Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (6 page)

“I don’t need you to, just crutch-duty.”

I growl as I wrap my arm around his middle.  It’s probably considered poor manners to question my Obi-Wan, but I can’t help it. “Where are we off to, oh Wise One?”

“There’s a portal nearby. I can sense it. Can’t you?”

“I sense that I’m hungry, and that’s about it.”

He juts his chin toward the door. I unlatch it, and we’re outside. The sky drapes like rich black velvet above the earth. Pinpricks of starlight push through the dark canvas, offering small beams of hope. The air smells damp as we pick our way across a knee-high field. I can’t relax. I scan the horizon over and over again for signs of Shades.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

Michael points at a grouping of trees. When we stumble closer, I see a tree that’s bowed to the ground to form an arc. Just like the one earlier, a glow illuminates the space between the ground and the trunk.

Static electricity zips around us. “It’s a portal, right?”

“Yes.” Michael sounds relieved. “Now we step through.”

My palms sweat. “Where will it take us?”

“To Keleusma.”

Light ripples around us. This is different than shifting. When you shift, it feels like your lungs want to burst out of your mouth. It’s uncomfortable. Almost torturous. Whereas walking through a portal brings on the sensation of traveling in a high-speed convertible with the top down. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I want to laugh. A bubbly feeling tickles my stomach, like I’ve drunk too much pop. After a few moments, the brightness fades away and we’re bathed in a pink-orange splash of setting sun.

We stand in front of a large, old warehouse. The roof sags and spiraling graffiti paints the walls. Swallows have made a nest in the base of a broken lamppost. The surface of a nearby lake is crusted with sprawling algae. A dank, marshy smell fills the air. Foot tall weeds shimmy through cracks in the concrete walkway.

This is the place Michael mentioned with such reverent awe? Maybe it’s like the leadings, and I can’t see what it really looks like yet. But Michael sidesteps a pile of crushed cans, so clearly he can see them. He winces with every movement. Most of his weight presses against my shoulder. I won’t be able to support him much longer.

I tighten my hold on him. “Malfunctioning portal?”

“Naw, this is Keleusma. We’re here.” He grits his teeth, making the muscles in his jaw form a grim line.

My nose wrinkles. “I expected something, I don’t know, a little ... grander.”

He raps on the door. “We can’t afford the Norms getting curious. Everything about the outside repels them. Remember, they see what they want to see.”

With a lurch, the front door swings wide open, and I gasp. Inside, this could be the lobby of a five-star resort. A two story waterfall crashes onto a catacomb of stones in the center. The mammoth room is full of plush carpeting and richly upholstered couches. People scurry across the expanse.

Despite his pain, Michael smirks. “Welcome to our sanctuary, Gabby.”

I help him over the threshold. The door shuts behind us. I’m struck with a crisp smell of citrus and mint. Do they have it pumped through the air? I peek around for vents. “What is this place?”

“It’s where we train, relax, learn. Some Shifters even live here.”

A wispy girl with long blonde hair, alabaster skin, and enormous china-blue eyes jogs toward us. “Michael? I was afraid you’d never return. Oh, goodness, you’re hurt.” Sidling up to his free side, she eases him from my grasp. “Your back looks terrible! You must be in so much pain.”

Michael grimaces at the girl. “Don’t go into mama hen mode on me, Lark. I’ll live.”

Her eyes grow wider, which I honestly didn’t think was possible. “I’m taking you to the health center this instant. And I’m not going to listen to any arguments otherwise.” She pouts. Her cheerleader voice is already nettling my nerves.

I stand behind them, my fingers knit together. What am I supposed to do? I scan the room. Everyone has stopped what they are doing to stare at me. Some have their brows drawn together. Others appear to be holding their breath. My gaze plunges to the ground. I’m probably just being sensitive. They don’t even know me. Most likely, they’re shocked to see Michael injured. And if they have a thought about me, it’s probably how ridiculous I am for letting Michael get hurt. Besides, how many Shifters are there in the world? Certainly they can’t know every single one of them. They can’t know I’m new. Can they?

Michael and the blonde have continued walking down the corridor. Squaring my shoulders, I hurry after them. The toe of my shoe skids on the polished tiles in the hallway. Momentum tips me forward, and I tumble onto the floor. My knee burns. Shoving my bangs out of the way, I peek upward and everyone’s gawking. Well, everyone but Michael and the girl. They’re still hobbling down the hall together.

Like I don’t matter.

No one offers me a hand up or asks if I’m okay.

Fine. I shove to my feet and thrust my hands out, palms-up. “Show’s over, folks.”

Groups of people part for me, like they don’t want me to touch them. Seriously, do I smell? I casually lean my nose to catch a whiff of myself. Not my worst. I jog faster after my errant Obi-Wan.

Ahead of me, Michael leans and says something to the blonde. He must mention me, because she stills and turns, as if seeing me for the first time. She blinks repeatedly.

Her mouth drops open. “I don’t believe it. I mean, people have been whispering for years. But I always figured it was just talk.”

Michael sends an encouraging chin nod my way. “You need to come with us. Since you’re new, the medics will want to run tests on you.” He squints. “When’d you get the shiner on your knee?”

Oh. When you were busy flirting with the size-zero blonde.

But then my brain clamps onto something he said. Tests? I swallow hard and look at the girl—who hasn’t closed her mouth yet. “Hi, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” she whispers. Her eyes are still bugging out.

“Yeah, that seems to be going around. Now if only someone would tell me why.” I give Michael an
is-she-from-the-loony-bin
look, and he nudges her back to attention.

She closes her eyes, and shakes her head like she’s shooing away mosquitos. Then she looks right at me. “I’m Lark Anderson. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Medical ward?” Michael grunts.

We tread down a hallway in awkward silence. At least to me it’s awkward. I want to ask Michael why people are staring. Why do they stop talking when I walk past? But I’m not going to open my lips until I have a better feel for the Lark situation.

Keleusma sprawls in every direction. The exterior of the warehouse must be a trick of the mind. On my left, we pass a gym. A few people run on a wide track, and others lift weights. Loud clangs resound as two men in the center wield swords against each other. Are those real? They sure sound legit. Will I have to learn that? I scrub my sweaty palms over my thighs.

The pungent aroma of garlic trickles from the westward-facing hallway. A cafeteria? My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles. This morning’s charred pancakes are only a memory. What will Dad do for dinner? A lump the size of Russia bobs in my throat.

When we turn the corner, the wide doors of a horse arena are open. A petite, red-headed woman rides a giant, spotted Clydesdale. Sand splatters with each hoof fall. The woman takes the beast over an impressive jump. On the far end of the enclosure, a boy about my age guides two fierce-looking black horses harnessed to a carriage.

I’ve been rubbernecking again, so I jog around another bend and catch up with Michael and Lark. Lark presses an orange button on the wall, and an automatic door whispers open. A strong bleach smell and something antiseptic stings my nostrils. For a moment I can pretend I’m back in my time, because it looks like any other hospital. People in scrubs descend upon Michael.

Lark launches into a string of questions as she flaps around Michael’s attendants. “You can heal him, right? It hasn’t been too long, has it? He won’t scar, will he?”

A bushy-haired nurse stops me before I can follow them. “A new one? Well now, why aren’t the Trainers following protocol? They’re not supposed to send you here unaccompanied.”

Lark breezes over. “Sandra, it’s not what you think.” She pats my arm. “This one’s a special case. Fetch Darnell for me, will you?”

Okay, if I was the nurse, I’d ignore or argue with a teenaged girl, but she doesn’t. With a nod, Sandra leaves. Lark gestures for me to follow her to one of the exam tables along the far wall, but I hesitate. The room is large, and Michael’s at the far end surrounded by a hive of medical staff and machines.

Lark squeezes my hand. “Michael says you’re safe. So I’ll help you. Take a seat over there, and I’ll be right back.” She points to an exam table. The crackling paper covering the seat is the same you’d find in any doctor’s office back home. For some reason, that little thing calms me, so I hop up.

My feet dangle off the floor. I examine my shoes and chew on the edge of my lip. I’ve felt alone before—abandoned even—but never so out of place. What if I never belong here? Do I even want to? There has to be a way to get home. My dad might not be much, but at least he cares about me.

I fist my hands. I
will
get back home. No matter what, or who, stands in my way.

An olive-skinned man dressed in white strolls through the doorway and zeros in on me. The look in his eyes makes goose flesh break out along my neck. “I’m Darnell.” Bright lights on the ceiling reflect off his shaved head. A pace away, he crosses his arms over an Arnold Schwarzenegger sized chest. “My, my, Gabriella Creed. We’d about lost hope that you’d ever show your face in these parts.”

I lick my lips. “You’ve heard of me? How come everyone seems to know who I am?”

He reaches for my arm, his fingers pressing to find my pulse. “We’ve heard rumors about you for seventeen years. Mostly speculation. My dear, your arrival will be the talk of the year.”

Funny, it feels more like I freak them out.

I jerk my hand away from him. “I want someone to give me answers.”

“We all learn things ... in time.” He presses his thick lips together and shakes his head. “I certainly don’t have all the answers you’re looking for. But you will, when the time comes for you to need them.” Darnell yanks at a drawer built into the wall and pulls out a gray tube. “You skinned your knee pretty good there.”

The way he talks is … off. Sometimes he talks normally, and sometimes he sounds like someone from a period drama. I can’t explain it. But I noticed it with Michael and even Lark. All three of them use words and phrases that I’d never say. Maybe their speech becomes mixed up—lost in time just like they are.

I glare at him. “Yeah, funny, I got that a few minutes ago and not one person stopped to help me. A great bunch of good Samaritans you’ve got here.”

He lifts my hand and squeezes goop into my palm. The blister on my hand from putting out the fire on Michael’s back disappears. My vision snaps back to Darnell’s face. “What just happened?”

“Put the rest on your knee.”

I obey, and immediately my skin begins to heal. My jaw drops open. “Tell me you just saw that happen?”

Darnell grins as he replaces the cap on the tube. “I’m sorry people are being standoffish. You’ll have to give them time. This is all new for them.”

“Yeah, me too.” Understatement of the year.

He reaches for an instrument on the counter. It looks like a TV remote control, except its white. Without asking permission, he presses the contraption against the skin on my thigh. A sharp pain lances through my leg and I yelp, trying to squirm away. But Darnell’s faster than me and his enormous other hand holds me still.

“Stop!” I shove on his arm. “What are you—”

“Only one second more. I’m just taking your health readings. Making sure everything’s okay in your body. There now.” He lifts the white remote away and studies the small screen.

My skin shows no sign of being pricked, no blood, but it kills like he stabbed me. I rub my thigh. “Is it supposed to hurt like getting a million bee stings at the same time?”

“Yes.” Darnell doesn’t take his eyes from the screen.

“Well then, I guess it works.” I curl my toes inside my shoe, making sure he didn’t cause nerve damage.

Darnell purses his lips. His fingers furiously press buttons.

I crane my neck to see the screen, trying to think of something to say that will crack his serious exterior. Usually, if you can get someone to smile, that’s one step away from getting them to spill the truth. Loose lips and laugher go hand-in-hand. “So tell me like it is, Doc, will I live?”

He stows the device in his back pocket and his coffee-bean eyes lock with mine. “Yes.”

“Then why do you look worried? Is something wrong with me?”

“Not wrong.
Different
.” He fishes a stethoscope out of a black bag on the counter and places the cool metal against my back. “Deep breath. Okay, let it out.”

He’s probably going to say I need heart medicine. I’ll have to convince him my heart only started racing recently. Like, within the last day. “What do you mean, different?” I glance over my shoulder, trying to judge if he’s kidding.