Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (9 page)

“Who were you talking to?” He grins at me. Maybe he’s twenty-five, thirty?

My arms fold over my chest. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Eugene.” He tries to hand me the tray. Warmth curls from a bowl of chili. My mouth salivates. Everything in me screams to devour the food, but what if Lark’s father sent him? What if it’s poisoned and makes me die, foaming at the mouth? Chili wouldn’t rank first on my list of choices for a last meal.

I shove the tray back at him. “Well,
Eugene
, you can tell them to stuff it until they let me out of here.”

“A hunger strike won’t help you accomplish much besides a grumbling stomach. Maybe a headache if you hold out long enough, but that’s about it. It sure won’t get you out of here.” He shrugs. “If it means anything, I promise I’m one of the good guys. At least, I mean, I’m on your side.”

“My side? And tell me, what battle are we supposedly fighting?”

His eyebrows dart up his forehead. “Good and evil. The fate of mankind.”

Great, just great. What exactly does this man think I’m going to do for a bowl of chili?

I rock back on my heels. “Riiight, so nothing all that important.”

He shakes his head. “What matters is, I think you’re part of the right team, whether you understand that yet or not.” He smiles, and it’s so soft and kind and reminds me of my dad when he’s apologizing. Something large knots in my throat and I try to swallow it down.

How can he say such things about me? As if he knows my deepest desire to be special … to matter. But it’s nice to be believed in, even if the hope is false.

Hunger overtakes reason, and I scoop up the generous slab of cornbread and take a bite. I let the chunks melt in my mouth, linger on my tongue. Delicious buttery heaven.

Eugene chuckles at my eagerness. He motions me toward a concrete slab built into the wall, which makes a sort of bench. I guess that’s where I’m destined to sleep tonight. No blankets or pillow provided. These Shifters sure are pleasant people. When we sit, Eugene slides the tray onto my lap. I dig into the chili and it warms me momentarily. After a few bites, I inch to the very edge to put the most distance between us.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Eugene rubs his hands together. His glasses are so smudged that I doubt his ability to see through them at all. Without looking at me, he says, “He can handle being yelled at, railed against. It doesn’t bother him.”

“Who?” I mutter around a mess of beans.

“Nicholas.”

“It’s hard to yell at someone you don’t believe in.” I wipe my mouth with the napkin and throw the rest of the cornbread into the bowl of chili.

Eugene waggles his finger at me, good-naturedly. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you say it enough, you might even start to think that. But I doubt it. Besides, Nicholas hearing doesn’t depend on your belief. Not yet.”

I don’t want to talk about whoever Nicholas is. If he has something to do with The Elders and this situation I’m in, he clearly has it out for me too. “So who are you, in the big picture of Shifters? Kitchen boy?”

“Naw, more like computer whiz.” Eugene yanks his glasses from his face. One side catches on his ear, and he has to pull again. Finally off, he rubs them on the tail of his shirt and puts the glasses back on. If it’s even possible, they look dirtier.

Finished, I set the tray on the ground. “Let me guess, you did something awful and your punishment was to bring me dinner.”

His voice takes on the tone of a game show announcer. “Oh no, folks. It looks like Contestant One loses the prize. Shame too, it was an all-inclusive trip to the Bahamas.” Eugene gestures to a fake audience. “Should we give her another try?”

“How about you just tell me?”

“It’s so much less fun, but if you insist.” His face drops back into a solemn expression. “It’s simple. I’m here because I wanted to meet you. I asked for the honor.”

I inch to face him, my eyes narrowing. “But you don’t even know me.”

Eugene leans back, crosses his ankles. “You’re right, but I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because, Gabriella, I believe in you.”

“That’s crazy. Besides, there’s nothing worth believing in here.” I shoot to my feet and pace away.

He shakes his head so hard I fear for the health of his brain. “That’s not how I see it.”

I lean back against the wall. “Yeah, well enlighten me, computer whiz.”

“Some of them think you’re dangerous. The Elders, and some of the others too.”

I make a show of glancing around the cell. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

He shuffles his feet. “Let me talk. It’s just because you present something new, something they can’t explain away. I happen to think that doesn’t necessarily make you bad. There are a lot of us who feel the same way. I saw Darnell in the mess hall. He’s not supposed to, but he showed me your blood reading. You’re different, Gabriella. Special.”

“But I’m not.”

He leans forward. “You are.”

“Why me?” I take a step closer. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You were created this way. Born to accomplish something out of the ordinary. That scares people, terrifies them. But not everyone. There’s a group—a fraction of us that support you.” Eugene’s voice is low.

Supports me? This is starting to sound like war. Icy terror skitters across my spine. I open my mouth to speak, but the words stick in my mouth, because my cell door swings open again. What now? Have they come for Eugene? Angry at him for bringing me food? I’m expecting a Teal Team guard, but instead, marvelously, there stands Michael.

A sense of calm blankets my heart.

I can’t explain it, but we’re like North and South ends of a magnet. Instantly attracted. Meant to stick together. The look in his eyes tells me he’ll always come for me, no matter what. I don’t know why I didn’t sense it when we first met. My first instinct now is to lunge at him, toss my arms around his neck, and hug tightly. That, and then admonish my Obi-Wan to never, ever, let me out of his sight again. But my muscles freeze because Michael looks angrier than a bull that sat on a bee. It wouldn’t be surprising if he started pawing the ground. Seriously.

The width of his shoulders seems to have grown. He takes up the whole doorway. His dark hair has gone limp, cascading into his eyes. Even still, his glare is unmistakable. Something boils in his chocolate eyes, deep and menacing. Bathed in shadows, he looms like a dark angel—come for vengeance. Michael’s intensity would frighten me, if his look was aimed my way. But he’s focused on poor, squirming Eugene.

Michael’s lip pulls up. “What are
you
doing here?”

I pop to my feet and begin to ramble. “Oh, me? Thanks for asking. There was this creepy meeting with Lark’s dad—who I think has some serious mental issues by the way—and he—”

Michael silences me with a look. His eyebrows are drawn low.

Eugene’s foot nudges the tray on the ground. “I brought her dinner.”

My dark angel folds his arms across his chest. He leans a shoulder against the door frame. “And you’re still here—alone with her—because?”

I hold my tongue this time.

“Because, last time I checked—Keleusma and us Shifters for that matter—are free to do as we want.” For a skinny guy, Eugene can sure puff his chest out when he needs to. He snatches up the tray, and does a sort of an awkward bow to me. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Creed. Until I see you again. Take care.” Eugene makes a move for the doorway, and Michael steps aside and lets him into the hall.

I wait for the sound of Eugene’s footfall to die before squaring my shoulders toward Michael. He’s not going to get my originally planned warm welcome. Not when he was rude. “Okay, and what was the Mr. Creep act for?”

Michael relaxes his stance and shoots a smile my way. “He’s an odd one. Sorry if he said anything weird to you. When it comes to the technical problems around here, he’s our go-to. Otherwise, Eugene’s known to talk a lot of nonsense.” He takes a step closer. “He didn’t say anything strange, did he?” He takes my elbow in his overly warm hand and gives a squeeze.

Can I trust Michael? A fist tightens in my gut. I jerk out of his touch. “Honestly, everyone here talks in riddles. Present party included.”

“Well, I have something to say that’s perfectly clear.” He grins at me, and for the first time I notice he has a dimple, but just one, on his left cheek.

I work my jaw back and forth. “I’m all intrigued.”

“You’re free, Gabby. Let’s get you out of here and to your new room in the residential wing.”

He doesn’t have to say another word. I bolt to the door. Michael’s boisterous laugh follows me down the hall, and he has to jog to catch up. “Hey, slow down, Trigger, you don’t even know where you’re going.” He lays a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the passageway on the left when I was aimed for the right.

“Let go.” I jerk away from his touch.

He stops walking. “I’ll apologize, if you tell me what I did wrong.”

“Why were you so rude to Eugene? He came and helped me and you didn’t, so—”

“Wow. Well, I’m sorry. I was busy petitioning The Elders on your behalf. I mean, if you’d like to still be in there…”

No wonder. I should have known he was trying to convince them to let me go. I gulp. Now I’m the one who should apologize for being rude. “Thank you. Whatever you did, it worked.”

“Follow me.” He brushes past me and heads down another hallway.

I now have to jog after him to keep up.

He motions toward an elevator and ushers me inside. When the door whooshes shut, he looks my way. “I just asked them to seek guidance from Nicholas. They listened.”

 “Funny, I tried to talk to him and heard squat.”

He scans a card over the reader in the elevator. “Maybe you were talking so much you couldn’t hear him.”

“Unlikely.” I shrug. “I take it he doesn’t want me rotting in a cell?”

“Nope.” He leans toward me, and shakes his head. We’re so close inside the elevator. He must have showered since the last time I saw him. Michael smells like pine trees with a touch of peppermint.

I’m suddenly worried that I don’t smell as fresh as he does. I take a step away, and lean against the far wall. “What then?”

“The same thing he wants from all of us. He wants you trained and working. Nicholas is all about taking action on things, not sitting idly by.”

The elevator wobbles to a halt and the doors ease open. I grab Michael’s arm. “Take me to him.”

“To who?”

“To Nicholas. I’m sick of all this second-hand information. I want to talk to him, face to face. I have so many questions.”

He tugs me out of the elevator before the doors slide shut. “You can’t see him. It doesn’t work like that, Gabby.”

“Really? What? Am I not good enough for him?”

“No, it’s not like that at all.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “
I’ve
never seen Nicholas. The Elders have never met him, either. No one has.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” I stop walking, forcing Michael to turn and look at me. “So all these people, this whole place, follows the orders of a man you don’t even know.”

“Careful, Gabby.” His gaze darts up to the ceiling, scans as if he’s searching for something, then lands back on my face. “It’s called trust. You should try it some time.” Michael swings around and punches a code into a keypad on the wall. A door whispers open.

There are groups of people walking in a large corridor. We can’t continue our conversation without being overheard, and something tells me I don’t want to be heard arguing Nicholas’s merits, or lack thereof. Unless I want a one-way ticket back to that cell. No thank you.

“Your room is just this way. Girls ward, number 309.” Michael withdraws a purple keycard from his back pocket and hands it to me. “Go ahead. Use it.”

“Are you allowed here?”

“Sure. Because of the Pairing, they aren’t too strict about keeping us out of each other’s residential area. There isn’t much to worry about there.”

“Right. Of course.” I wave the card in front of a black box on the wall. There’s a clicking sound, and then the door rolls open to reveal a spacious bedroom with a small sitting area. My first thought is that the cat-lady Elder must have decorated the space. The bedspread is an eye-piercing orange, complete with flashy pink pillows. Avocado green walls scream to be repainted, and a loud floral-print couch does nothing to improve the look. An overpowering scent of roses accosts my nose.

Michael steps in behind me. “Wow, sorry. The last girl who had this room grew up in the seventies. She had a flare for the eccentric. I’m sure you could change it if you want.”

I finger a string of beads hanging in a curtain from the ceiling. “What happened to her?”

He glances at me over his shoulder as he walks to a ledge on the wall. At first, he doesn’t say anything, just traces his fingers over the wooden shelf, gathering dust. With a long blow of air, he sends dust moats waltzing across my new room. Then he turns back to me.

“She died, Gabby. People die.”

I take a step in his direction. “Of old age. Something like that?”

“No. Cathy was twenty, I think. She died shifting. Last we heard she was in the midst of a typhoid outbreak. It happens. That’s why the Elders cautioned you.”

“I’m so sorry about your back.” The words spill out before I can rein them in.

Michael shakes his head, inching closer. “I didn’t mean—”

I lick my lips. “It was my fault. I should have listened to you.”

“You saved a child’s life,” he says. Michael’s close enough to smell again, fresh like the sunshine splashed outdoors. Using one finger, he tucks a chunk of bangs behind my ear. His light touch sets loose an army of traitorous butterflies, beating their wings against my stomach.

 I have to lean closer to hear him as he lowers his voice. “And when I look at that scar, or feel it pull, it’ll only make me think of you.”

Um, lungs—take a breath already. “Is that a good thing?”

His dimple comes back out to play. “Very good. Sleep now, Gabby.” He takes a step toward the open doorway.

I fight the urge to grab his arm. Yank him back. He’s the closest thing to home right now. “You can’t just leave. What happens in the morning? Will you come for me?”