Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3) (6 page)

But I also see a touch of that same emotion in her eyes when she looks at her sister.

Prudence takes a deep breath. “I was trying to protect you as well, Deborah. Saul can’t be trusted. He’s—” She suddenly gets a deer-in-the-headlights look. Then she scoops up her medallion and blinks out.

There’s a moment of silence before Mom says, “I must be getting used to her abrupt exits. That’s not nearly as tough the fourth time around.”

“The key’s in your pocket, Mom. You’re under a CHRONOS field.”

“Hmph,” Kiernan says, his face surprised and a bit amused. “Don’t think Pru was counting on that.”

I give him a confused look.

“She made a mistake, right?” he continues. “Pru didn’t plan to let that bit about not trusting Saul slip out. So she’s going to go back and fix it.”

“Fix it how?” Mom asks.

“Tell herself not to say what she just said. That’s a guess on my part, but I’ve seen her do it often enough in the past that it’s a fairly educated guess.”

“Why would she think that would work?” Trey asks. “She knows Kate has a CHRONOS key.”

“Yeah, but it’s Kate’s
mum
she’s trying to convince. She’s not worried about Kate, or about us.” He turns and looks at Mom. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your sister is a few cards short of a full deck. No. Strike that. She’s an entire suit short of a full deck. To be frank, it’s like minding a toddler. Sometimes Pru’s all there, razor sharp. But she can’t hold focus. If something else catches her attention, she’s off like a hound after a rabbit. And she’s not one bit hesitant about changing things she finds inconvenient.”

“Then why haven’t you taken the damned key away from her?” Mom snaps. “If you’re her bodyguard, you should protect her. Even if it’s from herself.”

It’s a valid point, but Kiernan shakes his head. “She’d just use the spare.”

“Then we’ll take that one, too!” I counter. “There are four of us.”

“Yeah, well, unless one of you is a surgeon, it won’t make a damned bit of difference. The bloody thing is embedded in her arm.”

“
In
her arm?” Trey asks. “How?”

“An upgrade she got a while back. And those two guys you keep sneaking looks at, Kate? You’re right. They’re temple security—London branch. I think they’re a little confu . . . sed—”

Kiernan goes silent because Pru has returned to her seat. Except . . . one side of my brain insists she never left, that she’s been right there in her chair for the past minute. She never said Saul can’t be trusted. Instead, she gave us this line about how he can’t be troubled with handling all of the details, so she’s going to take Mom back to her place in Paris. Or maybe they’ll go to Greece. Or to Rome for a few weeks. Right now, she’s saying something about the Colosseum and how they’ll go back to when it wasn’t in ruins, maybe catch one of those gladiator shows.

Even though part of me swears she’s been sitting there, spouting this nonsense the entire time, I also remember sitting here at the table with Pru’s chair empty. Just me, Mom, Trey, and Kiernan. The dueling memories are unpleasant, kind of like there’s a mouse inside my head, near the front, chewing away at the synapses or something. It hurts—not a loud, roaring pain, but just that small, nibbling sensation.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes for a moment, rubbing my temples with my thumbs. As I look around the table, everyone else—everyone except Prudence, that is—seems to be dealing with the same dual memory. Mom looks like the tiny roast beef sandwich she ate a minute ago is going to make a hasty exit. Trey just stares down at the napkin in his lap, his face pale.

Kiernan looks a bit rattled, too, but he catches my eye and gives me a see-what-I-mean look.

I turn toward Pru, even though every word I say is aimed at Mom. “I’m sorry, Aunt Prudence, but I need Mom to come home. Back to DC. My grandfather is ill, and I don’t know how long Dad will need to be in Delaware. Katherine’s dying. I need one of my parents—”

“Oh, boohoo. Cut the I-need-my-mommy crap, Kate.” Prudence pauses to drain the rest of her champagne and pours herself some more. “You’ve been perfectly happy keeping Deborah in the dark until now. If you’re old enough to butt into everyone else’s business, you’re old enough to be on your own, sweetie.”

Prudence’s eyes are clear and sharp now, blue-gray daggers aiming straight at me. The venom in her voice reminds me of the chat we shared at the Expo. She gives me a saccharine little smile before continuing. “You didn’t want your mom in the way, interrupting your little trysts at the townhouse, or wondering what trouble you’re getting into with Grandma. Otherwise you’d have warned Deborah about the research trip from the beginning.”

My hands grip the edge of my chair, and I lean toward Pru, my voice angry. “If I’d known
you
were behind the trip—”

Prudence cuts me off with a loud laugh. “You didn’t
guess
? And here I was worrying I was being much too ob . . . vi . . . ous . . .” She’s staring at the top tier of the tea tray now, eyes fixed on a small layered cake with red jam on top.

Her face transforms to childlike joy as she picks up the dessert and sniffs it. “I think it’s raspberry. I
love
raspberry!”

Pru sinks her teeth into the little cake and gives a sigh of pleasure. “
Definitely
raspberry! Here, Deb, take the other one. You’ll love it.”

Mom’s hand slides down to cover my own, which is still clutching the edge of my chair. She leaves it there for a few seconds as she tells her sister that the cake does indeed look delicious. One last squeeze, then she reaches over to take the pastry from Prudence.

It was a tiny gesture. I don’t think either Kiernan or Trey noticed, even though they’re both looking at me oddly now. They probably think the tears in my eyes are from something Prudence said, or because I’m worried Mom is angry. No, they’re tears of relief. I don’t believe for a second we’re done talking about all of this, and I’m pretty sure some of that talking will be of the yelling-at-me variety, but that one little squeeze telegraphed a message that couldn’t have been clearer if she’d said the words out loud.

We’re in this together.

Prudence keeps her friendly face on for the next twenty minutes or so, happily sampling the various items on the tray and downing several more glasses of champagne. Kiernan pushes a little blue pill toward her when she starts on the fourth glass, but she just laughs and sweeps the pill to the floor.

Is she on an antipsychotic of some sort? She needs to be.

Pru keeps adding things to Mom’s plate. She doesn’t seem to notice whether the rest of us are eating. We aren’t, for the most part. Even though it’s all delicious, I think everyone is too on edge to be hungry.

The waiters, who are almost overattentive to the surrounding tables, give our group a wide berth. Did one of them see Prudence pop out earlier? Or maybe they’ve just noticed that everyone else at the table is acting like Pru is a bomb about to go off?

I feel like I’m the one who’s going to explode, however. It’s hard to sit here sipping tea when there are other things I need to be doing. I don’t have time for Prudence’s version of the Mad Tea Party.

My anxiety must show on my face, because when I look up again, Prudence is watching me. Her mind has apparently returned, at least for the moment.

“What’s up, little niece of mine? You’re mighty twitchy. Somewhere you need to be?” She glances around the table, a sour look on her face. “None of you seem to be in a very festive mood. I sprang for the unlimited bubbles, and that’s still your first glass, Deb. This is
supposed
to be a party.”

Mom tips back the rest of her champagne, but doesn’t reach for the bottle to refill it. “It’s all delicious, Pru. I’m just a bit tired. Travel always wears me out. Maybe we should go back to the room—”

“So that you can pack up your things and head back home with your darling daughter.” It’s a statement, not a question, and Pru gives Mom a bitter smile as she reaches for her CHRONOS key.

“So that I can get some
rest
, Pru. I still want to see a few things in London before we head off to Greece, or Rome, or wherever it is you’ve decided to go next. I’m coming with you, as long as you agree to stick to the present time so that I can actually follow.”

“Mom! No!” I turn toward her, stunned. “Please. We need to talk about this.”

Mom’s eyes stay on Prudence, but her hand reaches under the table to squeeze my knee.

My first instinct is to brush her hand away and start arguing, until she digs her fingers in a bit harder and I freeze. Old habits die hard. I remember the knee squeeze from the time I was a little kid squirming next to Mom at a fancy restaurant. At a colleague’s funeral when she couldn’t get a sitter. In the car, in Iowa, when she was trying to talk the cop out of a speeding ticket.

I know this signal. It means sit still and stay quiet.

And I remember Mom’s hand on mine earlier. She has a plan. I’m not sure I’m going to like it or agree with it, but she’s up to something.

“I think you’re right, Prudence. Kate’s old enough to handle things on her own. I’d just be in the way at home. And,” she continues in a drier tone, “since I apparently don’t have an actual
job
to return to . . . well, a vacation would be nice. A sister trip.”

Mom turns back to me, smiling regretfully. “I’m sorry the two of you traveled all this way if your goal was to bring me back. You need to get back to school, young lady. I didn’t authorize this rescue mission, and I’m very happy here with Prudence—we have several decades of catching up to do. And as I told you on the phone, we’ll be back in the States in a few weeks. Pru says she has business in DC and down in Florida.”

“Is that a good idea?” Kiernan asks, his voice surprised.

Prudence turns on him, eyes flashing. “You’re not here to question my decisions, Kiernan. I’m a far better judge of what’s a good idea than you are. Maybe you should run along home.”

Kiernan shrugs, but the look he gives her answers my earlier question. If he’s moved on, it’s not with Pru.

“Fine with me.” He pushes his chair back, nodding first at Mom and then at Trey. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” He taps one finger very distinctly against the pocket of his jeans, where the light of his CHRONOS key shines through the denim. “Kate, you take care, okay?”

Prudence watches him walk off, then says, “I’m going to run check on a few things back home. Let’s do the Eye at nine, okay? With more bubbles.”

“That sounds like fun,” Mom says. “I’ll wait for you upstairs.”

Pru has the medallion in her hand and is clearly about to jump away when her expression shifts again and she looks confused. “Where . . . was I going somewhere, Deb? I can’t remember.”

“You said you needed to go home and check on some things, but . . .” Mom glances around at the other people in the restaurant. “Let’s go back to the room first, okay?”

“Oh, no, no, no. I remember now. Tickets for the Eye. Should I reserve seats for Trey and Kate? Oh, and maybe one for Kiernan. You haven’t met him yet, have you?” Pru looks at the seat next to her, like she’s trying to remember something. “Or . . . have you?”

“Yes, but only briefly. And don’t bother with tickets for Kate and Trey. They’re not staying.”

∞5∞

C
OUNTY
H
ALL
, L
ONDON

September 10, 5:24 p.m.

Once we’re back in Mom’s room, she spends the first several minutes chewing me out for not telling her everything from the beginning. At first she seems reluctant to really let me have it in front of Trey, but that fades quickly. When she has completely and rather embarrassingly vented, she demands the full story. Then she cross-examines me, and I have to tell it again. I feel like I’m back in Georgia, being grilled by Deputy Beebe.

The clouds above the river are streaks of pink and purple by the time the interrogation is over. I don’t know if Mom ran out of things to ask or is just exhausted, like me. Even Trey looks tired, and he’s been on the periphery of the storm.

Mom leans back against the headboard of the bed nearest to the wall and closes her eyes. I’m lying across the other bed, facing her. Trey sits next to me, holding the soda we’ve been sharing.

After a few minutes of silence, I say, “You can’t stay here, Mom. Prudence is dangerous. I know you’re worried about her. I understand. Katherine’s worried about her as well. So’s Kiernan.”

“And you?” Mom asks.

I start to say that I’m worried about her, too. It seems like the polite thing to say, but I don’t want to lie. I’ve done so much of that lately, and Mom’s bullshit detector is probably on full alert right now.

“I never knew her when she was different, Mom. Prudence has caused a lot of trouble for me. I don’t wish her ill—” I stop, thinking back to a few nights ago when I learned she’d been in Trey’s house, and amend the statement. “Well, most of the time I don’t wish her ill. But I
am
worried that she’s part of a plan that could kill many, many millions of people. And on a personal level, I’m worried she’ll hurt the people I love. Including you, Mom. I can’t just leave you here.”

“She won’t hurt me.” Mom’s voice is flat and she sounds tired, but there’s no hint of doubt.

“You can’t know that for certain.”

“Yes. I can. She won’t hurt me. And I might be able to help her.” She leans forward and hugs her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top so that her eyes are at my level. “More importantly, Kate, I might be able to help
you
. From what you’ve said, there’s nothing I can do back in DC. I’ll worry every time you’re taking a risk of any sort. If I have to sit there and watch and do nothing, I’ll end up crazier than Prudence. If I’m with her, I can keep tabs on her. I can let you know where we are. Well, except for when she jumps away, but even then I may be able to get her to talk about where—when?—she’s going.”

“Not if she knows you’re in contact with me.”

“Kate, she told me the same thing three times yesterday, in the same exact words. Within a ten-minute period. I think I can handle her.”

“Maybe. But can you handle her security detail?”

“What security detail?” Trey asks.

“The goons in the suits,” Mom says. “The ones who got out of the elevator with us earlier. There were two different guys when we were in Florence, and I’m pretty sure two others were following me in Genoa a few days before she contacted me. Cyrist security of some sort. They all have that blue flower on the back of their hands. And here’s the odd part—I don’t think Pru even realizes they’re following her. Or maybe they’ve followed her for so long that she doesn’t see them.”

I guess I look a bit surprised, because Mom laughs. “I’m not totally blind, Kate. I don’t think those guys are professionals. They’re kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

I make a mental note to ask Kiernan exactly who “those guys” really work for, assuming he even knows. Saying they’re local Cyrist security doesn’t tell me where their loyalties lie. Are they here to protect Prudence or to watch her? Did she hire them? Or do they belong to Saul? Or Julia?

“Speaking of security guys,” Mom says, “I’m not sure I trust this Kiernan. He seems much too old to have been . . . involved . . . with any version of you in any timeline.”

“I agree,” Trey chimes in, and I nudge him gently with my elbow.

Mom gives Trey a little smile, the first one I’ve seen on her face since we came back to her room. “How old is he, anyway?”

“When I saw him last night in Georgia, he was twenty. Maybe close to twenty-one.”

“So if it’s been six years for him, that makes him twenty-seven,” Trey says. “Practically ancient.”

Mom laughs. “Normally I’d take offense at that, but in this case, I have to agree. I don’t like the way he looks at you, Kate.”

If she’s bothered by the way he looked at me today, I’m really glad she didn’t see Kiernan with me before. “You don’t have to worry. He’s seeing
his
Kate, Mom. Not me.”

“You’re sure he knows the difference?” she asks.

“Yes. He knows.”

I’m not sure I’d have answered with quite as much certainty last night. Given that Trey is sitting here beside me I’d probably still have said yes, even though I’m not sure it would have been the entire truth.

But now?

“What was he doing to your key?” Trey asks. “Outside the elevator?”

“Setting a local stable point. He must have information he couldn’t give me here.”

“And you’re sure you can trust him?” Mom asks. “That he wouldn’t . . . I don’t know . . . sell you out?”

I debate telling the two of them about Julia’s suspicions, but it seems disloyal to do that when I don’t believe them myself. Trey and Mom are worried enough about Kiernan as it is.

“He saved my life at the Expo, Mom. He’s put his life on the line for me and this cause over and over. You’re sure Prudence won’t hurt you. I’m equally sure about Kiernan.” And on this point, at least, I don’t have to fake it. Kiernan won’t hurt me. He can’t have changed that much.

“She’s right,” Trey says, grudgingly. “He won’t hurt her. He’s in love with her. I can see it in his eyes.”

Again, I can’t help thinking it’s a very good thing that the two of them saw this Kiernan instead of when he was six years younger.

“Which,” Trey goes on, “I kind of hate, but on the bright side, I know he’ll have her back. I think she’s right, Ms. Pierce. We can trust him.”

“Deborah,” Mom says absently. She’s quiet for a moment and then bangs her fists into the pillow next to her, giving a little scream of frustration. “I don’t want you using that damned key! I want you back home and in school and
safe.
I’m fighting a very strong urge to fly back home and ground you until you’re eighty.”

She takes a few deep breaths and then gives me a shaky smile. “And that’s why I have to stay here. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t tell me all of this sooner, and while I’m still not cool with being kept in the dark, I get why you . . . and your dad,” she adds darkly, “decided it was best to put this off.”

“Dad begged me to tell you before you left for Italy,” I say, keeping the promise I made to him weeks ago. “Really, he did.”

“R-i-i-ght.” Mom smiles and tosses the pillow in my direction. I duck out of the way just before it hits me. “A valiant attempt at keeping your father’s chops out of the fire, but I’m not buying it.”

It’s almost nine when Trey and I leave Mom’s hotel. The Thames looks like a black velvet canvas scattered with carnival lights reflecting from the Eye and the buildings along the boardwalk. It’s beautiful, magical even. It would be the perfect setting for a long, romantic stroll along the river if not for the damp, chilly wind whipping around County Hall.

I shiver, pulling down the burgundy scarf still hanging around my neck so that it covers more of my shoulders. The whisper-thin fabric is almost as useless for blocking the wind as it was for disguise. I wish I’d worn something warmer than this lightweight blouse.

We take a right turn, walking past a park that’s nearly as brightly lit as the Eye. Trey pulls me toward him, rubbing his hand along my arm as we walk. “Better?”

“Yes. Prudence’s sweater doesn’t seem quite so out of season now.”

“Do you think she really has a CHRONOS key
inside
her arm?”

“They can alter people so they can time travel. Embedding the medallion would be easy compared to that, so I don’t see any reason not to take Kiernan’s word on it.”

That thought, of course, brings to mind Julia’s comments last night. I just hope I’m right about Kiernan’s trustworthiness on a more general level.

I don’t want to think about any of that right now, however, so I switch subjects. “When are you flying back?”

“My ticket is for day after tomorrow, but I’ll see if they can get me out earlier.”

“I hate you came all this way only to have me fail miserably.”

“How exactly did you fail? You came to let your mom know what’s going on, and now she knows.”

“No. She was supposed to come back with me—well, technically, with you—and she’s staying.”

“But her decision to stay is based on full information now, something she didn’t have before. And she’s wearing a key. I saw the way she reacted at first, so the fact that you have her under a CHRONOS field is a major victory.”

I shrug, but I guess he’s right. Mom promised to wear the key at all times and keep it hidden from Pru. We worked out a plan for communicating through her university email, and Trey reinitiated the geo-location app on her phone, allowing me to track her if I need to get to her quickly. Assuming, of course, that they stay near cities historically significant enough to have a stable point.

I still feel bad about Trey having come all this way. “You should stay tomorrow. See a few of the sights.”

“Not unless you’re staying, too.”

“I can’t, Trey. I mean, I
could
, but I’ll be lousy company. I need to go back and get the screaming out of the way.” He gives me a quizzical look. “Julia. If she has people watching Mom, I’m pretty sure she’ll know I’ve been here.”

“Then I leave on the earliest flight back. I’m no use to you here.”

We cross the street behind County Hall, and I spot the green-and-white angel of mercy icon a few shops down. Trey steers us inside the Starbucks without even pausing to ask. If I needed another reason to love him, I just found it.

There are only a few customers, probably because 9 p.m. is a bit late to be hitting the heavy stuff. We grab two large coffees to go. Trey is doctoring his with milk and sugar, and I’m teasing him about his hipster look fitting in nicely here, when I notice two familiar profiles outside. One tall, one short, both built like bulldogs. Even without seeing their faces, I know they’re the guys Kiernan and Mom tagged as Cyrist security.

The shorter one comes in the front door, while the taller guy heads around the building to the side door.

“Let’s go!” I tug on Trey’s arm, abandoning my coffee on the counter.

The only reason we make it to the side door first is that the tall guy is blocked by a couple pushing a stroller toward the paved square between this building and the next. I kick the rim of the door hard, catching him by surprise when it crashes into his shoulder, and Trey and I take off across the square.

There’s no cover, no alley to duck into, so either we outrun them or we fight. Of course, if they decide to use guns, we’re doomed either way. I’m not pulling out a pistol with a family in the middle of the square.

Short Guy yells something and runs after us. His buddy follows a few yards behind. Trey gallantly rescued my coffee and is running with both hands full. The little green stoppers aren’t quite up to this degree of sloshing, and coffee spews out in two thin streams behind him as we run.

The short one is closer now, and I can hear what he’s yelling. “Sister! Stop! We’re with the temple!”

No kidding. That’s why we’re running.

Wait.
Sister?
He thinks I’m Prudence.

I stop. Trey pauses a few steps later, throwing me a puzzled look, just as Short Guy reaches me. I tense up, ready to fight if necessary, but the guy bends over, hands on his knees, huffing to catch his breath.

“Sorry, Sister. Didn’t mean to frighten you. We’re with the Lambeth temple, assigned to keep an eye out. Make sure nobody bothers you here in London. They said you wouldn’t be leavin’ the hotel tonight—except for goin’ up on the Eye with a guest. Tomorrow was the day they said we’d need to be on our toes, ’cause you’ll be shoppin’ and hangin’ about town.”

I’d love to find out which group assigned these guys to watch Prudence, but I can’t think how to get that information without raising suspicion. They may not even know themselves.

Tall Guy says, “We got confused with the older woman blinking in and out. We even thought she was you until Eddie here got a closer look.”

Eddie, a.k.a. Short Guy, nods. “I seen your face in the temple windows every Sunday since I was a lad. We both have.” He glances over at Trey, his eyes wary. “Then we saw you leave, and I told Sean we should follow and make sure everythin’ was okay. That he wasn’t botherin’ you or nothin’.”

The wheels in my head start spinning. Which lie will make it less likely they’ll report back to whoever assigned them?

“Um . . . you’ve actually followed the wrong person,” Trey says. “Although we’re kind of here for the same reason you are. Kelly looks so much like the images of Sister Pru in our chapel that someone suggested she might be a good body double—you know, for security.”