The Edge of Forever (23 page)

“Yes, ma’am. I have a part of my life back.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know more. I still hope Nate will come back one day.”

“Me too.”

“Well, let’s try to put all this behind us for the time being. We can’t sit around waiting for him or your mom to show up. We’ve got to live our lives or we’ll drive ourselves crazy.”

I follow Aunt Grace inside, thinking she’s right. Already I feel better, like the pieces of my past are clicking into place. But I’m still not completely satisfied, and I won’t be until I have the whole picture.

My parents wouldn’t want me to mope around, mourning the loss of the life I should’ve led, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop looking for more answers. Because I know Aunt Grace, and there’s no good reason for her to keep those papers from me if they’re really just legal documents.

She’s hiding something else.

27

BRIDGER

APRIL 21, 2013

A
silver stream of moonlight illuminates my bedroom. The clock reads 12:03. Alora should be here soon. She wants to make sure Grace is asleep before we sneak downstairs. She’s positive Grace is keeping something else from her. And she’s sure whatever it is will be in the safe hidden in the study.

After Alora told me what Grace admitted, I thought I’d wild out. What if the military in this time had discovered people with Talents exist? Could that have been what Alora’s father was doing with them? But that doesn’t make sense. From everything I learned at the Academy, the governments of the world didn’t even know about Talents until scientists began genetically modifying people. In the past, natural-borns kept their abilities a secret.

A soft tapping tears me out of my thoughts. I jump off the bed and open the door.

Alora is dressed in a robe and slippers. It’s hard to see any color in the dim hallway, but the robe is definitely something pale. She appears almost angelic in the surrounding darkness.

I’ve got to quit thinking like that.

“Are you okay?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “It’s just . . . I didn’t realize you’d be dressed like that.”

Alora seems startled, glancing down at her robe, then smirks. “Oh, you think what I’m wearing is silly? What about you, Mr. Military? If Aunt Grace catches us downstairs, I’m sure she’ll wonder why you’re dressed like that.”

She’s right. I’m wearing my uniform. I figured if I needed to hide, the best way would be to use the cloaking device. But I can’t tell Alora that. Instead, I grin and say, “Well, it’s better than wearing what I usually sleep in.”

Alora’s eyes flick to my chest. I wonder if she’s blushing because she’s remembering me in my Skivvies. And that makes me grin.

“Well, wear whatever you want. Just stay quiet.” She marches away from me, using her phone to light the area ahead of her. I close my door and hurry to catch up to her.

Downstairs, Alora stops at the closed study door in the hallway across from the kitchen. She pulls a small bobby pin out of her robe pocket and holds her phone out to me. “Keep the light on the handle, okay?”

My fingertips barely brush against her skin as I take the phone from her. But it’s like a jolt from a stunner, minus the pain. I jerk my hand back, thinking I’m seriously going to wild out if I stay in this time much longer. I can’t do this. I can’t develop any feelings for Alora. She’s not Vika, she’s a ghost. Nothing more.

Alora rubs her hand before inserting the pin in the doorknob. “Can you hold the light steady? This isn’t easy.”

“I thought you were good at picking locks.”

“I’ve only done this twice, and both times were during the day. So excuse me if I’m not fast enough for you.”

For a moment I’m worried she’s irritated with me, but then a corner of her mouth curves up. I concentrate on her lips while she works. As soon as she stops smiling, she bites the bottom lip. Then she licks it.

I have to look away.

Finally, I hear a small click and a triumphant, “Yes.”

Alora locks the study door once we’re inside and flips the light switch. The room is painted a smoky shade of blue. It’s doesn’t have much room for furniture. Just an antique desk in front of the lone window, two narrow bookcases stuffed with books on either side of a fireplace, and a comfortable-looking chair in the corner.

“Over here.” Alora crosses over to the closest bookshelf and glides one hand along the side of the dark wood. “Last year Aunt Grace decided to tell me where she keeps her important paperwork in case something ever happened to her. She’d been to the doctor because of chest pains. Turns out it was caused from anxiety.” She lowers her gaze, as if the memory is painful. “Anyway, she said there’s a wall safe back here.”

“Do you know the combination?”

“Yeah, it’s her wedding anniversary. So all we have to do is move this.”

I eye the bookshelf. “Did she show you exactly how to get in there?”

“No, she just said I’d have to punch in the numbers on a keypad.”

Seems easy enough. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, things that should be easy rarely are. I position myself next to Alora and grasp the side of the bookshelf above her. “You move from the bottom while I get the top. Ready?”

“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice. I nearly let go of the shelf. She sounded so much like Vika.

I swear I’m losing it.

But I push on. Even with Alora helping, the shelf doesn’t want to move. It takes a few minutes, inching it slowly, before we have it out far enough to expose the safe.

“I can’t believe I’m nervous,” Alora says as she kneels in front of the safe. She trails her fingers over the keypad and looks back up at me. “What if there’s something really bad in here? I mean, she said my dad wouldn’t want me to know.”

I kneel next to her and place my hand on her shoulder. I understand what she’s feeling. It’s mixture of excitement and dread when you realize what you’re about to learn could change everything. That’s how I felt just before I read the info on Dad’s DataDisk. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s normal to feel like that. But you know what? If you back off and don’t open that safe, you’ll regret it. You’ll wonder every day what’s in there.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s just . . . it’s kind of surreal.”

She looks away from me before I can answer and punches the code on the keypad. I hold my breath.

Nothing happens.

Alora frowns and punches the code again.

Still nothing.

“Come on!” She tries the code again.

“You said the code was Grace’s anniversary, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. June 26, 1996 was the date she got married.”

“So you’re putting in 6, 26, 96?”

“Yeah, I tried that. Let me try zero six instead,” she says. Her fingers fly over the keypad.

Nothing.

Alora bangs her fist on the side of the safe. “I don’t understand. She said it was her anniversary. What if she changed the combination?” She leans her forehead against the wall and mutters, “Just freaking great.”

I rub the back of my neck, thinking. That doesn’t seem right for Grace to change the combination without telling Alora. Especially if she wanted Alora to have access to it in case of an emergency. “What about trying the numbers in reverse order?”

Alora punches in the numbers again. This time the light next to the keypad glows green. Alora presses her palm against her chest and murmurs, “Yes.”

I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Then she opens the door.

My heart pounds as I peer over her shoulder. A tall stack of envelopes rests on top of some folders. But on the very top is a polished wooden box. Alora removes it first.

I move out of the way so she can scoot out from behind the bookshelf. She places the box on her lap and flips the lid open. I want to go over and nose through whatever’s in there myself, but I make myself wait. This is stuff from her father.

Alora lifts out a paper and studies it. “This is my birth certificate,” she says, glancing up. “My mom’s name
is
Addie. At least Aunt Grace didn’t lie about that. And I was born in Denver. Weird, huh? Wouldn’t it be cool if my parents knew your parents?”

I just smile.

Alora sets her birth certificate on the floor and thumbs through the rest of the papers. “These are old medical records. I wonder why my dad wanted to keep them from me. It doesn’t make sense.” She lets out a heavy sigh, but then her eyes grow huge. I wonder if it’s a pic of her family. She extracts the object of her attention.

And for a moment I forget to breathe again.

Alora is holding a delicate silver chain with a pendant featuring a smooth black stone. It’s something I’ve seen before, when Professor March lectured about contraband tech in my time—a Jewel of Illusion.

How did Alora’s father get his hands on something that doesn’t exist yet?

I wonder if my dad gave it to him. Grace retrieved this stuff when Alora first arrived here. So why would Dad go back in time and give a Jewill to Alora’s father, then attempt to save Alora’s life this year?

No wonder Alora’s father didn’t want her to have access to this. Pressing the stone for ten seconds activates the cloak. I could imagine the chaos that would create if she did it in a public place.

“What’s wrong?” Alora asks.

At the sound of her voice, my eyes snap to her. “I was just thinking that’s a nice-looking . . . necklace.”

Lame, Creed. Lame.

“It’s beautiful. I wonder if it belonged to my mom.” Alora holds up the Jewill. It sways slightly, glinting in the light. “You know what? I’m keeping this.” She opens the clasp and fastens the chain around her neck. It takes all my willpower to keep from snatching it away.

Because there’s one thing I’m certain about—Alora has no business with a Jewill.

I’ve got to get it from her. But how?

28

ALORA

MAY 6, 2013

T
he second hand on the clock ticks as if it’s coated with molasses. I’m so ready to get out of here. Not only does biology bore me, but the room smells like chemicals and something musty. I try to pay attention to the teacher, but my mind keeps going back to what Aunt Grace told me about my father.

I pull my necklace out of my shirt and cradle the pendant in the palm of my hand. It’s comforting, having something that came from my parents. I like to think it’s a gift from them. Maybe it was the last thing they ever gave me.

But why did my dad want to keep it from me?

The intercom buzzes overhead, and the secretary summons Kate to the office for dismissal. As she gathers her things, I take in her appearance. Her hair isn’t carefully styled, she’s not wearing any makeup, and she looks exhausted. I guess Naomi’s disappearance is taking a toll on her. Kate hurries out without looking at anyone.

The teacher resumes his lecture, but ten minutes later another student is called to leave, this time one of Kate and Naomi’s best friends. She doesn’t look any better than Kate. Nobody can concentrate on class after that. A few students keep sneaking glances at the one desk that was already empty—Naomi’s.

That first week after Naomi disappeared, everyone thought she just took off because she was upset over the breakup with Trevor, but not now. Not after being gone so long without contacting her parents or her friends.

It’s been three weeks since she disappeared.

After class dismisses, I hurry to my locker. Most everybody is talking about Naomi. Some even cast suspicious glances my way when I pass, as if I’m responsible for her disappearance. Near my locker, I overhear a girl saying that her parents won’t let her go anywhere alone right now. I can relate. Aunt Grace has been on edge too.

When I get to history class, I steel myself to face Trevor, but he’s not there. That’s not surprising—he usually strolls in at the last minute.

But he never shows up. Maybe he was called for dismissal along with Kate. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I settle in and attempt to listen to the lecture, but soon the intercom buzzes.

This time I’m the one who’s summoned.

Feeling every eye on me, I quickly collect my books and dart out, wondering what is happening. It can’t be a coincidence Trevor wasn’t in class, and before that both of Naomi’s best friends were called out for dismissal.

By the time I get to the office, my skin is crawling with chill bumps. Aunt Grace is sitting in a black chair, clutching her purse with both hands. She jumps up when she spots me.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Not now,” she hisses. Her eyes flick to the desk, where both secretaries are not even trying to hide the fact they’re listening to us. Aunt Grace strides to the door and holds it open for me.

When we’re in the truck, she slams her left hand on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a call a little while ago. The police chief wants to ask you some questions about Naomi Burton.”

“Why does he want to talk to me?” I ask, even though I have a good idea. It all comes back to Trevor. Why did he have to get all freaky obsessive over me?

“I don’t know, sweetie,” she says. “He just said to get you down there pronto.”

My stomach is a roiling mass of nerves by the time she parks at the police station. When we enter the lobby, I have to hold my breath so I won’t puke—it smells like someone mopped the floor with a sour sponge. Aunt Grace wrinkles her nose before she greets the officer behind a bulletproof window. While we wait for him to alert the chief of our arrival, I check out the area.

I’m surprised and relieved Trevor and Kate aren’t here. It’s bad enough the chief wants to question me, but having to be here with the Monroes would be like having someone poke my eyes with white hot needles.

“Y’all can go on back to the chief’s office,” the officer says when he returns. He buzzes us through a door to our left. We enter the room with the officer and he escorts us to the chief’s office.

Chief Lloyd, a tall man in his early fifties, is seated at his desk. His eyes are heavily smudged and his gray hair looks like he’s run his hands through it quite a few times. He stands and offers his hand to Aunt Grace.