympathize. I think I know what he’s trying to ask, however, so I take a stab at explaining.

“The keys are a constant. But they have their own chronometer, internal clock, or whatever. Tilson said one of the chips inside is a counter of some sort that ticks off the days since the key was created. Prudence grabbed them from CHRONOS on the same day I did . . . just not in the same timeline.”

“Do you know when it was?” Connor asks. “I mean . . . for her. How old was she?”

“Maybe nineteen. She’d only had the one baby. The Cyrists may also have had a few offspring from the stranded historians who could use the equipment at that point, but they’d likely have come in with their own keys. From what Kiernan says, Pru’s trip to grab the keys that were stored at CHRONOS was
before
she did the egg donor thing. So at the point she brought back the keys, Saul only had a few people who would have needed to be under a CHRONOS field, and most of them had their parent’s or grandparent’s key. So I’m guessing the medallions sit in a vault somewhere for at least a little while, until the surrogates start giving birth to all of the little Pru babies.”

“Yeah,” Dad agrees. “In fact, they probably weren’t being used for years. If we’re assuming the other Cyrists hadn’t even been born yet, wouldn’t they have had to wait until they were old enough to use the key?”

Connor shakes his head. “’Fraid not, Harry. If you have people giving birth to your offspring in 1905 or whenever, you wouldn’t need much time at all. The kid would be an adult by 1925 and could jump forward a hundred years to join you in the future. Twenty years for the kid would seem instantaneous to you. The only thing they’d need is time to set up the whole thing with surrogates, or at least take care of the medical side of things. So if you’re certain they hadn’t already started—”

“I’m not certain of anything, but that’s my best guess. And . . . does it matter? I mean, practically, in terms of what we have to do in the next—what? A day and a half, at most? Does it matter?”

“Well . . . no,” Connor says. “Just thinking out loud, mostly. Trying to understand why Saul—or at least Simon—would encourage you to grab those keys and not make arrangements for his . . .”

Connor’s voice trails off, and he glances at Pru again, still curled up on the couch. “But yeah. The whole question of whether it’s due to the keys you grabbed or not is moot. I’d bet the Cyrists loyal to Saul and Simon are somewhere under a key, just on the off chance that this latest shift erased CHRONOS. Eve was on their side, right? And she had a key, at least until Max took it from her. The ones who have vanished were
Pru’s
people. They didn’t know when the time shift was coming, so it wiped them all out.”

“Maybe a kinder end than having them wait around a few days and die of this virus,” Dad says.

“Yikes. That reminds me.” I turn away from the two of them so that I can pull out the tattoo stamp discreetly. Like the catsuit, there are no pockets in this toga. The stamp is stashed in the bodice, along with my phone and the spare pack of contacts.

Dad gives me an amused look. “You
are
your mother’s daughter.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t design these outfits. Anyway, give me your hand.” I stamp a blue lotus on the back of Dad’s hand and then reach for Connor’s.

“Come on, Connor. The ink is temporary. It’ll fade in a few days.”

“Maybe. But in the meantime, I’ll have to look at that damned tattoo on my hand.”

“Really? You’d rather get a deadly virus?”

For a moment, a cloud passes over his face, and Connor looks like he’s considering the question . . . and as I think about his situation, maybe he is. If each shift has pushed our little time train one track over, how far are we from the reality where he existed outside of a CHRONOS field? Where his kids existed? That was a pre-Cyrist timeline, and I can’t see a path for restoring it. And here, in this reality, or one of the neighboring realities that we might actually be able to achieve, Katherine’s days are numbered.

But then he rolls his eyes and gives me a half smile. “Fine. But if you must give me the Mark of the Beast, at least put it where I don’t have to see it constantly.”

“Such as?”

“If we want to be in keeping with what I think of the damned symbol, I’ll drop trou and you can stamp it on my ass. But in the interest of propriety . . .” He rolls up his left sleeve, and I stamp the inside of his arm.

“Wish I’d thought of that,” Dad says, giving his hand a dubious glance.

“We can be twinsies,” I say, and cringe inwardly when I remember that Pru said the same thing to Kiernan when she had the key embedded in his arm.

“What’s the matter?” Connor asks, but my phone buzzes and saves me from explaining.

It’s Trey. “Hey. Just checking in. Nothing much going on here. Just finished another game of Blip.”

Translation: The blip has stopped. Mom’s not on the move anymore.

We’re pretty sure my phone is tapped, possibly his as well. And I’m guessing anyone listening who has even half a brain will realize that we’re speaking in code, but hopefully they won’t know
what
we’re saying. I’m trying to think of a way to ask him where the blip stopped when he says, “High score, at least for me. Still
sixteenth
overall, but better than I’ve done in a
dog’s
age.”

Sixteenth. Dogs.

We’re totally off-script now, so it takes me a moment, but I get it. They’re at the Sixteenth Street Temple.

“Oh, wonderful,” I say, even though I’m thinking the opposite. I really, really don’t want a return trip to the Church of the Snarling Dobermans.

“Were you able to find what you needed?” Trey asks.

“No. The . . . librarian . . . is in the back room. I’m beginning to think she’s gone to sleep.”

Long pause on his end, and I’m about to try another stupid clue when he says, “Oh, okay.” Another pause, and then, “I know you had that
smoothie thing
earlier but . . .”

What?

“Trey, hold on. This is stupid.”

I pull out the key and set a stable point next to where Dad and Connor are sitting. “Be right back.”

R
ESIDENCE
I
NN

B
URTONSVILLE
, M
ARYLAND

September 12, 6:37 p.m.

Kiernan is now stretched out with his back against the headboard of one of the beds, eyes closed. He seems pretty relaxed, maybe even asleep. While he’s no longer actually at gunpoint, Charlayne is still holding the gun. I’d like to think she wouldn’t use it, but . . . who knows? Trey is just behind me, still holding the phone. He gives me a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Makes more sense than superspy code. Did you get that I was saying they’re at the temple?”

“I did. And did you get that Prudence is asleep? Connor gave her something. I’d rather not wake her—she strikes me as very likely to wake up on the wrong side of the bed if roused too soon. But we may not have a choice. I want to talk to her before we try any sort of rescue. She may have information that will help.”