City of Deception (The White City Series Book 1)

by Alexa Mackintosh

“They figured out time travel. Most of the leaders are from the future, and they work with the rebels that are here now and the ones in the future,” he says.

  “Time travel?” There’s been speculation a Royal scien- tist created such a device a few years ago, but the device was never tested and hadn’t been in the rebellion’s hands. “There is a bloody revolution going on twenty years in the future. The rebels in the future are losing. The leaders came back in time to stop the dictator of the future before he or she could claim the throne. The leaders want to stop the bloody revolution. If we take down the dictator now, the future will be changed, and we will be free of the mon-

  archs,” he says.

  “Why am I killing the Mersiovskys and not the future dictator?” Angelica asks.

  “You’ll still assassinate the Royals. One of the princes will rule alongside this future dictator. Take out the Mer- siovskys and stop the dictator. After that, we will be able to put in place a free government that the people control.”

  Alexa Mackintosh

  I’m not sure how to accept the ruler we fight exists now and in the future. “What do we know about this future dictator?”

  “Unfortunately, little. The leaders know more, but even their information is limited. The future is always shifting and changing depending on people’s choices and the amount of time travel used. This future dictator can also use time travel, making it nearly impossible to de- stroy the dictator. Natalia, you were chosen as an infor- mation processor because you are one of the best at calculating the future dictator’s next move,” the supervi- sor says.

  I laugh. “How am I the best at that?”

  My job is important, but it isn’t a significant position in the rebellion. The way he talks my position is crucial.

  “You can predict what the dictator plans. Somehow you think like the dictator when strategizing for battle. This dictator keeps rewriting history.”

  I’m not sure thinking like an evil dictator is a compli- ment, but now I know why I’ve risen through the rebel ranks quickly. I am good at my job, but also an essential tool for controlling the future dictator.

  “That’s amazing,” Angelica glances my way. “But, why are you the one who can predict the dictator?”

  I ask myself the same question.

  “We don’t know. I guess Natalia is good at using the information and predicting the outcome. You need to go back to work. I’ll send word if the leaders tell me more

  City of Deception

  about the dictator. Angelica, expect your mission to start soon.” He stands and motions to the door. He wants us to leave before anyone grows suspicious over our absence. We must be cautious in case Royal spies are in the village. We exit the building before Angelica says, “Do you be-

  lieve what he said?”

  I shrug. “He’s never lied to us before.”

  “But a future dictator? How can we be fighting that? How could a new dictator be co-ruling with a Mersiovsky prince?”

  The co-ruling part bothers me too. Royals don’t share the throne.

  I go back to the men to finish my lunch and Angelica returns to her mother’s shop where she works.

  One year seems like a long time, but it will go by in a moment, and at the end of it my best friend will die for the cause she believes in.

  { 2 }

  Chapter 2

  wo Weeks Later:

  I STIR FROM MY DREAMS AS I HEAR SOMEONE

  KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. Peeking through one eye, I’m blinded by the sunlight shining through the window. My achy body complains that it’s five a.m., but in reality it must be eight or nine.

  “Someone answer the door!” I call from my warm com- forter nest.

  On the third round of knocking, after I hear no stirring in the house, I pull on clothes and run my fingers through my hair. “Coming!” I call as the pounding on the door grows louder and more frequent.

  I throw open the door expecting to see the messenger who brings our daily letters or Angelica wishing to dis- cuss something about last night’s meeting in the barn. In- stead, stands a young man with a bag in one hand and a cane in the other.

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  Universes. He’s what Angelica would label as “looker.” Even with the cane, he’s attractive. With sandy blonde hair cut military style and the remains of a tan, he reminds me of one of the pictures in Angelica’s fashion magazines. He wears the green and gold uniform of a Second. When I meet his gaze, I notice his eyes are dark gray, like a storm rolling over the hills in the heat of summer. They capti- vate me for a moment, and I catch myself before I stare too long.

  “Can I help you?” I ask when my tongue deigns to move.

  “If I’m at the right house, I’m the new boarder.” He turns to glance at the wooden numbers hanging lopsided off the edge of the house to check the address. Pulling a piece of paper out of his waistcoat pocket, he continues, “I'm looking for a Mrs. Alkaev-Diri. Is she here?”

  “She’s out. You’re a little early, but come in.” I remem- ber Mama saying he was coming today, but it was sup- posed to be in the evening.

  He slides past me into the kitchen.

  “You can put your bags in the room right over there.” I point to my door, or what was anyway. While he settles in, I put on the kettle and scour the cabinets for any re- freshments. If I don’t offer him something, Mama will be enraged. Her first rule of hospitality is to feed guests.

  I come up short.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  “Would you like some latyas? It will only take me a few minutes to make.” The breakfast pastries are the quickest recipe I know suitable for a guest.

  “No need,” he calls. There’s a long pause before he says, “Could you...I think you will want this elsewhere.”

  Walking to the bedroom, I stop at the door. He stares at the top drawer of the dresser, looking confused and amused all at once. I spot a white object tucked in the cor- ner. I dash over and grab the lacy corset, balling it up and placing it behind my back.

  “I apologize! I thought I cleared out everything when I moved my things.” I go on to apologize about three more times before I clamp my mouth shut and begin to back out the door.

  He smiles. “I have a cousin who feels the need to leave her underclothes all about the place. I’ve encountered far worse from her disorganization.”

  I blush profusely. As an uneasy silence settles, I say “If you find anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen making latyas.” At least I can lose my embarrassment dunking my hands in the dough and making the filling for the sweet pastries.

  s

  Mama and the twins arrive as the latyas come from the oven. The twins run to my side in the hopes of sweets.

  I make a tray of tea and latyas and set them on the kitchen table as the boarder comes out of the bedroom.

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  Mama startles. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you! I hope my daughter, Natalia, has helped you with anything you might need?”

  “Yes, she has. I assume your Mrs. Alkaev-Diri? Natalia looks remarkably like you.”

  “And you are Dmitri Tibalt?” Mama asks. He nods. “Call me Dmitri.”

  I can’t believe I forgot to ask his name when he came in. How rude of me.

  Mama talks with Dmitri for a few minutes to explain anything he might need to know including where the bathroom is and which stores have the best products and what days the market is open. When they finish, Mama goes out to tend to the small garden in the back as well as the few flowers she planted outside the front door. Little grows this time of year, but she goes out to it every day.

  I place the latyas on a tray along with a glass of water and set them on the table before turning my attention away from Mr. Tibalt.

  Opening the cabinet where I keep my clock pieces, I set down to fix father's watch. Placing the tools I need on the table, I tinker with the pocket watch. It doesn't take too long to fix as I've fixed it many, many times before. I don't look up from my
work until Tibalt comes over to the table and begins to eat.

  “These are quite good,” he says, sitting down across from me and munching on a latya.

  “Thank you.” I continue my work as silence settles.

  Alexa Mackintosh “Could you teach me that?”

  I glance up. “Teach you what?”

  He gestures to the watch. “I’m stationed here to work on...well, tech things. I hope to one day leave the military but have no skills. Could you teach me a little about clocks?”

  I’m surprised and wonder what he does. “Tech things” is far too vague. “I can try. I don’t know much myself. My father was the town clockmaker and repairer.”

  I spend the next few minutes telling him about differ- ent gears and basic fixes. He watches closely and doesn’t speak as I explain. His gray eyes almost distract me from what I’m trying to teach. It’s unnerving the way my heart pitter patters looking at him.

  Pulling a red watch attached to a gold chain out of his pocket, he places it on the table. “This has a cracked glass, and I’ve meant to get it fixed. Do you think you can repair it? I’ll pay you of course.”

  I pop open the lid. Cracks run like a web across the glass. “I haven’t seen a glass this shattered in a while.”

  I swear he blushes. “A friend broke it. Long story.”

  “I should be able to repair it. I don’t have a glass here, but I can send off for one once I go down to the hardware store. It will take forever to arrive, but it won’t cost you much.”

  “Parts are hard to come by here?”

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  I laugh. “It takes weeks for any shipments to arrive. Our village is too far out for packages from the cities to arrive often.”

  “Do you enjoy tinkering with clocks?”

  I shrug. “It was my father’s business and, though we’ve gotten rid of most of his supplies, I can’t bear to shut it all down. Besides, it is a little extra money on the side.”

  We continue to talk as I finish repairing father’s watch. As I rise to put away my tools and return Dmitri’s watch so he can keep it until the glass comes, Angelica enters without knocking. She opens her mouth to speak to me, but spots Dmitri and goes into flirt mode.

  “Hello there,” she says, brushing a wrinkle out of her dress.

  “This is my friend, Angelica. Angelica, this is Dmitri Tibalt, the new boarder.” I hurry to grab my boots as she begins a conversation with Dmitri. I’ll get her out of the house by going to the shops or something.

  A young man comes to the door and only a minute or two behind Angelica. He’s new for sure. I would recognize a stranger in a village as small as ours. He’s a Second, I guess, from his clothes and a military haircut.

  Dmitri stands. “Petrov, have you settled already?” “Yes, s-” He stops abruptly and clears his throat. “Yes.

  How are your accommodations?”

  Dmitri turns to Angelica and me. With a smile, he says, “Quite fine.”

  Alexa Mackintosh

  I don’t know if he’s flirting by saying so as he looks to us, but I take it as a compliment.

  “And Petrov is?” Angelica questions.

  “A friend. He will be teaching me what I need to know to work on the base,” Dmitri says.

  There’s a small, calculating nod from Angelica. She will want to manipulate them for information about what they do at the base to feed to her revolutionary superiors. I suppose it is my duty to see what I can discover from them as well.

  “Angelica and I are headed to the market. We will see you later.” I head for the door, but Angelica blocks my path.

  “Unless you boys would like to come with us? We can show you around.”

  Petrov doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks to Dmitri. Dmitri shrugs. “I suppose. We have no pressing mat-

  ters today and don't need to report at the base until to- morrow morning.”

  I hide my frustration. Why does Angelica do this? I can see disaster far before it arrives, but I can’t protect Dmitri and Petrov from Angelica. They must discover her true nature for themselves.

  “I need to get my wallet from my room before we go,” Petrov says.

  “I will walk with you,” Angelica says. “I should tell my mother where I am headed before we go. Perhaps, Natalia and Dmitri can go ahead, and we can meet them later?”

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  She plays the innocence card when she is no such thing. She rarely tells her mother where she goes, even when she’s out with a boy until dawn.

  “That is fine with me. Perhaps you can show me where I can order a new shirt? I need a better one for working on the base,” Dmitri says.

  It takes a few minutes to make plans, but once it is set- tled, we decide Angelica and Petrov will meet Dmitri and me at the little restaurant down the street.

  After Angelica and Petrov leave, I hurry to change clothes and brush my hair before joining Dmitri in the kitchen.

  It’s an unusually hot day for this time of year, and we only make it ten doors down before sweat starts to run down my back under my thick coat. “Angelica’s mother is the best seamstress in town. Her shop is around the cor- ner and the best place to get a shirt.”

  We pass the hardware store and several houses. As we round the corner where the seamstress’s shop is, Dmitri slows his pace and points across the street. “Who is that?”

  I turn to see where he indicates. A gray-haired woman in a muddy dress and years old style of hat wanders down the opposite side of the street. She clutches a patch-cov- ered bag close to her chest. “That’s Mrs. Bayron, the town beggar.”

  “Has she no family?”

  Alexa Mackintosh

  I shake my head. “All her sons and husband died in the riot in the village years ago. It was the same time my fa- ther and many other men in the village were killed. The village looks after her sometimes by giving her food, but none of us have the means to find her a home.”

  I’m careful not to say my father died in the riots. That’s what people assume, but it is still difficult to lie.

  “Riot?”

  “The men revolted against their working conditions in the mine. We needed new machinery to make our jobs safer. The Royals sent guards to keep the peace, but a shot fired and a man died. I don’t remember now if it was a Second or villager who died first. After that, the streets ran with blood. The water remained contaminated from the blood for two weeks. We had to go to my aunt’s a few miles away until everything was safe and clean.”

  “You speak as if you were there. This was a while ago, no?”

  “When that much pain is caused in a single day, no one forgets.”

  His face is blank. One would expect sadness or sympa- thy at the news of such a tragedy, but his face reflects nothing.

  Without explanation, he steps across the street. This time of day no carriages pass by and the street is almost vacant. He stops beside Mrs. Bayron. He places an arm on her shoulder and begins to speak to her.

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  Pulling up the train on my skirt, I run across the street to join him. By the time I reach them, he has opened his wallet and handed her money. Several wads of cash fill the middle. I’ve never seen so much cash in person.

  He offers her enough money to cover several months rent. “This will hopefully help. Also, you must take some of it and go down to the seamstress. Get her to make you a dress and coat in whatever you please.”

  She refuses his charity at first, but after a few more minutes, she takes the money. After wishing her a better future and parting ways, Dmitri and I continue on our way.

  “You mustn’t carry that much cash,” I say. “Why? Isn’t it safer with me?”

  “Not if someone attacks you because you pull out a wal- let that thick.”

  He smiles. “Not worried about it.”

  I wonder how he managed to collect so much money, but I am wise enough not to ask. I suspect he has a higher desk position than he says.

  Howeve
r, that he bothered to talk to Mrs. Bayron, much less give her money, impresses me. I suspect there is much more to Dmitri than anyone thinks, and I want to discover what his secrets are.

  { 3 }

  Chapter 3

  wo Weeks Later:

  DMITRI AND I RUN INTO EACH OTHER OFTEN, as it’s

  impossible to miss each other in such close courters.

  The first few days require changes. I must remem- ber to get dressed in the mornings before I leave my room, as I used to come to breakfast in my nightdress. There are extra chores to ensure the house remains clean and com- fortable for him. At least his rent money allows us to have as many helpings of dinner as we want.

  We go our separate ways, until a night during the third week of his stay. Mama and my stepfather have to go away overnight to help my aunt. She fell and hurt her an- kle, and since she never married, she wrote Mama and asked if they could help. I haven’t seen her in a while, but

  Alexa Mackintosh

  after my father died, my mother had a nervous break- down. While she recovered, my aunt let me live with her for over a year. She reminds me of a young grandmother. My parents departed this morning and left me be-

  hind to take care of my sisters and provide anything Dmitri might need. It isn’t the first time they’ve left me alone to care for the house and the twins, so I know what needs to be done.

  All is well until Dmitri arrives. He’s gone every day from mid-morning until half an hour before dinner at his job at the base.

  He’s nice, but having him in the house sets me on edge. I’m surprised my parents trust him enough to leave me here with him.

  “Are cold cuts all right for dinner? I can make bis- cuits and a cream gravy to go along with it if you’d like,” I say.