Echo in Time: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #1)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “Hmm …” I said, thinking about the man—my biological father—I’d watched break into the fertility clinic. Is it possible that he’s Nejeret? Is that why he swapped the sperm samples? Did he know Mom was a carrier? I considered telling Alexander about what I’d seen, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Not that I thought any time would seem like the right time to relay such weird information, but still … this wasn’t it.

  “Come, I’ll show you something you’ll enjoy,” Alexander said, misinterpreting my thoughtful silence as sadness.

  The swirling colors surrounded us again, and after a short time, we were standing in a very familiar backyard—Grandma Suse’s. Seven flowering apple trees were scattered near the edge of an expansive lawn. A young girl, maybe eight or nine years old, giggled gleefully in the middle of the vibrant, green grass. Barefoot, she danced around with a slender branch, pretending to fence with an alternate version of the man holding my hand. Her long, brown hair flew around her as she twirled and lunged, and her cheeks were flushed from exertion. “I’ll get you, Persian beast!” she howled.

  “Mom?” I asked in disbelief. I was watching my mom, one of the girliest women I’d ever known, sword fight with her father. “Are you playing ‘Alexander and the Persians’ with my mom?”

  My grandpa smiled proudly. “She loved being Alexander and destroying the evil heathens.”

  “You do realize your ancient prejudice could have turned her into an anti-Persian fanatic, right?”

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “People are people. She knew it was a game.”

  “Luckily,” I grumbled, then grinned. “She looks so happy, so carefree. I’ve never seen her laugh like that.”

  He nodded solemnly. “When she and Joe learned they couldn’t have children together, it killed something inside her.” The heavy emotion in Alexander’s voice made me want to hug him. He loved my mom so much, but had abandoned his life as her father because of what he was. And one day, she would grow old and die … my mom, but also his daughter. Morosely, I wondered how many children he’d fathered over his two millennia, watching their births, lives, and inevitable deaths. Did he have any Nejeret children, any aunts and uncles with whom I could explore the At?

  With a reluctant sigh, Alexander turned to me. “There is one last thing I must show you. I apologize, Alexandra … it won’t be pleasant.”

  “Okay. What is it? Should I be afraid?”

  “I can’t tell you what it is—that’s against the rules, and, well, nobody really knows exactly what it is. And yes, you should be very, very afraid.” With those final, ominous words, the swirling colors surrounded us again, fading to utter blackness before the sensation of steadiness returned.

  But it took longer than usual. Even without the rainbow of light flowing in cascading tangles, the inky world heaved and lurched. I heaved and lurched, and eventually I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the uncomfortable motion would stop. An eternity seemed to pass before it finally did.

  “Open your eyes,” Alexander said, releasing my hand. When I did, I was surprised to find that I was again sitting at the kitchen table in my cozy apartment.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I proclaimed, rising and lunging toward the garbage can. Sure enough, as soon as I reached the plastic receptacle, I vomited … repeatedly.

  Alexander handed me a wad of paper towels once I no longer seemed in danger of a heaving relapse. Grateful, I took the offering with shaking hands and wiped my mouth. I tied off the garbage bag and tossed it down the trash chute across the hall from my apartment door.

  “Care to explain?” I asked, stomping back into the apartment. “Or is that against the rules too? And whose rules?” I briefly disappeared into my bedroom to retrieve my toothbrush, waving at Grandma Suse as I passed through. She was propped up on the bed, reading.

  “Well?” I asked when I returned to the living room seconds later. I shoved my toothbrush into my mouth and started vigorously scrubbing away the taste of sickness.

  My grandpa watched me gravely. “At least you’re still conscious. I passed out the first time I saw it—the Nothingness. It seemed jerkier this time, though that may have been my imagination.” He sighed. “It’s the future, Alexandra, and not far off. Come the twenty-first of June, the Nothingness takes over the At.”

  I stared at him for several long seconds, then spat into the kitchen sink and rinsed my mouth with a handful of water. “What are you saying?” I croaked. “Time stops, or something? Is the world going to end on the summer solstice … in six months?”

  “Deus, I hope not. We’ve been working to avert whatever disaster might happen. It could be as simple as us being cut off from the At after the solstice. There is, of course, a prophecy and a potential savior—or destroyer—but it’s all very convoluted and likely will end up circumvented and proven irrelevant. Beyond that, I don’t think we’ll be able to do anything until the twenty-first June. We’re not used to operating blind, but this time we have to.” He shook his head, obviously frustrated by the situation.

  “So … the world might be ending, but probably isn’t. There might be someone who can save us all, but we don’t know. And that person might destroy us all instead. Great … I love being dependent on such reliable people,” I said dryly. In reality, I didn’t like being dependent on anyone, reliable or not.

  “That’s my girl!” Grandma Suse exclaimed softly as she emerged from my bedroom. “I told you she’s feisty, Alex. She gets it from my side. She’ll be a good addition to your little group of world-savers,” she said, sounding like she was talking about something no more serious than a baseball-card-collecting club.

  My grandpa acquiesced grudgingly. “Perhaps, but only after she’s trained.”

  “Uh … do you guys mind not talking about me like I’m not here?” I asked.

  Grandma Suse patted my cheek as she shuffled to the table. “Certainly, sweetie, as soon as you serve us dinner.”

  Snorting, I wondered if Alexander brought out the best or worst in my grandma. I settled on both.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dates & Plans

  “I’m sorry, Lex, but I must have misheard you. What did you just say?” Marcus asked. From the sound of his voice, I knew he’d taken the remarkable effort to swing his desk chair a full one-eighty degrees. Pulling him away from the handwritten journal he’d been examining had been an impossibility all morning. At least, it had been, until Dominic asked me why I was so distracted.

  For the past four hours, I’d been helping the severe, slightly sullen Project Manager select the excavation field school’s final candidates. He and I were crammed together at my desk, shuffling folders around. Much to his chagrin, I’d been touting a view of “if they can manage a trowel and brush without scratching a relief or shattering an artifact, let ’em in” … which would have left us with about four hundred participants. We needed to narrow it down to twenty.

  I swung my comfy leather chair around to face Marcus. “I said, ‘I met my grandpa for the first time last night.’ What’d you think I said?”

  In true Marcus Bahur style, he ignored the question. “Isn’t that a bit odd, meeting one’s grandparent in one’s”—he paused, examining my face—“mid-twenties?”

  You have no idea how odd meeting Alexander really was, I thought.

  Marcus wasn’t the only one intrigued by my extended family. Dominic had been frozen with shock since I’d first mentioned meeting my grandpa. Suddenly returning to life, he blurted, “I just realized … Neffe … I forgot to tell her …” as he rushed out of the room.

  Frowning, I watched him leave before returning my attention to Marcus. “Yes, it’s odd. Which is why I’m distracted by it.”

  Almost imperceptibly, Marcus’s eyes narrowed and his mouth puckered. “I see. Would you like to accompany me to lunch, Lex? I thought I might stop by the Burke Café for a bite and coffee.”

  “Uh … sure,” I said noncommittally. I had no clue how he’d gone from “What do y
ou mean you just met your grandpa?” to “Let’s grab lunch.”

  “Wonderful,” he said, gently closing the leather-bound book on his desk and rising to don his coat. “Shall we?”

  Still sitting, I watched him, confused. “Oh! You meant right now? But it’s only—” I peeked at my phone. “—a quarter after eleven.”

  “And yet, I’m famished.” He lifted my purple pea coat off the back of my chair and held it out like I was a child getting ready to go play in the snow.

  As entertaining as it was to see Marcus standing there like a glorified coat rack, I hardly had a choice. Besides, I was pretty damn hungry, too. I stood and allowed him to settle the coat around my shoulders. I did, however, slap his hands away when he spun me around and tried to button me up, earning a small, secretive smile for the effort.

  Our ten-minute stroll to the café was amicable, filled with remarks on the unusually pleasant weather—it wasn’t raining for once—and on how different the campus was now that the undergrads had returned from winter break. We were the epitome of friendly colleagues—which is why I was stunned when, just outside the café’s door, Marcus reached for my hand and twined his long fingers with mine. The warmth of his hand burned into my palm, climbing up my arm toward my erratically beating heart.

  I stopped mid-step. “What are—”

  “I would be most appreciative if you would play along, Lex. I’m sure it won’t be too painful,” he said, his black-rimmed amber eyes shimmering in the winter sunlight. Without waiting for a response, he pulled the glass door open and pushed me through ahead of him.

  When we reached the end of the short line to order, Marcus released my hand and I was momentarily filled with an unexpected feeling of loss. The arm he draped over my shoulders to pull me snug against his side drove the feeling away, replacing it with astonishment … and a pleasant, tingly flutter in my abdomen. What is going on with me? I hadn’t been so intensely aware of a man in … ever. I felt bespelled, like there was some irresistible force drawing me to Marcus, which would have been thrilling if it weren’t for the fact that he was my boss. Off-limits! I reminded myself, again.

  Marcus leaned down, bringing his lips a hair’s breadth from my ear. “Really, Lex, I think you can do better … you could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself.”

  As he pulled his taunting mouth away, I snapped my own mouth shut and turned my face to him. Though I wasn’t short—just over five foot eight—I still had to tilt my chin up, accounting for our notable height difference. Narrowing my eyes, I glared. His chiseled jaw clenched, making his bone structure more contoured than usual. From inches away, the effect was breathtaking, and my glare faded. So did the mischief lighting his eyes, replaced by something more serious.

  Since I’d met Marcus, I’d been embarrassingly unsuccessful at hiding my attraction, but I was starting to wonder if we were walking down a two-way street. Maybe I wasn’t alone on the road. My turn, I thought vindictively. We moved forward in the line.

  Holding his eyes, I slowly licked my lips, wondering if he could smell the vanilla of my lip balm. As I’d hoped, Marcus took notice. His eyes left mine, lingering on my mouth. When they lifted again, they were on fire with desire.

  I rose onto my tiptoes, bringing my face slowly closer to his. I was aching to follow through with the movement, to press my lips against his, but I altered my trajectory at the last minute, aiming for his ear instead. “You’d better have a good explanation for this charade, Marcus. I can’t wait to hear it,” I purred.

  As I dropped my heels back down to the ground, my understanding of Marcus Bahur was confused even further. He was grinning in sheer delight, displaying teeth so straight and white they could have been featured in a toothpaste ad. I’d seen him smile before, but not like that. For once, it reached his eyes.

  “Oh Lex, you do surprise me often, and in the most pleasant ways. Of course I’ll give you exactly what you want … in private,” he said, louder and rougher than necessary. If I hadn’t known exactly what I’d said, I would’ve guessed we’d just agreed on some especially naughty, potentially illegal sexual act. I could only stare at him.

  We moved forward again, approaching the counter and its confounded little barista. Cassandra stood opposite us, pressing her lips together so hard they drained of color. She looked like she was either about to throw up, or scream.

  “Hello again, Cassandra. I hope you’re well,” Marcus said to the girl-woman. While he spoke, his arm dropped from my shoulders to wrap possessively around my waist.

  I smiled up at him, pretending to be enamored. Well, pretending to pretend.

  “Hi, Professor!” Cassandra chirped. She refused to look at me, let alone acknowledge my presence.

  “What would you like, my darling?” Marcus asked me, tightening his arm around my waist.

  To really be your darling. “Oh, just a latte and a turkey and cheddar sandwich.” As an afterthought, I added, “And a raspberry scone.” A well-fed Nejerette is a happy Nejerette, I justified to myself.

  “And I’ll have my usual lunch. To go, please,” Marcus said, handing Cassandra his card. His usual lunch turned out to be twice as large as mine, but I figured it took a lot of fuel to maintain such a tall, well-honed physique.

  Once we had our food and coffees and were out of sight of the café, Marcus let me go. He continued walking for several steps before noticing I’d stopped.

  Pausing, he tossed over his shoulder, “Is there a problem, Lex?” He resumed his slow jaunt.

  I caught up to him, careful not to spill my latte, and fell in step beside him. “Yes, Marcus, there’s a problem. What the hell was that?” Up until the moment he released my hand, I’d thought—just maybe—he and I could overcome the professor-student, boss-underling dilemma. I’d thought he might want to, but then he let go and I realized it had all been wishful thinking. I felt used and embarrassed and far angrier than I probably should have.

  “I suppose I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Oh, please! You told me to pretend … to play along.” I was having a hard time keeping my voice at a normal volume. “You owe me an explanation.”

  He slowed his step and shot me a sidelong glance. “I’m a creature of habit. I dislike having to change my behavior patterns.”

  “What’s that have to do with us pretending to be … ?” I raised my eyebrows and waved my hand in front of me, unable to come up with an appropriate label for our pretense.

  “Lovers?” Marcus provided.

  I groaned. “God, it sounds so much worse out loud than it did in my head.”

  “Would it be so unpleasant?” Marcus asked, a chill in his voice.

  A laugh of sheer disbelief escaped from my mouth. “Um … getting kicked out of my program would be unpleasant. The university has rules against professors and students being together … rules with consequences.”

  “Do you always follow the rules?” he asked, but the chill was gone.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” I said, and it was the truth. I’d never snuck out of my parents’ house in high school, I hadn’t drunk alcohol until I was twenty-one, and I followed traffic laws as best I could.

  Marcus sighed, and to my shock, told me the reason for the scene back at the café. “I’m accustomed to getting my lunch at the Burke Café. Cassandra was becoming a little … obsessive. I could no longer sit alone for a quiet break—she’d fill every possible second with mindless chatter. It was getting tiring. I needed to dissuade her,” he explained.

  “You couldn’t just go somewhere else?”

  “Like I said, I’m a creature of habit.”

  I laughed despite my waning exasperation. “You know, Marcus, sometimes change can be a good thing.”

  “Sometimes. Rarely. Tell me about meeting your grandfather,” he said conversationally, like we hadn’t just been teetering on a thin, not-okay-to-cross professional boundary.

  Carefully, I strung words together into relatively normal sentences. I could ha
rdly say, “He looked like he was thirty, but he’s really a little over two thousand years old, and we visited the echo of his childhood home in Herculaneum before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.” Instead, I said, “It was … interesting. I’d thought he was dead, so I was more than a little surprised to see him. But after I got over the shock, it was nice. I learned a lot about my family history.” Like, that we’re not all human.

  “And did you get along well, you and your newfound grandfather?” Marcus asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  I smiled to myself. “Yeah, we really did.”

  We’d arrived back at Denny Hall and were about to enter through the inconspicuous west door when Marcus stepped ahead of me, blocking the entrance. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that your transitions are a bit rough?” I asked after overcoming my surprise.

  He shrugged. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Marcus … we already talked about this, remember? The rules … ?”

  “Inconsequential.” His eyes burned with such intensity that I had to look away.

  “Marcus, I—” If I pass this up, I’m the biggest idiot ever born. “I can’t.”

  With a heavy sigh, he turned toward the door.

  I grabbed his arm. “Wait. I meant, I can’t tonight. I already have plans,” I explained. “I’m meeting up with Alexa—my grandpa again.”

  Marcus’s arm tensed under my hand, and he said, “Tomorrow night, then. Say yes, Lex.”

  “Why Marcus,” I gasped dramatically. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were begging!”

  He smiled roguishly, sensing victory. “Trust me. It won’t happen again.”

  “We’ll see,” I bantered, and his smile widened. “But, fine … yes, I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow night.” How am I going to wait until then?

  With success secured, Marcus finally allowed me into the building.

  The afternoon passed quickly, filled with numerous flirtatious glances between Marcus and me. By the time I left, I’d helped Dominic narrow the list of field school applicants down to the forty we would contact and interview in the coming weeks. I spent the short, lonely walk back to my apartment reading my neglected text messages. While in The Pit, my phone had buzzed at least a half-dozen times, and I hadn’t been surprised when I’d seen the name on the call log. Cara. And after each unanswered call, she’d sent a text message.