Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1)

by J. D. Faulkner

  He slipped from her desk. “That’s not what the file says … Gwendolyn.” His laughter trailed after him as he left the room.

  Not again. She sprung to her feet. “It’s Gwen. That shouldn’t be too hard to … remember.” Her words trailed off. There was no sign of him in the main office. She rushed into the Archives without hesitation, heels skidding on the hardwood floor. She burst into the hallway in time to see the tails of Rafe’s coat disappear into a darkened doorway. “Hey, stop!”

  Charging down the hall, she braced herself for a confrontation. She searched the room. Rafe wasn’t there. Instead … well, the instead was too ridiculous to contemplate. The walls of the room were covered in mirrors of all sizes, and one glowed with a soft light. It was that mirror … words failed her. She swore she had seen the edges of the mirror ripple, the tails of Rafe’s coat being swallowed up by its surface. But that was impossible. It must have been a trick of the light.

  With a shaking hand, she touched the reflective surface. Jolting backward, she fell to the ground with a thud. Hand clutched to her chest, she stared at the mirror, whose light was now fading. Scrubbing at her skin, she tried to forget the feeling of cool silver liquid running through her fingers.

  Long after the light had disappeared, she rose to her feet, wide eyes never leaving the glinting surface. She held her breath until she was out of the room. Then she rushed down the hallway and back into her office.

  Her whole body was shaking. She stared blankly at her desk as time slithered by. Alistair’s knock interrupted her.

  “Gwen, I’m leaving and think you should take the …” He stopped speaking when he caught sight of her pale face. “Are you alright, Miss Conway? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Her laughter sounded nervous and strange to her own ears. “A ghost? No, nothing like that.” She stared off into the distance past Alistair’s shoulder.

  “Are you sure you are well?”

  She longed to tell him the truth—what she had seen in that room. But no, he wouldn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her. There was no possible way she had seen what she thought she had.

  She shook her head like someone waking up from a dream. “I’m fine, thanks. I haven’t been sleeping very well.” If that isn’t the understatement of the century, then I’m the Queen of England. Her smile was weak, but at least it wasn’t a grimace.

  “Well then, I was going to suggest you leave early as well, but now I think perhaps you should take a short holiday.” He glanced around the small room. “Being locked down here for too long can affect anyone’s nerves.”

  This time her smile was a little more secure. “I think I’d like that. I haven’t seen my aunt in a while. Maybe I will visit her and tell her about—” Her voice cracked. “—work.”

  “You do that.” Now his smile was worried. “And Gwen, get some rest.”

  She mumbled her assent. Her mind was already a thousand miles away. Or more accurately, it was down the hall focused on the image of a glowing mirror.

  Alistair watched the slim girl slip from the office, her shadowed eyes haunting him. He had known it wouldn’t take her long to follow Rafe into the Archives—and to see what she had witnessed. Running a hand through his silvered hair, he sighed. The Archives’ mysteries had broken stronger minds before. Still, he had every belief that Gwen would be able to accept what she had seen, even though he knew there would be questions. He had planned on running an errand that would take him away, but the turn of events had him reevaluating his plans.

  Reaching his hands towards the ceiling, he bent in a back-popping stretch. He felt old. Most would have labeled him old years ago, but he hadn’t felt it until recently.

  The chain of would-be events lined up in front of him; he could almost touch them. The future, however, was out of his hands. He could do nothing. That more than anything had aged him. Of all that he had seen and all that he had done, it was the frightened eyes of a young girl that had made him old in an instant.

  His bitter laugh cut through the silence of the office like a knife. Apparently old age and melancholy went hand in hand. He pulled on his wool coat and wrapped a red scarf around his throat. His feet followed the familiar path: out the office, down the long hallway, up a creaky elevator, and onto the courthouse roof. The rooftop entrance had been forgotten by almost everyone. Pulling the collar of his coat up against the biting wind, he moved closer to the edge of the building.

  The city spread out before him, lights shining in the dark. So many people with no idea how their lives could be affected by the next move of Miss Gwendolyn Conway. It wasn’t fair to place that burden on anyone. But now Alistair was forced to destroy her innocence for people who would never offer her their thanks.

  A noise behind him drew him from his thoughts, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t have to. Standing in silence, the two watched over the city below them. For a long while, there was just the lonely howl of the wind. Then Alistair spoke.

  “So it begins.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE GREEN OF THE scenery flashed by with the clack-clack of the moving train. Gwen ignored it. While the train was warm, she still felt chilled to the bone. She had gone straight to the train station from work, buying a ticket to visit her aunt. The rippling face of the mirror would not leave her thoughts.

  When Alistair had asked her if she was all right, she had almost blurted out her fear that she was losing her mind. The words had danced on the tip of her tongue. But what could she have said? How did she tell someone that she might be going insane?

  Now, in the relative quiet of the train, she was relieved she hadn’t said anything. She was still shaken. The lingering terror oozed through her veins like crude oil. It made her feel sick and heavy.

  As the train moved farther from the city and closer to her aunt, her thoughts finally began to clear. Magic didn’t exist, and people didn’t disappear into mirrors with liquid surfaces. So, she had two options in front of her. One: She was going crazy. The nightmares, the sleepwalking, the delusions, they were all the product of an overwrought mind—a mind needing help.

  Or two: There was a reasonable explanation. And Gwen, whose belief in magic had been destroyed at a very young age, knew there was always a reasonable explanation. The easiest answer? The most logical? What she had seen was all just an elaborate prank designed by none other than Rafe … What’s-his-face. And she had fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

  Her cheeks burned to think she had almost told Alistair. She doubted her boss, the epitome of the stoic gentleman of ages long past, would have been amused by such a hysterical reaction. The dreams had her more off balance than she thought, which is why she needed Maggie. Her aunt never failed to calm the rage of emotions within her. And if she was falling for stupid pranks, then she needed a calming presence.

  It wasn’t long before the screeching brakes signaled her arrival. Outside on the station platform, the rain poured, hitting the concrete with heavy splats. Her thin coat wasn’t going to offer much protection. She grimaced, pulling the coat tighter around her. It would have been smarter to head home for a change of clothes and a heavier coat. Yet, as soon as she had mentioned visiting her aunt to Alistair, she knew she would be taking the first available train to see her. A visit to Maggie would put her perspective back into focus.

  Hopefully, she would start feeling less like Pandora after the girl had unleashed chaos from her magical box. She snorted to herself. Lack of sleep sure makes me melodramatic.

  The mad dash to a free taxicab left her drier than expected. A few short words of direction to the driver and the vehicle lurched from the curb. Gwen let her gaze follow the raindrops running down the glass. It had been so long since her last visit, and here she was coming home for such selfish reasons. Maggie was going through her own difficulties, and the last thing she needed was Gwen bringing a whirlwind of turmoil home.

  Gwen straightened her shoulders and set her jaw. She wouldn’t repay her aunt’s love with s
elfishness. A quick word to the driver had the cab taking a detour. Thanks to the short stop, she stood at her aunt’s house with a bouquet of colorful flowers.

  Louisa answered the door, a wide smile on her face. “Well, if it isn’t good to see you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Practical coat choice, of course. Planning to catch your death out here?” She ushered her inside. “What were you, raised by wolves?”

  With a teasing smile, she took the flowers. “At least someone taught you not to show up empty-handed.” With her usual crackling energy, she bustled into the kitchen.

  Gwen followed her, the familiar smell of the house making her heart ache. “How is she, Louisa?”

  The older woman’s hands stilled on the flowers, concern flickering across her face. “It hasn’t been the best day. This treatment makes her sicker than the others. I’ve been spending more time here. Maggie can’t do everything that she used to, as much as it pains her to admit it. I’ve known her a long time and …”

  Louisa fussed with the flowers, covering up the break in her voice. “Well, I intend to know her for a lot longer, and your visit is exactly what she needs to cheer her up.”

  When Maggie’s illness had returned, Louisa had been quick to volunteer her time. Louisa was more than capable, but Gwen had still fought the idea of going back to finish college. Maggie had been adamant, refusing to be the reason Gwen dropped out of school. Her aunt had also known about the LSATs and Gwen’s interest in studying law. And there was no chance Maggie would have let her cancel her registration for such an important exam.

  Even though it had no longer felt important, Gwen had forced herself to take the test. But when Maggie asked her about the scores, Gwen had lied. Maggie couldn’t encourage her to leave for school if she thought Gwen hadn’t met the admission requirements. She felt horrible knowing Maggie blamed herself. Still, if it meant she could be there for her aunt? However Machiavellian and however guilty she felt, the ends justified the means. Maggie was too important to leave.

  Gwen had considered moving back home, but Maggie would have been too suspicious. And if her apartment felt too far away, she reminded herself she was at least still in the same state. And luckily, there was Louisa. Maggie and her childhood friend had the same fiery spirit. Louisa offered help in a no-nonsense manner when Maggie would have balked at pity. Gwen leaned over and kissed Louisa on the cheek, surprising the older woman into silence.

  It was Gwen’s turn to play with the flowers. “Sorry. I just …” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for everything you do. I know how hard it is.”

  Louisa touched her hand, their gaze meeting. If either noticed more moisture in the other’s eyes, they didn’t mention it. “Well …” Louisa’s voice was a little shaky. “… I think we’ve fussed enough with these flowers.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Why don’t you go put on warmer clothes, and I’ll tell her you’re here?”

  With a salute, Gwen hurried up the stairs to her room. It never failed to make Gwen’s heart warm to see the room as she had last left it. It was proof of Maggie’s promise that Gwen would always be welcome in her home.

  After changing, she went to find Maggie. The woman lying on the bed was thinner than she remembered, a bright scarf tied around her head. The fragility of her wrists was as painful as the deep hollows of her cheeks. However, the warmth in her welcoming smile was the same as it had always been.

  Gwen felt her lips stretch in an answering smile. “Hi, Maggie.” Her voice wavered.

  “Now, love,”—her aunt gave a brisk nod—“none of that. Stop skulking and come here.” Maggie smiled, her hazel eyes flashing with humor.

  Gwen dropped into an exaggerated curtsey before easing her weight down on the edge of the bed. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Nice try, but you aren’t fooling me. Louisa hasn’t managed to hide all the reflective surfaces in the house—yet.” She laughed, and her hand grabbed Gwen’s with surprising strength. “It is good to see you, though.”

  A tear escaped before Gwen could stop it, and she dashed it away. “I …” Her voice cracked.

  Maggie patted the empty space next to her with her free hand. “Shhh. I know.”

  Gwen moved closer to her aunt, inhaling the familiar smell of her perfume. She had promised herself to be strong. But she closed her eyes and fought the tears, comforted by the gentle stroking of Maggie’s hand against her hair.

  When the threat of tears had passed, Gwen gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “What?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I spent the whole ride here promising myself I wouldn’t fall apart?”

  “Gwen, look at me.” Maggie continued when their gazes met. “There’s no rule you have to be so strong all the time. Life is hard. You’re allowed to be just as scared as the rest of us.”

  Brow furrowed, Gwen jumped up and paced around the room. “But how selfish am I, feeling sorry for myself when you’re … you’re …” She couldn’t finish. “I haven’t even visited you lately. I promised to take care of you.”

  Maggie smiled. “This,” she said, gesturing to herself and the bed, “this isn’t new. I’m sick, Gwen, and pretending everything is all right is not going to change that. As much as I love that you refuse to accept my illness, as flattered as I am that you are trying to will me to immortality, every life ends. What’s important is how we live it—and who we live it with.” She patted the bed. “Now, why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Gwen chewed on her lip as she stared at her aunt.

  Maggie pursed her lips in mock seriousness. “If I recall, you still are the child and I am the adult in this relationship. Now, sit. Talk.”

  Gwen laughed and joined Maggie on the bed. Licking her lips, she tried to think of a way to start. In the face of Maggie’s sickness, her own problems seemed tiny. Had she come all this way because of a silly prank?

  Or maybe it had less to do with her fear of what she saw being real and more to do with her fear that it wasn’t. After all, what did she want besides something to prove magic did exist? That hope really was a thing with feathers. And that maybe, just maybe, Maggie could be saved.

  “Do you believe in the impossible?” Gwen whispered.

  “Well, what a marvelous question. Life would be quite dull if the impossible was as self-described, wouldn’t it?”

  Gwen plucked at the loose threads on the bedspread, afraid to hope, afraid to give up.

  Her aunt leaned forward and tilted her chin up with a gentle fingertip. “There are many things in this world that are indescribable. That’s what makes life worth living.”

  “What if you were faced with something that would change everything you had ever known?” What if it might be everything you ever wanted but were always too scared to go after?

  Maggie’s soft brown eyes were warm with love. “I would live, my girl, live.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SOME TIME WITH HER AUNT had Gwen heading back to the city with a clearer head. While it was the reason she went rushing home, Gwen never told Maggie about the mirror. Her aunt would have supported her, but the mirror had become a secret hope—a fragile flame flickering in her chest—one she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. So she focused on her aunt and on doing whatever she could to distract Maggie from her illness.

  During the train ride home, she made the decision to talk to Alistair about what had happened, explain her odd behavior, and tell him about the prank. Then it would be over. She tried not to think about her little hope, too practical to admit she was wishing for fairytales.

  When she arrived at the office, Gwen had every intention of speaking with her boss. She just couldn’t find him. Her gaze lingered on the door to the Archives, but she marched into her office and tried to focus on her work.

  Time crept by, and her one accomplishment was listening to the steady ticking of her clock. With a huff, she shoved away the legal files and rubbed her temples. She peeked at Alistair’s desk from underneath a c
urtain of hair, but he still hadn’t magically appeared. The main office was empty. Just like it had been a few seconds ago.

  Going home would be better than sitting here and obsessing. She slipped on her coat, planning to leave. Her feet stayed rooted to the floor. Honestly. It couldn’t hurt to check the mirror before bringing it up to Alistair. She could figure out how Rafe had tricked her. Then she would have an answer. So I can stop obsessing.

  “Sorry, Alistair,” she whispered to his desk before stepping into the dark hallway of the Archives. Pausing outside the room, her thumb ran over the cool metal of the door handle. Whatever happened, it would be the end of the mystery—maybe the end of her hope. Her aunt’s words echoed in her mind. I would live, my girl, live.

  This time there was no glowing light. With more effort than she would care to admit, she stepped into the darkened room. She needed to know the truth. And whatever happened, she would never forgive herself for running away. Lying to herself was no longer an option. As crazy as it was, she wanted the possibility to be real. What if everything she knew about life was a lie? What if magic did exist?

  The room was silent as she stared at her reflection, her eyes wide but determined. She raised her hand, watching her reflection reach up to meet her. Her fingers encountered the cool, and solid, surface of the mirror.

  The stab of disappointment was sharp. So, the world was as she always had imagined it. It didn’t hide any secrets involving magic mirrors. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, you’re not so special after all.

  Her fingers ran over the glass. She didn’t know how Rafe had done it, but she would figure it out. At the very least, she had revenge. She smiled at the idea of paying Rafe back. Her reflection’s smile widened with her own, fingers following the opposite path. There would be hell to pay, that’s for sure. Didn’t they always say ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?’ She laughed, palm pushed flat against the mirror. Magic mirror, indeed. Now she needed to find Rafe.