by W. J. May
He was about to ask why, but then he abruptly realized it was no longer an appropriate question. Gabriel was one of the good guys now. He no longer needed a reason to do good things.
He asked a different question instead.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Gabriel stared at him a moment, then glanced away with a shrug.
“Why would you need to know?”
It was quiet for a few seconds.
“...to thank you.”
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, then both turned away at the same time.
“Good thing you didn’t officially tell me.”
“Yeah, good thing.”
GABRIEL ENDED UP STAYING for most of the afternoon. They ordered in lunch, turned on the television, took turns yelling at the referee of a random football match.
It wasn’t until he was heading for the door that they broached the conversation again.
“James loves you,” he said abruptly, glancing over his shoulder. “You know that, right?”
Devon froze a few steps behind, caught off-guard.
“He’d better,” he joked. “I don’t let just anyone throw up on me twice in one day.”
“Not this one,” Gabriel gestured to the baby. “He’s probably on the fence. I mean the James we met from the future. He adored you, Devon. You were his hero. He was willing to travel through time and change the course of history, just to keep you alive.”
Devon stood there uncertainly, trying to find the point.
“So—”
“So...it works.” Gabriel threw out his arms, gesturing to the house. “All of this—the job, the kids...you find a way to pull it off. Living proof came back from the future just to show you.”
Devon’s lips parted, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything to say. Somehow, despite all his weeks and months of uncertainty...this simple point had never occurred to him.
His throat clenched up, but he managed a little smile.
“And in the meantime?”
Gabriel closed his eyes and lifted a hand, stilling a moment in deep concentration. Then a tiny diamond earring flew into his fingers. He twirled it once, then tossed it over.
“You’ve got people for that.”
Chapter 13
Devon didn’t stay in London that night. The second Aria came home from daycare, he packed the kids into the car and headed out to the country.
He just had one stop to make first.
“Yeah—I’m coming, I’m coming...” There was a sound of light footsteps shuffling down the stairs. “Take it easy with the—”
Mason pulled open the door, then froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Afternoon, Mason!’
The man stared incredulously before lowering his gaze to the children waving cheerfully on the front porch. A painful moment passed, then he reluctantly waved back.
“You brought your kids?” he hissed, stepping awkwardly aside as Aria raced past him into the house. “What—are you just going to move in here until I say yes?!”
“No one’s moving in, and I’m not here to pressure you,” Devon reassured him, holding the baby on his hip. “I just wanted to give you something, then we’ll be on our way.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, as if the children might be carrying some toxin and he’d wake up chained to the Oratory doors. Then the baby started fussing and he pushed open the door with a sigh—settling with Devon at the kitchen table while the children played in the backyard.
“Sorry for just dropping by. We’re on our way to my parents in Esher.” Devon reached into his jacket pocket. “But I found this—”
“Look, before you even start, I have something to say.” Mason folded his arms over his chest, staring hard across the table. “Everything you said before—this is my community, these are my people, they’ll have my back—that’s never how it was for me, Devon.”
He glanced towards the yard, lowering his voice.
“I grew up in kid-heaven; my parents had super-powers, and one day I’d have them, too! It was the bloomin’ dream. Then guess what—they die on some random mission. I’m sent to live with my eighty-year-old grandfather—who was a walk in the park, by the way—only to head off to school, before, guess what again—he dies, too.”
He leaned back in his chair, eyes shining with emotion.
“And ever since then, all I’ve ever heard is “Mason—think about your ink”. “Mason—don’t waste all that potential”. “Mason—Australia doesn’t have any girls”. Because of this bloody ink that ruined my entire freakin’ family, I’m supposed to join up with the very same agency and act like it was all worth it and everything’s fine.”
He stared at moment longer, then looked away with a sigh.
“I understand...I understand what the PC’s about. I’m not saying you guys are bad people, it’s just...this is your life, Devon. I don’t want it to be mine.”
A hard silence fell over the table, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. After almost a full minute, Devon pushed his chair back with a single nod.
“Okay.”
There was a beat.
“What does that mean?”
“It means okay.”
Mason eyed him warily. “Okay, like...you’re going to try again tomorrow? Or okay, like...I’m going to find a horse head in my bedroom tonight?”
“I get it,” Devon said simply. “I get why you’d feel that way. That’s perfectly justified, and you don’t need me showing up here. I’ll stop harassing you about the PC.”
Mason froze like a mouse before a snake. “...I’m waiting for the poison dart.”
Devon laughed quietly, raking back his hair. “No kidnapping, no sales pitch, no poison dart—I swear. You’ve humbled me, I’m moving on to my next target.”
Mason watched him carefully. “Then...why are you here?”
There was a flutter of paper as a manila folder slid across the table.
“I found this in the archives,” Devon answered softly. “Thought you might want to see it.”
Mason paused a moment, then flipped open the top page. A physical jolt ripped through him, making the chair shake as his eyes shot back across the table.
“...this is my parents’ file.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why the hell would you show me this?”
Devon pulled in a breath, leaning forward in his chair. “Because you’re right, Mason. In a lot of ways, the PC ruined your life. I figured before you walk away forever...the least I could do is tell you what happened. You deserve an explanation.”
The file lay between them, but Mason didn’t dare touch it.
“I’d want to know,” Devon continued softly, glancing down at the papers. “I’d want to know my father saved a bus full of people. I’d want to know my mother died trying to save his life.”
The clock ticked louder than ever, counting down the seconds of a seemingly unending span of time. Mason’s fingers were trembling, but he stayed frozen in his chair. Then all at once he pulled the papers towards him—yanking off the front cover and devouring the first page.
Halfway down, he stopped.
“He drowned,” he said flatly, staring at the words. “A city bus lost control while crossing a bridge. My dad kept it from falling over the side, but he...he drowned in the process.”
Devon nodded slowly, having read the file many times himself. “That’s when your mom dove in after him.”
Mason’s eyes streamed over with tears, but he kept reading—committing every word to memory as the children screamed and played in the backyard.
When he finally lifted his gaze, there was nothing left.
“Were you there?” he asked hoarsely. “Did you see it happen?”
Devon shook his head.
“It was before my time. But I heard about it,” he added. “Everyone hears about it. It’s one of the stories they tell to new recruits. Your mom and dad w
ere heroes.”
Mason’s breathing hitched as he glanced back at the file.
“Dead heroes.”
“Yeah, dead heroes,” Devon echoed softly, thinking of many others he knew as well. “But thanks to them, thirty-seven people got to keep on living.”
Their eyes met across the table.
“There’s a reason we do this, Mason. All the training, the logistics, the pressure about your ink...maybe I didn’t talk about that part enough.”
He got up from the table, leaving the kitchen with a parting smile.
“Send me a postcard.”
THE SUN WAS JUST STARTING to dip lower in the sky by the time Devon pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. No matter how long he’d been away, the image never changed. There were the same wildflowers, the same sweeping lawns, the same towering shade trees he’d climbed as a boy.
And there was his mother, running to the front porch with a smile on her face.
“Grandma!”
Aria started shrieking the moment they locked eyes, straining against the confines of her seatbelt as Devon struggled to find the button. The baby wasn’t easier—he started writhing with excitement the moment the car door swung open. He’d only just gotten them free when his mother met them across the grass—all sparkling eyes and beaming smiles in the late afternoon light.
“Mom...please, do something.”
She took them both from his arms with a laugh, pressing kisses to rounded cheeks before stretching up on her toes to do the same to him. He never understood how women did that. Slender little arms, but that didn’t matter when there were children involved. If he needed it, he was sure she’d somehow defy the physics and manage to carry him as well.
“What a wonderful surprise!” she exclaimed with a grin. “I never would have guessed!”
There was a chance she’d gotten her son’s increasingly desperate text messages.
Can I come over tonight?
I made a mistake with the kids.
Translation: I shouldn’t have had so many kids.
Are you getting these?
Hope you are, because we’re seven minutes away.
“It was my idea,” Aria said importantly. “I had to drag the others along.”
Pathological liar.
“Is that right?” Mary asked with false surprise. “In that case, you can help me finish making the pie for dinner.” She raised her voice. “Tris—they’re here! Come help with the bags!”
A handsome man was already descending the porch steps, lifting his hand in a wave as his wife carried the children into the house. He kissed them both as they passed, then went to join his son by the car—helping to heave the car seat out of the back.
“It doesn’t matter if you have ink or not,” Devon panted, yanking it free. “These things are impossible to move.”
Tristan chuckled, easing it from his hands. “It helps if you don’t try to cram them into a sports car.” He preemptively surrendered at the sarcastic look that was soon to follow. “I know, I know...I’m not one to talk.”
Devon laughed as he swung the rest of the bags over his shoulder—heading towards the house, only to slow his pace when his father took hold of his arm.
“I’m actually glad you decided to head over tonight,” he began tentatively. “Your mother and I have something we’ve been wanting to tell you.”
Devon stopped in his tracks, trying not to look alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” His father clapped him on the shoulder, moving them both towards the house. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get changed for dinner. I’ll set up the kids’ room.”
‘DINNER’ TURNED OUT to be a five-course feast that Mary had started preparing the moment she got that first text. They ate until they couldn’t fit another bite, then settled in for a prolonged and tender story-time with the children before eventually heading for bed.
Whatever his parents had been wanting to discuss had never been mentioned.
But it certainly hadn’t left Devon’s mind.
He lay on his childhood bed, flipping his phone absentmindedly and staring at the darkened ceiling. Every few inches, a jagged streak of moonlight cut through the shadows—filtered through the leaves on the trees. If he looked hard enough, he was sure it formed some kind of pattern. But his eyelids were heavy and his mind was ready for sleep—
Ring.
He looked down in shock as a name flashed across the screen.
“...Rae?” He suddenly felt like his chest was going burst. How could he love this woman so much? “Rae!”
“Hey, love!”
It might have been peaceful and quiet in Esher, but his wife was clearly in a different part of the world. There was a clink of glasses and some high-pitched feedback, as if a band of musicians was just taking the stage to play.
“Can you hear me?” she called through the phone.
He rolled onto an elbow.
“Yeah, I can hear you.” He smiled without thinking, holding it close. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve been trying to reach you, and then Molly—”
“Yeah, I tried calling a few times, but it said the line had been disconnected,” she shouted, sounding as if she was having a harder time hearing him. “Then Molly said something about Arie burying your cell phone in rice?”
He laughed quietly, tracing at the comforter.
“She’s still in that scientist-phase we keep hoping will pass.”
A door slammed somewhere in Austria, and it was suddenly much quieter.
“Sorry about that,” Rae panted, walking out into the cold. “I’ve been cooped up with a PC surveillance team and they finally convinced me to come to the local bar with them and get drinks.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“...the team is Cooper and Hellis.”
Devon rolled onto his back with a smile. “I take it back. Run away as fast as possible.”
She grinned as well, bouncing from foot to foot. “So how are things going over there? Are the kids tucked in for the night?”
“Yeah, we’re actually spending the night in Esher.” He paused a moment, wondering whether to say the rest. “Rae...I think my parents are getting divorced.”
“What?” she exclaimed in surprise. “But they’ve been doing so much better lately.”
He shrugged dismissively, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. “I thought they were, but now my dad said they had something important to tell me...” He trailed off, then shut his eyes. “It’s fine. I don’t even know why I mentioned it.”
“Dev...it’s not fine.”
“I’m twenty-seven years old,” he said grimly. “People get divorced. Your parents certainly would have.”
She considered, then shook her head. “No, mine came up with solutions much more permanent than that.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “That’s true—I guess it could be worse. One of them could be a serial killer. One of them could get brainwashed after trying to set the other one on fire...”
“Are you and Jules fighting?”
“What? No,” he said in surprise. “Why would you ask that?”
She hesitated., biting her lip. “Because when you get stressed you redirect onto the nearest target, and the two of you tend to lean into each other like that.”
“That’s absolutely ridiculous.”
“Molly also told me that you made him hitchhike.”
There was a beat.
“...you’ll never understand our love.”
“Devon,” she said seriously, “that’s absolutely true.” There was movement behind her, along with a distant shout. “Hey love, I’ve gotta run. There’s been some movement at the site. But hey...”
She cupped a hand around the receiver, speaking directly into the phone.
“Don’t worry about your parents. And don’t give yourself a hard time. Everything’s going to work out just fine, all right? I don’t want you beating yourself up over it.”
/> His lips twitched in a smile.
“How do you know I’m beating myself up?”
She let out a burst of laughter.
“Honey, I bet you’re lying in that tiny bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the things you could have done better and trying to digest your mom’s terrible pie.”
He glanced at the phone. “We need to stop spending so much time together.”
She snorted under her breath. “I love you, Devon.”
“I love you, too. Stay safe for me.”
“Always.”
The line clicked off before he could say goodbye, leaving an echoing silence in its wake.
He lay there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling just like she’d said. Then, without a hint of warning, he sprang from the bed and leapt straight out the window.
ALL RIGHT—YOU CAN DO this.
Devon crouched low to the ground, the tips of his fingers pressed lightly into the grass as his eyes zeroed in on a tree at the far edge of the property. It might not have been a PC training course, but it carried just as much weight. He and his father used to race to that tree.
And he was going to break that record tonight.
And...GO!
In the blink of an eye, he was gone—tearing across the property like his life depended on it. Moving so fast, there were times his feet almost seemed to leave the ground. The night shadows swelled to embrace him, and a cool breeze whipped around his hair. He was one with the earth now, sucking in gulps of air, propelling himself ever faster, until suddenly—
Time!
He gasped for breath, staring down at his watch.
Eight seconds.
“Damnit!”
A round of slow applause started behind him, and he turned with a start to see his father walking towards him across the grass. Most parents would have been alarmed to see their child leap freely from a second-story window, but Tristan had headed outside with a coat and a smile.
He offered each to Devon, holding open the sleeves.
“Not fast enough, by my count.”
Devon shivered as he slid into the coat. Still a little too big for him, but his father had always had slightly broader shoulders than he did himself. “I’d say check again...but it’s too depressing.”
