The silence she leaves behind is loud, filled with my dad’s claims that she’s a rift-walker and Soda’s speculations that Cas might need the money. I study the cement at my feet and close my eyes. “Are you one of his rift-walkers?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Of course it is!” I find myself standing, my fists clenched at my sides. “You just told me my dad is conducting a hella illegal ‘side-business’ from my bedroom! You’re telling me something that could land him in prison for the rest of his life! That he’s doing something that violates not only the laws of the United States, but the Time Travel Initiative—which is a global agreement! This is all about you, Cascade!”
My voice echoes on the chatline, then fades into silence. I breathe in, and out, in, and out, trying to regain control of my emotions. It takes several seconds to feel like I can speak again without shouting.
“What’s your real name?” I ask, my voice deadly even.
“He killed my father,” Cascade says, her voice small yet filled with rage. “I’m telling you the truth, Price. Every word is true.”
“The words you’re saying,” I shoot back. Did he really kill her father? How? When?
“I’m afraid,” she says. This time there’s a tremor in her words, and I hate that I’ve put it there. I hate that there’s this thing between us—and that it’s my dad’s fault.
“Is your grandfather sick?”
Her sharp intake of breath is the only answer I need. “Who told you that?” she demands.
“Soda,” I say. “Listen, Cas, I’m scared too, okay? But if you’re a rift-walker, you have to stop. My dad says he can’t protect me, and if he can’t do that for me, you’re in real trouble. I—I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I clear my throat, not caring if it makes me seem weak or nervous. Right now, I’m both. “Heath’s told me what’s going on with Cooper. They don’t know where he is or what’s happening to him; they may never see him again. I can’t—I don’t want that for you.”
I want to know what her real name is, and what color her eyes are without an enhancement program coding them into storm cloud gray. I want to know everything about her.
“Cascade?”
“My grandfather is very sick,” she whispers.
My eyelids fall closed, and it’s hard to breathe. I want to rage, shout obscenities. At the same time, I want to cry. Fold Cascade into my chest and hold her while she cries. “How long?” I ask.
“It’s been bad for three years now.”
All I can think is, Three years. Cascade’s been risking her life by using the rift for three years.
I open my bedroom door, and the guard at the window turns. My hands unclench, and the tension seeps from my jaw.
“Monroe,” I say and shut the door quickly. The electronic fingerprint lock sounds particularly satisfying. I kick off my shoes with a twinge of pain from my leg. Particle accelerating boots definitely aren’t a good way to travel. All I want to do is crawl into bed, where I won’t have to think about illegal time rifts, or girls, or my dad, or jamming.
Monroe nods in my direction, his eyes taking in the smallest of details. “What happened to your leg?”
“You don’t want to know.” I limp to my bed and sit down. “What are you doing here?”
Monroe settles his huge frame into my desk chair. His black suit doesn’t crease, and his shoes gleam with polish. He rubs one meaty hand over his dark-haired head before looking at me. His eyes are usually sharp and hooded, the perfect combination to strike fear into anyone who questions his authority.
Now they watch me with an intensity that isn’t rooted in intimidation. “I’m running a muting program,” he says. “You’ll need to take care of the bots in your room after I leave.”
I glance at the curtains and the lamp. “You came to warn me about the spying technology in my bedroom?”
“You’ve got some heavy stuff goin’ on,” he says. “You need to be hella careful here.”
“Where?” I ask, a spark of irritation fanning into a flame inside my gut. “Or should I say when?”
He jabs one finger at me. “That. That’s exactly what you need to be careful with.”
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what I need to be hella careful with?” I pin him with my own eyes, hoping they’re as fierce as his. He had no idea what I’ve done today, what truths I’ve learned, how incredibly angry and desperate I am right now.
“Your dad,” Monroe says. “You don’t want to be messing with him.”
I thought I knew my dad. He’s the perfect example; the press can’t find a dirty bone in his closet. Of course, until an hour ago, I didn’t know he was the man who manages the Time Bureau and everything that has to do with rifts and travel.
But Dad and his walkers are using the rift to go back in time and change events, just like Cascade said.
Highly illegal. The top reason the Time Bureau—the Time Keeper himself!—restricts walking. Everyone would go back and change something. Who they marry. What classes they chose in college. They’d go back and change what they do on the day they get in a bad accident, or the day their husband dies.The past cannot be changed, I hear inside my mind, though there’s no propaganda advertisement. Learn from your mistakes. Move forward. Live now.
“Does the Bureau know?” I ask. I don’t understand how Dad can be acting as the Keeper and be using the rift at our house for personal gain. I don’t know how I missed it. The stupid rift is in my bedroom.
“What do you think?” Monroe asks.
“I think my dad’s smart enough to cover his tracks.” As soon as I say it, I realize that I have my opinion on the unanswered question posed in journal: Should time travel be legal?
No, I think. The government got this one right.
Monroe leans forward. “I think he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. You understandin’ me? Whatever—and whoever—it takes.” He pushes his suit coat to the side, revealing his electroray, a weapon that can launch an electrical charge up to ten yards and inflict second-degree burns. His hand lingers on the ray for too long.
“Does he know where Cooper is?” I ask. “Is Cooper one of his walkers?”
“Whatever it takes,” Monroe says. “Be hella careful.” He crosses the room, and pauses with his hand on the doorknob. I get up and swipe my palm over the lock so it will release. With his face practically touching the wooden door, Monroe says, “The basement is free with moonlight.”
Before I can ask him what he means, he leaves.
“The basement?” I ask myself as I re-lock the door. I link-in and pull up the blueprints, just to double-check that the stairs I saw in that junkified room downstairs are real. There’s no basement in this giant house. No stairs in the corner of that room. Of course, there’s not a bullet-proof door behind the wrap-around porch either.
Secrets, secrets. I cast my eyes to the ceiling. What else are you hiding? I ask the house.
I swear I hear it answer, a hiss of breath that sounds like “Come find out.”
Saige
MOM HELPS ME TO THE LOVESEAT, which Shep has vacated. The suited men sit on the couch across from me, their eyes bright and swimming with accusations—and grids.
The damning gold lines ingrain themselves into my retinas, and every time I blink they’re all I see.
Chloe went to the future, I tell myself over and over. She came back; she left again. Came back; left again.
I’d seen the blue outline hugging her shoulders on more than one occasion while she was still here permanently. Once after she’d climbed in the window, claiming she’d been to Cedar’s. Another time when she woke me up by crying in the window seat. She said she was upset about something Eliza had told her. I was ten years old. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I just wanted her to stop sobbing and smile.
I wonder what she found on the other side of the rift that she didn’t have here. A jolt of anger surges through me. What could possibly lure her so strongly t
hat she’d leave me behind?
I chase those dark thoughts away with something blacker: Maybe Chloe wants to come home, and can’t. I swallow the rising panic and try to focus on what’s happening right now in the living room.
“Why do you have this printout?” One of the guards holds up the sheet of paper I’d printed at the library. The one about time rifts.
“I don’t know,” I say, looking at Sarah Jane as she sits next to me on the loveseat. “That’s not mine.” Denial is all I have left.
“What do you know about time rifts?” a guard asks.
“Nothing.” I shrug, hoping for nonchalance. Inside my thoughts thrash, things about flashing silver lights and lost sisters in nightgowns.
“Have you ever met anyone….” The guard trails off, shoots an accusatory look at my mother, and clears his throat. “Have you ever met anyone from a different time?”
Cascade’s note had suggested I talk to my mother. For the first time in a long while, I wonder exactly what Mom does at NovaRad. Is it possible she knows about the rift—has known about it for a long time?
Is that why she won’t move? I wonder.
Mom’s eyes bore into mine, squinted like I’m an experiment she can’t solve. “Saige, have you ever met anyone from a different time?” she asks. “These officers are trying to help you.”
“No,” I say, shooting a glance at Sarah Jane.
“Let me see your phone,” Mom says, standing up and moving toward me. A hot knife of betrayal slices through me.
“No,” I say. “I don’t have to show you my phone.”
“I’m your mother.”
I’m surprised by this argument she’s willing to have in front of complete strangers. “What are you researching at NovaRad?” I ask.
That stops her. “That’s classified,” she says.
“Time rifts?” Shep pushes, joining forces with me. I wonder if he snuck a look at my notebook, because we haven’t discussed anything rift related. “Can you use lasers to time travel?”
The gridded-eyed men zero in on Mom. One of them writes something in his notebook, which I find strange. If they’re from the future, surely they have fancy electronics to record facts.
“Have you ever met someone from a different time?” I ask my mother. “Maybe you should be letting them check your phone.” I can’t believe the words I’m saying. Mom wears the fury in her eyes as she stuffs her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. I’m sure she’s gripping her phone with the strength of a python.
“Mrs. Phillips, we’re not here to discuss your scientific findings.” The guard clears his throat. “We’re well aware of those. We’re just trying to make sure the rift hasn’t been compromised.”
“It hasn’t,” Mom snaps. “I already told you that.”
Price
IN ONE SWIFT MOTION, I rip my curtains off the rod. I storm through my bathroom and into the spare bedroom, where I shove the curtain into the top of the unused closet. With the closet door closed, and both bathroom doors shut and print-locked, I examine the lamp. I see nothing, but just to be careful, I stash it in the closet underneath the new clothes Mom bought for me.
Then I spend a minute standing at the window, staring into the street below. Cascade has become much more than an interesting girl in my social group.
She’s the Dark Panther, and I’d find her twice as intriguing just for that. She’s also working for my dad, doing some hella illegal rift-walking—from my bedroom. She’s hiding things from me, but I’m not sure why.
The sidewalk holds no answers, but I continue to watch it like it will suddenly spring to life and tell me what to do.
As I’m standing there, Heath hails me. I activate my speaker. “Go.”
“Cooper?” he asks, and a new band of tension settles in my neck.
“Tonight,” I confirm. “Listen, sorry about earlier.”
“My fault,” he says. At least he doesn’t sound upset.
“You and Soda looked cozy.” I can’t quite keep the jealousy out of my voice. I don’t even know why I care. I knew he and Soda were dating, and it’s not like I want to spend all day with Heath.
“Getting that way,” he says. “You take Cas out?”
“Sort of,” I hedge, inhaling deeply and turning away from the window. “I’ll tell you about it tonight, okay?”
“Fair enough. Your house or mine?” he asks. “The moon’s full tonight so I can sneak over easy.”
The moon—
The basement is free with moonlight. Monroe was telling me the basement would be unmonitored at night. “Of course,” I say.
“Of course?” Heath repeats.
I shake my head. “My house,” I say. “I have a couple of other things to do tonight.”
Heath agrees and I immediately hail Monroe, activating the secure coding program so I can talk more freely.
He comes back immediately with “What do you need?”
I don’t answer immediately, waiting for the code to work its magic. The program runs it’s course, and I say, “During moonlight, are the doors open? Sensored?” Last time I entered that room, he and another guard had come running. Something will have to change for the outcome to be different, no matter what time I’m sneaking around.
“Not open,” he says. “Definitely sensored.”
I sigh, and it’s full of frustration. There has to be a way to disarm that sensor, at least for a few minutes. I glance at my flatpanel. “Okay, well—”
“I can provide the transportation.”
I pause, unsure of exactly what Monroe’s saying. “Midnight?”
“Midnight,” he says and closes the chat without further discussion.
I war with myself. If I sneak downstairs tonight, I’ll be fully committed. I could simply sleep when normal people do, and leave midnight to those who enjoy pissing off their fathers and discovering decades-old secrets.
I wake up to my alarm. After chatting with Monroe, I’d eaten and gone straight to bed. I’d gotten in a good three hours, but I feel like I need ten more.
The full moon spits light through my open curtains, casting recesses of shadow on the floor. I pull on an undershirt and a pair of gym shorts. I haven’t had time to sign in as the Black Hat before Heath chats On my way. Five minutes later, he eases himself through the window, blending into his surroundings just as his illegal identity indicates.
He sets up his flatpanels as I become the Black Hat and begin a rudimentary search using his brother’s name. It’s been released to the public? I chat, surprised. I meet his eye and find desperation there.
Privatize did it, he chats.
What? Doesn’t Gustav want information to be more private, not less?
Yes, but since the rift flick went out, he’s been trying to get the Time Bureau to release its records. You know, get full disclosure about what goes on in there. You haven’t heard?
I focus on my Link screen so I won’t have to look into his eyes and lie. My flatpanel is almost synced. Been off the newsfeeds for a while, I chat.
So I guess you don’t know who was with Coop, Heath says. I don’t like the way it transmits in my brain, like it’s an accusation, or worse, that I’ll know—or should know—who was with Cooper.
No, I say, hella curious while acknowledging the cold pit in my stomach. I thought you said Cooper wouldn’t say who was with him. I swallow, trying to force calmness to my innards. It doesn’t work, and everything inside feels jumbled together.
He won’t, Heath confirms. They’re circulating the pics. So far no one has been positively ID’ed, Heath chats. The skin of tension eases.
But? I prompt him.
I recognize our own Dark Panther, he concludes.
My fingers stutter over the screen, where I’d been inserting the passcode for the criminal justice department. “That can’t be true,” I whisper, locking eyes with Heath. “She’d be in custody too, right?”
Heath’s eyes burn with intensity. They don’t know who she is, he chats,
reminding me that we never talk openly during a jam. No vitals. Just an enhanced pic. I’ll forward it to you. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it. It’s everywhere. He regards me with coolness, and I duck my head.
Cas and I went through a rift, I confess. When I say I’ve been off the newsfeeds, I literally mean I’ve been off the newsfeeds.
He stops what he’s doing and stares at me. I can’t decide is he’s horrified or hella angry.
A moment later, a headshot of a girl fills my flatpanel. She’s younger, maybe only twelve or thirteen—which makes sense since the rift flick is from five years ago. The girl doesn’t look like the Cascade Kaufman of today. Her hair is longer, and a much lighter brown. Her eye color is impossible to tell, and she’s not wearing a stitch of jewelry. The eerie green light from the time rift makes half her face stand out in stark relief while concealing the other side in nothing but shadow. She’s got that don’t-mess-with-me glint in her eye.
My heart skips a beat, then another. I suck in a cold breath.
You think it’s her? Heath chats.
I shrug, my mouth too dry to swallow. I already know she’s a rift-walker, I chat. So it’s probably her.
No one seems to be able to ID her. They’ve been circulating her pic for almost twenty-four hours now. The other two pics don’t have full facials, so they haven’t been released.
I focus on the jam, because if I don’t, I’ll lose my cool. Why hasn’t Dad identified Cascade? He said he was going to file a report in the morning, but why has he been waiting? I know there’s no love between Cascade and my dad, even if they’ve both denied knowing each other.
I can’t believe you rift-walked, Heath chats, and I insert the hurt into his voice. You could be in serious trouble if you get caught. Cascade too, especially if she’s a regular.
My stomach flips. I know. It was stupid. I’m not going to do it again. But you know, if they catch me doing this, I’m as good as dead anyway. I wave at my flatpanel and humming Link station, where I’m logged in as the wanted Black Hat.
Rift: A YA Time Travel Thriller (The Rift Walkers Book 1) Page 18
