Time Weaver

by Jacinta Maree

  “And after your death, your contract will no longer be valid.” Klaus stepped up to her father, grabbing his shirt. “Once I take what you owe me, I will have to take away her new heart too.”

  As if a landmine exploded beneath her feet, Elizabeth’s world shifted and broke beneath her. She couldn’t feel her legs or her face from where she squashed it up against the wood panel. Above her shock, William’s voice was a drifting echo.

  “No! No there must be something else. Anything else!” William backed up into his desk. Klaus pulled a blade from his inner pocket. Her eyes widened at the familiar handle design and how close it mimicked that of a Collector’s weapon.

  “Klaus! Stop! Stop!” Elizabeth hammered against the door. William glanced over at her scream, his eyes lost in fear as Klaus delivered the knife into his chest.

  A flash of golden light erupted from the puncture point. There was no blood. No tear in his shirt or skin. Just a gentle, wispy golden light. It was almost beautiful. The soft smoke burrowed into William’s body before vacuuming out his soul into the empty handle of the blade. Klaus eased the blade out before carefully positioning William into his office chair. In seconds, William’s body was emptied of color. In seconds, his eyes glazed and his muscles relaxed. In seconds, he was dead.

  Klaus knelt down and cradled William’s forehead against his own. A painful ache hit her chest. Another crash of white painted the halls. The air felt stale, heavy. White flickered. The door by her face was suddenly yanked open. Klaus appeared, spotlighted by white lightning. Elizabeth propelled backwards, scrambling to her feet.

  “Get away from me!” She screamed and lurched into a sprint. Her long dress tripped her, throwing her into the walls. Klaus’ presence sat on the back of her neck. His fingers curled out, ready to grab her. She grabbed a vase on the foyer table and hurled it at him. Klaus caught it and tossed it to the side.

  Exhaustion felt like a death sentence. Her bare feet struggled to grip the wet tile floors. Just as she hit the staircase, Klaus caught her. He pulled her down so she lost her footing, her stomach hitting the edge of the steps before flipping her onto her back. She couldn’t scream, she didn’t have the breath. Her hands shot up to protect her face.

  Before he could strike, Klaus spun and caught the lamp stand Harry tried to hit him with. Harry’s feeble arms and aged body quickly lost grip. Klaus tossed it aside and shoved him to the ground. He moved erratically, striking before seeing the threat.

  Seeing her chance, Elizabeth scrambled back into a run. The hallways to the library seemed to extend longer than she remembered. She hit the library door, chancing a look over her shoulder to see Klaus catching up to her. He was incredibly fast, too fast to outrun. Elizabeth inhaled her scream, shoving her shoulder against the door and slamming it shut behind her. Darkness didn’t slow her as she bolted forward, hands held out in front, fingers spread, frantically pulling herself along the book shelves as a guide. A burning headache pulsated through her head, the strain on her eyes ripping through her like fire.

  Where’s the gun? Where’s the gun? Where’s the gun? The library door was forced open behind her.

  She didn’t slow, even when exhaustion gripped her throat and squeezed the strength from her legs. Hands grabbed her. She screamed as she was spun around and shoved against the bookcase. Hot hands grabbed her throat, fingers along her jawline forcing her chin to the side. Elizabeth slapped Klaus hard across his face, but to no reaction. He reached into his trench coat and brought out the blade. Lightning flashed once more, bringing his face into light, allowing Elizabeth a second to look at him. Blood wept out of his nostrils, dragging bright red down his chin and neck. She managed to pry a book from behind her head and whacked him across the nose. His second hand instinctively caught the book and dropped his grip on her. Elizabeth slipped out of his arms. She spun around, snatched at the edge of the bookcase and brought it down on top of his head. All she could hear was a grunt as the bookcase crushed on top of him.

  Sprinting onwards, she reached out and felt the doorknob leading into the second storage room. She ran in and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned sideways to move quickly through the narrow aisles. Thankfully, the curtains were still pulled back, painting the room in the weak city light. The chaotic storm split the darkened skies into searing white veins and the howls of the wind masked her panicked breathing.

  She fell into the table, fumbled for the gun before grabbing it, and turned back around with the pistol head up. Whiteness fluttered into the room, revealing Klaus two steps away. His shadow loomed over the top of her, his presence like a wolf cornering his prey. She didn’t hear him come in. He was just there.

  Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, sending her into a trembling mess, Elizabeth paused. Klaus’ face was covered in blood. His nose bled like a broken faucet, pouring blood down his front and down his clothes. So much red. Thunder roared, jolting Elizabeth out of her trance and causing her finger to squeeze the trigger. It was impossible to miss. Klaus’ torso was within range, the barrel inches from contact. Yet, as she clenched her grip, the gun replied with an empty click-click.

  Click- click. Click-click. She had forgotten to take the safety switch off. Klaus whipped his hand out, slapping the gun from her grasp and sent it skipping across the room. Her spine hit the table as he climbed on top. Her leg shot out and pushed against his chest, stopping him from getting any closer. Klaus lifted the knife above his head.

  “No! No! Don’t! Don’t, please!” Elizabeth held her hands out, her voice cracking. “I want to live.”

  “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t see his eyes beneath his ruffled hair. His arm stiffened, ready to strike down. “This has to be done.”

  Her attention shifted back onto the glimmer of silver from the knife, noting how Klaus’ fingers flexed around the grip, his face lost behind the blood. He was not human; this was the face of a Time Collector.

  Elizabeth’s mind froze. In her last moments—even when facing Arthur, a life without her mother, a life of servitude—she had never really wanted to die. Klaus’s distant words echoed back. Throwing away your life so easily, you do not respect anything. That, is real selfishness.

  “I wish for more time!” She screamed without taking a breath. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She couldn’t even think. “I’ll give you what you want. Liberty? I will give you liberty.”

  The world halted. The war of thunder behind them fell into silence. Klaus’ face tightened, his eyebrows high and his eyes widened in disbelief. He struggled to speak, the words knotting on his throat. “Don’t say that.”

  “Please?”

  “Death is a better option.” He seemed to beg. Time, the last few seconds she had of it, seemed to drag as Klaus’ hand hovered, ready to deliver the blade into her heart.

  He wore an expression of pure torment. The longer he lingered, fighting his body, the more the blood seemed to thicken from his nose. Then, he dropped his hand and rocked backward. Elizabeth pressed herself further away, finally letting her breath go.

  He held the blade out, where in the handle the spiral of cogs started to spin. The color of ghostly white spiralled out in smoke and into the darkness. As the smoke escaped, it splintered into veins before soaking into Elizabeth’s skin.

  “I can give you three years,” Klaus whispered, defeat ripping through his raspy voice. “And just like Sir Wicker, you will pay your price.”

  He then stood and left the room. All she could do was slump against the wall and cry.

  Chapter Seventeen:

  When the strength returned to her legs and her body felt hollowed of tears, Elizabeth stood. She picked up the gun again before heading to her father’s study room. When she reached the hallway leading into the study, the door was left ajar. Light spilled out into the corridor. Cautiously, she stepped closer and pushed it open. Inside, Harry attended to William, pressing his fingers against William’s neck before dropping his chin. He started to cry, an awkward choking sob. Eliza
beth stepped around the desk, her eyes trained on William and how his face had whitened, relaxed in his death. She reached over and swept his tussled hair away from his face. He was cold to touch, his body frozen as if he had been dead for hours.

  She pulled her hand back. Rage replaced her fear. She could hear the pipes working through the wall from the upstairs taps. Her face curled into a snarl, her brows furrowed as she pushed off the table. She went back into her room and found the bullet that was capable of piercing a Time Collector’s shields. She emptied the cylinder and placed the single bullet into place, turning it so it was next in line to be fired.

  She stood outside the east side bathroom door, the hammer on the gun now cocked back. Steam and light spilled from underneath the doorway. She pushed the door open, welcoming the sound of the hissing taps. Inside, Klaus slouched over the sink with his back to her; his shirt removed so he stood only in pants and shoes. Dirtied water speckled the white tiles. He had his head bowed so his drenched, darkened hair fell over his face. Water rippled along his back where his shoulder muscles pinched. Elizabeth stepped behind him, her heart picking up pace. She hoisted the gun up.

  Her hands shook, fearing she’d lose the courage to squeeze the trigger. Klaus slowly lifted his head. She caught sight of his blurred face in the mirror, before he turned to face her. She held the gun firmly, her hands suddenly still. He didn’t look surprised at the confrontation. He didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. His eyes settled onto hers, and under his stare her body felt heavier. His natural intimidation was more than physical, drawing him up like a golden wall of broad shoulders and large hands. He was a Time Collector, a creature that wasn’t human. His dagger had been dropped to the ground, the spiralling cogs motionless once more.

  He reached out and grabbed the barrel of the gun, pulling it closer to his forehead. Elizabeth gasped at the gesture. Did he really think she wouldn’t do it? Did he think she’d miss? That she’d choke? He inhaled deeply, preparing for the shot. Rage hit her again. But she didn’t shoot. Something stilled her finger. Carefully Klaus eased the gun away, clicked open the cylinder and pulled the bullet out.

  “This is not for me,” he said before turning back to the mirror and placing the bullet on the edge of the basin.

  Her breath trembled out. “How? How could—” She choked, unable to form the question. She stared at his calculating face, noticing how his expression didn’t change with guilt or concern. “How could you do that to him? After everything he did for you. How?” When Klaus didn’t reply, Elizabeth inhaled a loud, hoarse sob. “Don’t you try and tell me you didn’t have a choice. I know what you are. What you are capable of. You didn’t have to kill him! You could’ve taken the time from someone else.”

  Klaus’ muscles twitched, her words angering him. He spun around. “You want me to be corrupted? Like Nikolas? Do not make me the enemy here. Sir Wicker is the one that made the choice.”

  “He saved my life—”

  “All wishes come at a cost. They cost time, and he spent everything he had to save you. But…” Klaus slowed.

  “And so when you killed him, the wish was cancelled. You had to take back the heart…” She whispered. “My heart.”

  Klaus didn’t need to confirm. It was clear by the anger tightening his brows. “I still can’t believe you’re one of them,” she growled. “After everything we went through. You tricked me into trusting you.” The past few weeks flickered past her mind, discoloring with her new perception. Every smile. Every glance. Every touch. It was controlled, manipulative. Elizabeth’s grip tightened on the handle, her rage curling her fingers. She felt so foolish, falling into his charming smile. How he must’ve mocked her behind closed doors. “Was none of it real?”

  Klaus froze. Was none of it real? His mind spun, trying to decipher her obvious double meaning. But the question burned and caught him off guard, making his answer feel even more dangerous than the gun she pointed at him. It felt personal, something he didn’t dare acknowledge.

  “Sir Wicker knew what I was. I did not trick him.”

  “In the end, Klaus, you are the one who killed him. I hope you carry that guilt with you to your grave.” Elizabeth walked over and snatched the bullet off the basin. “Get out, and if I ever see you again, I promise, I will kill you.”

  Chapter Eighteen:

  The coroner arrived to collect her father’s body. After examination, he declared natural causes had taken William’s life. Elizabeth was orphaned again. The family she had built around her had shaped into armor. She allowed them in, she laughed with them, ate with them, talked about her dreams and futures with them. But now, that armor had splintered and brought down any sense of security, leaving her torn and painfully exposed. Her heart had broken once in the most excruciating way. She didn’t think it was possible to survive another hit like that. But she did. Despite feeling hollow, she continued to stand, continued to eat and move. Beyond the surface of her polite, fake smiles she was no more than a body without a soul.

  Days passed. Painfully, long, lonely days. Even when she sat in the centre of everyone’s attention it brought little to no comfort. The Beaumont’s organised a funeral for her father, which was to take place down at the Memorial Park near the Golden Oak Gardens. As promised, Klaus left the house that night. The thought of not seeing him again for three years should have left her feeling pleased, but instead heart break and guilt filled her. Ashamed by her feelings, Elizabeth did everything she could to shut them off.

  She hadn’t even thought about the Red Moon Festival until it popped up on her calendar. Despite their last interaction, Arthur would still expect her attendance. The foul taste was back in her throat, bringing with it memories of his hands roughly pulling at her clothes. As long as Sara remained with him, Elizabeth would never be out of his reach. She rested her hand against her heart. The gentle ticking didn’t bother her so much. Maybe this was meant to be her life. One living on the edge of danger. A child born out of a love affair couldn’t have asked for much more. Maybe, in the end, this was always meant to be her destiny.

  #

  Bouquets of flowers cluttered the front door the day of Williams’ funeral. Lawyers had already been to see her earlier that morning, reading through her father’s will and handing over what appeared to be the deed to the house and all of his worldly possessions. When she questioned it, they revealed the paperwork William had her sign when first coming to his house.

  Material things weren’t of interest anymore. Elizabeth distanced from things she thought she yearned for. At the end of her three-year count down, she would be a corpse with her heart torn out. She sat anchored to her bed, rubbing at her temples while trying to figure out what she meant to do with her life. If she was honest, taking the easy lifestyle felt unjustified, as though she had robbed it from someone else. But doing nothing would have been just as much as a death sentence as Klaus’ return. A new thought ticked over. Did she even have to die? She glanced down at the bullet set inside William’s old locked suitcase. If she shot Klaus and not Nikolas, would she still have to pay her fee? If Klaus disappeared, would it break the contract between them? Would her heart stop?

  “Miss Wicker?” Harry’s voice called from the hallway. “It’s time.”

  Elizabeth nodded and stood.

  The thoughts followed her as she went out, dressed in traditional black. A dark lace veil shielded her face. William’s tombstone was impressive, a tall monument to his achievements and greatness. William Wicker truly had been a remarkable man and the loss of him hit her hard. Harry stood beside her, his old withered arm wrapped around her shoulders as they lowered William into the ground. His entire body shook as he cried. The Groves cried. The Wellingtons cried. Masses of mourners lined the streets. Except for Elizabeth. Her bloodshot eyes strained as she watched the brown coffin disappear. She would never be able to spend another morning with him, no more morning studies, debating over medication, learning about the affairs of the nobles. Every thought she had, she quest
ioned the fairness of her life. Both parents were gone. Who did she have left?

  She didn’t linger after the funeral. She couldn’t stand the smell of the earth anymore. She took a car home with Harry, but when arriving at the manor, found the front door dislodged off its frame. She stopped at the threshold whereas Harry stepped around her in speechlessness. The front foyer had been gutted. The missing heirlooms emptied the house of warmth. Family pictures, vases and decorative ornaments were stripped from the walls and benches. Curtains pulled from the railings, portraits dismantled in search for hidden safes, glasses shattered and thrown across the ground. She felt like someone had slapped her across the face. The shock was numbing.

  Harry called the authorities immediately whereas Elizabeth went to her room to find all of her things had been riffled through. Unease twisted her stomach. Someone had pulled open her drawers and rampaged through her personal items. She reached underneath her bed where she had stashed her father’s suitcase and felt the familiar touch of leather underneath. Relieved, she pulled the suitcase out but snapped her hands back. The locks had been left unclasped. She spun the suitcase around and opened the secret compartment. Somehow, they had found the hidden slot and had taken the pistol.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no!” Elizabeth pulled at her hair. This was a planned hit, timing it well so everyone was out of the manor for William’s funeral. Her mind immediately went to Klaus. He was the only one who knew of the gun. Only he knew of its importance. Her last threat to kill him echoed into the front of her mind. It made sense, except for the state of the manor. If it was Klaus, he didn’t need to tear the house apart. He knew exactly where it was…unless… A glint of gold caught her attention. They had left the bullet. So if not Klaus, then who?

  #

  “I don’t care about the jewellery. I just can’t believe they took the gun!” Elizabeth growled over her meal. The bustle of foot traffic outside settled her agitation, reminding her more of home in the Pitts than the empty silence of William’s mansion. Harry’s house in Rosefire sat on the skirts of the Golden City, nestled along the large, domed walls and hidden within a lane of identical townhouses. Her living there was only temporary, but being outside the eyes of the Golden Gates turned out to be a small blessing. She hadn’t realized how much it affected her, how every time she walked by the window in the mansion she felt the need to duck under. The wet weather was finally moving along as the day welcomed them with a cloudless sky. Elizabeth sighed loudly over her bowl of soup, stirring the spoon in her frustration.