Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1)

by Jess Evander

  A voice breaks my thoughts. The soldiers are still right outside. “Why are we wasting our time on these two, Sterling? We don’t need them when we still have Pinkerton cornered.”

  No. I helped Pinkerton get away. They must be bluffing to draw us out.

  “I take it you enjoy being bested by a pretty-faced lady and a conniving boy? I say get all three of them—imagine the welcome that’ll be waiting for us if we succeed.”

  “It would be nice for the rest of the encampment to think highly of our group, for once.”

  It feels like hours before the Confederates move on, and even then, I wonder if they’re just outside the tree. Waiting to ambush us the second we crawl out. Every muscle in my legs burns. Itching to be stretched, or rested. But we stay, barely breathing as the night ekes onward. I rest my forehead against the side of Michael’s head. Close my eyes.

  Once sufficient time passes, Michael finally nudges me. I move to crawl out of the tree trunk, but he catches my arm and eases his way in front of me. Of course he’ll go out first. When he flags for me to follow, I squeeze back through the hole. My hip makes a loud cracking noise as I stand.

  As Michael finds his backpack, I tread a few feet away, craning my neck to locate the direction of the stream I heard earlier. I’m not paying attention as I wander farther from Michael. I turn past a group of trees and someone smacks into me. Toppling me off my feet, the person lands right on top, and the back of my head smacks the ground. Air is suctioned from my lungs and I wheeze.

  I’m at the edge of a small field. Long grasses whisper around us. How did I get so far in the open without realizing it? I’m so stupid. Why did I leave Michael’s side? Or have they captured him this quickly too?

  But this isn’t an irate soldier come for my doom. This person is smaller. It’s a woman, and she’s crying. No, not just crying. She’s sobbing. Should I shush her? The Confederates are bound to hear and circle back.

  Grabbing her shoulders, I slide to my knees, bringing her up with me. “Has someone hurt you?” I whisper. “You need to be quiet.”

  This brings even more flood works, and a long, loud moan. “He’s gone.” In her hand is a piece of rumpled paper. She presses it to her face as she rocks back and forth. Breath shudders from her lips. “I don’t want to live without him.”

  Even though I don’t know who she’s talking about, my insides tear in two. I want to hug her and rub her back until her pain ebbs. How many times have I witnessed my father in this state over my mother? I know enough about grief to know the ache never truly leaves.

  Michael’s firm hand clamps over my shoulder. “Gabby, we’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

  I tip my head back to see him. “Something’s wrong with her. We have to help.”

  “No. Stand up.” He’s not looking at me anymore. His gaze is fastened on the far side of the clearing.

  Expecting to see Confederates, my eyes follow his. I stifle a scream. It’s not a soldier that makes his way across the field.

  It’s a Shade.

  They feed off despair. No wonder he’s drawing closer.

  “Ma’am.” I grab the woman’s hand, enclosing it in both of mine. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you have to think about something else right now. Something hopeful.”

  She shakes her head. “They killed my husband. He’s dead. He’s not coming home from the war. Not ever.” Pressing the letter to her eyes, she whimpers.

  Michael doesn’t wait for my consent before jerking me away from her. His arm around my middle, he tugs me backward until we’re draped in the darkness of the trees again. I try to break away, but he draws my back against his chest, both arms snagging me in an effective vise.

  I arch in an attempt to gain freedom. “That woman needs us. That Shade is going to get her if we don’t do something.”

  “Sorry, Gabby. I’m not risking it seeing you.”

  “I thought you could only see them in photographs. How did you know—”

  His chin moves on my head. “We can identify them, it just usually takes a while to pick them out in a group of Norms. I may not be able to see his face melting, but only one creature walks that slow and drags his feet that much.”

  “Why are we afraid of them?” I push at his arms.

  His muscles flex. “We’re not, usually. But remember the first time, when they caught you ... do you really want to go through that again?”

  No, of course I don’t, but I also don’t want to stand by while this thing harms a desperate woman. Like watching a train wreck, my vision is glued to the clearing. The Shade shuffles toward her, mummy-like. The woman hunches on the ground where I left her.

  When the Shade reaches her, he clutches her chin. He bends her head back and starts sucking at the air above her mouth, like I saw them do at the Wall Street bombing. Except this time it’s different. The woman’s body starts to tremble, and she claws at her throat like she’s choking.

  I jostle in Michael’s arms. “He’s killing her!”

  Michael twists me around, and brushes the hair from my forehead. One of his hands is still locked around my upper arm, in case I try to run. “Don’t worry. They can’t do that. They don’t. They have the power to cause hopelessness, depression even, but not death.”

  I look back over my shoulder just in time to see the last ounce of life fade from her face. Then her body goes limp. The Shade lets go of her chin, and she hits the ground with a hollow thud. When the Shade stands, he stretches to his full height. If it’s possible, he looks stronger now, more muscled and sure footed.

  Breaking away from Michael, I stumble forward. “She’s dead.”

  Michael steps beside me, his cheeks draining of color. “It’s not possible.”

  That’s when the Shade notices us. Eyes snapping in our direction, he squints right at me. The Shade’s head tilts to the side. “Rosa?”

  My mother’s name shatters through me with the force of a hail storm.

  The Shade steps over the woman’s body and advances toward me, not stumbling or walking stiffly like I’ve seen them move before. No, he strolls forward as easily as I can. I should try to get away, but it’s like I’m in a trance. I can’t move.

  Good thing Michael’s there to help me. He spins me around, breaking whatever hold the Shade seems to have on me. “Run!”

  That’s a simple enough command to follow. As if I’m back in the State Championship race, I take off at a fast clip. This time, there’s no marked path. Then again, this time, an evil creature hunts me. Tree branches slash at my skin. My pants snag on a thorn bush. I keep running, but I feel a few bristles burrow into my leg. We pound over the stream I’ve been listening to all night, startling a large buck who takes off crashing in the other direction. My shoes are waterlogged now, squishing with every impact. So heavy.

  What time is it? This night has been the longest of my life, and I don’t think we’ve hit midnight yet. As we skirt trees, I hear Michael’s bag pounding against his back and his breath coming out hard. He starts to lag behind me, even though I’m slowing down too. The night’s events wear on me. Why won’t the Shades just leave me alone? I’m tired of running away, so sick of hiding. But I don’t want to fight either.

  I want to go home.

  Just shift us already! I warned Pinkerton, what else can there be left to do? Why does Nicholas make everything so difficult? Why can’t he just tell us things plain and simple? I have a novel idea. Why doesn’t he show his face once in a while? Take on a mission himself instead of sending us to do everything?

  When I judge that we’ve run almost a mile, I stop. With my hands on my knees, I suck in long breaths of chilly air and listen for signs of being followed. Nearby, Michael collapses on the ground. He paws through his bag for the water bottle, but then realizes it’s still empty. Poor guy, I forgot that while running is the one thing I’m really good at, it might not be in his top five. And he’s had to run a lot so far tonight. Hopefully that’s all done with now.

&nb
sp; A rabbit skitters from an adjacent bush, but that’s the only movement I sense. The Shade hasn’t tracked us. I relax the muscles in my shoulders. We can breathe now.

  I’m about to sit beside Michael, but remembering the Shade makes me halt. Now that the terror is behind us, rational thought crowds in. He seemed to know the Shade would come after me. There’s something he’s not telling me.

  I glower down at him. “Do you happen to know why that Shade said my mother’s name?”

  He pulls the bottle out again, rising to his feet. “We need to fill this and treat it, or we’ll both be cramping from dehydration by morning.”

  When he turns to leave, I act faster. Slamming my palms against his chest, I block his path. “Answer me.”

  “Here’s an answer. Stay here while I go get us water, and try to keep out of trouble.”

  Not likely. Growling, I fist the fabric of his shirt in both my hands and give him a firm shake. The water bottle clatters to the ground. “How did that thing know my mother’s name?”

  He studies the leaves above him. Then he shrugs me off. “Will you let go? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  My teeth ground together. I back him into a tree. “Don’t lie to me, Michael Pace. Don’t you dare lie. You heard him say Rosa. I know you did.”

  “Sure. But throughout all of history, want to take a guess at how many Rosas there are? Out of all of them, how do you know he meant your mom?”

  Oh! I want to curse. “Because I’m not dumb. I’ve seen pictures of her my entire life. I look just like her!”

  He reaches out to me, but I evade his touch. His hand falls to his side. “Gabby, keep your voice down. I think you need a minute. Grab a seat and cool down. Take some deep breaths. Let me just go get—”

  I square my shoulders. “Are we friends?”

  “What?”

  “Easy question. Yes or no. Are we friends?” There’s a hitch in my voice. I hate it.

  He looks up at the sky before taking a long, deep breath. “If tonight doesn’t prove how I feel about you, I don’t think you’re ever going to pick up on it.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Then for once, don’t dodge out of a hard conversation. Tell me what’s going on. Trust me.”

  He treks a few feet away from me then walks back, hands shoved in his pockets. “You know how everyone keeps telling you that you’re special?”

  I nod, once, tightly.

  “Well, you are.”

  “Continue.” I stare down at my palms. Fiddle with my shifting bracelet as if it holds the answers.

  “There’s a reason half of Keleusma stares at you when you walk by. Some of them are afraid of you.”

  “Yeah. Eugene already told me that,” I snap.

  “So you know?” His eyebrows dart upwards, and relief washes over his features.

  “No. Nothing to do with my mom. He only said what you just said, about some people being afraid of me, but it didn’t make sense.”

  “Oh.” Michael sighs. “Your mom was a Shifter, just like you and me. Rumor has it she didn’t love doing it like most people do. She wanted to find a way out.”

  My mouth goes dry. I shuffle my feet. She sounds a lot like me.

  “She didn’t talk to the other Shifters much. Sure, she would go on missions. Do what was asked of her, but she got pulled home often. Your dad needed her more than most Pairings do.”

  Makes sense, he still does.

  Michael presses his hand over his forehead. “We’ve told you about the Shades. How they’ll try to convince you that the way they live is better. Well, I don’t know how else to say it other than, they got to her.”

  I close my eyes. Not sure if I can process this information. “Is she ... she’s a Shade.”

  He presses his lips together. “You know how we follow Nicholas? The Shades have a leader too. His name is Erik, and if you ever happen to meet him, run.”

  Erik? Donovan mentioned him when we first met. What did he ask me? He wanted to know if I spoke with Erik. Why does he think I want anything to do with the leader of the Shades?

  “What does he have to do with my mom?” I realize I’ve been rubbing the skin under my bracelet the whole time he’s been speaking, back and forth over the white scars on my wrist. I stop.

  “No one knows the specifics, but we do know Rosa started meeting with him. Made some sort of a deal. See, when most Shifters decide to become Shades, they drink a cup of this stuff the Shades call the Elixir. That or they can choose to have it injected into their bloodstream. I guess it doesn’t taste too good going down at first. At least, that’s what we’ve heard.”

  “So she ch-chose to be injected?”

  “Yes, but there’s a catch—Erik gave her the Elixir while she was pregnant … with you.”

  I gasp. A sharp pain registers at the back of my throat. I try to swallow it away, but it stays. “Go on.”

  “Usually when someone drinks the Elixir, their transformation is almost instantaneous. At the most, it takes a few days. But, he gave your mom the injection and she didn’t change until a few months after you were born.”

  I splay my hand over my stomach. Rub my fingers down my arm. My whole body feels like there are snakes slithering over me. “Then it’s in me too. Some of it has to be or else she would have switched right away.”

  He nods. “The Elders think that’s why it took her a couple months to change. Because she didn’t get the full dose of Elixir.”

  “Is that why I can see their faces melting and you can’t?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. People were afraid you’d be the first Shade ever born. Like Erik had discovered a loop hole.”

  No wonder Donovan tossed me into jail. Michael’s words explain all the silence and strange looks in Keleusma. Were they all waiting for me to unlock the door and let in a hoard of Shades?

  “Welcome home,” they said the first time they saw me.

  “Wait. Do they want me?”

  Castling his hands together, he presses his fingers to his chin. “I think so.”

  My whole body is shaking. I want to clap my hands over the pounding in my ears. Block everything out.

  “That’s half the reason I didn’t want you to come on a mission. I don’t want them have a chance to get near you. Hurt you.” Michael’s eyes soften. “Hey, it’s going to be okay—”

  He moves to cup the side of my face, but I slap his hand away.

  “You knew, this whole time. You knew and you didn’t tell me?” I break a branch off a nearby tree and point the jagged edge at him. “It never crossed your mind that I should know?”

  Taking a step back, he puts his hands up in surrender. “Gabby…”

  “Shut up. I’ve wondered about my mother my whole life. You had to realize I’d want to know something like this. You can’t tell me you’re really that dense.”

  He snatches the branch from my hand and tosses it to the ground, voice rising. “Come on. Seriously, does knowing make anything better?”

  His words make me flinch. “No. But it sure helps explain a lot of things about myself.”

  “Like what? What could your mother’s mistakes have to do with you?”

  I tap the blemish on my shifting bracelet. Forever tarnished, just like me. “I don’t fit anywhere.”

  He growls. “Don’t talk like that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “There is! Don’t you get it? This explains why I never feel like I belong. Because I don’t. Not at home. Not in Keleusma. And not on these missions.” I toss my hands in the air. No wonder I can’t hear Nicholas. He probably doesn’t want a brain connection with someone who has a high chance of turn-coating on him.

  But would I?

  “Do you think you fit with them?” Michael voices the question I am too afraid to form in my mind.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Blood rushes warm through my chest, and I’m able to relax my shoulders.

  Michael doesn’t say anything for a minute. Just lets me dige
st everything. Bless him for that, at least.

  I don’t really know what to say next. I mean, my mom’s a traitor. She didn’t even love me enough to wait until after I was born. To give our family a chance to change her opinion. She just abandoned us. She didn’t want me. Not only that, she tainted my future. Then again, if she changed, it means there’s a chance she’s alive.

  “Is my mom still with them?”

  “As far as I know, she’s a Shade. But listen—”

  I hold up my palm. Whatever more he is going to say, I don’t want to hear. “Please. No more.”

  “Whatever you want.” Dropping to his hands and knees, he searches for the empty water bottle. “We should probably find somewhere to sleep. And get some water for morning.”

  Usually his voice sounds like a favorite melody to me, but right now, every time he opens his mouth, it’s like nails on a chalkboard. I can’t deal with him, with anyone. I need to get away. Swinging around, I’m planning to stride off all purposeful-like, but my legs feel like they’re made of whipped cream. I stagger and almost fall. Why does my head feel so fuzzy?

  “Maybe you should sit down.” Michael moves to help me, but I brush him away.

  “I’m fine. Just moved too fast.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to take off for a few minutes.”

  He reaches for his bag. “How about I come with you?”

  “No. I want to be alone.” I rub again at the ache in my chest. “Leave me alone.”

  Michael sighs. There’s no way he’s okay with me wandering off alone, but perhaps our bickering over the past two days wore him down because he says, “All right, Gabby. I’ll stay right here until you’re ready. Don’t go far, though, okay?” His voice drops, like he’s talking to a cowering dog that’s been abused its whole life. I don’t blame him. Just like that animal, if Michael says the wrong thing, I’m sure I’m bound to bite.

  Without another word, I shuffle away. I try to follow a straight line so that I can find my way back to him later. Well, if I decide to go back, that is. Maybe we’re both better off alone.