The Syndicate (Timewaves Book 1)

by Sophie Davis

“I’m not sick,” I said decisively.

  Cyrus stared at me long and hard. I squirmed under his gaze. After the moment became awkward and supremely uncomfortable, he spoke.

  “You never are, Stassi.”

  Somehow, those words felt ominous.

  Gaige remained unconscious through the night. Not wanting him to wake up alone, I remained by his bedside, taking up residence in a floral print chair that the designer had clearly created to serve only as a decoration. My back was sore, my legs numb, and I had a kink in my neck that only an expert masseuse would be able to remove.

  None of that mattered, though. Gaige was hurt and no one knew why.

  Dr. Merriweather came in around midnight to check on him and relayed that all of the standard blood tests came back normal. I asked what he meant by “standard” but quickly regretted the question. I kept my eyes on Gaige, tuning out the alchemist’s voice when he began listing technical names for drugs and conditions I’d never heard of.

  “He does have a mild concussion and a rather large bump on the back of his head,” the doctor concluded.

  “That’s my fault,” I said, guilt washing over me. “I couldn’t stop him from falling.”

  “I’m quite certain that I don’t need to tell you that it’s not your fault,” Merriweather said kindly. “Now I’m running the tests for atypical pathogens and the like. The results should be in by morning.”

  After thanking him for his efforts, I watched the doctor retreat out of the room. Once it was just us again, I wrapped my fingers around Gaige’s hand once more and awkwardly curled back up in the uncomfortable chair.

  “You’re going to be fine,” I promised him.

  As the rays of dawn were casting a pink glow on the cream curtains behind Gaige’s bed, my eyes became too heavy to hold open. I’d been running on espresso and sheer determination until that point, and my body was done.

  A hand caressing my hair drew me from a fitful sleep some time later. In that place between the waking and dreaming worlds, my sleep-addled brain conjured images of Charles. The memory of his long fingers whispering over my skin, the kiss that made my toes curl and my head spin, the way he looked into my eyes with so much adoration and longing.

  “Mmm,” I breathed, snuggling closer to his warmth.

  “Stassi.” Warm breath fanned over my cheek as he whispered in my ear. “If you wanted to use my abs as a pillow, all you had to do was ask.”

  I sat up with a jolt.

  “You’re awake!” I exclaimed.

  “So are you,” Gaige countered. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes—that gleam that meant he was about to say something asinine. “What were you dreaming about?” he sing-songed.

  “Nothing,” I intoned, elated that he was feeling well enough to mock me. I’d probably regret it at some point in the near future, but his teasing was welcome just then. “At least, nothing I remember now. I only recall the pain of trying to sleep in that chair. Why?”

  “Those weren’t moans of pain,” Gaige declared, his devilish grin appearing. “Was Charles rounding third and heading for home? Here, lay back down on me, go back to sleep.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and gritted my teeth to hide my relieved smile.

  “I take you’re feeling better?”

  Gaige settled back against his pillows. “I have a wicked headache, though I don’t remember any of the guys landing a blow on the back of my head.” He shrugged as he rubbed the spot where his head had connected with the door, unconcerned. “Hazard of boxing, I suppose.”

  “Not exactly,” I started, though Gaige didn’t seem to hear me.

  Yawning lazily, my partner rested his head in one upturned palm. “Dude, Stass, when we get back, I’m totally spending a day at the springs. I need a massage, a spinal adjustment, and a few hours in the healing baths. Manly sports are hell on the body.”

  I just gawked. How scrambled was his brain?

  “What?” he asked. “Why are you giving me the creeper stare? And why are you sleeping in here? I know I’m irresistible and all, but you do have a bed across the hall.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” I demanded.

  Gaige blanched at my harsh tone.

  “Okay, Cyrus, chill. And don’t look at me like that; it’s freaking me out. You have his tell-me-all-your-secrets stare down. I’m not a fan.”

  “Gaige,” I warned.

  “There you go again. You sound just like him.”

  I wanted to smack my partner right in the goose-egg on the back of his skull to jar some sense loose.

  “Okay, okay.” Gaige held up his palms in a placating gesture. “I was boxing with the guys, then I came home and went to bed.” He sat up straighter, light sparking behind his maple syrup irises. “Shit, I almost forgot. Hemingway has the third piece of the book. Sorry, I was wiped when I got back, I can’t believe I didn’t tell you.”

  “Don’t move,” I said with a warning look as I leapt out of the chair.

  Taking the stairs two-at-a-time and flying out the front door, I ran to the alchemists’ lair to get both Cyrus and Dr. Merriweather.

  Our boss began barking questions the instant he laid eyes on my partner. Moments later, the physician appeared with a handheld DOG scanner just like the ones used by doctors on the island. Cyrus and I stood back, while Merriweather performed a scan of Gaige’s brain.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked uncertainly. “How does he not remember anything?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Cyrus replied with a grim look.

  “Are the doctors here enough? Should we get him back to the island?”

  “Merriweather has all of the same tech we have at home, and all of the same treatment options. Depending on what he finds, though, Gaige might need to leave.” My boss eyed me critically. “Do you think you can get the last bit of the novel without him?”

  “Yeah. At least, I’m pretty sure I can. I might need you to run interference with Hemingway.”

  While Gaige was poked and prodded by the alchemist doctor, I relayed my ideas for getting the rest of Blue’s Canyon to Cyrus. He nodded approvingly as I spoke.

  “Go call Hadley,” he said when I was finished. “The fact they’re leaving for Germany on Sunday puts us on a tight timetable. Who knows when or where we might get another shot at it.”

  I glanced at my partner, not wanting to leave him alone. Gaige met my eyes and gave me a weak smile, confusion and fear shining in his expression. Careful to stay out of the doctor’s way, I went to my partner’s side and took his hand.

  “I need to step out for just a second, but I’ll be right back,” I promised. “Will you be okay? I just need to call Hadley.”

  “I’m in good hands,” Gaige assured me. “Go take care of the mission.”

  “One quick call,” I repeated, heading for the door. “It won’t take long.”

  “Two calls, actually,” Cyrus interjected, handing me a folded slip of paper as I passed him.

  “What’s this?” I asked as I opened it.

  “Put him off,” my boss said quietly. “Say your brother is sick and you don’t want to leave him. Say maybe you can see him next week. There’s no additional information to be had from him.”

  “I know how this works,” I replied evenly, then left the room.

  First, I called the Hemingway residence. Ernest answered the phone, telling me that his wife had taken ill the day before, and he didn’t want to disturb her at the moment. For a brief, horrible moment, I wondered if she and Gaige had somehow caught the same bug. Thankfully, that notion was quashed when Ernest quietly suggested that Hadley had perhaps overindulged a bit the previous day. After apologizing for disturbing him, I asked Hemingway to have Hadley call me when she was feeling better.

  The other task wasn’t so easy. Apparently, Charles had phoned while I was sitting vigil by Gaige’s bedside. I had a feeling I knew why he was calling, and it wasn’t for another night of flirting and expensive champagne. M.L. Worchan
sky, the man with the cufflinks that matched my locket, was a lead that we both wanted to follow. But without telling Cyrus about the necklace and my search, my boss believed the usefulness of the relationship to be over.

  Which meant the relationship was also over.

  Blowing people off always sucked, even when the person was boring or unattractive or just not someone of interest. You kept promising you’d get together at a later date, citing a headache, prior engagements, or family obligations. In the case of one man, I’d even gone so far as to tell him I’d fallen ill with diphtheria. Eventually the unknowing informant gave up, and we disappeared without a trace. They went on with their lives, and we became nothing more than someone the mark once knew.

  Even though I was well aware of our protocols, I waffled over what to do about Charles. The decision had to be made soon. My run would more than likely be over by Sunday. And it was already Wednesday. The window of opportunity to visit M.L. Worchansky was rapidly closing. This side-project of mine had to be completed immediately, if it was to happen at all. Staying to help Cyrus catch Lachlan would not buy me extra time for it. Without the manuscript as an excuse to slip away, I was shant out of luck.

  This is why you came to Paris. This is why you dragged Gaige on this run from hell. Answers. M.L. Worchansky may have the golden ticket. He may not. Either way, you’ll never know if you don’t ask.

  Hand hovering over the receiver, fingers itching to make the call, I listened for the sound of feet on steps. Cyrus and Dr. Merriweather were still with Gaige. Ines hadn’t returned since Cyrus declared the townhouse non-smoking. I was alone downstairs, and it was as good a time as any.

  I snatched up the receiver and punched in the number. The ringing trilled repeatedly in my ear, and my heart sank a little farther with each unanswered jingle. I let my head fall forward until my chin hit my chest, the weight of disappointment too heavy to fight any longer. It was over. Without Worchansky, answers weren’t going to be found on this trip.

  The receiver was nearly back in the cradle when a breathless male voice answered.

  “Bonjour?”

  I pressed the phone tightly against my ear. “Charles?” I asked.

  “Stassi,” he replied, no trace of doubt when he breathed my name.

  The smile in his voice made me smile, little butterflies fluttering in my abdomen.

  “How are you?” I asked, forcibly calming my voice.

  “I am well, thank you. My apologies for the delay, I was in the shower when I heard the phone ringing. I was hoping it would be you. I have been concerned. How is your brother? Your uncle mentioned that he has fallen ill.”

  “Gaige is doing better,” I said, praying it was true.

  My partner was awake, which seemed like a good start. The memory loss worried me, though. Nonetheless, until I heard otherwise, I was going to attribute his inability to recall our entire conversation to the huge knot on the back of his head.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Charles replied sincerely.

  There was a long pause, followed by awkward silence.

  “I called—” Charles began, just as I started to say, “Are you free this afternoon?”

  We both laughed.

  “You go ahead,” he told me.

  I repeated my question, lowering my voice when I heard movement upstairs.

  “As it happens, I am free,” Charles said, sounding amused. “But is there a reason we are whispering? Did I make such a terrible impression with your uncle?”

  “No, not at all,” I told him, bringing the mouthpiece closer to my lips. “Gaige is resting in the next room, I don’t want to bother him.”

  “That is very kind of you. Did you have an activity in mind for this afternoon? Or should I plan something? A picnic perhaps?” His tone was still light and joking.

  Good. We are on the same page, I thought.

  “I think you know exactly what I want to do,” I replied, realizing too late how that could be interpreted. How it would be interpreted by anyone at all like Gaige. I started to backpedal.

  “Wait, no, not that. That’s not what I meant, I was trying to say…I just meant…Worchansky.”

  Through the line, I heard Charles chuckling.

  “I know what you meant, Stassi. I inquired with a friend who knows Monsieur Worchansky, and got a phone number for him. I took the liberty of calling ahead, I hope you do not mind.”

  “No, not at all,” I replied, impressed with his initiative. “Would he mind if we stopped by this afternoon?”

  “He said any day this week is suitable. Though I forgot to ask where precisely he lives. You mentioned you had the address, though, correct?”

  “I do. It’s in Montrouge. That isn’t far, right?”

  “Rather close, actually. I have a car. I can drive us if that is okay with your uncle? Or we can hire a driver, if he would prefer.”

  It most certainly was not okay with my “uncle”. But I didn’t plan on telling Cyrus about the excursion.

  Upstairs, the door to Gaige’s bedroom clicked shut, followed by the sound of Cyrus and Dr. Merriweather talking in low voices.

  “Pick me up at four?” I asked hurriedly. Before Charles could answer, I added, “I’ll be waiting outside. If I’m running late, don’t come up. Just wait for me.”

  Charles chuckled again. “As you wish.”

  Two sets of footsteps were descending the staircase, the men’s voices growing louder as they drew closer.

  “See you soon,” I whispered, replacing the receiver just as Cyrus came into view.

  Engrossed in their conversation, my boss and the alchemist doctor didn’t notice me right away, giving my trembling hands time to still. They were discussing the oddity of Gaige’s condition. According to the doctor, there was nothing wrong with him aside from the concussion.

  “The memory loss is troublesome,” the doctor was saying. “He is lucid now, though. And his vitals are all within the normal range. Blackouts are typically a stage five symptom of time sickness, so I don’t think that’s what we’re dealing with. Once a runner reaches that point, he is almost never able to regress. Mr. Koppelman would be confused, delusional even, if this were from his travels. It is generally so severe by then that the runner becomes unable to function independently, and I usually recommend institutionalization. But he appears to be fine now. Mr. Koppelman has no other symptoms of time sickness, either acute or chronic. I don’t believe that is the proper diagnosis.”

  Cyrus and the doctor were standing in the living room, facing each other. Neither man acknowledged my presence, which made eavesdropping entirely too easy.

  “What about his behavior before the fall?” Cyrus asked.

  Dr. Merriweather’s expression turned troubled. “I cannot say just yet.” He patted the pocket of his white coat. “With the additional blood I just drew, I will be able to run more tests.”

  “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for? Something you haven’t already tested for? Some inkling of an idea?” Cyrus asked, his tan face looking impossibly grim.

  Averting his gaze, as if what he had to say next wasn’t going to be received well, the doctor continued.

  “From Stassi’s description…. You know I’d never think the worst of one of your men, Mr. Atlic. You have impeccable instincts. It’s just that…well, we might need to consider that Mr. Koppelman was using recreational drugs. There are a number of substances that would cause such behavior.”

  “Gaige doesn’t use drugs!” I exclaimed.

  Both men turned to stare at me. Seeing as I’d just outed myself, I slid off the stool by the phone and joined them in the living room.

  The doctor shifted from one foot to the other and pointedly avoided eye contact with me. I turned my hard stare on my boss.

  “You and I both know Gaige would not do that. I mean, sure, he likes to drink, but that’s the extent of it. And, on a run, he is careful to only use alcohol when the situation calls for it.”

  Cyrus nodded slowly
, looking thoughtful. When his perfectly neutral expression wavered for the briefest of moments, I caught sight of something akin to pride.

  “Stassi is right. I have known Gaige his entire life. The boy may imbibe. On several notable occasions, he has even gone overboard. But drugs have never been a part of his life.”

  The doctor held up his hands, conceding the point. “I understand. And I apologize if I have offended either of—”

  “You’re damned right you’ve offended me,” I snapped.

  Cyrus rested a hand on my shoulder. I waited for a reprimand, but none came. Instead, my boss pulled me to his side, a subtle gesture that showed he was on my team. A little of my anger faded away.

  Palms pressed together and held in the center of his chest, Dr. Merriweather bowed in my direction. “I am sorry for that.” He inhaled deeply. “I do, however, believe we need to consider the possibility—” He held up an index finger to staunch the flow of irate rambling threatening to flow from my lips. “—that he was drugged.

  “I have asked Gaige to write down every detail of his day, from the time he woke up to the last thing he remembers. If he tests positive for an unnatural substance, that should give us a timeline with which to work. From there, we will be able to narrow down where and when he was exposed to the toxin.”

  “Thank you, doctor. That sounds like the best way to proceed.” Cyrus turned to me. “Does that sound okay to you, Stassi?”

  I nodded in agreement.

  Now that no one was accusing my partner of going on a bender, the fight had gone out of me, replaced by exhaustion. In hindsight, my outburst seemed childish and silly. I should have defended Gaige in a more mature, professional manner.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Merriweather,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be so reactive, I’m just worried about my partner. Thank you so much for taking care of him.”

  “I understand completely,” Merriweather replied with his kindly smile. “We’ll get this all sorted out, one way or another.”

  “Let me walk you out, doctor.” Cyrus gestured to the door.

  I turned toward the stairs, figuring I had time for a catnap before Charles was due to pick me up.

  “Stassi?” Cyrus called without looking back. “I’d like a word when I return.”