Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1)

by J. D. Faulkner

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE DOOR TOOK HER back to the Archives. The scene in front of her was so welcoming it was slow to sink in. She gave a soft exhale, watching the door melt into the wall. Sinking to her knees, she buried her head in her folded arms. Shudders racked her frame, and she bit her cheek to prevent from screaming.

  Terror thickened her blood. She refused to think of anything the test had shown her. The fear would pass. It always did. She would survive.

  The last of her muscles ceased to shudder. The pain was gone. She blinked, staring at her raised hands. The skin of her arms and palms were free of any wounds. No cuts. No bruises. Not even any dirt.

  So it had been just a test? All in her mind? Of course, it had to be. Hadn’t the room shown her Maggie free from her illness?

  So the man, as terrifying as he was, was just as fake. Not real. Of everything the maze had showed her, he was by far the worst. Still, he was only a creation of the test.

  At a slow pace, she walked down the hallway and into Alistair’s rooms. She needed the extra time to shake off the last remnants of fear, to convince herself the test was over. She had passed. The shadow man couldn’t hurt her.

  Alistair jumped from his chair at her arrival. “Are you alright, Miss Conway?”

  She smiled and dipped her chin. Always Miss Conway when he isn’t quite comfortable. His familiar behavior was a balm on her soul.

  “Of course she’s okay. Our little Gwendolyn’s a tough one.” The tips of his scuffed boots peeked over the back of the couch where Rafe sprawled.

  Alistair coughed, and Rafe’s head popped up over the couch.

  “Problem?” His grin was infectious.

  Gwen laughed into her hand. It sounded genuine, if a little rusty. Their behavior was so wonderfully normal.

  Although Alistair’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t answer Rafe. “I’m pleased to see you have completed the test unharmed.”

  “Alistair speak for ‘I’m proud of you.’ ”

  Something in her warmed, dispelling the chill coating her bones like ice. “I’m pleased too.”

  “Do you feel comfortable discussing what happened in the test?”

  Gwen dropped her gaze from Alistair’s, tracing the patterned carpet with her foot. Talk about salt on a raw wound. “Is there any chance … I mean, could we …” She trailed off—not wanting to be weak, although dreading the idea of speaking about the test so soon.

  Alistair winced. “I understand your reluctance. However, there is so much you don’t know about what’s happening.”

  “Maybe now isn’t the best time.” Rafe got up to stand between them. “We both understand how exhausting the testing can be.” There was a strange emphasis to his words.

  Alistair stared at the younger man. “Of course. My apologies, Miss Conway. Sometimes I find the events of the past dictate my behavior in the present.”

  “It’s okay.” She accepted his apology without hesitation, but she filed away his reference for later examination. What events?

  “This conversation cannot be delayed indefinitely.”

  “I’m sure there is enough time for a quick ice cream. We can talk after.” Rafe smiled.

  Decision made, the two men turned to her. She raised her eyebrows. Are we asking or telling? The thought of arguing with them to prove she could make her own decisions crossed her mind, and she dismissed it. Ice cream, after all, did sound nice. “That’s fine with me.”

  “Of course,” Alistair said. “I’ll be in my office when you return.” He disappeared out of the room.

  She didn’t speak until she was sure he couldn’t hear. “Is he always like that?”

  “A sanctimonious ass?” Rafe grinned hopefully.

  Laughing, she shook her head. “Does he always blow so hot and cold? Brimming with hidden hurt one minute, cold and formal the next?”

  Shaking his head, he laid an arm over her shoulder and eased her down the hall in the opposite direction. “Alistair is many things, but he does have your best interest at heart. He hasn’t had it … easy, and that affects how he sees and responds to the world.” Even though he had been joking before, his voice was serious.

  “I’m listening.” He raised an eyebrow and she clarified. “I think I deserve a few answers.” She tried to sound certain, but her voice ended on a questioning note.

  “Fair enough,” he sighed. “God knows I don’t get the man most of the time. The easiest explanation is that you remind him of someone …” He hesitated before continuing. “… his wife. She was taken from him, and it’s a loss he hasn’t recovered from. Understandable. I think he sees in you the same qualities that put his wife in danger and he is trying to stop an event that he feels is inevitable.”

  “Does he think I’m in danger?” She remembered the shadow man’s glinting eyes, his amused laugh. “That I’m going to die, too?”

  Rafe stopped walking, turning her so she faced him. “You will not die.” His voice was emphatic and brutal in its sincerity. “I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. Still, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she smiled, touching his arm when he released her. He shifted, as if uncomfortable, raking a hand through his hair.

  Nudging him, she moved in the direction he had started to lead her. “So …” She cleared her throat. “… where were we going?”

  He seemed to struggle to shake off his serious mood, although soon he was smiling again. “Doesn’t chocolate make everything better for you girls?”

  “Charming.” She punched him in the arm.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger, especially if he gets you ice cream.” With a wink, he pulled her down the hall.

  Gwen let herself laugh and followed him, mindful of the compass still warming her palm. The test would have to be explained; Alistair’s conversation couldn’t be put off forever. For now, she would let herself laugh and eat a delicious dessert. She would pretend to be the carefree girl she never had a chance to be. Her nightmares, the test, even Maggie’s sickness, it would all be set aside for one blissful moment. And then … well, then she would figure out what the compass meant. And why Alistair is so certain I’m in danger— her steps faltered—so certain I am going to die.

  Rafe leaned back, arms stretched out along the back of the diner booth. He watched the young woman in front of him eat, playing with the necklace he had given her. He tried to ignore how it rested perfectly between the swell of her breasts. Best to stay away from those kinds of thoughts. He could imagine what bits of his Alistair would be after if he found out.

  Gwen pushed the dish of ice cream away from her and sighed.

  He arched his eyebrow, running a finger along the rim of his coffee cup.

  “What?”

  “Nothing at all. Is there anything else I can get you? I’m sure they have some kind of sweet dessert still left in the building. If not, there is always the grocer down the street.”

  The corners of her eyes crinkled even as her cheeks turned a soft pink. “I was hungry.”

  “Apparently.” He opened his mouth to tease her further only to be interrupted when their waitress hustled over, bending over the table.

  “More coffee, hon?” A plain white nametag hovered in his view, attached to the forenamed Deidre’s impressive assets.

  “I’m good thank—” He stopped as she filled up his coffee cup. The curvy blonde gave him a pronounced wink before sashaying away with Gwen’s empty bowl.

  Gwen gave the waitress’ back end an annoyed glare before staring down at her empty cup. “Honestly.”

  He laughed, while making sure to shift his body so he wasn’t in danger of making eye contact with the trolling blonde. “What? I can’t help it—Oh bloody hell, here she comes again.”

  “Here’s your check, sweetie. Is there anything else at all I can get you?” Her voice was a silken purr.

  “I think we’re fine, a
ren’t we, Gwendolyn, love?” He winced as her foot connected with his shin. Fair enough. It was worth it to have the vampy blonde’s attention off of him. As the blonde and Gwen shared one last glare, he switched his full cup with Gwen’s empty one.

  As the waitress trounced off, Gwen dipped her head and caught sight of the cup in front of her. “Oh.”

  He smiled. Accepting her unspoken thanks for the coffee, he turned his gaze to the window, watching the people walk past. His mind stayed on Gwen. She was such an interesting study in contradictions: sometimes cold and annoyed, other times smiling like she was pleased he was still around.

  He knew what it was like not to trust anyone, and his answer was to treat everyone with the same jovial attitude. Normally, he didn’t care one way or the other what people thought about him. Gwen, however? He wanted her to trust him. Her eyes were so much brighter when she smiled, not as haunted by whatever shadows of the past she carried around with her.

  Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Does it ever become too ridiculous?”

  He tilted his head in her direction. “Hm?”

  She pointed to the people as they wandered by. “To be surrounded by all these people who have no idea of how small their lives are. Does that ever get to be too ridiculous for you?”

  Watching the people go by, he formulated his response. “The first thing you have to realize is I’m not from this world—” He gestured down to his grey t-shirt and worn jeans. “—even if I might look a sight more normal than when we first met.”

  “I don’t know. I kind of miss the ‘just-been-caught-in-a-torrential-downpour’ look.” Gwen grinned.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He grinned back. “What I meant was, the order and stability here is far removed from when I was born.”

  “Wait … Come again?” The coffee sloshed over the rim of her coffee cup. She hissed and blew on her hand. “When you were born? Seriously, you’re like, what, thirty at the oldest?” Her eyes were comically wide. “And, oh wow, how did I miss it? Not from this world?”

  “Too distracted by the thought of me shirtless?” He loved how easy it was to bring color to her cheeks.

  “Come on, Rafe.”

  “Too boring.” Not here, not now. He waved her off, pointing to the people outside to emphasize his point. “Maybe these people walking by don’t think their lives mean very much in the grand scheme of things, but I can see the meaning, the beauty.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, eventually turning to watch as a harried businessman rushed by. “Most of these people probably wouldn’t agree with you.”

  He shrugged. “He may not think his life is worth much. It might not be the life he grew up dreaming of. Yet, he still gets up in the morning—maybe to support his wife and children. Or maybe he sees glimpses of the purpose of his life.”

  The wrinkled suit disappeared from sight. “What purpose?”

  He leaned back again, his long legs bumping Gwen’s under the table. “I have seen worlds where there is no order, just chaos and pain. Maybe the man doesn’t live the world-changing life he wished for. Still, he matters, to his family, to his loved ones. He has a chance to live, to make something of himself.”

  “Yes, but everyone matters.” She said it like she was so certain it was true.

  “Maybe in your world.” His fingers gripped the empty cup in front of him so tightly his knuckles turned white. With a conscious effort, he relaxed his grip. While he smiled, he kept his gaze from meeting Gwen’s. “I guess the short version would be no, I don’t find it ridiculous. I can’t help but appreciate their small lives—” With a fatalistic smile, he shrugged. “—or something like that.”

  “You’re a bit of a contradiction.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”

  Her green eyes didn’t waver.

  He rolled his neck, hoping to relax the tense muscles. He didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. At least serious attention. Standing, he dropped money on the table before shrugging into his jacket. “Well, are you ready?”

  “What?”

  “I want to show you something. You should see it, and I’m sure it would take Alistair ages to get around to it.”

  Gwen shot to her feet and struggled to pull on her jacket. Rafe laughed, shaking his head. She was like a child with a present whenever a new mystery was mentioned.

  “Stop, you’re making it worse.” Laughing, he took the tangled jacket from her and helped her into it, pretending not to notice how she froze when his fingers brushed the back of her neck.

  Pulling her jacket straight, he slung an arm around her shoulder, promising himself that he would dispel any shadows his unplanned confession had created. “Off we go, then.”

  “Where?”

  “Why, dear Gwendolyn, on an adventure!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  INSTEAD OF LEADING HER back to the Archives, Rafe ducked behind the diner and into a deserted alleyway.

  “You sure know where to bring a girl,” Gwen said, toeing a piece of garbage with her boot.

  Rafe grimaced as if in pain, although the laughter in his eyes told her he knew she was joking. He pulled out a small tarnished mirror from his pocket. The scrollwork decorations on the mirror looked familiar. My compass.

  “After my test, I got a mirror.” He handed it over to her so she could make out its finer details, see her eyes wide with excitement in the reflection. Even after the horrible things the test showed her, she was intrigued by another mystery of the Archives.

  “What does it do?”

  He took it back from her, cradling it in his hand. “Well, do you want the surprise or the explanation?” His eyes flashed with the challenge.

  She smirked. “Surprise.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He took her hand, curling it around the mirror before placing his larger hand over hers. She tried her best to ignore the warmth of his hand, the slight scratch of his calloused fingertips as they brushed over her skin.

  “We may not know your gift, but every traveler can go through the gateways.” He laughed, the sound laced with self-mocking humor. “The lake isn’t the best gateway I’ve ever created. Still, it comes in handy.”

  If Gwen wasn’t so interested in the mirror, she would have asked about the story behind the lake. She doubted the other day was the first time Rafe had used the lake to escape.

  “I’ll open the link and take us through. Try to focus on me.” He winked at her. “Shouldn’t be much of a hardship, I’d imagine.”

  “I’ll try to survive.” Her voice was deadpan but her lips curled up in a slight smile.

  “Well then, through the looking glass, dear Alice.”

  Her retort died on her lips when her vision went black and the world swirled on itself. She blinked, trying to regain her sense of where she was. It felt as if space had folded itself back around her and she was able to see again. And wrapped in Rafe’s protective embrace.

  “Oh.” She stiffened.

  He made sure she was steady on her feet before letting her go. “It can be a bit disconcerting the first few times.”

  She opened her mouth to respond but was distracted by the view around her. They no longer stood in a deserted alleyway. Instead, the view was familiar in its lonely beauty.

  “The picture.” At Rafe’s questioning glance, she explained. “Alistair has a picture of this in his rooms, the room I woke up in.”

  “Welcome to the temple.”

  Although the temple was in ruins, the beauty of the place was awe-inspiring. Everything was green and lush. In the bright sunlight, the abandoned place glowed with vibrancy.

  Rafe called it a temple, yet the wall towering over them looked more like a medieval cathedral. A beautiful, but broken, stained glass window glinted in the sun, bits of colored glass littering the grass with spots of color.

  Looking around, she recognized other structural forms. It should have been a jarring combination, yet the forms flowed together in harmony. Tall Corinthia
n columns rose up out of the grass around the wall, some standing straight, others at angles, and some lying on the ground. In the ceiling, Gwen recognized the high vaulting arches of Romanesque and Baroque architecture. Everywhere her gaze landed, there was a new design. Most were familiar; a few she couldn’t place.

  “What is this place?” Her voice was quiet in the dappled sunlight. She felt she was breaking an unspoken rule, like speaking in a cathedral during prayer.

  Rafe sat down, leaning against a piece of fallen stonework and motioning for her to join him. He stayed silent until she settled down, plucking at blades of grass. “I think this place was created by the Archaics—or at the very least, created to honor them.” He shifted into a more comfortable position, his leg resting against hers.

  An electric thrill raced through her. She fought the need to squirm—or worse, babble out an inane question. Focus, Gwen. He’s talking.

  He pointed out various structures around them. “Greek, Baroque, Babylonian, Egyptian. Every era of history you can think of. The temple shows how time loops in on itself, that it isn’t the linear progression most are led to believe.”

  “So the different architectural types represent different times?” See, you sound like you’re paying attention. Blah, blah, blah, architecture. Is it warm out here? She fanned herself, trying to make the move look natural.

  “I’m not saying they represent different times; I’m saying they are different times. This place exists with its own rules. It looks the way it does because it connects to all these places.” He shifted again so his leg rested even more firmly against hers.

  Oh God. “Um, what?” Get it together, Conway!

  He gave her a questioning glance. “Since my test, I’ve jumped through time living thousands of lives: the past, the present, the future. There’s no limitation to where or when I could go.”

  “Okay, wait.” Gwen pursed her lips. The gears in her brain clanked. You can have a conversation like a mature adult.

  “You keep hinting at all these lives you have lived. Come on, Rafe. Be serious. You really can’t be much older than me.” Her voice trailed off when he laughed. It only made the heat in her belly curl. You have it bad, girlfriend.