Timeless (Pandora Book 1) (2 page)

The office doors slid open with a muffled
whoosh
, permitting entrance to one of Pandora’s most knowledgeable chroniclers, Cato Darrod. The kid couldn’t have been more than six or seven hundred years old, really just a teenager in Nekros society, but he had a proclivity towards details and memorization that few others could match.

“Commander.” He nodded respectfully. “Lieutenant,” he added to Vane as he rushed past brandishing a holopod. “I have the records you requested.”

In contrast to the form-fitting, black uniforms the soldiers wore, the clerical personnel, like Cato, dressed in billowy, light-weight uniforms the color of damp moss. The medical staff wore uniforms of pure white, consisting of simple T-shirts and casual slacks, while the maintenance staff and engineers had adopted fiery red jumpsuits.

Everyone within the compound had their place, much the same way everything inside the commander’s office did. Not just for their protection, but for the safety of the civilian population, Pandora depended upon order and organization.

“Do we have the reports from the inventory team?” the commander asked.

“Not a complete report, sir.” Cato shook his head, making his shaggy, chestnut locks bounce around his face. “The team is still searching Divisions Two and Five.”

“Very well.” Commander Schiva stood straight and rested his hands on his hips. “What do we know so far?”

Placing the holopod on the commander’s desk, Cato pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose and pressed the glowing button in the center of the pod. A complete and detailed list of artifacts projected from the small, silver disk, creating a makeshift computer screen in the center of the room.

“A search of Division Eight returned three missing items,
Cato explained. “The most recent theft, the one Lieutenant Schiva witnessed, was the Jewel of Atrea.”

He swiped a hand across the projection, enlarging a picture of the blood-red jewel encased in an ornate, silver setting. “The jewel was last worn by the Atrean princess, Nivin, and it was said to bring unfathomable love to anyone who possessed it.” With his back to the projection, Cato recited the information from memory. “However, if the wearer was found to be unworthy, they would suffer grave misfortune.”

“How grave are we talking?” Vane held his right hand up, creating a small space between his thumb and forefinger. “Like scraping your knee grave?” He increased the distance between the digits and arched an eyebrow. “Or you know, like dead grave?”

“The last wearer, Princess Nivin, was traveling aboard a charter vessel with her royal guard when life support systems suddenly failed without explanation. The entire crew died within minutes. Her death is what sparked the Atrean invasion of Promena.”

“The Morphlings killed the crew?” Vane didn’t remember reading that bit of information in any of their history books.

“It was never proven,” the commander answered, staring intently at the shimmering image of the diamond. “The charter ship was in Promena airspace at the time, and while there was no concrete evidence of Morphling involvement, the Atreans needed someone to blame.”

Holding sway over the elements, the Atreans ruled their corner of the galaxy as beautiful, godlike creatures. Humanoid in appearance with ivory skin and shimmering dark blue hair, they were known across the universe as fair and majestic. Vane, however, had always thought the Atreans arrogant, greedy, and too eager for power.

Vane understood how war worked, and he also knew it didn’t need much of a flame to spread like wildfire. It didn’t surprise him that the Atreans had invaded Promena to avenge their princess. Still, the story seemed to lack a few significant details, like why it had been necessary in the first place.

“So, if the Jewel of Atrea is supposed to bring adoration to the wearer, why did it turn on its own people?”

“Because Princess Nivin wasn’t an Atrean,” Cato explained, pushing his glasses up his nose again. “Her marriage to Prince Tahl was arranged—a political joining between the Atreans and the Crimnians.”

Clearly uninterested in the history lesson, the commander cleared his throat, turning to face Cato with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “What other objects were taken?”

“The Helm of Darkness and the sword Excalibur, both confiscated from Earth.” Cato flicked his finger across the projection, bringing up two more images.

Vane scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Do they have anything in common?”

“Yes, sir, they’re all Legacy Relics.”

“Fuck,” Vane cursed.

Legacy Relics could only be wielded by the bloodlines for which they’d been created. It definitely explained why the jewel’s power had turned dark in the hands of Princess Nivin. Considering a royal had last possessed the jewel, Vane could only conclude the Legacy bloodline rested with the royal family.

“Where is the Atrean Legacy?”

“The original bloodline died out centuries ago.” Shaking his head, Cato produced a number of electronic beeps from the projection as he searched through the database. “Charlotte Rousseau,” he announced, spinning the screen for Vane to see.

An attractive female with long, raven hair and dazzling blue eyes smiled back at him. “A human?”

“A halfling, actually.” Slipping his hands into the center pocket of his green, robe-like top, Cade shrugged when both Vane and Commander Schiva stared at him. “She was the last Legacy of the bloodline, but she died, as Earthlings are wont to do, during the early part of Earth’s twenty-first century.”

Commander Schiva jabbed the center of the pod with his middle finger to close the projection. “Morphlings are going to travel back to twenty-first century Earth to kidnap this female?” He pinched the bridge of his nose while his left eye twitch at the corners. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

Retrieving the holopod from the desk, Cato held it behind his back with both hands and nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s what I’m telling you.”

An irrational sense of protectiveness for the stranger twisted in Vane’s stomach. There had to be dozens of other Legacies for them to target. Why they’d choose a seemingly unexceptional human made little sense to him.

“Why her?”

The kid smirked at him. “She’s the last of her bloodline and easily obtainable. During her time, Earthlings who believed in aliens were largely considered unstable.” His lips stretched wider into a bright, genuine smile. “Humans are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“The Morphling said something similar,” Vane muttered. He had a bad feeling he knew where this conversational road ended. Turning to his father, he steeled himself for the worst. “Orders, sir?”

The commander looked down at the carpeted floor for a long time before finally lifting his gaze to Vane. “Find the girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

He’d rather swim naked in the frozen lake that stretched between Pandora and the Taldor than spend any length of time on Earth. He’d created this mess when he’d allowed the Morphling to escape, and it seemed only fitting that he should be the one to make it right. With a nod, Vane turned to take his leave.

“Vane?”

Pausing near the doors, Vane looked over his shoulder, waiting for further instructions.

“I trust I don’t have to remind you of the rules.”

They had a lot of rules for time travel, an entire book of them to be exact, but it was all pretty simple. Get in, get out, and leave everything the way he’d found it. With any luck, he’d find the Morph and drag his ass back to Nekron before last call at the Blue Fog.

“Yes, sir.”

New Orleans, Halloween 2014

“Rawr!”

“Ah! Oh, my goodness, a real live vampire in the French Quarter!” Pressing her fingertips to her chest, Charli Rousseau feigned fright as the smallest patron of her confection shop giggled. “I don’t know. Do vampires eat caramel apples?”

“Yes.” The pint-sized monster nodded emphatically, causing her blonde ringlets to bounce around her face. “Vampires
love
caramel apples.”

“Well, in that case…” Charli retrieved the tray of gooey apples she’d dipped just hours before and bent to present them. “Happy Halloween, milady.”

The tiny vampire shifted her treat bag to her left hand and pushed her purple cape back from her shoulders. Giggling again, she selected one of the treats, her blue eyes bright with excitement as she lifted the apple by its wooden stem.

“Thank you, Miss Charli.”

“Thank you.” The child’s mother, one of Charli’s regular customers, flipped her matching blonde curls with an indulgent grin. “We’ll see you later.”

Mirroring her smile, Charli waved mother and daughter out of the shop. “Have fun.”

Moments after the pair disappeared into the crowded street, a familiar-looking gentleman with messy blond hair sauntered into the shop. Linking his fingers behind his back, he strolled past the display case, casting only a fleeting glance at the fudges and candies before stopping at the register.

“Back again?” Charli tucked a stray lock behind her ear and stopped just shy of batting her lashes as the handsome stranger. “This makes the third time today.”

A dimple appeared in his right cheek when he smiled. “So it does.” His tight, black turtleneck gripped every swell and valley of his muscled chest as he leaned toward her. “What can I say? The treats in your shop are…” Trailing off, he raked his gaze over Charli from head to waist while his thin lips quirked a bit higher on one side. “Delicious. Simply delicious.”

Charli’s cheeks flushed with heat, and she bit down on her bottom lip to muffle her wholly inappropriate giggle. “What can I get for you today?”

He regarded her for several seconds, his onyx gaze boring into her with an uncomfortable intensity. “Tell me, are you the Charlotte of Charlotte’s Confections?”

“That’s me.” The shop had actually been named after her grandmother, but the guy didn’t need a genealogy report. “Please, call me Charli. Everyone does. Well, except my dad. He always called me Chuck. Then he passed away last year, so I guess no one calls me Chuck now.” Her cheeks burned hotter when he stared unblinkingly at her. “And you didn’t need to know any of that,” she finished lamely.

“You’re…embarrassed?” He tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips together, seemingly perplexed by her reaction. Still, he didn’t wait for an answer before speaking again. “I would like to have dinner with you, Charli. If you’re available.”

The last part sounded tacked on, as if the idea that she might be uninterested had never crossed his mind.

“Um, right now?”

He nodded. “If you’d like.”

“Well, I have to close the shop, and I should probably change into something more appropriate.” Charli tugged at her stained, faded pink apron and frowned. “Maybe we could meet in an hour?”

“That would be acceptable.” He continued to stare, his mercurial eyes sharp and calculating, ensnaring her full attention. Then he took her hand and bent to brush a kiss over the knuckles. “Do you live nearby, Charli?”

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Charli tilted her head and frowned. “What?” She’d heard his words, knew what they meant, but she still couldn’t make sense of them.

“Where do you live?” he demanded, still holding her gaze.

“Upstairs,” Charli answered without hesitation. A hollow, crackling sound resonated deep inside her mind, a little like static on the radio. “I’ll meet you in front of the store in an hour.”

“Good.”

The stranger looked away then, and the static faded as he turned to leave. Shaking off the disorientation, Charli chewed her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. It occurred to her that she’d agreed to a date with a complete stranger, but she couldn’t remember many details of the conversation.

“Wait,” she called, stopping him before he could exit the shop. “I just realized I didn’t catch your name.”

He stopped with his fingers around the door handle, but didn’t turn to face her. “Don.”

“Is that short for something?”

“No.”

His sandy blond hair gleamed in the fluorescent lights overhead, and his pale, flawless skin created a striking contrast to his dark clothing. Even his obsidian eyes had appeared to shine and sparkle. Charli didn’t know what she’d expected, but an ordinary name like Don certainly didn’t seem to fit.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll meet you out front around seven?”

He turned then, but kept his fingers curled around brass door handle. “Seven o’clock. This is in one hour?”

“Well…”
Ignoring the strangeness of the question, Charli looked over her shoulder to the brightly lit, neon pink clock on the wall. “Yes, that’s right.”

Don followed her gaze, studying the tiny cupcake on the end of the ticking seconds hand with an arched brow. “I will be waiting.” Then he pushed the door open and marched out of the shop without another word.

Damn, it had been a long time since someone—especially someone as attractive as Don—had shown interest in her. Warning bells sounded in her subconscious, but she brushed them away. Don was a little eccentric, but otherwise harmless. Besides, she’d only agreed to dinner. If it didn’t work out, she could feign tiredness and leave early.

“Maybe he won’t show,” she reasoned to the empty room.

Or maybe he will.

Charli didn’t know which scenario scared her more.

* * * *

Family activities had ceased along Decatur Street, and only a faint note of jazz music still floated on the air from other parts of the Quarter. Despite the unseasonably cold breeze and light drizzle, Café Du Monde still bustled with a mingling of tourists and locals. Even a few stragglers strolled the sidewalk in front of Jackson Square, but Charli saw no sign of Don when she exited her building.

Tucking her black, faux-leather clutch under her left arm, she rubbed her hands together and looked one way down the street and then the other. She’d taken her cue from Don, dressing in her nicest pair of black slacks and a thin, gray sweater that did little to protect her from the chill. It did, however, accentuate her curves and highlight her best assets.

“Maybe I should get a jacket.” Even if her date didn’t arrive, a hot cup of chicory coffee sounded like a dream. “What if he shows up while I’m gone? Maybe I should wait.” The wind kicked up, causing her to shiver in her silver, ballet flats. “Okay, I’m getting a jacket.”

“Who are you speaking to?”

“Shit!” Slapping her hand over her mouth, Charli held very still while she waited for her pulse to find its rhythm again. “You scared me half to death,” she chided, “and I was talking to myself.”

Don tucked his hands into the pockets of his wool peacoat and smirked. “Do you do that often?”

“Yes.” Satisfied that she wasn’t in immediate danger of cardiac arrest, Charli took a deep breath and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. They’d be inside soon enough, and she wouldn’t need a coat in the restaurant. “Should we go?”

Don didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. Instead, he turned and strode away toward Jackson Square with a briskness that left Charli half-jogging to keep up with him.

Still not the worse date I’ve been on…yet.

“Don, where are we going?” She’d pegged him for a tourist the first time he’d walked into her shop, but she’d been willing to let him take the lead. Perhaps that had been a mistake. “I know of a place not far from here. It won’t be too crowded.”

“This way,” Don answered, though he didn’t slow his pace or look in her direction. “It’s close.”

Several silent and uncomfortable minutes later—as well as a couple of unannounced turns onto connecting streets—Don came to an abrupt stop in front of the St. Louis Cathedral. “We’re here.”

“Not to be a Debby Downer, but the cathedral is closed to visitors at this hour.”

Touching his wrist, she forced herself to smile while secretly wishing she had stayed home. The cold mist had thickened, the rain dripping from the ends of her loose hair and saturating her sweater. Water seeped inside her shoes, freezing her unprotected feet, and Charli couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so miserable.

Don snorted and mumbled something under his breath. Charli couldn’t make out the words, but she had no trouble identifying the air of disdain in his tone.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, looking here in the eyes.

The static crackled and popped in her mind, and Charli stilled her feet as she nodded.

Pushing past her, he marched up the steps to the entrance and pressed both palms flat against the enormous doors.

A small voice in the back of her mind told her to run, but as the static continued to fill her ears, she remained rooted at the bottom of the steps. Clasping her purse in both hands, she bit down on her bottom lip and shivered. The mist continued to fall, clinging to her skin and creating halos around the streetlamps. It might have been nice, even pretty, if not for the unseasonably cold temperatures.

As the electrical crackle in her ears began to fade, a quiver started in her belly. Her pulse accelerated, her heart climbing into her throat, and the small voice that had whispered for her to run began screaming in earnest. Before she could make her feet work, however, the cathedral doors creaked, the sound echoing loudly off the stone walls.

Charli slapped a hand over her mouth while her eyes widened with shock and bewilderment. The heavy, double doors of the cathedral glowed with a bright, golden light for several seconds, illuminating the front of the church. Then, right before her eyes, those same doors crumbled to the ground in pile of splinters.

Calmly, Don brushed the dust from his jacket, nodded, and stepped over the rubble. “Come.”

Backing away from the steps, Charli shook her head. “Not freakin’ likely.”

“It’s safe,” Don said with his back still to her. “Come.”

There had been no explosion. There had been no ax or battering ram. He’d simply demolished those doors by touching them. Even the hinges lay twisted and mangled within the fractured pieces of wood.

“Wha—who are you?” She’d almost asked
what
he was, but that, of course, would be ridiculous. “What do you want?”

With an audible sigh, Don angled his shoulders to look at her. “What I want is for you to shut up and come with me.”

Charli darted her gaze from left to right, searching for someone, anyone. Unfortunately, the rain and falling temperatures had forced most of the city’s inhabitants to seek shelter indoors. Across the street light glowed from the windows of the shops—warm, inviting light that promised a measure of safety.

“Don’t,” Don warned as though he’d guessed her intentions. “You’ll never make it, and I’d prefer if I didn’t have to hurt you.”

“I’d prefer the don’t-hurt-Charli route as well.” She backed away while mentally shifting through the contents of her purse. “I don’t really like pain, and I’m kind of a terrible patient.”

A package of gum, some lip balm, her wallet with a credit card and twelve dollars in cash—nothing inside her purse that could be used as a weapon. She had her cell phone, but in the time it would take to retrieve it, let alone dial for help, it would be too late.

“I broke my arm when I was nine,” she babbled, taking another step backwards toward the intersection. “The doctor had to sedate me just to put a cast on it.”

“Charli.”

“It was purple. The cast, I mean, not the doctor.”

Charli twisted to the left, casting a sideways glance toward the shops beyond the Square. Calculating her chances of making it before he caught up to her, she didn’t like the odds, but she was out of options. Tucking her arms against her sides, she spun on her toes, intending to make a run for it, but stopped abruptly when she found her way blocked by Don’s looming form.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Enough.” He didn’t speak loudly, but his voice resonated deep inside her bones, chilling parts of her the cold rain couldn’t penetrate.

Standing only inches away with the streetlamps at his back, Don towered above her like a giant shadow. The skin on his face and neck rippled—clearly a trick of the dim light—and she could practically feel the annoyance flowing off him.

“Stop talking and follow me,” he demanded, a low snarl distorting the last word.

“How did you do that? You were there.” She pointed to the cathedral doorway. “Now, you’re here.” Her heart pounded up into her throat again, and her hands shook as she stumbled away from him.

With a growl that sounded more animal than man, Don grabbed her elbow and jerked her against his broad chest. “Remember the part where I didn’t want to hurt you?”

Swallowing hard enough to make her throat burn, Charli pressed her lips together and nodded. No matter what she did now, this wouldn’t end well for her.