by Rysa Walker
After a few minutes of silence, I say, “You can’t stay here, Mom. Prudence is dangerous. I know you’re worried about her. I understand. Katherine’s worried about her as well. So’s Kiernan.”
“And you?” Mom asks.
I start to say that I’m worried about her, too. It seems like the polite thing to say, but I don’t want to lie. I’ve done so much of that lately, and Mom’s bullshit detector is probably on full alert right now.
“I never knew her when she was different, Mom. Prudence has caused a lot of trouble for me. I don’t wish her ill—” I stop, thinking back to a few nights ago when I learned she’d been in Trey’s house, and amend the statement. “Well, most of the time I don’t wish her ill. But I am worried that she’s part of a plan that could kill many, many millions of people. And on a personal level, I’m worried she’ll hurt the people I love. Including you, Mom. I can’t just leave you here.”
“She won’t hurt me.” Mom’s voice is flat and she sounds tired, but there’s no hint of doubt.
“You can’t know that for certain.”
“Yes. I can. She won’t hurt me. And I might be able to help her.” She leans forward and hugs her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top so that her eyes are at my level. “More importantly, Kate, I might be able to help you. From what you’ve said, there’s nothing I can do back in DC. I’ll worry every time you’re taking a risk of any sort. If I have to sit there and watch and do nothing, I’ll end up crazier than Prudence. If I’m with her, I can keep tabs on her. I can let you know where we are. Well, except for when she jumps away, but even then I may be able to get her to talk about where—when?—she’s going.”
“Not if she knows you’re in contact with me.”
“Kate, she told me the same thing three times yesterday, in the same exact words. Within a ten-minute period. I think I can handle her.”
“Maybe. But can you handle her security detail?”
“What security detail?” Trey asks.
“The goons in the suits,” Mom says. “The ones who got out of the elevator with us earlier. There were two different guys when we were in Florence, and I’m pretty sure two others were following me in Genoa a few days before she contacted me. Cyrist security of some sort. They all have that blue flower on the back of their hands. And here’s the odd part—I don’t think Pru even realizes they’re following her. Or maybe they’ve followed her for so long that she doesn’t see them.”
I guess I look a bit surprised, because Mom laughs. “I’m not totally blind, Kate. I don’t think those guys are professionals. They’re kind of obvious, don’t you think?”
I make a mental note to ask Kiernan exactly who “those guys” really work for, assuming he even knows. Saying they’re local Cyrist security doesn’t tell me where their loyalties lie. Are they here to protect Prudence or to watch her? Did she hire them? Or do they belong to Saul? Or Julia?
“Speaking of security guys,” Mom says, “I’m not sure I trust this Kiernan. He seems much too old to have been . . . involved . . . with any version of you in any timeline.”
“I agree,” Trey chimes in, and I nudge him gently with my elbow.
Mom gives Trey a little smile, the first one I’ve seen on her face since we came back to her room. “How old is he, anyway?”
“When I saw him last night in Georgia, he was twenty. Maybe close to twenty-one.”
“So if it’s been six years for him, that makes him twenty-seven,” Trey says. “Practically ancient.”
Mom laughs. “Normally I’d take offense at that, but in this case, I have to agree. I don’t like the way he looks at you, Kate.”
If she’s bothered by the way he looked at me today, I’m really glad she didn’t see Kiernan with me before. “You don’t have to worry. He’s seeing his Kate, Mom. Not me.”
“You’re sure he knows the difference?” she asks.
“Yes. He knows.”
I’m not sure I’d have answered with quite as much certainty last night. Given that Trey is sitting here beside me I’d probably still have said yes, even though I’m not sure it would have been the entire truth.
But now?
“What was he doing to your key?” Trey asks. “Outside the elevator?”
“Setting a local stable point. He must have information he couldn’t give me here.”
“And you’re sure you can trust him?” Mom asks. “That he wouldn’t . . . I don’t know . . . sell you out?”
I debate telling the two of them about Julia’s suspicions, but it seems disloyal to do that when I don’t believe them myself. Trey and Mom are worried enough about Kiernan as it is.
“He saved my life at the Expo, Mom. He’s put his life on the line for me and this cause over and over. You’re sure Prudence won’t hurt you. I’m equally sure about Kiernan.” And on this point, at least, I don’t have to fake it. Kiernan won’t hurt me. He can’t have changed that much.
“She’s right,” Trey says, grudgingly. “He won’t hurt her. He’s in love with her. I can see it in his eyes.”
Again, I can’t help thinking it’s a very good thing that the two of them saw this Kiernan instead of when he was six years younger.
“Which,” Trey goes on, “I kind of hate, but on the bright side, I know he’ll have her back. I think she’s right, Ms. Pierce. We can trust him.”
“Deborah,” Mom says absently. She’s quiet for a moment and then bangs her fists into the pillow next to her, giving a little scream of frustration. “I don’t want you using that damned key! I want you back home and in school and safe. I’m fighting a very strong urge to fly back home and ground you until you’re eighty.”
She takes a few deep breaths and then gives me a shaky smile. “And that’s why I have to stay here. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t tell me all of this sooner, and while I’m still not cool with being kept in the dark, I get why you . . . and your dad,” she adds darkly, “decided it was best to put this off.”
“Dad begged me to tell you before you left for Italy,” I say, keeping the promise I made to him weeks ago. “Really, he did.”
“R-i-i-ght.” Mom smiles and tosses the pillow in my direction. I duck out of the way just before it hits me. “A valiant attempt at keeping your father’s chops out of the fire, but I’m not buying it.”
It’s almost nine when Trey and I leave Mom’s hotel. The Thames looks like a black velvet canvas scattered with carnival lights reflecting from the Eye and the buildings along the boardwalk. It’s beautiful, magical even. It would be the perfect setting for a long, romantic stroll along the river if not for the damp, chilly wind whipping around County Hall.
I shiver, pulling down the burgundy scarf still hanging around my neck so that it covers more of my shoulders. The whisper-thin fabric is almost as useless for blocking the wind as it was for disguise. I wish I’d worn something warmer than this lightweight blouse.
We take a right turn, walking past a park that’s nearly as brightly lit as the Eye. Trey pulls me toward him, rubbing his hand along my arm as we walk. “Better?”
“Yes. Prudence’s sweater doesn’t seem quite so out of season now.”
“Do you think she really has a CHRONOS key inside her arm?”
“They can alter people so they can time travel. Embedding the medallion would be easy compared to that, so I don’t see any reason not to take Kiernan’s word on it.”
That thought, of course, brings to mind Julia’s comments last night. I just hope I’m right about Kiernan’s trustworthiness on a more general level.
I don’t want to think about any of that right now, however, so I switch subjects. “When are you flying back?”
“My ticket is for day after tomorrow, but I’ll see if they can get me out earlier.”
“I hate you came all this way only to have me fail miserably.”
“How exactly did you fail? You came to let your mom know what’s going on, and now she knows.”
“No. She was supposed t
o come back with me—well, technically, with you—and she’s staying.”
“But her decision to stay is based on full information now, something she didn’t have before. And she’s wearing a key. I saw the way she reacted at first, so the fact that you have her under a CHRONOS field is a major victory.”
I shrug, but I guess he’s right. Mom promised to wear the key at all times and keep it hidden from Pru. We worked out a plan for communicating through her university email, and Trey reinitiated the geo-location app on her phone, allowing me to track her if I need to get to her quickly. Assuming, of course, that they stay near cities historically significant enough to have a stable point.
I still feel bad about Trey having come all this way. “You should stay tomorrow. See a few of the sights.”
“Not unless you’re staying, too.”
“I can’t, Trey. I mean, I could, but I’ll be lousy company. I need to go back and get the screaming out of the way.” He gives me a quizzical look. “Julia. If she has people watching Mom, I’m pretty sure she’ll know I’ve been here.”
“Then I leave on the earliest flight back. I’m no use to you here.”
We cross the street behind County Hall, and I spot the green-and-white angel of mercy icon a few shops down. Trey steers us inside the Starbucks without even pausing to ask. If I needed another reason to love him, I just found it.
There are only a few customers, probably because 9 p.m. is a bit late to be hitting the heavy stuff. We grab two large coffees to go. Trey is doctoring his with milk and sugar, and I’m teasing him about his hipster look fitting in nicely here, when I notice two familiar profiles outside. One tall, one short, both built like bulldogs. Even without seeing their faces, I know they’re the guys Kiernan and Mom tagged as Cyrist security.
The shorter one comes in the front door, while the taller guy heads around the building to the side door.
“Let’s go!” I tug on Trey’s arm, abandoning my coffee on the counter.
The only reason we make it to the side door first is that the tall guy is blocked by a couple pushing a stroller toward the paved square between this building and the next. I kick the rim of the door hard, catching him by surprise when it crashes into his shoulder, and Trey and I take off across the square.
There’s no cover, no alley to duck into, so either we outrun them or we fight. Of course, if they decide to use guns, we’re doomed either way. I’m not pulling out a pistol with a family in the middle of the square.
Short Guy yells something and runs after us. His buddy follows a few yards behind. Trey gallantly rescued my coffee and is running with both hands full. The little green stoppers aren’t quite up to this degree of sloshing, and coffee spews out in two thin streams behind him as we run.
The short one is closer now, and I can hear what he’s yelling. “Sister! Stop! We’re with the temple!”
No kidding. That’s why we’re running.
Wait. Sister? He thinks I’m Prudence.
I stop. Trey pauses a few steps later, throwing me a puzzled look, just as Short Guy reaches me. I tense up, ready to fight if necessary, but the guy bends over, hands on his knees, huffing to catch his breath.
“Sorry, Sister. Didn’t mean to frighten you. We’re with the Lambeth temple, assigned to keep an eye out. Make sure nobody bothers you here in London. They said you wouldn’t be leavin’ the hotel tonight—except for goin’ up on the Eye with a guest. Tomorrow was the day they said we’d need to be on our toes, ’cause you’ll be shoppin’ and hangin’ about town.”
I’d love to find out which group assigned these guys to watch Prudence, but I can’t think how to get that information without raising suspicion. They may not even know themselves.
Tall Guy says, “We got confused with the older woman blinking in and out. We even thought she was you until Eddie here got a closer look.”
Eddie, a.k.a. Short Guy, nods. “I seen your face in the temple windows every Sunday since I was a lad. We both have.” He glances over at Trey, his eyes wary. “Then we saw you leave, and I told Sean we should follow and make sure everythin’ was okay. That he wasn’t botherin’ you or nothin’.”
The wheels in my head start spinning. Which lie will make it less likely they’ll report back to whoever assigned them?
“Um . . . you’ve actually followed the wrong person,” Trey says. “Although we’re kind of here for the same reason you are. Kelly looks so much like the images of Sister Pru in our chapel that someone suggested she might be a good body double—you know, for security.”
I’m momentarily taken aback because he used the same fake name for me as when we visited the Sixteenth Street Temple—a misadventure that left me with a nasty scar on my thigh, thanks to one of the temple Dobermans. But that was in the other timeline, which means Trey doesn’t remember any of it.
I push that mystery out of my mind for the moment and add, “Everyone is always telling me I look like Sister Prudence. Our Acolyte instructor said maybe that’s my path along The Way, you know, to help keep her safe by being a decoy or whatever. So, anyway, he told Brother Conwell, and they sent Sister Prudence my picture. And she asked me to meet her here in London.”
Trey moves a step closer and puts his arm around me. “We noticed you guys in the lobby and again when we were at tea. And when Kelly recognized you back there, it spooked her.”
He’s still holding my coffee, so I take it from him. As I do, Short Guy glances toward my hand, where a lotus tattoo should be, based on our hastily created cover story. I quickly slide my other hand on top and shiver, like I’m using the coffee to warm them, then look over their shoulders, where the Eye is spinning above the tops of the buildings.
“If you’re here, who’s watching Sister Prudence? She said they were going to ride the Eye at nine, right?”
The two guys exchange a nervous look.
“You got a point,” Tall Guy says. “Maybe we oughta head back.”
“Sorry for the mix-up,” the other one yells over his shoulder as they hurry across the square toward the boardwalk.
We catch our breath for a moment and then continue at a more leisurely pace, sipping what’s left of our coffee. Trey’s hotel is across the next street and one block over—a tall, curved structure that looks more like a giant sculpture than a hotel.
“Quick thinking back there. But who is Kelly?”
Trey’s eyes widen slightly. “Just a cover. I thought I should avoid your real name, you know, just in case . . .”
“Good idea. It’s just . . . you used that same fake name when we went to the Cyrist temple before . . . in the other timeline. It seems odd that you’d come up with the same name.”
It’s hard to tell under the dim streetlights, but I think he’s blushing. He’s quiet for a moment, then shakes his head and smiles.
“Kelly was a colleague of my mom’s who used to come for dinner when I was twelve or thirteen. She was just out of college, dark hair, pretty. Let’s just say she made a vivid impression.”
“What sort of impression?”
“Major crush. I was depressed for weeks when she was assigned out of the country. It was so bad that I called her one Saturday pretending to be a pollster, just to hear her speak. My voice cracked halfway through, so I’m pretty sure she knew it was me.”
“So that was the big secret. The one you mentioned on the video you left for yourself, that you said you never told anyone?”
Trey pushes the door open. The lobby of the Park Plaza is similar to the exterior—sleek and modern, with lots of black and splashes of vivid colors. Now that we’re inside under the lights, I can definitely tell he’s blushing, and I feel a bit guilty for teasing him.
“Yes. She was cool about it, though—never told my mom.”
“Or maybe she did tell, and your mom is the cool one?”
Trey laughs. “Oh, no. After you meet Mom, you’ll know that’s totally out of character. She’d have found dozens of ways to tease me about it, maybe not directly, bu
t . . . if she knew, I’d have known she knew.”
“You’re all grown up now. What if this Kelly comes back and decides she likes younger men?”
“Uh . . . I’m pretty sure she’s married with kids.” He smiles. “What? Are you jealous?”
“Certainly not,” I say primly and then give him a grin. “Okay. Maybe a teensy bit jealous.”
I guess the word pulls Trey’s mind back to the source of his own jealousy, because as we’re about to get into the elevator, he says, “What do you suppose Kiernan wanted to tell you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll check with him once I’m back at Katherine’s.”
“Why wait? I mean, unless you’re too tired? It would make our equal-time arrangement much simpler.”
Overall, Trey’s been pretty cool about me working with Kiernan. His one request is that any time I have a jump with Kiernan, I see him immediately after. And knowing Trey is back home waiting has generally worked very well as a counter-Kiernan charm.
“You could go now, see what he wants, and be back before room service arrives with dinner.”
I don’t know if it’s the fact that we just got out of an elevator or the words room service, or both, but I’m suddenly reminded of our last disastrous experience with a hotel room. Trey must be thinking the same thing, because he gives me a rueful smile as he opens the door.
Fortunately, this room has just the double bed rather than a king-sized monstrosity like the room back in DC. There’s also a living area beyond the bathroom, with a couch, a table, and a partial view of the Eye. The wheel spins slowly upward. Are Mom and Prudence in one of those neon-colored cars, sipping more bubbles?
“I’m afraid there are no chocolate-dipped strawberries this time,” Trey says, then pulls me into a hug when he sees my expression. “I’m joking! Estella was very happy with those strawberries, by the way.”
“Good. I’m glad somebody got something out of that nightmare. Trey, I am so, so—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Hey. I got something out of it, too, Kate. It took you walking out—well, blinking out, I guess—to make me realize I can’t sit on the fence. I’m in or I’m out, and if you’re in, I’m in.”
