A sharp rap rattled the closed door. Taylor barely heard it.
“That’ll be the police.” Rafael went to the door.
More Time Kissed Moments
[6]
Canmore, in the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada. A few minutes later.
Taylor gripped the front of Veris’ shirt, her heart stirring from its usual silence, as the memories played out.
Veris breathed hard. “Whitewitch Falls is not the way I remember it. It has changed.”
“My memories, too,” Taylor breathed. “God, it’s all jumbled. I’ve never had my memories corrected like this before.”
“Breathe, and review from the beginning,” Veris said, his tone remote. His gaze focused inward. He was following his own advice.
They stood together, their breathing shallow and fast, as they reviewed their memories of the jump back to Whitewitch Falls.
“Rafael,” Veris said.
“Sydney and Rafael never spoke about this,” Taylor added. “Alex was in on it, too.”
“They may not have jumped back there yet,” Veris said. “He said he was from our future.”
“We jumped back to Whitewitch over a year ago! They could have completed the loop any time afterward.”
“Or they might still not know about it. We can’t say anything, Taylor.”
“We have to. Don’t you see?” She tugged at his shirt front. “If they haven’t jumped there yet, then we know we’ll find Rafe now and bring him back safely. Sydney and Alex deserve to know, at least.”
Veris looked as though he was debating in his own mind. His shoulders were stiff. Then he sighed and relaxed. “Very well, but cautiously, Taylor. Ease into it and back off the moment you sense they don’t know what you’re talking about. No details.”
Taylor put her hands together and bowed. “Yes, sensei.” Then she caught her breath again. “Jesse! I still remember Jesse—she was here last week…so it worked, didn’t it?”
Veris nodded. His expression was grim. “Aran will hate us for it.”
Taylor blinked. “Why on earth would he?” She frowned. “What has Aran to do with Jesse’s past?”
“Nothing.” Veris pushed her toward the door. “Go break the good news to Sydney.”
How to Survive Time Travel
[iii]
From How to Survive Time Travel—A Practical Handbook, by Veris Gerhardsson, PhD, M.D.
WHAT TO PACK IN YOUR GO BAG
Nothing, numbnut.
Yeah, this is a trick question. Fact is, you’ll most often find yourself back in the past via a lateral jump. You get whatever is in your pockets when you open your eyes…if you even have pockets.
If you have the luxury of a compound jump via the timescape, then most often, the jump will be unplanned and urgent. You get to grab whatever is within reach before you go and most of what you grab will be useless…or even dangerous. More than one heretic was burned at the stake for possessing a device which captures souls and keeps them locked inside for the witch to peer at them.
Planned, thoughtful jumps back into time are rarer than flamingo tears. If you ever reach that exalted ideal, there’s a good chance what you plan to pack and take with you will be just as useless as the cellphone you accidentally took with you last time.
I keep repeating myself on this point. I will repeat it one more time because you looked up the question in the FAQ section and here you are, wondering what you should pack. So, here’s the repeat. Ready?
Time travel is wildly unpredictable. Assume you know nothing about where you’re going, even if you have a PhD in that exact era (and the exact decade would be even better). Question everything. Proceed with caution. It’s dangerous out there.
More Time Kissed Moments
[7]
Canmore, in the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada. A few minutes later.
Sydney was standing on the back porch, looking up at the snow-covered peak of Mount Lady Macdonald, which dominated the skyline to the north of the house. She glanced over her shoulder as Taylor stepped out.
“There are goats up there,” Sydney said, her tone one of amazement. “Right in there with the snow, on what looks like a vertical wall.”
“You’ve never lived among mountains, have you?” Taylor asked.
“You haven’t either.”
“I do, now.” Taylor smiled and moved over to the balcony rail and leaned on it, her shoulder inches from Sydney’s. “Sydney…”
Sydney raised her brow.
“This is a risk, but I have to take it,” Taylor said.
“Uh-oh.” Sydney turned to face her, resting her hip against the railing. “Go.”
Taylor took a breath. Let it out. “Whitewitch Falls. 1958.”
Sydney’s eyes widened. The glacial blue shifted to a warmer tone. “Oh, you remembered. Finally. I’d almost forgotten about it, myself. It’s been so long…what on earth made you think of it, now?”
Taylor sighed. “Rafael, of course. Damn…I was so hoping you wouldn’t have a clue what I was referring to.” She sat on the railing and blew out her breath.
Sydney sat, too. “You prefer me to be ignorant?”
“I would have preferred that you and Rafael hadn’t gone back there yet. Then the loop would still open and it would mean—”
“That Rafe must come back, to complete the loop,” Sydney said softly. She bumped her shoulder against Taylor’s. “It was sweet of you, but none of us gets a guarantee, this time.” She cleared her throat and turned her head away.
“Rafe’s smart. He’s lived a long time,” Taylor said. “Whatever’s happened, he knows we’ll come for him and it will keep him going, too.”
Sydney nodded. She cleared her throat again and looked back at Taylor. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, although her cheeks were dry. “Has Veris remembered the changes from 1958, yet? Can we talk about it?”
She was changing subjects.
Taylor let it go. “We reminded each other. It was weird. I’ve never had my memories shift before. I don’t know how Brody and Veris do it. Well, I do, because Veris told me to breathe deep and review systematically, which is what they do, I guess. Only, wow, is it disorienting!”
Sydney smiled. “I’ve yet to have a personal memory change on me. I’ll have to remember what you said. Breathe and review. Is Veris talking to Alex about 1958? Alex was in on it, too.”
“His elixir.” Taylor frowned. “I don’t know where Veris is right now. Probably down in the workshop, waiting for Marit to arrive.”
Sydney stood. “Let’s go and tell Alex then. It’ll take his mind off things.”
When Remy wandered into the workshop, Brody glanced up, then returned to the circuit board he was repairing.
Remy circled the other two big tables—Veris’ and Taylor’s—and bent to examine the projects in progress. The powerful overhead lights over those tables were off, although Remy only needed ambient light to see details.
“Which one is Taylor’s table?” Remy asked.
“What makes you think we have a bench each?”
Remy smiled. “Taylor probably had to smack Veris around verbally to get him used to the idea that she would need one. She knows how to get her way. And lo—there are three tables.”
Brody laughed, for Taylor had stomped her foot and demanded equal space and tools. “Which table do you think is hers, then?” He put the soldering iron back in the stand and turned it off. Remy was good company.
Remy stood back and considered the other two benches. They were placed vertically to Brody’s horizontal bench. The three of them could look up and see each other, if they happened to be all working at the same time—something that happened more often than Brody had thought it might. They were all rugged individualists.
One bench was messy, with organized piles. Tools and drawers of supplies were scattered around the edges of the current work in progress—a complex miniaturized tracer and communications chip that, when it was finished, could be surgically implan
ted. The multiple pages of the hand drawn blueprint were clipped to a stand for easy reference. Banks of drawers and tool boards behind the table had gaps and spaces corresponding with the drawers and tools already on the bench.
The other bench was pristine in comparison. The project in progress was a scrollwork filigree wooden box. The sides and sliding lid were laid out around the solid base, waiting to be assembled, before being lacquered and sealed. All the tools were put away. A pile of sawdust sat in the garbage can beside the bench. A tablet computer was clamped into a stand to hold it vertically, for easy reference. At the moment, the tablet was turned off.
A desktop computer took up the other half of the near-empty bench. The CPU tower was under the bench, while the monitor and keyboard, and digital stylus and pad were lined up on top.
Remy rubbed his chin. “It would be too easy to point to the neat table with the pretty project and say it was Taylor’s. I hesitate, because you three defy expectations at every turn. Yet the microchip has a medical aspect. And the pretty bench is paperless and Veris is slow to change in that regard, so…”
Brody pointed to Remy’s feet. “Don’t step into the chamber,” he reminded him.
Remy looked down at his feet.
The three benches made up three sides of an almost square space in the room’s middle. Brody had painted a six-inch wide white line all around the edge of the internal square, to remind people to keep the space clear.
The fourth wall of the workshop was empty except for a five-foot long, one-foot high digital calendar clock, displaying the date, including the year, and the time in 24-hour notation.
Remy’s boot was half-way over the white line between the benches and he winced and pulled it back. “Right. Sorry.”
Brody nodded.
“What did Nayara call it, again?”
“An arrival chamber,” Brody said.
“It’s a great idea. A simple clock, and empty space—much easier to visualize.”
“Nayara said it is the only way to arrive accurately at the right time. Without it, she sometimes arrived a day or more off target and would have to jump again.” Brody recalled the few times Nayara had shocked them by materializing in front of the big fireplace in the house in Martha’s Vineyard, only to curse and disappear again. She would reappear a day later, still cursing.
The heavy, metal lined workshop door swung open—it was a swing door. Veris prowled into the room, and the sounds of people talking on the other side of the basement came through the door with him.
Remy nodded at him, then watched with narrowed eyes as Veris glanced at the clock on the wall.
“It’s been thirty minutes already,” Veris said. “How long does it take to gulp down coffee and put on an overcoat?”
Brody pushed himself away from the bench. The stool rolled out by a foot. “Marit will get here. She said she would come.” He kept his tone mild. “Have you ever known Marit to not keep her word?”
Veris stood, his head down, his shoulders flexed. Frustration and impatience flowed from his taut stance. Then he blew out his breath and nodded. “Sorry.” His glance took in Remy.
Remy spread his hands. “We all learn as we go along. I thought I knew how to be a father. Jason is teaching me I’m wrong, every single day. Which is comforting. It tells me I still have things to learn.”
Veris gave a small sound of agreement. “Something to do, then…” he murmured, looking around.
Remy’s interest sharpened. His eyes narrowed as he watched Veris size up the benches.
When Veris moved behind the neat bench and picked up the digital stylus, Remy rolled his eyes.
Brody laughed.
Veris looked at them both, puzzled. “Did someone just lose money?”
“Remy came close to it,” Brody said.
Remy moved around the back of Veris’ bench and peered over his shoulder. “What does the Large Hadron Collider have to do with a filigree box?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Veris said. “This is research for a different project.”
“Which is?”
Veris turned on the stool to consider Remy. “You really want to know, or are you being polite?”
“I’m told I don’t know how to be polite.” Remy shrugged, the way only a Frenchman could.
Veris didn’t move.
Brody waited, watching Remy curiously.
Remy sighed. “Since the affair in Serbia, I have been retreating into the old habits of staying aloof, of not associating with the Blood because of the dangers it brings. And I brought Neven and London with me into that isolation. We…all three of us…have been reminded by this business—by Rafe’s disappearance—about how interconnected we all are. I’m not used to family. I am sorry for that and wish to make amends.”
Veris considered him. “Very well,” he said, and turned back to the computer. “My apologies for bringing up the subject, Brody.” His gaze flickered to Brody.
Brody shook his head. “No problems,” he lied, as his heart beat.
“Remember how Brody disappeared from the timescape, when Dara had him?” Veris asked.
Brody rolled back to the bench and switched on the soldering iron, intending to immerse himself in the work. Only, he couldn’t stop listening.
“Because of the magnetized mountain,” Remy said. “Yes?”
“Yes. A lodestone. I’m trying to figure out a way to generate an artificial version which can be switched on when needed.”
“A shield against time jumping,” Remy said, his tone admiring.
“One that will hide anyone beneath it from the timescape, too,” Veris said.
“And you need dark matter for that?” Remy asked, glancing at the image of the Large Hadron Collider on the screen.
“At this point, I have no fucking idea,” Veris said, his tone frank. “The simple solution is to hollow out a man-sized lodestone and hunker beneath. It’s not useful, though. Lodestones are stone. Lugging around a stone shield went out of fashion a few millennia ago.” Veris grimaced. “Reproducing the same effect is more of a challenge than I thought it would be.”
“Electro-magnetic generators won’t do it?” Remy asked.
“If they worked, there would be blank spots all over the timescape,” Veris said. “Most electrical engines, including every car on the planet, throws off a magnetic field.”
“So does every cellphone,” Brody added.
Remy grimaced, then patted Veris’ shoulder. “Better you than me, mon ami.”
The flutter of clothing snapping in a breeze and the soft exhalation snapped Brody’s attention back to the arrival chamber area.
Marit stood in the center of the area. Her flaming red hair was down to her hips, with a bright scarf tied into a narrow headband holding all but thick tendrils back from her face. She wore a light sundress and a glowing suntan, multiple bracelets up one wrist, and sandals with straps which wound around her ankles.
Over her arm was a heavy down-filled parka, and over her shoulder was a crocheted handbag with heavy fringing.
There were two redheads in the extended family. London and Marit were so different in style and personality and temperament, though, they had to stand together for Brody to remember they shared the same hair color.
Marit looked at the wall clock, then spun on her heel. Her gaze met Brody’s. “Athair,” she breathed, smiling.
“You look well, Marit,” Brody said. “Very well, in fact. I like the tan.”
“It’s summer already in Australia,” Marit reminded him.
Veris got to his feet as Remy stepped back and out of Veris’ way, for Veris was looking steadily at Marit.
Marit turned to face him. “Hello, Far.”
“You’re still calling me Far, at least,” Veris said, moving around the bench.
Marit rolled her eyes.
“Step out of the arrival chamber, Marit,” Brody reminded her.
“Oh, right. I forgot.” She walked to the open end of the square and stepped out, as
Veris reached her.
“You look like a hippy,” Veris said, his tone judicious.
Brody winced.
Remy grimaced, too, and eased around the edge of the room, heading for the door.
“Thank you!” Marit told Veris, as if he had complimented her. “Well, I’m here. What is being done about Uncle Rafe?”
Veris blinked. He was taken aback by the authority in her voice and the snap of command.
Brody got to his feet and moved around the benches, feeling the need to be close enough to intervene. Perhaps even separate them, if it was needed.
“We have to find Rafe on the timescape,” Veris told her.
“I already looked, Far,” Marit said, with an exasperated note in her voice. “As soon as Mom said he’d gone. Why do you think it took me thirty minutes to get here? He’s not on the scape. Not anywhere.”
Veris crossed his arms. “Then why did you bother coming here? You could have texted it to us.”
Brody planted his hand on Veris’ shoulder and dug his fingers in. “Veris, back down.”
Marit crossed her arms and glared back at Veris. “Because I want to help get Rafe back, that’s why.”
Brody rubbed his temple. At this moment, Marit was a replica of Veris in temper and obstinacy. They both had their arms crossed and neither would give ground easily.
He squeezed Veris’ shoulder again.
Veris’ gaze flickered toward Brody. He drew in a breath and let it out. “Fine. If you want to help, then…” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but—”
“No, Far!” Marit said, her tone alarmed.
“—we have to reach out to David for help,” Veris finished.
Brody sighed.
“No,” Marit repeated. “No. Fucking. Way. No! I will not talk to that man.”
Veris spread his hands. Entreaty. “You are the only one who can reach him. He can see things on the timescape even you cannot. He’s the only one who can locate Rafael.”
Marit growled. It was a feminine version of the same growl Veris used whenever he was frustrated beyond the ability to string words together—a rare occurrence for both of them.
More Time Kissed Moments Page 11
