A Matter of Time: Paranormal, Tattoo, Supernatural, Romance (The Chronicles of Kerrigan Sequel Book 1)

by W. J. May

  “I’m pretty sure the Jag is out of gas anyway. So there’s no point in trying to—”

  “No, it isn’t. I just filled it up. What the hell is going—”

  “I was hoping we could have breakfast together!”

  Not his strongest line, but unfortunately that was the one Devon chose to end on.

  This time, Julian turned to Rae as if hoping she’d offer up some simple explanation for her fiancé’s behavior. Something like, he’s been chewing on paint chips. He’s really drunk. Something that might make it make sense. When she dropped her eyes to the ground, he turned back to Devon.

  “What’s going on?” he asked her.

  There was no leniency in his voice now. No humor. No anger. Just a chilling straightforward desire to get to the truth. One that would be satisfied at all costs.

  She wasn’t sure how to respond, and glanced at Devon.

  He also heard the shift in Julian’s tone, and his face paled. He shot Rae a desperate look as well before staring down at his shoes. “We got bagels…”

  On any other day, Julian would have simply seen for himself. He would have tranced out where he stood, and looked ahead to the future to unlock the secrets of their past. There was a reason that no one in the group could hide anything from him. Whether they liked it or not, he was the closest thing to omniscient the gang had.

  But Julian didn’t do that. He didn’t use his tatù. His eyes stayed dilated and dark.

  Instead, he simply pushed past Devon and threw open the door to the boathouse.

  “Jules, no—”

  But it was too late.

  Together, Rae and Devon watched as he swept inside, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He gasped when he saw the man with the beard.

  “Hello,” Simon smiled cheerfully. “And who might you be?”

  Julian’s mouth fell open and he took a step back.

  “Guys…what the hell did you do?”

  Chapter 5

  Rae could have heard a pin drop.

  And not just because of her tatù.

  Four pairs of eyes shot in opposite directions. Then, with no further preamble, Rae and Devon started speed-talking at the same time. As hard as they’d tried to keep their secret, they were suddenly unable to hold it in for even a second longer.

  “We found him in one of the cells down in the old factory.”

  “Ford was going to shoot him right there on the spot.”

  “Couldn’t just leave him. The place has public access.”

  “Right there on the spot, Jules. No trial. No witnesses.”

  “I told her it was a bad idea to take him here, but we couldn’t think of any—”

  “I couldn’t just let them shoot him in the head!”

  Both voices had risen in panic the more they rambled, so that by the time Rae’s screeching wail ended the conversation she was panting with guilt and fear. So was Devon. It wasn’t until she looked up and saw Julian’s blank expression that she realized he had no idea what they were talking about.

  “I’m sorry…” Julian held up a tentative hand, trying to slow down the frantic pace of the confession, “…Who is this guy?”

  Words failed Rae. Devon, too. Apologies failed them. Desperate, Rae and Devon ended up turning to Simon, who returned their silent panic with a low chuckle. Then, with that same smile warming his haggard face, he turned his eyes to Julian. A smile that looked pleased, and oddly somewhat sad. “Decker, right? You’ve got to be related to Jacob Decker.”

  Julian took half a step forward, lost in confusion. “I’m his son.”

  This time, it was Simon who sucked in a sharp breath. Whatever he’d been expecting Julian to say, it certainly wasn’t that. As he looked him up and down once more, a strange expression came over his face. One that looked almost repentant. Which turned into one that looked almost relieved.

  A second later, it was replaced with that disconcerting smile that was starting to annoy Rae.

  “Simon Kerrigan. Nice to meet you. Again. Been a long time.”

  Why the hell couldn’t the cell just have been empty…

  Julian took a small step back, then a much larger one. Then he backed all the way up to the open door. He didn’t seem to know where to look, or even how to look. His pupils were wide and fixed, but his lips turned up into a reflexive, disbelieving kind of smile. He laughed once. Short and humorless. Then began to lose himself in the echoing silence that followed.

  “No…no, he isn’t.” His eyes flashed up to Simon, as if the man was playing a cruel joke. “You’re not—don’t even say that. Devon, what is…” He turned to his friend for answers, but for one of the first times ever Devon came up blank.

  “I’m sorry, Jules.” His voice was as quiet as a grave. “I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you. Rae and I only brought him here last night, and we didn’t know how best to… We didn’t want to involve the rest of you until we knew—”

  “You didn’t want to involve us?” Julian repeated incredulously.

  It was impossible to tell whether he believed it was Simon. In fact, if Rae had to bet, she’d guess not. He clearly thought they both were crazy—that much was certain. From the way his fists kept clenching in belated panic, he probably thought they’d kidnapped a homeless man.

  “Why is…I mean…what did you…”

  Again and again, he tried to speak. Apparently was trying to understand. Again and again, he came up blank. The edges of his eyes began clouding white but he contained it, like a winter storm that never got off the ground. Finally he simply turned back to Simon, at a compete loss. “Is that your belt, Dev?”

  Devon’s eyes darted to the bindings on Simon’s wrists, and he flushed before marching forward to retrieve it. “Yeah, I… We were in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Jules?” Rae tentatively rested her hand on his shoulder, purposely ignoring the way he jumped at her touch.

  If there was anyone in the house who was vital to get on board, any one person whose compliance could persuade the rest of them—it was Julian. His opinion and approval carried a weight to it that surpassed even her own. There was a steadiness about him that people trusted. A wisdom that went even beyond his ability to see things that were yet to come.

  But this? Clearly Julian was not willing to get on board with it.

  “What makes you think he’s your father?” he asked quietly. It was the first direct question he’d been able to manage, and Rae answered it very seriously.

  “I recognize him from pictures, and from… from the time I went back to see the past.” She lowered her voice defensively, aware that Simon was still very much able to hear her. “And then, when we found him at the factory, one of the older guards with us recognized him as well. Somehow, he didn’t die in the fire, Jules. Cromfield saved him. Stashed him away all these years as his prisoner.” And never told me. Freakin’ Cromfield wanted to tell me everything else, but just happened to forget to mention this one thing?

  The prophetic white started swirling around in his eyes once more, and he took a deep breath to get it under control.

  “I know you’d probably like to believe that.” His voice gentled a fraction of an inch. “No one wants their father to be dead, no matter how much he…” His voice cut off guiltily, and Simon flashed him a sympathetic smile.

  “No matter how much he deserved it?” Simon finished knowingly. Julian flushed and Simon smiled once more, bowing his head to his chest. “Yes, I deserved to be in that prison. The things I did, the people I hurt—not the least of whom are standing in this room… It was unforgivable.” His eyes rested briefly on Rae before he continued on quietly, “But things have changed. I’ve changed. I had to. Spend enough time in the darkness, it’ll change anyone. Even someone like me. I’m not lost to it anymore. Of that I can assure you.”

  A ringing silence fell on this proclamation. One during which each of the friends stared back with matching distrust.

  Simon chuckled again and cock
ed his head to the side. “Not the answer you were hoping for?”

  Julian stifled a shudder.

  “I was hoping you came with the boathouse…”

  Devon took a step forward, angling himself subconsciously in between. “Jules, we—”

  “What’s the plan here?” Julian interrupted. He seemed willing to allow Rae a secret or two on occasion. Even about something as great as this. That leniency did not apply to Devon.

  Rae glanced between them then shook her head, deciding to come clean. “I honestly don’t know. The guards back at the factory were willing to shoot him on the spot. I’m afraid that if we take him in, it’s going to be the exact same thing. He’ll never make it through the front door.”

  If Julian was at all surprised that she’d care one way or another, he didn’t let on. He simply nodded silently and waited for her to continue.

  “It was late, everyone was armed… I… I guess I panicked. I swore them all to secrecy and decided to stash him here until I could come up with a better plan.”

  Julian stared at her for a moment before returning his gaze to Simon. A better plan than this? The longer he stood there, the more ludicrous her hasty stop-gap solution seemed to be.

  The ropes branched out from the chair like a giant spider web. Twisting and knotting in a geometric arch with Simon sitting right there in the middle. Devon’s coat was on the floor behind him, and his belt was still hanging loosely from Simon’s hands.

  If there was to be a better plan, this certainly wasn’t it.

  “Well, he can’t stay in here,” Julian finally said, striding forward. “It dipped below freezing last night. You keep him out here too long, he’ll get hypothermia and die.”

  Again, if he saw that as a particularly bad thing, he didn’t let on. He simply knelt to the floor in front of the chair, and slowly started untying Devon’s knots.

  Rae and Devon exchanged a swift look, but neither one moved an inch. It was for the best that they had someone here with a fresh perspective. Someone whose reasoning centers hadn’t been blunted by the trauma of that cave. But that still didn’t mean he was entirely on board.

  “Jules,” Devon cleared his throat softly and knelt as well. He was still absentmindedly holding the keys he’d confiscated earlier, and they jingled quietly in his hand. “If there’s anything he needs, we can bring it out here. I just don’t feel comfortable with—”

  “There’s no bathroom. No lighting. No food or water. He’s too far away for most of us to hear if something goes wrong, and the tips of his fingers are already turning blue.” Julian’s eyes skipped sharply over Devon, and landed upon Rae. “You want to save him, right? You want to keep him alive?” She bit her lip and nodded, refusing to meet her father’s eyes. Julian turned back to the chair and continued working. “Then he comes inside.”

  Devon didn’t say a word and stood back up, watching with silent, worried eyes as, one by one, the ropes began to fall. Every time Julian leaned within reach of Simon’s hands, Devon’s muscles tensed as if to throw himself in between.

  But nothing happened.

  Simon was the model prisoner. Sitting both quietly and patiently as the youngsters had briefly talked the problem through. Contributing not a single opinion.

  When Julian undid the buckle and removed Devon’s belt, he actually said a quiet word of thanks.

  He received no reply.

  “And what about the rest of them?” Rae asked softly as her father got stiffly to his feet. It didn’t matter whether she could use ink in the room or not. Her hands were ready no matter what. “What about Molly?”

  “Molly’s tough,” Julian fired back sharply, getting to his feet as well. “And the rest of them have a right to know what’s going on inside their own house.”

  The unspoken accusation cut through the air, but it required no response. It was already in the past. Simon was loose now. There was no time to dwell.

  But again…Devon proved the exception to this rule.

  “Jules, I’m really sorry,” he said under his breath as Simon stretched out his atrophied legs and began limping slowly to the door. “I should have told you.”

  Julian straightened up with a shrug. “I should have seen it coming.” He dropped the rest of the rope to the floor, and carelessly tossed the chair Simon had been sitting in to the side. Carelessly, or strategically? It sailed through the air before coming down straight upon Devon’s prized car—shattering the windshield into a million, glassy pieces.

  Devon sucked in a gasp, hand to his chest as if he could literally feel the car’s pain.

  But Julian merely clapped him on the shoulder with a righteous smile. “You should have seen that coming, too.”

  * * *

  The walk back to the house seemed endless. Even more so when the trio had to move along at Simon’s shuffling, malnourished pace.

  A part of Rae took in her father’s tremoring hands and the sallow tint to his skin with a distant kind of concern. Should she be calling a doctor? Would Alicia make house calls this far away from London? More importantly, would Alicia consent to treat such a man even if she did?

  But another part was far more focused on the immediate happenings than on any long-term treatment for the man who was supposed to have been her father. She kept her eyes trained on the house, thinking of the three people inside it. Wondering how each of them would react.

  She wanted to just ask Julian. He had unlocked her future’s secrets for so long, she was rather unaccustomed to waiting. But it wouldn’t do any good. If he hadn’t tranced out to see what was coming in the boathouse, then he wasn’t going to do it right now. Especially as they were all about to find out.

  One way or another…

  Molly was downright impossible to guess. Her behavior was erratic enough even without an onslaught of hormones racing through her system, not to mention the fact that they were literally talking about Simon Kerrigan. In all likelihood, her reaction would be based one hundred percent upon however Rae felt. While Devon was protective above all else, Molly was empathetic. Even if Rae’s judgement was temporarily misguided, her best friend would fight to see it through.

  That just left Luke and Angel.

  Luke was going to have his unique Knights’ perspective. Rae wasn’t sure if that was actually a good or a bad thing. And Angel…?

  Her mind swam as she considered Angel.

  If Cromfield had taken her father prisoner, that had to mean that Simon had somehow gotten himself onto the man’s radar. In a way, it was hardly surprising—seeing as they were doing pretty much the same thing, at the same time, in the same city. In fact, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to think that they had crossed paths at some point. Collaborated? Compared notes?

  The fact that Simon had been kept alive said wonders. None of the rest of Cromfield’s prisoners had made it. The other cells Rae had opened had been either empty, or scattered with bones. Simon’s survival implied a personal connection of some sort.

  Either way, Angel wouldn’t have been old enough to remember. She would have been just a baby at the time that Simon was still free and walking the streets.

  Rae’s breath caught at the sudden realization. What about Gabriel?

  Rae sighed quietly, and pushed her long hair out of her eyes. What about Gabriel? She’d been asking herself that same question for over a week.

  After Carter’s funeral, the guy was a ghost. Everyone knew where he was, of course. Locked away in that dingy, unfurnished apartment with enough booze to satisfy an entire army. But just knowing where he was didn’t make him any more accessible. It didn’t make him any less distant.

  Rae’s mind flashed back, and she remembered the day with perfect, terrible clarity. It had been raining. Ironically, that was the only thing that managed to cheer her up. Good. It should be raining. A silent tribute that the world itself knew what it had lost. Carter deserved that. The flowers were set, the eulogy read, and she had stood by her mother’s side and watched as they lowe
red the casket into the ground.

  In all her days… she had never seen anything more terrible.

  Miserable didn’t begin to cover it. The place was gutted.

  People had come from far and wide. Flying in from cities in countries Rae had never even heard of. Carter had touched that many people. In no way was she surprised.

  But by far, the hardest faces to see were the ones standing next to her.

  Her mother was a wreck. A wreck, in that she didn’t seem like a wreck at all. She simply stood there, never moving, never talking. Her blue eyes never leaving the coffin. It was as if her grief transcended any kind of ritual or understanding. She was on a different level altogether. Cold, and collected, and very much alone.

  Not so contained were the rest of Rae’s friends.

  Molly had openly wept during the entire service, pressing her face into Luke’s jacket as her body shook with silent sobs. Julian kept a hand on her shoulder, but it was as much to hold himself up as it was to comfort. He, too, was silently crying. Staring at the coffin in muted disbelief as a river of tears poured down his face.

  Devon didn’t actually cry, but in a way he looked even more devastated. He and Carter had shared a special bond. An unspoken closeness and accountability that had grown deeper with each passing year. There was a reason Carter had chosen Devon to be his best man—he thought of him as a son. And it was no secret that Devon had always looked to Carter as a substitute father. His hand had been clenched into a tight fist during the entire ceremony. It wasn’t until after it was finished that Rae realized he had been holding the watch Carter had given him upon his graduation from Guilder. He’d left the watch on the coffin.

  Rae watched the proceedings like a person trapped in a dream. It was as if the entire world had turned upside-down. Nothing felt real. The colors were too dim, then too bright. The flowers seemed to wilt the longer she stared. The sound of children’s laughter drifted down from a playground four blocks up the street. But that couldn’t be right. How could anyone be laughing today? How could anyone manage to laugh ever again?