Time Thieves (24 page)

He frowned. “Mark.”

Sari stiffened. Another M name. The family tree.

Just as she was about to stand, Ward prompted, “Mark what?”

Mark frowned, drawing his thick bushy brows together over his confused eyes. “Mark Harrods.”

“Harrods?” Sari gasped. Was it possible?

Ward looked at Sari with a question in his eyes. “Sari?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible.” She almost laughed hysterically. After all these years, she’d found relatives. This man had the same last name she did. Jumping up, she ran to her safe and unlocked it. She removed the family tree and opened it up. There listed as deceased was M. Harrods. Again. But beside it, another generation later, was another name – Mark Harrods.

“Christ.” She walked the information over to Ward.

“Mark.” She waited until he looked at her. “Can you tell me what year this is?”

He frowned. “I can’t remember.”

“Can you tell me your parent’s names?”

His frown deepened. “Julie and Ken.”

There it was. Sari held the paper out for Ward. He snatched it up and turned it slightly to read it better. He looked over the paper at Mark then swiveled to stare at Sari.

She raised one eyebrow at him and shrugged. What was she supposed to say?

As far as she was concerned, Mark was the Mark Harrods who’d supposedly died several decades ago.

*

No, no, and
no. No way was he thinking that Mark had appeared out of the air in Sari’s attic. “There’s no way in hell.”

She glanced over at him, a small grin whispering across her face. He glared at her, his mind grappling with a concept so foreign his brain refused to believe it.

Yet how could Mark have gotten in? How could Madge have, for that matter? Then there was the problem of her father disappearing. Except her father hadn’t been in the attic. He glanced up to the ceiling and realized the spot Greg had gone missing from was right below.

If the calculations had been slightly off, or slightly sideways, could that have allowed him to cross time or go to an alternate dimension from here? Or was the energy that was generated in something like this so strong that it was actually not a spot of energy, but a column of energy that encompassed this part of the room, too? If he believed any of this was possible, it wasn’t hard to believe that the portal would be expanded beyond the one space up above.

If
he believed any of this…

“Are you okay?” Sari whispered beside him.

He gave her a strange look. “You’re pushing the boundaries of my belief here.”

She nodded gravely. “I hear you. I don’t know how to prove anything. Maybe Madge can confirm Mark here. And maybe some of his story as well.”

Ward studied the frail old man and realized he did need to talk to Madge. But he didn’t want to leave Sari alone. This old man wasn’t going to be much of a threat, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t come through whatever doorway he and Madge had used.

And he had no way to close and lock this mythical doorway either. Madge. He’d take ten minutes and try and confirm Mark’s story with her, then get back here and sort out the rest of this.

“I’ll be half an hour. No longer.”

He gave Sari a hard kiss. “Don’t leave. Don’t open the door outside. Just in case there are more coming, go into the main part of the house and lock the shop tight so no one can get out.”

And he left.

A
fter Ward’s quick
exit, Sari brought Mark into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. She put on coffee and the teakettle. She was still rattled. Who knew what the hell was going on or what they were going to do about it? Mark had been asking questions about Madge incessantly. She hoped a hot drink and a square meal might keep him quiet. She wanted him to talk, but more about how he got here and where he’d been.

So far, none of his answers made any sense.

Glancing out the window for the umpteenth time, she waited for Ward to return. She doubted his half hour time frame, but she hoped. Making tea, she carried the pot and cups over to the table. Mark’s face lit up. He positively beamed.

“Oh, I do like a cup of tea.”

“Good,” she said softly. Knowing Ward would prefer coffee, she finished setting up the coffeemaker and in a moment of positive thinking, she turned it on. He wouldn’t leave her alone for long. Not with a second senior appearing in her house.

“Mark, what did you do for a living?”

“Do?” he frowned. “Why, I’m a watchmaker. The same as the rest of the family.”

She stared at him. “Is everyone in the family a watchmaker?”

“Yes, of course. We have no choice to be anything but watchmakers. Or timekeepers,” he added as an afterthought. He sighed. “Not that we have much choice in that either.”

“What does that mean? A timekeeper?”

“If you don’t know the answer to that,” he said, looking at her strangely, “maybe I should be asking you a question – like what are you doing in my house?”

A surprised laugh slipped free. “I live here. And it’s my house, by the way.”

Affronted, he stared at her. Then swallowing hard, he reached out and poured himself a cup of tea so hot steam billowed above his cup. Still, he lifted it to his lips.

“It’s hot,” she warned.

He nodded and blew and sipped and blew and sipped before finally managing a full drink. He closed his eyes and sat back with a happy sigh. “Now that’s a decent cup.”

Sari watched, fascinated as he drank his full cup, then poured himself a second and repeated the routine.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He set his empty cup down on the table. “Now, where’s Madge?”

“In the hospital.”

“Is she hurt? Because I need to take her back.”

“Back where?”

“To the timekeepers. Where else?”

He sounded so reasonable, so sane, and yet he was making no sense. “Where are the timekeepers?”

Staring at her, one eyebrow raised, he said, “Now I know for sure this isn’t your house.”

She stared. “Pardon? What does my not knowing about timekeepers have to do with ownership of this house?”

He reached over and lifted the teapot again. Pouring the last of the tea into his cup, he lifted it to his lips and took another sip. “Because all owners of this house are timekeepers.”

Now she didn’t know what to think. She sat back. “Are the timekeepers in another dimension?” she whispered, unable to help herself from asking the question.

His blue eyes locked onto hers. They stared silently at each other. She knew he was weighing his words carefully, wondering what to tell her.

“Please. Tell me the truth. I lost my father close to fifteen years ago this week. I don’t know what happened to him.”

The blue eyes widened in astonishment. “Greg? Are you Greg’s daughter? If so, why don’t you know about this?”

“Yes, yes. He’s my father. And I don’t know because no one has told me anything.” When he just stared at her open mouthed, she gasped in shocked understanding. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Where is he? Have you seen him?”

“He’s with the timekeepers.”

She closed her eyes then opened them suddenly, shock almost stopping her heart. It hiccupped then raced forward in hope. “Are you saying that he’s alive? That he’s over in whatever time-space continuum that exists where you used to be? Where Madge came from?”

She stared at him, willing him to tell her the truth. When he didn’t answer, she whispered, “Please. I love my father. I’ve missed him every single day he’s been gone.”

“Yes.” The whisper was so soft and so powerful, yet it threatened to break her.

“Yes, you’ve seen him?” She caught her breath. “Yes, he’s alive? Yes, he’s over there where you have come from?”

“To all those questions…yes.”

The first tear slid from the corner of her eye followed closely by a second one. She was scared to hope. Scared to dream that her beloved Poppy might be alive and safe and sound. She swiped at her cheeks with her sleeve. “Can he come home?” she whispered, her eyes gauging his answer, willing it to be the one she wanted to hear.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “The only reason they brought me here was to bring Madge back. And even then, we can’t travel all the time. It’s because of the time of year. The lunar eclipse and some other weird planetary alignment means that the distance between the two dimensions or parallel existences can be crossed.” He stared at her. “I don’t understand how your father came over. It shouldn’t have happened.” He frowned. “We shouldn’t have had another exchange until this week’s alignment, but with your father already there, it isn’t likely to happen.”

She didn’t understand. “Are you saying that if my father was meant to go over, it should have happened this year, like next week? Not fifteen years ago?”

“Correct. These things are gauged very closely. Not just anyone can cross, you know. Timekeepers are picked, or chosen you might say. One per generation. But never the only child in the generation.”

“One per generation?” She stared at him. “But my father is an only child. As was his father before him.”

Mark’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “And your mother?”

Sari blinked. The concept of her mother in this conversation was just a little too weird. “She’s also a single child.”

“And what about your grandmother on your father’s side? Have there been no more than one offspring per generation?”

“Not for a long time. At least as far as I know.”

“Very interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because the timekeepers aren’t allowed to take the only offspring in a family. And as you’re the only offspring, then you can’t go to help the timekeepers.”

“And therefore neither should my father have been taken…should he have?”

“No.” Frowning, Mark shook his head, his eyes downward as if not sure how much to tell her. After a long moment, he tilted his head sideways, his gaze intent, and said, “Maybe your father volunteered – to keep you safe?”

“You mean go so I didn’t have to?” She hated that thought. “But I’m an only child, so in theory… Besides, why our family anyway? Why are we needed at all?”

“I’m not sure any of us are needed anymore.” He stared down at the table. “Centuries ago, one of our ancestors learned how to cross to the other dimension. That ancestor, whose specialty was time and watches, was naturally treated like a hero. He stayed for a long time to help them as the people over there had only a rudimentary system in place. He built watches, timepieces for them. Showed them how to maintain and repair these items. Teaching them, essentially.”

Sari leaned closer, struggling to understand generations upon generations involved. All of them her people.

“For generations, people in our family sworn to secrecy went over to help.” He sighed. “And somehow that all changed. Whether it was we refused one time or they wanted more, the system changed from one of goodwill to one of master and slave.”

He raised his gaze, sad and looking inward, to Sari. “When your father came over, there were problems with the portal – it was unstable. It actually broke something in the watch he used. It took years to stabilize it again. There are only the three of us left. Your father has been teaching the younger generation to look after their own issues – he’s been trying to resolve the slavery issue so that it would end.” His eyes glistened. “But I don’t know. The old timekeepers said it’s always been done this way, and that’s the way it will stay.”

“Did everyone go over from this house? Madge?”

“Absolutely. We all did.” He leaned back to stare at her. “We grew up knowing one person would have to go over. And if we didn’t – well, the consequences would be severe. Not only were we forced over there, but now they’ve learned how to travel here.”

A horrid thought. “So you were forced to sacrifice one person.”

He nodded. “But it was never to be the only child in that generation.”

“Apparently that changed with my father.” She glared out the window. To know that he was alive, a prisoner so close and yet impossibly far away, was intolerable. “Why didn’t the family move? Get away from here?”

“Several reasons.” He stared out the window. “Tron, the boss, would have done everything he could have to find us, and he would have succeeded. But more than that, it would have left the door open for him to come and take other people. Other things. He’d have had a one-way door to our world. By keeping us there, he agreed to leave our world alone.”