by Jamie Magee
Adair looked in every direction, trying to gather the timeframe—to reassure herself she did have accuracy with this. She’d had the same room the entire time she lived with Finley, but it changed over the years.
From the long chains of necklaces on the mirror and the bowl of rings, she knew she was at least close to her target time.
The ashtray, with not only butts of blunts but also cigarettes, all but confirmed it. The empty beer bottle made her sure.
Adair had some dark times in her life, the time before she was ten and the last five years, but for the most part, in-between those points, she was happy. That is, until this point in her life she was now standing in.
When she couldn’t figure out who Adair Vallet was. School was not her deal; working pay by the hour jobs wasn’t either. All she wanted to do was have a good time and make good money.
Finley had somehow grown stricter with Adair after she reached her twenties. She preached the craft constantly, and she lectured about how Adair’s body was a temple and she was destroying it.
Adair got what she said, every word. But she smoked when she drank, and she drank when she wanted to ignore her insights that didn’t do anything but kill the buzz of life—always knowing how crooked people could be. It sucked.
Sometimes she only wanted to be aware of herself and no one else.
In some way, it was like Finley was always trying to get Adair ready for something, but the something never came, and Adair was craving it, whatever it was. She felt like she was on the outside of life. She knew there was a world out there, a place were she could fit in, where the superficial were in the minority.
She was ready to live, but had no direction.
It was dark in her mind as she crossed this awkward stage from her late teens to her early twenties. One day wanting to be wild and free, and the next looking for something to call her own, an independence.
“Adair?”
Adair froze and looked in every direction. She had no idea if she had made herself visible or not—but she knew one thing for sure—seeing Talley right now, the un-cursed, untested, fun-loving, relaxed Talley was going to destroy her.
Then she heard her own voice call out in answer. “Yeah?”
Adair pressed herself against the wall in the bathroom, behind the door and fought not to realize how creepy it was that a version of herself was a foot away.
Talley voice came again. “I heard about the job.”
Tears prickled in Adair’s eyes as she listened. Who would have thought one conversation, one scolding could change a girl’s entire life…this one had.
Adair could remember this day perfectly. The night before, Finley had discovered that Adair was tending bar, at a not-so-awesome place.
Finley actually found her drunk and shaking her ass in a crowd of tourists. She drug her home and cussed her out until dawn about her responsibilities.
They were not speaking at the moment. Which meant Talley was the sole communicator between the two, a job he hated but somehow found amusement with.
“It was good money,” Adair’s voice shot back. “She had no right to humiliate me like that.”
“It was dangerous,” Talley said. “Maybe I should’ve come, me and the boys, rode up and pulled you off that bar…”
Even now, the thought sent a shiver down Adair’s spine. Humiliation would have been an understatement. Adair would have never gotten a date again if that had happened. Talley alone was intimidating.
“Dangerous? Calling the kettle black,” Adair’s voice spat in return.
“You think the Boneyard is dangerous?”
Silence, meaning Adair offered him a shrug, her answer for everything back in the day.
“You think anyone would treat you like that there?”
“Depends, I guess.”
“On what? You know Talon is the president there,” Talley replied.
“And why would that matter? I’ve heard people talk about the parties there. I know it’s not some fucking lodge meeting.”
“You want to go there?”
Silence.
“Answer me, Adair. Are you telling me right now that’s what you want—you’re ready for it?”
“When am I not ready to go to a bar?” Adair’s voice joked, but it was a bit shallow with fear. Finley had told Adair all about the life at the Boneyard. She’d all but warned her about how it was a forever commitment.
She’d said it more than once, “Before you take one step on that property, you better be sure all your girlish ways are put to bed and you’re ready to be a woman.”
Adair was ready for it, she craved it, but she was human, which meant she outright feared the unknown to some degree.
“I’m being serious. It’s not a bar, it’s a lifestyle. It’s y—it’s a legacy,” Talley said, all but mirroring the same words Finley had said often.
“Well, yeah—wait where are you going?”
“You’re being too passive. You’re not ready for shit.”
“I am, too.” Adair’s voice faded into the front of the loft then outside.
She knew how the rest of the day went, her going back and forth with Talley about all the reasons she should be able to be with him at the Boneyard.
The day ended with her in Church staring at Talon, making her same plea but with far less of a whining tone. She did her best to show any maturity she could muster.
An hour after convincing Talon she wanted to be in his Club, she would see Judge for the first time.
Time would stop.
Everything she knew about herself would disintegrate, and she’d put childish ways aside and claim the life her family was imbedded in. And it wasn’t an easy claim, the moments of bliss were fleeting and fast.
Adair shifted the bag from her shoulder and pulled an envelope out, one that was heavy with the watch she had recovered from the chest and the pages and pages Adair had written to herself.
The wording in the letter was in a text Adair had made up when she was a kid. All numbers, each number leading to a letter that she memorized.
Adair told herself a story she knew she would have wanted to hear five years before, one about soulmates and enteral love that was tested.
Adair gave herself every reason to believe what she said to be true, by recounting the very night she was living now, right down to the thoughts rushing through her mind.
Adair set the note in her makeup bag, and on the mirror in red lip stick she wrote, “pretty little dove…prepare now,” smearing the end of the last letter because the wind of Kairos came swiftly this time.
***
Gwinn and her new buddy, Sven, appeared at the pool of water with the statue. “Over there,” she demanded when she sensed Shade in the darkness, on the opposite side of the water.
Sven took her there but not all the way to Shade, he was in a battle stance. A few feet before him was Mia, who stood unmoving as if in waiting, unbothered with Shade’s glare.
Gwinn, as immortal as she was, could not get the hatch to open. “Open it,” she grunted to Sven. The sound of her voice broke Shade’s focus and he was at her side in a breath. His hand clenched her arm to turn her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You fucking locked her in there?” she said, hitting his chest. He let her.
“She’s safe.”
“And who fucking told you that?”
Shade narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t sense her here,” Sven announced as he glanced up, looking for Dagen who was not present, meaning he was right. No soul of Adair was close.
“What are you fucking talking about?” Shade asked, glancing back to Mia making sure the fuck was still standing still.
Right then, his phone rang, it was a text from Judge: Get her out of there.
“Fuck,” Shade roared.
Gwinn turned to Sven, grasping him as if he were superman all over again. “Get me down there!”
Shade pulled her away.
Knowing she was safe with Sh
ade, Sven eyed the dead man who kept staring into the distance, waiting.
“Talk to me,” Shade ordered.
“Fuck you! You left me guarded and locked Adair under water—you are cut off, buddy!”
Shade jarred his head back, half in shock and half confused, then it hit him what she meant. He growled before he spoke. “If she’s not down there, why did you want to go down there?”
“The spell, if she makes it—if she gets to the end and she tries to trap him, she won’t. She’ll empower Akan. He tricked her—she has the wrong blood.
All at once, it was really cramped around Gwinn; Mia had appeared by her, questioning if this was true with a haunting gaze. Sven could not have that, so he put himself between the dead man and Gwinn.
“Back off!” Gwinn yelled. “Someone get me down there!”
Shade reached down and nearly ripped the hatch off its hinges.
Gwinn flew down the stairs and a second later was kneeling at Adair’s side.
“Oh, baby,” Gwinn soothed, moving her hands over her face. She was drenched with sweat.
A glance to the room told her Adair had made it further than she thought she would with her preparation for this night.
Gwinn scoured her bag. The envelope was gone, and that could only mean one thing—they were now fucked.
“The beach, take her there,” she commanded, lifting her.
“To where it fucking happened? Are you serious?” Shade argued as Sven pulled Adair into his arms and began to leave. Dagen’s parting orders to him were, “Listen to the witch, no matter how absurd it sounds. She’s one of us.”
“Her soul will go there next. If her body is there, it might buy us seconds to warn her.” She stood and looked all around. “We have to find a sinner. Oh, we are fucked!” she said, rushing after Sven.
***
Timing had to be perfect, Adair knew as much. Her issue was that she never had gotten her complete memory back when came to the night it all ended.
Only flashes.
Most of which had come hours before this Kairos began, when she pulled the ring from Mystic’s collar.
Her appearing and making an impact worthwhile in the short time she might have was a risk.
When Adair appeared behind herself in a trashed loft, when she saw herself clinging to the puppy Mystic was—she was sure she had failed.
She knew the distance from her loft to the beach. She’d be lucky to make it halfway there in the time this final wind of change would give her.
Adair’s eyes watered as she heard Finley tell her this was not a goodbye…because it was.
The image of Adair rushed out the door, Finley looked over the loft blindly then said. “If you chose to stay unseen, you will stretch your time, it will exhaust you—but exhaustion brings a second coming.”
And like that, she was gone.
Adair rushed out the door, focusing on remaining unseen and managing to crawl in the backseat of the car.
She ignored her image from the past begging Finley to let her call Judge, she ignored the roar of Talley’s bike and focused solely on the spell she needed, one she’d have to be present for to make sure it held. In all truth, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a spell, it was more like an intention.
Adair’s grand idea, one Gwinn helped her concoct was a mix of witchcraft, Voyager, and Escort lore.
Basically, they were winging it—pulling hope from Adair’s random thoughts and dreams over the last few years that at times seemed more like a fog, and all they knew of the gifts and legacy that were rushing through Adair’s soul.
Adair was so deep in her thoughts, she nearly forgot how horrible this car crash was. Right when she heard the roar of Talley’s bike rev up, she flew forward in the car, just barely fast enough to avoid being crushed as he drove over the car.
Finley slammed on the breaks—the Adair of the past, the one in the front seat, never had a chance to see her future self. She was knocked out cold.
The shock of seeing the blood rushing from her own image caused Adair to lose any focus to stay unseen invalid.
“Oh dear, Creator,” Finley gasped, reaching for her and rubbing her hands down her face. It took all Adair had to not fling herself on Finley and weep.
Talley had skidded his bike into a tree. His body was mangled around it, but he would rise soon enough.
“I don’t think I can get us both there,” Adair said, not feeling the exhaustion Finley told her she’d feel until just then.
“Cast the mirrors, Adair. I’ll open the gate, but we must be quick,” she stated apprehensively, looking to Talley’s body. She reached for one of the broken shards of glass all around them and sliced her palm and then took Adair’s hand, filling it with her blood.
Even though Finley basically spoke of Adair’s wild idea as if it had already happened, Adair had some doubt. “Finley it’s not a spell, it came from the lore about Escorts.”
“I know,” she said, gripping her bloody hands around Adair’s. “That’s why I’m giving you blood, it will strengthen what is already naturally inside of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“No time! Do it,” Finley ordered, rushing from the car.
Winded, Adair watched Finley run to the beach and begin to beckon an unseen power. You’re a Voyager, Adair thought, daring to smile. It was a fact Adair hadn’t relied on, but now, she realized this would never have worked otherwise.
Adair conjured the thought that would have Talley see mirror images of her and Finley. Lore Gwinn was sure Adair could channel. She’d said some bullshit like Dagen had given her enough energy to make it work.
The only reason Adair was more confident now was because Finley believed it would work, and she never wasted her time believing in anything unless it was worth the thought.
Adair had no way of knowing how long Talley had stayed passed out in the past, or herself for that matter—she never realized she was truly in a car wreck before Talley killed Finley and then attempted the unthinkable.
In the distance, another Finley appeared on the beach, eerily watching, waiting for her role.
Adair crawled over her image in the front seat, telling the puppy Mystic to stay put.
Then she gazed down at her image from the past. She knew she had to move her for the mirror to fall into place. It was still freaky, though, to see herself.
She lifted her image and gasped when she saw the blood seeping from her gut, how swollen it was.
“I had to,” Finley stated from behind her. “We could not see this hour, every protection was taken—now it falls on you.” She looked at Adair’s hands. “Say the blood spell as soon as we vanish, the very first I taught you—if you don’t, you will throw the future off…Reveca will know what we have done this night and not in the future as she should.”
Adair nodded, feeling herself weaken even more.
“You can do this, Adair. Your whole life we’ve prepared. It’s all been about this one night—your freedom. Do not fear it. Your gift beyond this darkness is unimaginable. I vow it.”
Adair nodded warily and glanced back to the car, and instantly, a mirror image of herself appeared there, equipped with a swollen, scared gut.
“Help me carry her,” Finley said, holding most of the weight of the Adair from the past.
The pair of them were young, healthy, strong women, but carrying deadweight across sand after a car crash was nothing short of a challenge.
And then, there it was. A Fold, a violet haze moving across the night air.
Finley pulled the unconscious Adair to her then pushed her through the Fold. She stepped one foot in as if to hold the door open. “This is not the end, you will face this once more—it will pull me back because I was meant to be there—we fight this in the future now.”
Talley’s growl was heard in the distance. Finley looked longingly toward him. “All of us.” She squeezed her arm. “You did well, I sense it. I do.”
And then, she was gon
e.
Adair shifted back into the darkness and watched a horror that her mind had erased from her.
Talley, at immoral speed, had stood then spotted the mirror version of Finley. A beat later he was there, they yelled, they argued. Then Finley was knocked down, he was above her with blade.
His first swipe caused dark smoke to seep from her, he was too enraged to notice, and the mirror image of Finley fought too hard to prevent him from seeing anything else.
The spell Finley had taught Adair years before, the one she made her repeat for no reason at each lesson flew from Adair’s lips. In the past, the spell had done nothing but made whatever object she was staring at bleed, and Adair hated it because she had to cut her palm to make it work—a cut that rarely had the time to heal because Finley wanted her to master this one spell.
This time, it worked beautifully. Blood, far too much blood, began to spill from Finley.
As Adair watched her die, the horror of it, her soul pulled in two different directions.
In one manner, she was weak with grief, near shock—in another, she felt herself grow stronger because there was no longer a need for the mirror to mimic life. The energy to sustain it rushed back to Adair.
Right then, the mirror of Adair awoke. When she stumbled out of the car and fought to stop Talley, firing bullets into him—she battled him.
Adair could barely watch as he cut her up all the more, as he fought to dig the spell out of her very body. But she had to, she had to make sure the mirror was bleeding, that her spells were holding—for they would have to hold for some time.
Then she heard the roar of a bike. Judge had arrived.
And finally, Adair understood. She got it. She knew why he wanted to spare her from this memory, why this changed him. Why it was enough for him to do anything to protect her—even leaving her.
She stepped forward, unsure of what she’d even say, but she didn’t make it very far…the wind came.
***
