Sunder (44 page)

“It was long enough that I can see how wrong I was—about so many things. Father, I wanted to tell you… if Etienne is still alive, please release him. What he did was horrible, but I was pretty horrible to him. And if you haven’t already, you need to schedule a requiem for Emilio Bernal. He died trying to get me home. He died because of me. I miss you so much, and I know you miss me too. I’ve thought of you every day. Even on the boring days, though there haven’t been many of those. I wanted so much to share all I’ve done with you. All I’ve accomplished. On the big days of my life, I wanted to call you or write you and tell you what happened. I’m only sorry that I can only give you an abbreviated version now.

“Shannan may have already told you, but I worked as a tanner—the only woman tanner. I’m retired now of course, but that was my job and I was good at it, even though I never got over how gross it all is. But to look at something and know that I made it with just my hands. Papi, there’s no feeling like it in the world.

“I got married too. My husband was a priest if you can believe it. I think you would have liked him. He had that no-nonsense demeanor you like so much. He was a wonderful man and I loved him. He was with me for just under ten years before he died. Of course I never had children, but I’ve been a kind of mother. Our nobleman here… he lost his wife early. So I helped raise the children—three of them. There have been others of course—friends—who needed help over the years. So I’ve helped raise at least fifteen children. They’re all grown now of course. I know you weren’t happy about… my decision. And ultimately you were right. I was a good mother after all, even though I didn’t give birth to any of them.”

Isabella broke off, tears threatening to choke her already dry throat. It wasn’t enough. This wasn’t enough to assure him that she had done the right thing by staying. If anything, Isabella felt a horrible surety that her message was only going to make her father feel worse. She should have written this in advance.

“Isabella?” Shannan whispered, bringing her back to the present.

Shaking her head free from her doubts, Isabella continued. “I know what you did, Papi. I know that somehow you changed the timeline.” Isabella squared her shoulders and swallowed hard, making her voice as clear as it could be. “I know that none of us should have ever existed. I know that the thought of resetting, of undoing history as it stands now, is scary.  I think Shannan can set everything right, if you’ll let her. I’m not sure how that will affect me, but I think you should help her, Papi. I know it will be a hard decision, especially for the rest of the council, but you should. You should make amends for what you did.”

She paused to take a breath. “I’m actually making this recording in the cemetery, where I come more often than I care to admit to stare at the headstones of my husband, my friends, and a few enemies, even though it doesn’t ease the pain of their passing. Just like I know listening to this recording won’t ease your pain. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much now, just a dog and a sort-of legendary status. But I’ve had a good life, a righteous life, which to be honest I doubt I would have had in Miami.

“I hope, through it all, that I’ve made amends, the way I’m asking you to. I hope I’ve made up for the hurt I’ve caused, the damage I’ve done, even if it’s indirectly. Because ultimately, our time together is done in this life, Papi. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to seeing you in the next one.”

She nodded at Shannan, tears squeezing out of her eyes as she watched the girl whisper
end recording
into the crucifix.

“Was that good? Do you think it will help him?”

Shannan smiled warmly and leaned forward to place her cool hand on Isabella’s. “I think that was just right.”

28

The chamber was silent save Alfredo’s muffled sobs. He did nothing to hide his tears, and as Shannan watched the unabashed despair of her former student, a heavy wave of sadness washed over her.
It should never have been like this.

“Is that all?” Gabriel’s voice was soft, sad, as he asked his question.

“Yes,” she whispered, astonished at how painful it was for her to listen to the recording. She had been sitting right there with Isabella as she had spoken her message, and in an abstract way, she knew Alfredo would be sad about Isabella’s decision. But being here, seeing him—now it was real. She was not yet a mother, but even still she could understand what he must be feeling. Isabella was his baby, his child, his world. And now she was gone.

“I’m sorry, Fredo.” The tears spilled down her cheeks as she raised her eyes towards the council table. “I’m so sorry.”

Alfredo took in a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling and trying to swallow the sobs that choked him. “She sounded happy,” he gasped out.

Shannan clenched her jaw, fighting back a sob of her own as she wondered if she could have handled this situation better. It was an illogical reaction, given what Alfredo had done to her. But old habits die hard, and Shannan could not bear to see the boy who had grown to a man so crippled by his grief.

“I believe she was happy,” she said, remembering the weather-worn smile on Isabella’s face.

“She’s really gone,” he whispered, apparently to himself. He stared down at his hands, silent for a moment. Then his brow furrowed and he pulled his head up, as if he had just remembered something.

“Councilman Canaan,” he cleared his throat. “If the council votes to correct the timeline alteration, will Isabella be affected?”

He was looking down the table at the South Asian man, who reclined in his seat and tapped his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he looked up, right into Shannan’s eyes, causing her to blush; she had been staring at him.

“You journeyed to Shaftesbury specifically to meet Isabella?” he asked, still seeming to be making calculations in his head.

“She was known as Deorca, yes.”

He gave a satisfied nod. “When Danforth sent her back in time without a temporal displacement field, she became a part of the 9
th
century. Her existence was documented in your history books. I imagine if we do some research, we’ll find her in ours as well. Regardless of our course of action, Isabella will live and die in post-Roman Britain.”

Several of the councilmember’s faces darted in confusion, as they tried to sort out the messy elements of time travel. It was that very “messiness” that had steered Shannan into engineering, where two plus two always equaled four.

“Now,” Canaan continued. “Assuming the council votes to repair this schism, then—”

“Excuse me, Councilman,” Shannan interrupted. “You said
if
the council votes to correct the timeline?”

Canaan gave her probing look, then one curt nod.

“Forgive me, I don’t understand. Alfredo has confirmed my story. You know for a fact this timeline was created artificially by the murder of—”

“It was an accident, God damn you!”

Shannan jolted backward, unable to restrain herself.
Stop yelling at me, you bastard!
She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth, willing the litany of renewed hateful intentions toward Alfredo out of her head.

The men at the council table seemed uncomfortable, as if they didn’t know where to look. They avoided eye contact with Alfredo, whose whole demeanor was the very antithesis of the strong, silent masculinity they all seemed to prefer. They also avoided looking at Shannan as she flinched.

Maybe they want to avoid humanizing me
.

She had to be careful here, but she couldn’t just slink away without impressing upon them the importance of what she was asking them. She started again.

“Please forgive my confusion, Councilman Canaan.” She turned her eyes to Gabriel, careful not to look as if she were making a demand. “I was under the impression that the purpose of this council was to preserve the correct timeline. As such, I assumed you were all are duty-bound to do everything in your power to restore it.”

“It is not so simple, I’m afraid,” Gabriel said quietly, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

“Isn’t it? I see no complicating factors.” She lowered her voice, hoping for a neutral tone. “Other than your fear, of course.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gabriel bolted forward in his chair, narrowing his eyes at her in exaggerated offence.

“Councilman Ruiz, please allow me sir.” Councilman Canaan stood up, holding his hand out to still Gabriel. It had been a request, a respectful one, but his smooth voice, with a hint of an old-world accent, had force behind it. Gabriel, still scowling, nodded at Canaan and leaned back in his chair with a huff.

“Miss Fitzroy, may I ask your area of study at the university?” Canaan also eased back into his chair. He leaned forward onto the table, interlacing his fingers in front of him in an ‘I’m listening’ posture.

“I’m an engineer,” she said.

The look of understanding compassion on Canaan’s face informed her of how sadly unsuccessful she was at pretending she did not feel guilty for having insulted Gabriel.

“All right, that makes sense.” Canaan nodded, a reassuring smile touching his lips. “You see, engineers can, in some cases, be overly pragmatic. That’s not an insult.” He held up his hand to quell her impending retort, the large silver rings on two of his fingers glinting in the light.

“I myself am a temporal physicist and it is the job of a physicist to think in abstract terms, in terms of what
may
be. So even without doing any calculations, even before the council and I adjourn to our deliberations, I would like to present you with the problem as I see it.”

She nodded, having absolutely no idea what he was about to say.

“Our timeline, and everyone in it, exists only because Councilman Jaramillo killed a man, this John Churchill. Correct?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

He stared at her meaningfully, waiting for her to have some epiphany. But she still didn’t know what he was getting at.

Realizing she was clueless, he let out a sigh. “How then, do you suppose, can we depart from this timeline to stop the event that created it?”

She felt the color drain from her face.
Sweet Jesus.

Canaan continued to stare at her, the look of sympathy reigniting his features. “I see that you have good intentions, Miss Fitzroy; we all do. But I’m afraid you’ve been a little simplistic in your appraisal of the solution. We are not approaching this decision lightly. I have spent my adult life in the study of temporal physics; four of these men spent their younger years as Agents. We are experts in our respective fields, my dear, and we will seriously and objectively consider our options. You have my word that our deliberations will produce the best and most practical course of action, whatever that may be.”

Her stomach went sour. How had she not considered that? Suddenly very warm, she looked timidly back up to the table. All of the men were still looking at her, but none looked triumphant. They looked just as solemn as before. Perhaps there was still hope they would—could—do the right thing.

She looked at Gabriel. “I apologize for my outburst. I had no right to accuse you of cowardice.”

He nodded tersely at her, leaning back in his chair and exhaling loudly. “We will sequester for our deliberations after a two-hour recess. In the meanwhile, Miss Fitzroy, Comandante Guerrero will escort you to more comfortable surroundings so you can rest. I imagine you are exhausted. We can also get you some pain killers.” He nodded meaningfully at her neck.

“How long do you imagine the... your deliberations will take?” she asked meekly, the smell of Guerrero’s cologne suddenly enveloping her.

Gabriel drummed his fingers on the table top, biting his lower lip as he pondered. After a long moment, he looked at the far end of the table where Canaan sat. “What do you think?” Gabriel asked him quietly.

Canaan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Three days at a minimum. It would be helpful to consult with other physicists, but since that is not possible in this situation…” he trailed off, spreading his hands in a ‘who knows?’ gesture.

The smell of that damn cologne got even stronger, but she still could not bring herself to turn around. Instead she stared up at Gabriel, searching for malice in his face but finding none.

“Gabriel?” she whispered.

Diverting his eyes from Canaan, he looked at her, not unkindly, waiting for her question.

“Are you throwing me in jail?”

There was a flash of guilt behind his eyes and, as he opened his mouth to speak, she felt Guerrero’s fingers wrap around her arm, gently but insistently.

“Nothing so nefarious,” Gabriel said, his remorseful eyes focusing just above her head. “You don’t need to be afraid, Shannan. You are guilty of no wrongdoing. However, under Alpha 714, there will be a few restrictions you’ll need to follow. But you needn’t be worried.” Gabriel’s reassuring words were belied by his hollow tone. “Julio will take good care of you.”

Gabriel moved his eyes to a spot just behind her, no doubt where Julio was standing, breathing into her hair. She felt the grip on her arm tighten, and her last look at the council table revealed Alfredo flashing a satisfied smile directly at Julio.

The taste of bile in her throat, Shannan shivered as Julio walked her quietly out of the council chamber and into the brightly lit hallway. His fingers did not loosen on her arm as they approached the outer door, and he only slowed to put his face near the retinal scanner of the exit. The glass doors slid open to a near-empty parking lot, the sound of cicadas emerging in a wall of sound as she stepped out into the humidity.

Julio turned his head to look at her, his face as blank as an egg, and gestured toward the gun-metal SUV parked near the ramp. There was no one else in the parking lot, no other guards or police presence. Gabriel had said she was not going to jail, but who was Julio if not a cop?

“Where are you taking me?” She pulled gently against his hand, not really trying to free her arm, but rather to provoke the taciturn man to speak.

“Home.”

“Your home?” she pressed.

“My home, your home. From now on, they’re one in the same.”

“What?” she hissed, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

Faster than a rattle snake, Julio wheeled around to face her, his hand clamping around her wrist to pull her in close.

“Now,” he hissed in her ear, his body pressing up against hers, “You belong to me. Maybe only for a week or so, but most likely, you belong to me for good. You’re here illegally; you do not exist. You can’t buy or sell anything, you can’t get on any kind of public transport. You can’t do anything. Open your eyes and look at me!”

He squeezed her wrist, hard, and Shannan blinked rapidly, trying to comply with his order.

“If you eat, it will be because I feed you. If you have clothes, it will be because I gave them to you. So you don’t ask me questions. Not where we’re going, not what I’m going to do with you. Do you understand me?”

His face mere centimeters from hers, Shannan fought the ridiculous impulse to scream for help. There was no one to help her, not anymore.
I should never have come here
.

“I understand,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out through her shaking. “I- I’m sorry.”

The grip fell away from her arm and a rush of cool air hit her torso as Julio peeled his chest off of hers. Vibrating with the intensity of her effort to hold sobs back, Shannan flinched with his movement, expecting him to drag her into the SUV. Instead, he walked the few feet over to the back door and opened it for her, jerking his head for her to get in.

“Órale, Mija.”

I am going to die here
, she lamented, climbing into the back seat.

“Put your seat belt on,” Julio muttered before slamming the door.

He walked around the vehicle, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the car up. As he put it in reverse to pull out of the parking space, a movement caught Shannan’s eye. Her vision was blurred from tears, so she took one moment to consider that she had been mistaken about what she saw.

But then Julio put the car in drive and she turned her body in her seat to get a better look out the rear window.

No, she had seen correctly. Alfredo was standing at the glass doors. Waving goodbye.