With her thoughts so centered on Rafe and her revenge, it took a moment for her to notice the light. When her palm sank into the mirror, she stared as liquid silver lapped up her arm. She tried to jerk back but the mirror wouldn’t let her. It continued to pull her in. Gravity lurched with a dizzying shift, and she fell into the mirror with a scream.
It echoed in the empty room.
The room was silent except for the soft click-click of the turning safe dial. Rafe’s clever fingers teased the combination from the lock. His black coat blended with the darkness of the room making him just another shadow. The last of the tumblers fell into place. Without hesitation, Rafe pulled open the safe.
Focused on the contents of the safe, all he could do was grunt as the force of a smaller body colliding with his sent him tumbling to the ground. Instinctively, he started a mental countdown. The security around the safe was laughable, but it wouldn’t be long before someone investigated the noise. He fought to untangle his long limbs from his unknown assailant’s as he growled out a curse in a long dead language.
“That doesn’t sound very polite.”
The weak voice had him freezing. “Gwendolyn?”
“It’s Gwen,” she whispered.
He took the risk of lighting a match so he could see her face. “How in the bloody hell did you get here?”
“You tell me!” She struggled against his heavy weight, trying to push him off of her. Angry green eyes glared up at him. “One minute I’m in the Archives, and then I touch that stupid mirror and …” Her gaze shifted, and she noticed the open safe. “What were you doing?”
“Well. That’s slightly complicated.” A loud bang downstairs interrupted him. The security was more advanced than he had anticipated. He winced. “Maybe a touch more than slightly complicated. Now, it’s time to go.” Scrambling up, he shoved the contents of the safe into his pack before pulling Gwen to her feet.
The guards banged on the door. “Thief! We know you’re in there!”
Definitely time to go. He wanted to use his tried and true escape plan, although he wasn’t sure what would happen with Gwen. The small mirror in his pocket would take him home, but he had no idea if it would work for her. She’d said she touched the mirror and it had taken her here, so she must have a link to the Archives. Guess the lake will have to do.
“Come on.” His fingers curled around Gwen’s, and he pulled her towards the balcony, stopping when she resisted his weight.
“You were stealing!” She must have recognized how juvenile her words sounded because her pale cheeks turned a dusty rose.
He gave a testing tug on her hand, wondering if he could carry a squirming girl to the lake and still evade the guards. He was pleased his first thought hadn’t been to ditch her and run. Alistair would never forgive him for that one.
“What wonders of mental intuition led you to that idea?” Her glare deepened, but there were bigger problems at hand. “We’ve got to go, Gwendolyn.” This time she went with him when he tugged her forwards. Perhaps she realized being caught in the room would be worse than running with him.
“It’s Gwen,” came the short angry reply. Her voice sounded firmer this time.
Even with the sound of the wood splintering in the distance, he smiled. She was so easy to annoy. He pulled her out onto the balcony and shoved a deck chair up against the door. That should hold them for a few minutes.
Regardless of her initial reluctance, Gwen now seemed wholly in favor with the idea of retreat. She ran down the balcony to where it sat snug with the house opposite. It was close enough to jump—minus any fear of heights. Why does it always have to be heights? I’d take snakes any day.
Rafe was flattered when Gwen glanced over her shoulder before making the leap. Honor among thieves was a slight misnomer. None of his acquaintances would ever check back on him once they started running. He never had.
As he caught up with her, she hissed at him. “What do we do now?
“In these types of situations, running’s always a safe bet.” He laughed at her impatient glare and grabbed her hand again. “To the lake, fair lady!” Pulling her into the dark house, he tried not to notice the odd feeling in his chest when her hand tightened around his.
Gwen followed Rafe down the curving streets. She had no idea where they were going. While part of her was panicking, another part was enjoying the adventure. True, she imagined when she sat down later and thought through everything, she would question her sanity. But for now, she enjoyed the feeling of her feet hitting the cobblestones with the cool night air rushing through her lungs.
The buildings around her were impressive in their strangeness. They crowded out the sky. Tiny lights shone within the black, crumbling stone. Like stars glittering in an unknown sky. Green ivy crawled along the cobblestones and up through the ruins. The house she and Rafe left must have been one of the few that were still whole. Everywhere she looked, her eyes found abandonment and isolation. Even the air smelled musty, like a room that had been locked up for far too long.
Her mind may have been enjoying the run, but her body had lost its enthusiasm. She pulled against Rafe’s hold on her hand. “Stop. I have to stop.”
In his defense, his pace slowed. He didn’t seem at all affected by their hectic run through the city. “Looks like we lost them.” Some of the tension in his shoulders faded.
Gwen watched him, lost for words. “I don’t know … I …” Her voice was too loud in the darkness. “Where are we?”
His gaze focused on her, and he squeezed her hand before pulling her more gently in the same direction. She fell into step next to him. “You asked the right question, that’s for sure. It’s just not the easy question.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “Did Alistair tell you anything about the Archives?”
How could this be explained by the Archives? I don’t even know what the Archives actually are. She had always assumed the Archives contained books or records, but all of the rooms she had been in were devoid of any type of written record. In fact, all the rooms she had seen were decorated by mirrors, one of which had brought her here after she touched it. The fall through the mirror, though difficult to accept as real, was etched in her mind in vivid Technicolor. Did all the mirrors in the Archives do the same thing? Alice through the looking glass, I’m right there with you, girl.
Her mind whirled in the deepening silence. She opened her mouth to answer the question, but an angry shout interrupted her. Her hand tightened around Rafe’s in what she imagined was a painful grip. He didn’t complain.
“Time to run again.” His lips were curved in a boyish grin.
“You’re enjoying this!”
His grin got deeper as he leaned closer to her, their foreheads touching. “Swear to me you’re not?” Her breath caught in her throat, and he winked at her, laughing as he pulled her down the road.
Their hurried retreat provoked more angry yells, and a trickle of worry slithered down Gwen’s spine. The voices were getting louder.
While his attitude suggested indifference, Rafe’s pace increased. Thankfully, they were faster than the men chasing them.
Lights gleamed in front of them, and a loud voice echoed out. “Let the girl go and no harm’ll come to her. We want what’s in the bag.”
They both stopped running, and Gwen peeked from behind Rafe’s shoulder. The group in front of them was bigger than the one chasing them. For the first time, her thoughts strayed to the pack slung over Rafe’s shoulder.
The reality of what she was doing struck her like lightning. This wasn’t a fairy tale and she wasn’t a make-believe heroine, whether she wanted to act like one or not. The truth of the matter was she was running through deserted streets with someone she knew nothing about, the same someone who had been stealing from the very men chasing them.
Backing away from Rafe, she dropped his hand. He was the one who knew what was going on, and he was her ticket out of this adventure turned nightmare. But it was naive of her to have r
ushed after him in a mad dash through the dark and unknown streets.
He must have felt her move away. “What’s wrong?” He kept his body facing the group of guards, but he spared her a quick glance.
“What’s in the bag, Rafe?”
His brow furrowed. “Now isn’t the time.”
“What’s in the bag?”
Rafe was about to speak, but a loud crack of gunfire rang out in the night. Whatever was in the bag was important enough for the guards to kill over. Another crack had Gwen diving to the right on instinct, running down a narrow alley. In her panic, she didn’t stop to see where Rafe had gone. Out of fight or flight, her body had picked flight.
There was shouting behind her. And the voice wasn’t Rafe’s. Had I really been enjoying this? Am I crazy? The alley twisted and turned at sharp angles, but she pressed forward as fast as she could. There was a lighted opening ahead of her. If she could only reach it.
A strong hand latched on to the back of her shirt, and she lurched forward as the collar of her shirt tore loose. She fell to the ground with a cry, kicking at the heavy weight pinning her legs. The guard snarled angry curses at her as she fought to free herself. Her well-placed kick loosened his hold, and she jumped up and raced towards the trees. They would give her a place to hide.
She glanced behind her. Pain exploded in her head as something slammed into her temple, and she collapsed to the ground. Her hands dug into the soft dirt as she tried to stand.
Footsteps thudded on the ground, and heavy black boots appeared in her line of vision. “What’ve we got here?” The man jerked Gwen to her feet. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”
“Please.” Her voice was choked by panic, but the man didn’t act like he was moved by pity. Gwen was knocked to the ground again when Rafe barreled into the man’s side.
“Gwen, run!”
She scrambled to her feet and followed his command, her confused mind registering the fact that he had called her Gwen instead of Gwendolyn. Trees closed around her as she surged forward. It wasn’t long before she needed to stop, gripping the rough bark of a tree to keep upright. The agony in her head made it hard to see.
Swiping at her eyes, she paid little attention to the sticky red substance covering her hand. As she moved forward, the world around her lurched and she stumbled. Something crashed through the trees, and she wheeled back, knees collapsing when Rafe appeared. Resting her forehead against the tree, she fought the sobs shaking her shoulders.
His gaze seemed focused on her forehead, and he rushed over to help her stand. “Gwendolyn, I’m so—” A shout from the distance rocketed him into action. He swung her up into his arms, running through the trees.
The stars peeked through the branches. She watched them until the sound of Rafe’s feet hitting the ground changed. They were running down a narrow wooden dock. The lake stretched out in front of them, beautiful in the calm of the night.
Rafe eased her down onto the dock, brushing her cheek. “Gwen, I need you to focus now.”
The stars made a halo around his head. Gwen blinked up at him. “Rafe?”
He smiled and his fingers stroked her cheek once more. “Hold your breath and think of home.”
Her thoughts whirled and danced. The request was strange. She lost her chance to ask any questions when Rafe jumped, pulling both of them into the water. The cold water rushed up over her and she fought to reach the surface. But Rafe wouldn’t let go of her and pulled her deeper into the lake. Instead of sinking, she was falling—faster and faster—until all she could do was close her eyes and pray for home.
CHAPTER SIX
LANDING WITH A PRACTICED ROLL, Rafe tumbled out of the mirror and onto the wooden floor of the Archives. Alistair was already crouched next to Gwen, cradling her head in his lap. Rafe watched as the older man checked her pulse and her pupils.
“Is she all right?” His voice came out as a strained whisper so he repeated the question in a steadier voice.
“She should be fine. But we need to clean the wound. Help me carry her?”
Rafe picked Gwen up. She was so light in his arms, so fragile. The walk to Alistair’s room was silent. Rafe laid Gwen down while Alistair walked into the attached bathroom.
“She won’t break, you know.”
Rafe refused to speak, waiting for the older man to continue.
“She’s stronger than you think.”
Leaning against the wall, Rafe’s pose was a study of indifference. He fought to keep his face blank as he watched Alistair clean the blood from Gwen’s temple. Running a hand through his wet hair, he winced when his torn knuckles throbbed from the movement. They were raw and sore, purple blossoming under the skin.
He smirked with vicious pleasure. Wait ’til you see the other guy. There had been no small amount of satisfaction in slamming his fist into the guard’s face. He had been bigger than Rafe, but the guard hadn’t put up much of a fight.
But thinking of the guard served to remind Rafe of why he had punched him in the first place. The sight of Gwen held at the mercy of the guard was an image he would never forget. She had been so pale, the bright blood stark against her white face.
He cursed to himself, clenching his fist until the pain was red hot. He wasn’t used to having to protect someone, not someone as important as she was. How could I be so stupid?
“It’s not your fault, you know.” A cool voice interrupted his self-condemnation.
Rafe’s blue eyes snapped with anger. “She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it hadn’t been for me. I should have been more careful. I should have—”
“You knew she would show up? I didn’t know you possessed the powers of a Reader.” Alistair’s voice was so dry with calm condescension it made Rafe’s blood boil.
“How can you be so calm? With her blood on your hands?” He shouted the last, wincing when it elicited a soft whimper from the figure lying on the bed.
“Calm?” Alistair’s struggle to keep his voice even was clear. “You question my feelings on the matter?”
That quieted him. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry …” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not … this is all new to me.”
Alistair inclined his head—apology accepted. He tossed Rafe a small tube of antiseptic cream. “Thanks.” Rafe’s voice was stiff but genuine, and he rubbed the cool cream over his raw knuckles.
Alistair turned back to bandage Gwen’s forehead. “I, at the very least, am more to blame for tonight’s incident than you. If I had told her about the Archives before, she wouldn’t have gone into the mirrors so unprepared.”
Now it was Rafe’s turn to mimic Alistair’s habitual expression of one eyebrow raised in mockery. “Now we’re going to argue over who is most to blame?”
Alistair smirked, and Rafe matched the expression with one of his own.
“I concede. Shall we take equal blame?” Alistair looked down at the still girl. “Although her curiosity may have played a role in tonight’s events.” Easing away from her, he motioned Rafe to leave the room and followed him. “Minus tonight’s … difficulties, did everything else go as planned?”
Rafe nodded, remembering the object hidden in his bag. He went back to grab it, handing it to Alistair as soon as he was back in the room. He watched Alistair unwrap a small, dented gold key.
“The security was greater than we had anticipated—as if they were expecting me.”
Alistair’s hand tightened over the key. “I’m sorry for the consequences but the risks were necessary.”
“Why keep it in that forgotten world? It’s a ghost universe, buildings crumbling. The Guardians shouldn’t have been there—no one else was.”
Alistair frowned. “I believe the Guardians may have anticipated this step of ours. Perhaps they intended to capture you and use it as the impetus to strip me of my power over the Archives.”
“Good thing I’m such an excellent thief.”
Gazing heavenward with long suffering forbearance,
Alistair sighed. “Indeed. Can we move on to more relevant subjects? We don’t have the luxury of waiting for the Guardians to approve what we do here. Gwen will need every advantage if she is to face what’s to come.”
Rafe folded his long frame into a chair, wrapping his damp coat around him. “The black mirror?” At Alistair’s scowl, he sighed and stood up. When he next sat down, a thick blanket protected the chair from his wet clothes.
“She will play an important role in making sure the black mirror’s protections are steadfast.” Alistair’s face grayed. But he cleared his throat, and a calm blankness replaced whatever emotion he was struggling with.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, old man?” Even though his voice was joking, his eyes were sharp. Rafe tried to divine whatever the earlier emotion had been that had flickered across his face.
Alistair scowled. “You have difficulty recalling people’s names. Mine, for example, would be Alistair, if you’d care to remember.”
Rafe’s eyes glinted. “But is it? Is it really?” He may have been no further in uncovering one of Alistair’s many secrets, but at least he had the enjoyment of irritating the older man.
Alistair gave him a pointed look. “Back to the matter at hand, if we are done with this pointless conversation?”
Rafe’s grin widened but he didn’t speak, waiting for Alistair to continue.
“Gwen’s role is an important one.” Alistair rubbed his thumb over the edge of the key. “I thought this would be the easiest way to introduce her to the Archives and to convince her of the role she will play.”
Rafe agreed, although he couldn’t hide his concerned frown. He wasn’t sure there was an easy introduction to the mystery of the Archives, but he didn’t have any brilliant ideas of his own. Alistair’s plans had a way of working out, so for now he would follow his lead.
If Gwen needed a detailed version of events, then he would be more than happy to oblige. Whatever Alistair said, he was responsible for her getting hurt. He would have to think of a way to make it up to her. An idea sparked in his mind, and he mulled it over. It might do. “When she wakes up, tell her I’m sorry.”
Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1) Page 4
