by S. E. Babin
“Your father doesn’t wait.”
I heaved a sigh of annoyance. “Maybe that’s his problem.”
A yank on my arm forced me off balance and into a shadowy corner of the corridor I hadn’t even seen yet. Watson loomed above me and I shivered with excitement, and yes, maybe a little bit of fear.
“Hear me, Penelope. Stop with the attitude. This is neither the time nor the place. You’re here now and you’re stuck. We work as a team. There is no one man show.”
He held his hands flat against the wall on either side of my face. It gave me déjà vu. I tilted my head up to him. “I wouldn’t have an attitude if I knew what the hell was going on, where I was supposed to go, and what the hell I’m supposed to be doing!” My voice rose with each word and when I stopped, I found that I was glaring at Watson.
He didn’t look angry; he merely looked amused. “I can understand that. I spoke with him this morning. I am to take you to his quarters to discuss it.”
“You did?” I blinked as I stared up at him, my anger evaporating.
He nodded.
“People don’t like me,” I whispered, feeling all of about twelve years old.
Watson laughed softly. “How could anyone not like you? You’re annoyingly likeable, emphasis on the annoying part.”
I snorted. “I don’t like me much right now.”
I let my head drop to his chest and exhaled all the frustration building up inside of me. He stood motionless, but didn’t force me to move. After a moment, one of his hands curled around the back of my neck, brushing against the wisps of hair that had fallen out of my bun. His touch comforted and electrified me. I breathed in a shaky breath.
“What is this?” I mumbled.
He dropped his chin onto my head. “I don’t know.”
There was something between us. Something terrifying, but safe. Something if we explored, we might never recover from. After a moment, he straightened.
“Holmes is waiting.”
I nodded and straightened as well. I patted my hair down and allowed Watson to lead me into my father’s offices.
He stood at the window in his office, staring outside, his face a mask of emptiness. When he heard my flip flops, he turned around and frowned at me.
“What are those things on your feet?” His lips curled in disgust and I suppressed a smile.
“Flip flops,” I said with a smile.
“Your feet are hanging out.”
“It’s kind of the point.”
He flicked his hand at me in dismissal. “It’s not important. John here tells me you’re disgruntled.”
Beside me, I saw Watson stiffen. I winked at him, letting him know it was okay. I was disgruntled.
“Yes, I am.”
Holmes stepped away from the window and leaned against the side of the desk. He motioned for us to sit. “I guess you want some answers.”
I laughed. “That would be nice. I did give up my entire life to come here.”
At that, my father’s lips thinned in annoyance. “I wouldn’t go that far. Eventually you would have realized something was wrong. Eventually you would have realized you never age. And eventually your mother would have been forced to track me down. So you didn’t give up your entire life. You altered the direction of your life.”
I wasn’t so sure I agreed with that dumbed down explanation of things. While it was true I had altered the direction of my life, I could have been back home right now living a happy life in relative ignorance. I bit my lip and stayed silent.
Surprised at my silence, Holmes went on. “These,” he waved a hand around in a half circle, “are our training grounds. It encompasses several hundred soldiers, a handful of instructors, top-notch research facilities, and other...things.” His voice trailed off.
I wasn’t going to ask what the other things were. I’m sure I’d find out sooner rather than later. But something a little bit unrelated was bothering me. “How did you finally find me?”
Holmes’ gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
He was stalling, but I didn’t give him any time to keep trying to come up with a lie. “You know what I mean. How did you finally find me?”
He sighed. “I’m assuming you’ve already figured it out.”
I crossed my arms. “Enlighten me.”
Watson straightened in his chair, his gaze flicking between my father and me. Apparently, Holmes hadn’t shared with the class. Holmes retreated to the chair behind his desk. He leaned forward, an earnest look in his eyes. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
“Your test scores.”
Damn it. I knew it. “You had someone on the inside?”
He chuckled. “It wasn’t quite that easy, my dear. Your mother is whip-smart and would have vetted the administrators multiple times.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean?” My thoughts were scrambling to figure out how he’d done it, short of murder. I paled. “You didn’t—”
“Penelope!” My father’s sharp rebuke relaxed me only a little. “I don’t kill people for sport.” A self-satisfied smile crossed his handsome face. “I find I don’t have to.”
“Just spit it out.” I was growing impatient with his smug outlook on everything.
“There are only a few testing centers around the country. It wasn’t difficult to send people in to bug their testing administrators. When you were tested, the chatter over your IQ grew.”
Trepidation settled over my bones like an old familiar blanket. “What did you do to them?” I demanded.
His expression grew cold. “How little you must think of me, daughter.”
I scoffed. “You did something. Otherwise, I would be in a government lab by now.”
“Hold on,” John’s soft timbre interrupted. His concerned gaze found mine. “What are you talking about? A government lab? Don’t you think that’s a bit overkill for someone who only received a small academic scholarship?”
I wanted to be mad at his assessment of me, but I couldn’t. I’d been dumbing myself down for so long, I was beginning to believe it myself.
Holmes laughed heartily. “She has you fooled too, now does she?” He rubbed one hand over his face, wiping his smile off. “She’s better than I could have imagined.”
Watson turned to face me, hurt in his eyes. I met his gaze and dropped my eyes.
“Penelope here has one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century. Her mother—wisely, I might add—encouraged her at a very early age to conceal how bright she was. So she became the consummate above-average student—bright enough to become valedictorian and earn a few scholarships, but never bright enough to arouse any national attention.” Holmes steepled his hands and smiled. “My daughter has an IQ of 184, higher, in fact, than mine and everyone else in this institution. She’s a bloody genius.”
I sighed. I certainly didn’t feel like one. I felt like I wanted to punch Daddy Dearest in the face, though.
“184?” Watson breathed.
“At least. She was a teenager when she tested.”
“Can we move on?” I asked in impatience. I wanted the spotlight off of me. The heat of Watson’s accusatory gaze burned against my skin.
Watson abruptly stood and left the room, the door slamming behind him.
“Thanks for that,” I said.
Holmes stood. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Only if you poison it,” I said with a sigh.
He stood and walked over to a machine I hadn’t noticed before. It looked sort of like my Keurig, but was larger and had a ton more buttons. Holmes grabbed a mug from the cabinet, popped a pod in, and hit one of those buttons. Seconds later, the fragrant smell of a French Roast floated through the air, calming my nerves. He handed me the mug a moment later and repeated the process for himself.
Mug in hand, my father sat in the chair Watson had vacated. “We seem to have gotten off track.”
I leaned my head back against the tall wingback chair. “What’s m
y purpose here? I just want to know, even if it sounds insane.”
His gaze fell on me. “To normal people, everything around here sounds insane.”
“A day ago I was a normal person.”
“Penelope,” he said in earnest, “you have never been normal.” He blew out a breath. “Like I was saying before we got sidetracked, this is an academy of sorts. We recruit and train Time Soldiers to recognize national and international threats and to respond to those threats accordingly. At any given time, we have two to three hundred soldiers all over the world in different times and areas.”
“Different times? Like 1842 and 1942?” I sat up straight and watched him. He looked at ease in the chair, comfortable for once. Every time I’d seen my father, I suspected he was slightly off kilter with the rest of the world. He was, if I had to guess, but right now, in this old-fashioned office, sipping a mug of coffee with me, he actually looked...relaxed.
“Yes. Threats to the world are not only in the present, Penelope. We are not the only ones with time travel ability.”
“Why not?” I wondered aloud.
“You and I are not the only intelligent people out there. Every technology isn’t technically new. It’s borrowed. Each person works off someone else’s discoveries, honing and shaping them until one achieves the desired result.” He set his mug down on his desk. “However,” his gaze was now on me, all relaxation gone, “we are the only Wardens left. We are the only immortals walking the world I’ve discovered and we must keep it that way.”
To me, there was a very simple way to do that. “Then destroy the serum you created.”
My father’s face went harsh in the low light. “You don’t throw away a stellar scientific discovery because other people want it, Penelope.” He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “You become better at protecting it.”
“So, that’s why I’m here?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. You’re here because I missed out on the opportunity to raise you. Your mother took you away and hid you from me. You’re also here because you’re brilliant and talented, even if you’ve successfully suppressed those traits.”
I wanted to be angry at him, to rail against the changes he’d wrought in my life. But when I really examined the way things happened, was it so bad to be where I was? I was immortal now; a walking freak around the circle of the few friends I had before. At least here people knew whose daughter I was and what I had become. Something occurred to me.
“Do the soldiers know we are immortal?”
His expression became guarded. “Some do, some do not. It’s not something we advertise, but it’s hard to avoid when something happens that should have killed you.”
I pondered this. Being shot point-blank and getting up and walking away would certainly pique my curiosity. “How many of us are there?” Right now, I knew of myself, my mother, Holmes, and Watson.
His mouth thinned. “Five.”
I’d only counted four. “Who’s the other?”
My father stood abruptly. “You are to wear the uniform every day and attend classes with your team for half the day. The other half you are to train one-on-one with Watson. I will monitor your progress on a weekly basis until I feel you are ready for your first assignment. At that time, we will ensure you are put up with your own apartment and have adequate transportation around the area.”
So he didn’t want to answer. At least he was giving me something. “Where the hell are we anyway?”
Holmes took my mug away and set it on his desk. “Austin, specifically around the Lake Travis area.”
I stood, sensing I was about to be dismissed. “Cool,” I breathed. I’d visited the hill country several times, but had never gotten to explore it properly. My father had chosen well. Austinites weren’t like the rest of Texans. Weird things didn’t often rattle them. “How soon can I get out?” I was living in a cage I couldn’t break free from.
“A week or two at least,” Holmes said, striding over to his office door. He opened it and showed me out. “Watson will be getting with you tomorrow. For now, head back to your temporary quarters. Dinner begins at six in the hall.”
I’d received some answers. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It would do for now. I headed back to my room, careful to note my father’s quarters in relation to where I was. This place was like the catacombs. Eighty percent of the time, I didn’t know where the hell I was. The halls were mostly empty, but when I did pass someone, they either gave me a tight smile or a wide berth. Word had spread. Sherlock’s daughter was here.
Yay for me.
Once I was safely ensconced back in my sterile room, I plopped onto the bed and mused over the day’s events. I’d been embarrassed, flung around, angered, and starved. Okay, maybe not starved, but definitely everything else. All in a good day’s work around here, I guessed. The one thing that kept sticking out and bothering me was the expression on Watson’s face when he heard about my test scores.
It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, and honestly, I was surprised he was surprised over it. He knew I was Holmes’ spawn, so there was a decent possibility I’d be smarter than the average bear, but he looked at me like I was a freak.
I snorted. Okay, I was definitely a freak, but he had no room to get upset about it. He was just as much of one, if not more so. He had a couple hundred years on me. I leaned over the side of the bed and fished my laptop out of my bag. Here was to hoping we had access to WiFi. I turned on my computer, only then hoping we were still actually in the same year I’d left in. I’d asked Holmes where we were but not when we were. Rookie mistake.
Fortunately, the computer fired up and my ever-stalwart search engine popped up. I idly browsed the web for a while, looking for videos of Bartitsu and street fighting demonstrations. Most of them were instructional in nature, extremely helpful for a girl who’d never punched someone, let alone got involved in a bar brawl.
As with most things on the internet, time spiraled quickly and before I knew it, it was time for dinner. I rolled out of bed, smoothed myself down a bit, and headed down to the Hall.
The next morning came too quickly, even as the night before dragged on forever. The room didn’t have a television and one can only surf the internet for so long before feeling like dying of boredom. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and quickly dressed for class. Holmes hadn’t said much about my schedule other than that I was to attend classes, so I assumed what I did yesterday was good to do today, too.
Cass found me eating breakfast and rolled her eyes as she sat down in front of me with her grapefruit and dry toast.
“Keep eating like that and you won’t fit into that suit.”
I eyed her Spartan breakfast. “Keep eating like that and you’ll die of boredom. Possibly starvation.”
Cass grinned at me and bit into her toast. “Same thing today, but tomorrow we have PC,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“PC?” I stopped cutting my waffle. An acronym didn’t sound good.
“Physical conditioning.” Cass saw my expression and laughed. “How do you think we all look like perfect specimens of humanity? It certainly isn’t by wolfing down waffles and bacon.”
I set my fork down. “I like waffles and bacon.”
“Everything in moderation. We all like it, but we don’t eat it every day.”
I made a face at her plate. “Obviously. Food makes me happy.” It was true. I loved to eat. I loved to drink. Having a grapefruit and toast every day made me almost as sad as giving up my life had.
“You get used to it.” She kept eating her toast as I pondered my life choices.
I didn’t think I would. It was just another aspect of how my life had changed in just a couple of days.
We finished our breakfasts and headed to our classes. In just a few hours, Watson would be gathering me for our first training session. I was nauseated and concerned about it. So far, I hadn’t managed to keep my hands off him, so how would I manage training with him?
I
would soon find out.
I fiddled with the DAR I’d convinced Holmes to give back to me earlier in the day after I popped into his office unexpectedly. He was so discombobulated, I probably could have asked him for a pony and he would have given it to me just to get me out of his hair. He was apparently used to doing the summoning, not the other way around.
I stood outside the doorway to my last class. By my calculations, Watson was at least ten minutes late. The halls had cleared of people, leaving me standing in the hallway like a dork. I looked both ways to see if I saw his familiar, lean form, but I didn’t. I’d wait ten more minutes and head back to my room. I wondered if Holmes had even told him about my training or if he expected Watson to be psychic.
I slid down the side of the wall until I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The DAR, from what I could tell, wasn’t a timepiece, but I bet I could somehow figure out how to get it that way. Right now, I was afraid of tampering with it, lest I wind up in 1942. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. It was quiet right now, since the other students were in their classes. Where I probably should be. I assumed I was pulled out simply because I was Holmes’ daughter. I didn’t like having so much attention shining on me, but I guess it was a necessary evil.
I opened my eyes as the sound of footsteps intruded into my thoughts. Watson strode toward me slowly, his face a blank mask, but his eyes burning with anger. As he got closer, he tossed me a bag.
“Get dressed,” he growled. “I’ll wait here. There’s a bathroom down the hall on the right.”
Watson seemed super excited to see me. I sighed, stood, and hustled over to the bathroom. He didn’t seem like he was in the type of mood where I could mess with him. I opened the bag and pulled out a pair of capri-length athletic pants and a purple racerback top. Nothing too racy, but whatever I was about to do had to be physical. I rummaged in the bag some more and pulled out hair ties, athletic socks, and a pair of trainers in my size. Watson had thought of everything.
I dressed with haste, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and walked back to where he was waiting for me.
“Ready?” He didn’t wait for an answer and I scrambled to keep up with him and those long legs.
