Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1)

by Jennette Marie Powell

  Lisa slid a Cosmo onto the stack of Redbooks. “Tony, what I said. Think about it.”

  “Put the Newsweeks on this side, and Redbook closest to her chair. Cosmo goes in the middle,” Tony said. That was how he’d always done it.

  “Tony Solomon, you will not change the subject on me.” But she did as he asked.

  “Then stop trying to judge me.” Tony’s face went slack. “You haven’t followed a hearse up the hill to the cemetery with your kid inside...” He looked away and focused on the dog lady before the memory overwhelmed him. “I’m definitely going back to work Monday—”

  The front storm door slammed. Tony and Lisa looked at each other, then Lisa jumped up and ran to the foyer. “Who is it?” Tony called as the door opened and shut.

  Lisa returned, clutching a folded newspaper, which she thrust at Tony.

  Tony groaned as soon as he glimpsed the masthead. The National Weekly Star, one of the last of the grocery store tabloids. As he took the paper, a card fluttered to the floor. “Who left it?

  Lisa shrugged. “All I saw was a little blue car driving away.”

  Tony made a face at a grainy image of himself superimposed upon a jungle scene of scantily clad natives dancing around him, El Castillo in the background. But they weren’t dressed like that; they wore colorful robes and animal skins...

  In the dream, he corrected himself, resisting an urge to scratch his neck.

  Disappearing Man Actually a Time Traveler, the headline read. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Tony said.

  “One of the more creative ones I’ve seen.” Lisa grabbed one of Dora’s Cosmos and flipped through it while Tony skimmed the article.

  It began with a summary of his fall on the pyramid and subsequent disappearance. “One minute he was there, and the next he wasn’t. It was like he disappeared into thin air,” a woman (unnamed, of course) from a tour group stated. A description of the ensuing half-hour manhunt followed, then the weird stuff began.

  “Tony Solomon didn’t just disappear, he traveled back in time,” the article quoted an also-unnamed anthropologist. When Tony read the next paragraph his skin grew clammy.

  While not widely publicized, sources say a stone dagger, a never-before-seen artifact, was found lying beside the unconscious Tony Solomon. Its style and the decorative carvings on its handle link it to the Chichén Itzá population of approximately 900 A.D. It has been theorized that Solomon was captured by the prehistoric Mayans and sacrificed as an enemy. It’s no wonder, as he had been wearing clothing typical of a modern American tourist.

  “The priests and assistants would have stripped off his clothing, secured him to the altar, and cut out his heart as an offering to their gods,” stated the researcher in his exclusive interview with the Star. “In addition, such sacrifices were often beheaded. The fact that Mr. Solomon was found totally nude and drenched in his own blood bears out this hypothesis.”

  With shaking hands Tony lowered the paper to his lap.

  Lisa glanced up. “You all right?”

  “Yeah... just tired.” He pushed the paper off his lap. Time travel. Sacrifice. No way. The tabloid slid off the couch with a muffled crinkle. Lisa snatched it from the floor and added it to the stack of other newspapers on the coffee table, then bent to retrieve the scrap of paper she’d dropped when Tony took the tabloid. “This fell out of—”

  Tony snatched the slip of paper. The plain, white business card bore a stylized image of a pocket watch with a Saturn ring, flanked by three stars. Beneath it, elegant, engraved-look type read The Saturn Society, Charles F. Everly, Watchkeeper. The card listed a Harrison Street address in Dayton, along with a phone number and web address.

  Tony turned the card over, where someone had scrawled a handwritten note.

  It’s all real—we can help you. Call or stop by anytime.

  Chad Everly

  Tony snorted. He’d heard of this Saturn Society, but where?

  He crushed the card, twisted around, and tossed it at the trash can just inside the kitchen doorway, where he made a perfect basket.

  Help? Yeah, right. Whoever this Chad Everly guy was, and whatever this Saturn Society was, Tony did not need their help.

  On MONDAY MORNING, BERNIE’S BAGEL & DELI was a gauntlet of glances and whispers, of people staring, then ducking behind their newspapers. The normally comforting aroma of toast and cinnamon coffee soured in Tony’s stomach.

  He was a freak. The guy who disappeared. Or if one believed the tabloids, a time traveler.

  Tony tried to ignore the stares as he approached the counter and studied the menu board, even though he knew the offerings and prices by heart, especially the most important: Specialty bagel with gourmet cream cheese, $4.00.

  “Yo, Tony!” A stocky African-American man bustled out from behind the counter and grabbed Tony’s hand. “How ya doin’?”

  “Not bad, considering.”

  “Well, it’s sure good to see you in here again.” Bernie gave Tony’s hand a brief shake. “What’s it been, three weeks? After seeing the paper—”

  Tony couldn’t suppress a groan.

  “Hey Jack!” Bernie yelled over his shoulder. “Hazelnut with extra cream, sesame with veggie! And the paper.”

  Tony waited while Jack fetched his coffee and the Dayton Daily News. Bernie took the next patron’s order, and Tony finally relaxed when Jack slid a bagel onto a paper plate. Tony pulled out his wallet.

  Bernie waved him off. “Today’s on me.”

  Tony’s hand paused in mid-air. “Thanks.”

  Bernie turned to ring up another customer, so Tony shoved his wallet back into his pocket, grabbed his tray, then headed for his usual table.

  Two people were already sitting there.

  Shit. Today, of all days, he needed the consistency, the sameness. Needed to sit at his table by the storefront window, just like he had almost every workday for the past three years, watching the traffic and people walking by on Seventh Street while he savored his coffee and perused the Dayton Daily.

  “You okay, Tony?” Bernie said.

  “Huh? Uh, yeah.” He’d have to make do with the table on the other side of the door.

  He’d just taken a seat when Bernie pulled out the other chair and joined him. “So what really happened to you in Mexico?”

  “What did you hear—or read?”

  The deli owner shrugged. “You fell down, busted your head, totally disappear, then show up a half hour later in a bloody freakin’ mess.”

  “Then you know as much as I do.”

  “You’re shittin’ me,” Bernie said, a little too loudly for Tony’s comfort. Tony glanced around the restaurant. A man staring at him from the next table dove behind his newspaper.

  “You don’t remember nothin’, huh?” Bernie asked.

  “Nope. I blacked out, and the next thing I know, I’m in the hospital feeling like I just went ten rounds with King Kong.”

  “Man, that’s bad news.” Bernie squinted and leaned closer, his gaze locked on Tony’s neck.

  “I have no clue how it happened,” Tony answered before Bernie could ask.

  “No shit? That’s wicked, man.”

  Tony fingered his collar, barely touching the scar. Sometimes he forgot about it until someone eyed him for a second too long. “It looks a lot worse than it is.” It was, except for—

  (Huge stone axe) He squeezed his coffee cup until it started to buckle, then forced himself to relax.

  Bernie glanced at the growing line at the cash register and stood. “Gotta run. Glad you’re back.” He hurried to the counter and resumed barking orders at Jack.

  Tony propped his legs on the chair Bernie had vacated. He sipped his coffee and skimmed the first few pages of the paper, relieved to see that military action and a local crack house bust had replaced him in the headlines.

  The return to routine comforted him, even without his regular table. The first bite of sesame-with-veggie was a godsend. He glanced at his watch. Seven thirty-three
. He had to hurry. Keith didn’t care if his execs weren’t perfectly punctual, but it bothered Tony to be even a minute late.

  He skimmed the headlines of the recent uprisings in Africa and the latest skirmishes in the Middle East while he finished off his bagel’s upper half and started on the lower, just like he always did.

  Something yipped from near the counter. Tony looked up.

  A furry, white face peered out from a woman’s handbag, the little terrier’s bright, black eyes seemingly focused on Tony. The woman flipped a lock of long, blond hair over her shoulder as she reached into her bag, and recognition jolted Tony. The dog lady! He’d wait until she sat, then he’d go up to her, introduce himself, and ask her where he’d seen her, other than walking through his neighborhood. Or if she got her order to go, he’d catch her on her way out—

  As she pulled her wallet from the handbag, the dog wriggled and popped over the bag’s side. “Baby!” The woman crouched and grabbed, but the dog slipped through her grasp.

  The woman rushed after it as it wove between tables toward the door. Tony tossed his newspaper down and leaped up to help, as other patrons did the same.

  People scrambled as the dog dashed under chairs and between legs. “Baby! Here!” the dog lady shouted.

  A white blur zipped toward Tony’s table, and he bent, poised to catch it when someone opened the door to come in.

  Tony grabbed. Soft fur slid through his fingers, but something caught. As he rose, the dog lady burst past—“Baby!—and out the door.

  Tony looked at what was in his hand. A blue, rhinestone-studded, leather collar. He reached for the door when vertigo burst through him. He caught the door frame and steadied himself as it passed, then hurried out. “Hey!”

  A few patrons who’d followed the dog lady outside stood scattered along the sidewalk between Bernie’s and the parking garage, gazing around with bewildered expressions. Tony ran up to the woman who’d been sitting at his usual table. “Where’d she go?”

  The woman pointed to the parking garage. “She went that way.” Her shoulders lifted, and she turned up her hands. “Then it’s like, she disappeared.”

  Tony froze when he got off the parking garage elevator after work.

  Someone was skulking around his car. The fourth floor was deserted, not unusual for after seven on a Thursday evening.

  Tony slowly walked forward, squinting to see if he recognized the man.

  The guy crept around the metallic blue Buick’s front end. A little on the short side, olive-skinned, with a goatee and dark hair in a ponytail, wearing suede pants and a white, lace-up shirt, like he was Latino Daniel Boone or something.

  Tony punched a button on his key fob, making the car’s headlights flash. “Hey!”

  The man straightened, then a smile slid across his face as Tony approached.

  Apprehension stirred in Tony’s gut. His footsteps rang on the concrete floor in short, sharp claps. Just fucking great. Probably another reporter, trying for a follow-up article.

  Thankfully, the days had grown less eventful as Tony’s first week back at work went on. Tony had left the dog collar at Bernie’s, but the dog lady never returned. And as he’d predicted, the stares and questions had grown less frequent with each day. His energy had returned to normal, and so had everything else—or so he’d hoped.

  He jammed his hand into his pocket as he neared his car, hoping the interloper would assume he carried a weapon.

  “Tony Solomon?” The man held out a hand, revealing a shiny, silver dagger hanging from one side of his belt, and a pistol in a tooled leather holster on the other. “Are you Tony?” The man’s smile was friendly. Too friendly.

  Tony grabbed the cell phone in his pocket, thumb poised to speed-dial 9-1-1. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man thrust his hand at Tony. “I’m with the Saturn—”

  “I talked to the Dayton Daily last week.” Tony released the phone and fingered his key chain.

  “I’m not a reporter.” The guy dug into his pocket and held out a business card.

  Tony took the card but didn’t look at it.

  The man’s smile remained fixed on his face. “My name’s Chad Everly. I’m with—”

  Tony’s face went slack. “You’re the one who left that tabloid at my house.” He squeezed his keys. “What do you want?”

  Everly’s smile remained steady except for a contrite relaxing of his features for a fraction of a second. “Well, actually, that was my assistant. I was... away at the time, but she knew I wanted to talk to you. You’re one of the highest-profile inductions we’ve had in years—”

  “Induction?”

  Everly held up a hand. “What we call when someone becomes one of us. My counterpart in Cancun tried to see you, but he couldn’t get past security.”

  His self-proclaimed brother. Tony’s face twisted. “What are you talking about?” He took a step backward. If that whack job wasn’t standing between him and his car, Tony would’ve jumped in and gotten the hell away.

  “I’m with an organization called the Saturn Society. We research time travel.”

  Tony’s mouth clamped shut. Definitely nuts.

  Everly walked around to Tony’s other side. “I know what happened to you in Mexico.”

  Tony watched him, not wanting to blink. “What do you want?” The top of his head tingled. Why was he encouraging the guy? His fingers twitched on the car keys.

  The man’s gaze settled on Tony’s neck, making Tony wish he were a turtle and could pull it in. “You were beheaded, weren’t you?” Everly asked. “That must’ve been unpleasant.”

  Unpleasant? The tingle in Tony’s scalp grew into an itch. He forced himself not to scratch. What did this guy know? And how? Those people in Mexico had tied him down, driven a knife into his chest, and presumably chopped off his head, and this guy thought it was unpleasant? Then Tony caught himself. What was he thinking? “Beheaded?” He forced a laugh, but it sounded fake. “If I was beheaded, how the hell am I standing here now?”

  Everly tilted his head, his smile patronizing, as if explaining the obvious to a child. “You can’t die before you’re born, can you?” Tony stepped back. The man went on. “When you die in the past, it brings you back to the present—”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Everly looked at the ground, chuckling. “Denial. We’ve all gone through it.” He looked up, meeting Tony’s eyes. “But once you accept it, you’ll see. Time travel’s one of the greatest—”

  “Time travel? You’ve been reading too many tabloids.”

  “That’s what happened, you know. You went back—”

  “Yeah, sure. I got bonked on the head and went back in time. Hah.”

  Everly laughed. “That only happens in books and movies. No, it’s the power of your own mind that took you back.” His face grew solemn. “Look, I know you’re confused and frightened. But we can help you. Once you learn about time travel, you’ll find it’s incredible.” He stepped closer, spreading his hands in an encompassing gesture. “Any time, any place, all at your disposal. All you have to do is... imagine.” The smile took over his face again, and Tony’s world narrowed to nothing but that lustrous grin hovering in a vacuum, inches from his face.

  A car went past on its way to the exit, its breeze chill on Tony’s clammy skin. He took another step backward. “You’re a fucking lunatic.” He jammed the business card into his pocket, punched the unlock button on his key chain, and pushed past Everly to yank the car door open.

  “No I’m not, and neither are you.” Everly’s voice was calm. “Call me or stop by when you want to talk.”

  Time travel? Tony snorted. “Yeah, right.” He slid behind the wheel. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’ll come.” Everly leaned closer as Tony’s hand froze on the car door handle. “Because like it or not, you’re one of us.”

  Dora sat on the family room sofa, talking on the phone when Tony walked in. “Listen, th
at’s him now. Yes, I’ll tell him.” She tossed the phone onto the end table as if it burned her hand.

  “Who was that?” Tony put down the boxes of takeout food he’d picked up, after he’d convinced himself Everly was either a nutcase or a reporter who’d hoped a more creative cover story would catch Tony off guard.

  “Charlie. He called to ask how you were doing.”

  “Isn’t he out of town this week?”

  She nodded. “He says he’s glad you’re feeling better.”

  Tony hung up his coat. “You had dinner yet? I picked up Happy Hunan on the way home.”

  “I had a late lunch. Just stick mine in the fridge.”

  He did, then brought his into the family room to eat while he watched the news.

  “Did you pick up the dry cleaning?” Dora asked.

  Tony grimaced. Damn. “I forgot.”

  “Oh. I was planning to wear my teal suit for the divisional accountants’ meeting tomorrow.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll come up with something else.”

  He flopped into the recliner and watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ate. She grabbed a copy of Cosmo out of the magazine rack. With two closets full of clothes, why did she need the teal suit? Besides, she’d change her mind three times before she left for work in the morning anyway. He voiced neither of these thoughts. It would only cause a confrontation. “Another reporter waylaid me in the parking garage today,” he said instead.

  “Uh-huh,” Dora said, her attention on Cosmo.

  “This guy was a real weirdo...”

  Dora flipped through her magazine without looking up.

  Why bother?

  Their marriage wasn’t bad by any means, but it seemed all they did together any more was sit in front of the television. It had grown worse after Bethany’s death, as Dora coped by taking pills and sleeping her grief away, Tony by working late and traveling, or trying to lose himself on the golf course.