Chasing Time

by Elena Lawson

  The mask, forged from steel, ran from the bottom of my jaw up to my forehead, encasing my left eye. I could only see half of my pouty lips, one cheek, and a sliver of forehead. The rest was obscured.

  Sighing, I ran my fingers through my shock of dark hair, the strands becoming more disheveled with my agitation.

  If they find me…

  But they wouldn’t. Not if I kept in the shadows, in the darkness. Away from wandering eyes and way too curious stares. Away from the sneers and judgements, the side-eyes and disgust. Even the women so eager for a coin turned the other way.

  I needed to get back to the house.

  Frowning briefly, I hurried down the road once more, my cloak shielding me from the worst of the biting wind. My house was only a few blocks away, and hopefully my brothers would still be asleep.

  Furious would not even begin to encapsulate Everett’s reaction if he awoke to find me out at this hour.

  I smirked. It shouldn’t have been as fun as it was getting a rise out of him. He was normally the epitome of calm, but he had changed since the incident with Ellis…and not for the better. The new man was nearly unrecognizable.

  A loud squawk captured my attention, and I turned towards a low hanging branch. A pitch-black raven balanced precariously on it, her beady eyes fixed intently at me.

  “Raven,” I cooed softly. Not an original name for the raven, admittedly.

  I held up my arm, waiting for my familiar to perch upon the proffered limb.

  Instead, Raven squawked once more, ruffling her midnight feathers. Before I could comment on her uncharacteristic behavior, she took off in a blur.

  Blazes!

  Mouth agape at her brazenness, I ran after the wretched bird.

  Raven, while not as cognizant as a human, knew enough to know I couldn’t be out on the street when the sunlight hit. What could the damn creature be thinking?

  She took me to the edge of the Thames, rushing water frothing against the narrow sides. The water was surprisingly tranquil, peaceful, with a sort of serene quality one could get lost in. An abyss, caging in the unknown.

  Bubbles formed just off the edge, down a rocky incline. Curiosity getting the better of me, I took a tentative step closer, being cautious of the jagged terrain.

  A flash of brown hair breached the surface before it was pulled back under, followed by the unconscious wave of a pale hand.

  Was that…?

  My stomach dropped.

  Without giving myself a second to think about it, I dived into the murky water. My arms made quick work chasing the distance between me and the drowning person.

  Hooking one arm beneath his armpits, I yanked him up.

  The added weight hindered me as I kicked back to shore, water dripping in my face and stinging my eyes. My muscles ached, but still I swam. And swam. And swam.

  Panting, I collapsed onto the ground, the wet body curling in beside me. A guttural cough sounded, seemingly wrenched from broken lungs, followed by a curse.

  A feminine curse.

  Scrambling to my knees, I peered down at a shivering woman. She appeared to be my age, her darkened wet hair sprawling around her. Men’s clothes, two sizes too small, clung to her body like a second skin showing ample curves I attempted to look away from. A splatter of freckles dotted her cheekbones and nose, and her lips were tinged blue from the cold.

  “Are you okay?” I asked stupidly. She didn’t reply, teeth clanking. Tiny tremors reverberated through her body.

  She looked so little, so vulnerable, that my heart ached something fierce. Staring at her, sensations I had never felt before rushed through me until I was practically suffocating on them.

  My brothers always said I was too impulsive.

  “Okay, come on. Let’s get you warm.”

  Hesitating only briefly at the implications of taking an unwed woman home, I hefted her up. She felt frail in my arms, her body melding to mine. Her wet skin was slick against my own.

  There would be hell to pay for this, I knew. But what other option did I have? Leave her for dead?

  “You’re okay,” I whispered to her reassuringly, trying to avert my eyes from all the bare womanly flesh taunting me. The shirt she wore—if you could rightfully call it that—barely covered her torso, and the mounds of her breasts were plainly visible above the plunging neckline of the garment. I clenched my teeth hard to check myself. “You’ll be okay.”

  Chapter 5

  BECK

  I knew I was going to die.

  As the cold water infiltrated my lungs and I was submerged in an encasement of ice, I accepted my fate.

  Death.

  It sounded…welcoming. Warming, almost. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suicidal or anything like that, but anything was better than the numbness cloaking me like a second skin. As my vision turned black, pooling from the corners like a cauldron of spilt ink, and my lungs burned fiercely, I allowed myself to think of my father, only once.

  He would miss me when I died. Now that I was gone, now that my mother was gone, he was all alone. Sure, he had a big house and an abundance of money, but that didn’t mean he was happy. He hid his pain behind a carefully crafted mask, but I could see through his painted-on smile. He was like me in that respect: burying the pain so deeply that not even a necromancer could resurrect it.

  I’m sorry, Dad.

  And then….

  Air.

  Sweet, merciful air.

  I gasped wildly, turning onto my side as my lungs expelled the disgusting water. My body shook desperately both in fear and from the cold. Slowly, my eyelids began to blink, and I found myself looking at a brilliant dusky sky painted with oranges and reds. Sunrise.

  My lungs burned; my heart raced in tandem to my thoughts. Everything ached as if I had been hit by a semi-truck repeatedly. No, not just hit. Tied down on the road and ran repeatedly over by the wheels until every bone was broken.

  “Shit,” I cursed, but that expletive led to more coughing until I was hacking out my lungs. It fucking hurt.

  My teeth clattered together as wave after wave of ice swept over me, slithering up and down my spine. I longed to curl up in front of a fireplace with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate.

  And where was I?

  Amy was probably freaking out by now. That girl always did have a penchant for the dramatic, but in this case, her freak-out would be on point.

  Hands cupped the back of my knees, warmth seeping through my sopping wet clothes, and I found myself being hefted into a pair of sinewy arms. I was distantly aware of someone whispering to me, but the words went through one ear and out the other.

  My body was jostled as my savior maneuvered the London streets. It was quieter than I remembered it being; the usual rowdy noise tamed considerably. I couldn’t even hear the honk of cars or the sirens. Was the silence natural this early in the morning?

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled groggily, but the words ran together making them inarticulate. I tried to pat the person’s arms, tried to indicate for him to put me down, but his arms only tightened further around me.

  It was only then that I glanced up, squinting through the blighted, piercing sun.

  My breath caught as something akin to fear skated down my spine.

  The man who was carrying me…

  The man who had saved me…

  Only had half a face.

  The sliver of face I could see showed tawny skin and red splotches on his cheekbone. Abnormally long lashes feathered against his cheeks as he blinked down at me. Brilliant mossy green eyes were fixed on me in a combination of confusion and awe. The other half was nothing but a silver mask, cutting from his angular jaw to his forehead. Across his nose and left eye, curling around his cheek like a second skin.

  He must’ve seen something on my face, an instinctive flash of fear, for his eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” He had a thick accent, the sound somehow reminding me of an aged whiskey.

  I
tried to open my mouth to demand he put me down, to tell me his name, but my teeth merely clattered together. I was so, so cold. My brain was turning foggy almost as if the cold was soaking through my scalp.

  I kept my gaze fixed firmly on him as we continued moving once more. His jaw was clenched tightly, adam’s apple bobbing.

  Was I going to die?

  Wouldn’t that be ironic: get saved from drowning only to get murdered by a masked man with gorgeous eyes. I could just see my tombstone now: here lies Rebecca Clairmont. Died of stupidity.

  I snorted. Wouldn’t that be a fuck you to my father? If I died the same way my mom had?

  A door was opened and closed, and we entered a candle-lit room. I barely had time to process the assortment of paintings decorating the distressed wood of the walls and see the yellowed books on the shelf. We were moving up a small staircase and into a bedroom.

  There was a simple bed in the center of the room, scratchy teal blankets pulled tight overtop. A wooden nightstand flanked one side, a candle resting beside a leather-bound book.

  I tried to scream at the man, tried to tell him to release me, when I was gently placed on top of the covers. The candle beside me was lit, and I heard the sound of curtains drawing closed.

  “You’re going to be okay,” the man said again. “You can sleep here for now.”

  My mind begged me to stay awake and aware, but my body was sluggish, heavy with fatigue. Try as I might, my eyelids refused to stay open.

  I knew I shouldn’t have felt safe in a strange house in a strange bed with a strange man, but my eyes closed like a curtain being drawn shut.

  And then, mercifully, I descended into darkness.

  I woke up confused, groggy, as if there was a glossy sheen disrupting and contorting my thought process. I had only felt like this once before, when I had gotten wasted at a party with one of my old girlfriends and had taken more than a couple e.

  My body ached painfully, and my head pounded just as fiercely. I brought a trembling hand to my forehead and rubbed the skin, attempting to ease the ache. When I attempted a deep breath, my lungs burned in protest as though scraped raw on the inside. Damn, that hurt.

  Amy…

  I tried to sort through my thoughts. I remembered going on the boat, the yacht, with Amy and Eric. And they had given me something, something golden.

  And then…

  And then I had fallen.

  Memories returned with a vengeance, and I sat upright with my heart in my throat.

  Someone had pulled me out of the water and had brought me back to his house. His bedroom.

  On closer inspection, I saw that I was in a nondescript room made entirely of wood. Wooden floors, wooden walls, and a single wooden door. It was empty, but the door was propped open and voices filtered to me, muffled.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Glancing around quickly, I grabbed a silver candlestick and held it like one would a baseball bat. My other hand went to my back pocket and felt for my cell phone.

  Fortunately, it was still there, but I had no doubt the water had damaged it irreparably. That didn’t stop me from desperately pressing the button to turn it on, eyes alternating between the black phone screen and the door.

  Double shit.

  Okay, think, Beck. The man took you to his house, yes, but he didn’t do anything inappropriate. You were unconscious, and he left you alone to sleep. He left you with your clothes on and your phone in your pocket. You’re safe.

  But why didn’t he call the cops? Why didn’t he bring me to a hospital? My bitchy alter ego retorted. Honestly, she was my voice of reason whenever I considered doing stupid shit. I imagined that she sounded like my mom…if I remembered what my mom sounded like.

  With bated breath, I ventured a tentative step forward and pressed my ear to the wooden door. I was only able to see a sliver of empty hallway from my angle, and I remembered distantly that the bedroom had been up a staircase. My savior—or captor—must’ve been downstairs.

  I pushed the door open further and winced inwardly when it creaked. The muffled voices went silent, and I mentally began berating myself. I debated whether or not I should feign being asleep, but the choice was decided for me when a smiling face appeared in the doorway.

  “You’re awake,” the masked man said cheerfully. When he took a step forward, I took an automatic step backwards.

  Not today, Satan.

  The visible half of his lips twisted down at my instinctive reaction.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re confused, and it probably seems improper to have you here by yourself. I’m sorry. I just…” he trailed off, running a hand through his thick, dark locks.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, the candlestick still held tightly in my hands.

  “Jasper. And what is yours?”

  “Beck.”

  His face twisted, brow furrowing.

  “Beck?” He spoke as if he was testing the word out, tasting it on his tongue.

  “It’s short for Rebecca,” I explained, moving the candlestick to one hand and wrapping my other arm around my stomach. My clothes were still damp, indicating I hadn’t been asleep for long. Dirt and other unsavory substances clung to my skin and beneath my nails. I was cold, tired, and in desperate need of a hot shower. But first…

  “Do you have a phone I could borrow?” I asked, perching myself against the wooden nightstand. My body was heavy, the events of the day finally catching up to me. Sleep. I needed sleep. And food.

  “Phone?” Another twist of half his face. The mask rose slightly with the facial tic.

  “Could I borrow it?”

  Surely, this man had a phone. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, appearing to be in his early twenties. I knew my generation. Only unicorns didn’t have a phone of some kind on them at all times.

  But the man continued to stare at me as if I was daft. His hand scrubbed at his unobscured cheek.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said at last, and the tiny tendrils of fear that had previously diminished came back. Was this man fucking with me?

  No, not man.

  Jasper.

  “This isn’t funny.” Ignoring the pain in my body, the aches reverberating up my sides, I shouldered past him and ran down the staircase. I needed to get out of there. Now.

  My escape was impeded when I slammed face first into a warm, muscular body. It was another man with dark onyx skin, buzzed black hair, and arresting golden eyes. He froze when he saw me, seemingly just as horrified of me as I was of him.

  His hands had moved to my upper arms, steadying me after the initial impact, but he moved them away as if I was toxic. As if my bare skin was poisonous. The apples of his cheeks reddened with a flush beneath the burnt umber skin.

  I didn’t have time to consider his strange reaction. I was goal-oriented, and the door was only a few steps in front of me. With a blistering speed I didn’t know I possessed, I threw open the front door and stepped outside.

  The first things I noticed were the buildings sitting side by side on a narrowed, cobbled street. Each one had a small, yet steep, staircase leading up to a simple door. Numerous buildings had chimneys with smoke darkening the air. People traveled down the streets, but they were unlike anyone I had ever seen before.

  The men wore combinations of top hats, lapels, brown pants, and white dress shirts. The women were adorned in thick dresses emblazoned in jewelry while others wore modest gray numbers, hair pulled back into what appeared to be bandanas.

  I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. It felt like I stepped onto a nineteenth century movie set.

  “What the hell?” I whimpered. My heart in my throat, I took a step backwards but ran into another muscular body. Honestly, I didn’t know if I had the best luck or the worst.

  A gruff, raspy voice sounded behind me, and there was no denying the hatred and anger emanating from the new male.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”


  Chapter 6

  EVERETT

  I moved briskly down the street, tugging my hood over my head. It wasn’t necessarily cold out, but the wind was biting. The early morning sun had yet to chase away all the shadows.

  My hand wrapped tightly around my thin parcel. The brown box was nondescript, but I knew it hid something much darker.

  Let’s call it a last resort…

  Alex better be fucking grateful for me. I loved my brother, I did, but there was only so much I could do to help him.

  Soon, we were both going to pay the price for his addiction, and I’d be damned if it led to both our deaths. Inevitably, I knew that was where my future led. In a kill or be killed world, I chose the former.

  Life had chipped away at my innocence, hardened me. Made me calloused. I saw the monsters that hid in the shadows, and instead of hiding from them, I became one.

  Monsters didn’t hurt other monsters. It was a way of life. A mantra that had been drilled into my head from an early age.

  An image assaulted me, and I staggered to a stop.

  My father’s knuckles bruised and coated in blood. The sardonic sneer to his lips as he glared down at me. The heady scent of whisky emanating from him in waves, so strong I gagged.

  “What do you think you’re doing, boy. Get up and prove yourself to your father.”

  Before I could respond, he pulled his fist back and landed it on my cheek. My head whipped to the side, pain exploding in bright stars against the black canvas of my eyelids.

  Over my father’s shoulder, I could make out a pair of light brown, nearly golden, eyes.

  “Run,” I mouthed just as Father rained down a storm on my face.

  I was pulled from my memory by a slight female standing in front of my door.

  A scandalously dressed female.

  What have my brothers been up to now?

  Her luscious lips were open, eyes wide, as she surveyed the town bathed in early morning light. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice me brush past her.