Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (15 page)

Reminding me I’m an intruder.

She smiles at last and lowers the fabric to the long, rough-hewn table on her right.

“I’m Anna.”

“Evy.”

“I can get him for you—”

“No.” I move to block her path. “I mean… he’s busy—” I force myself to calm down and take a breath. “We were supposed to meet, but I’ll come back.”

“I don’t know many of Constantine’s friends—I’m here visiting—but he usually mentions the pretty girls.”

I’m trapped. Can’t tell her we haven’t met, can’t exactly tell her the truth.

She tilts her head and studies me and wags a tiny finger. “He
did
mention you. You’re the girl! The one who saved Aurelia aren’t you?”

I bite my lips and fidget.

“You are!”

Shit.

“Will you tell me all about it? It sounded so exciting and dangerous.”

There’s the Anna I know. I smile.

She pulls out the bench and perches on the edge, expectant and hopeful that I’ll take the other end.

I don’t glance behind me, but I do step to the bench and rest my knee on it. Sitting down and chatting with her is out of the question with Constantine less than twenty feet away. I’m not supposed to be here—he agreed to train me, not to share this part of his life. Apparently this arc is only going to let us hang out when it benefits Aurelia.
 

But I do miss Anna… More than I care to admit.

“It sounds like you’ve heard the best parts.”

Her small shoulder lifts and falls. “Constantine doesn’t always tell me everything.”

“Are you married yet?”

She drops her chin and straightens the lap of her skirt. “Next year.” She sweeps her hand over the pile of fabric. “This is for the wedding. I’m not sure if I have enough time to get everything made. So much planning.”

A year that may be a huge waste. Apparently, the plague hasn’t come through yet, wiping out her entire family and future husband. I want to tell her, warn her and prevent death from destroying her spirit. Surely that’s why I’ve come to this now… even though that doesn’t explain the river.

Neither Ilif nor Penya have talked to me about revealing bits about the future. I have to assume it’s against a random set of rules, but again, if I can’t save the ones I care about, what’s the point of the power.

“I, um.” Words fail me. How do you tell someone their life is about to be destroyed. I clear my throat and try again. “There’s a plague coming. It impacts your family.”

She cocks her head. “Rom told Constantine that without you, he and Aurelia would have surely died. Is that why you’re here? To warn us?”

Am I? My fingers find the end of my braid and drag it across my lips. Back and forth before I answer. “I think so… ” I clear my throat and try again. Now that I’ve saved Aurelia from the flood, she’d be impacted like everyone else.

A melody of laughter floats through the room. I cringe.

“Did you come to see him, too?”

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t answer. She smiles. “His wife died when Aurelia was born, you know. He’s quite lonely.”

More laughter.

She holds out a hand. “Not during the daytime when Aurelia is here, obviously. But at night, when he wanders the halls alone.”

My throat constricts. Quit being such a girl. “I had hoped he was happy now that Aurelia is safe.”

“Oh, he is.” She shifts and scoops the fabric into her arms then stands. “But he could be happier.”

I run a finger along the table edge. “I have to go.”

“I’m glad you came.” She smiles. “We’ll take necessary precautions about the sickness. The elders warned us last week, but they do every year.”

“I hope you’ll all heed this warning. Otherwise… it’s very bad.”

She shifts the stack and holds out a hand. I straighten and reach for her. I hate needing them.

“Be safe,” I say.

“Come back,” she answers.

She leaves me alone to stare out the window for another long moment. I inhale, and warmth spreads through my chest. Maybe now I’ve changed Anna’s future.

C
HAPTER
16

M
Y
ARRIVAL
IN
the hotel lobby sends three bellboys scattering. They glance back over their shoulders and try to convince each other what they just saw.

Oops.

A tall, dark-haired man in charcoal suit pants and a three-button vest leans against the lobby wall, cataloging my movements. He looks amused, and I wonder why I haven’t seen him before. He snaps his pocket watch closed, slips it into his vest, and smoothes a hand down the middle. He pushes away from the wall and glides toward me. I glance over my shoulder, but I’m alone.

“Evy, right?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Nikola had a last-minute defense meeting, so he sent me. Said you would arrive today.”

“How does he always know when I’m going to show up?
I
don’t even know that.”

“If you want to know how Nikola knows what he knows, you’re going to be here a while.” He extends a hand and smiles. “I’m George.”

His grasp is warm and firm. He holds it longer than he should and releases me.

“The hotel has arranged a parlor room for Nikola’s use. Join me?”

I nod and follow him through the lobby. People fill the room again, and I’m not sure if it’s coincidence, or because I’m leaving.

George holds a massive wooden door for me, and I step past him into the parlor, craning my neck forward to catch my first glimpse of these old-fashioned rooms. Opulent like the rest of the hotel, crystal chandeliers hang from high ceilings, cream satin draperies flank floor-to-ceiling windows, and plush chairs and couches mingle together in small sitting areas. To the left, a mahogany bar with chrome accents stands ready to dole out any possible combination of alcohol.

I pick a soft yellow chair flanked by two others and a couch. George takes the chair to my left and sets a small tray of nuts and pastries on the marble-topped table between us.
 

“How do you know Tesla?” I ask and rub my eyes, trying to remember how long it’s been since I’ve slept. Along with mending my injuries, the arcing recharges me so I don’t
need
sleep, but I’m not sure how long I can go on without taking a break. I’m drained—like my battery is getting charged to eighty percent, but not a complete reset like on a full night of sleep.

“I’m his assistant,” George says, interrupting my sleepy wanderings.

“That must be interesting.” I stifle a yawn.

He bristles. “Nikola is not always what he seems.”

I hold up a hand. “No. Sorry, I’m a little worn out. I was being sincere. Nikola is fascinating, and I really do like him.”

He leans back into his chair, dropping his hands into his lap. “I’ve worked for him for long enough that his quirks don’t bother me anymore.”

I smile. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

I glance around the room and situate myself in the chair. Small talk isn’t exactly one of my strengths.

“Tesla will be joining us soon.”

I smile. Again. Unable to sit any longer, I cross the room to a painting on the wall. About twenty-four by thirty-six, it’s a drawing of a vintage motorcycle. I lean closer and study the drawing of an engine in the top left-hand corner.

“It’s Harley’s original sketch.”

I jerk back and glance over my shoulder. “Serious?”

George rises and joins me at the framed sketch. He traces the glass with his finger. “They used Tesla’s flywheel for the very first prototype. He was honored to be involved.”

“Wow. The first Harley.” I shake my head. I’m probably in the middle of amazing history I’m too distracted to notice.

“Do you have them in your time?”

I cock my head and study him. Cleary Nikola doesn’t believe in keeping things on the down-low.

He smiles. “I hope it’s okay that Nikola told me about your time travel.”

I shrug. “Too late now.”

His jaw clenches once and I can’t tell if he feels bad or if he’s about to make a smart retort. Maybe he thought I’d be impressed.

I admire the sketch for a few more seconds and decide to let him off the hook. As I turn from the wall, I can’t help it when my chest puffs up. “Not only do we have Harleys in my time, but I build them.”

He balks. “Like on an assembly line?”

“No.” I grin. “In my time, women do a lot more. In my shop, I
am
Harley.”

He snorts. It’s impossible to miss the “whatever.”

I rub my arms. “I’ll bring pictures next time.”

He studies me. “I’d like that.”

I tap the glass of the frame gently with my index finger. “They’re a whole lot different than this one, though.”

“Well, of course they are. Even mine is different.”

“You have a Harley?” It’s my turn to scoff. George is about a thousand miles from a biker. Even my lawyer clients have more grit and grime to them than George’s squeaky-clean innocence.

“I do. I ride it to work daily.”

I clap him on the shoulder and a wave of evergreen aftershave floats up between us. “Last thing I thought we’d have in common.”

He gives me a sideways glance and we return to the couches. I lounge in the chair again, legs crossed, hands settled over my lower abdomen. Now I have a new appreciation for George, but he’s still curiously awkward as he perches on the edge of the couch.
 

“You really build them?”

I nod.

“From nothing?”

“A guy named James Welt makes my engines, but I build the frame, assemble all the parts, and connect the wiring.”

“And you do all this between your time traveling?”

I look away. “No. Since all this started, I haven’t built a thing.”

“That must be hard.” His voice is soft, and for the first time, I think he’s seeing me as a person, instead of a mechanical invention.

I sit up in my chair. “It was.… Is. I thought I was fine with it… But sometimes—” I glance back at Harley’s original masterpiece. “I miss the simplicity.”

“Tesla would say simple is boring.”

“I didn’t used to think so. I used to think that my life was exciting and daring. Now I know better.”

“Then why keep doing this if you don’t like it?”

And I thought Constantine was the only one who asked the big questions.

“I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say I don’t like it… ” Would I? Or am I just in a funk because I can’t get a solid grasp on this alteration? There’s no risk to building bikes. As a rider, I could drastically blow the future to smithereens. In trusting Ilif with what he’s told me about this alteration, I could put Tesla’s patents in serious novice hands. I mean, really, compared to Tesla, isn’t everyone a novice? This nagging, unsettled queasiness makes me worry that there’s an alteration within an alteration. I have to figure out this missing piece before it’s too late. If none of the geniuses between his birth time and mine have been able to recreate his inventions, maybe there’s a reason.
 

These are the questions I have the hardest time with. If—in that moment when I’m holding his patents—I give them to the wrong person, will I know? Will the universe rumble and signal me to pull back? Or will I ignore every sign and forge ahead in my ignorance?

Like always.

I hate not having anyone to bounce this stuff off of anymore. This must be the reason riders before me had a mentor—even if it was only Ilif.

George clears his throat and I look up. He’s trying to politely ignore my woolgathering, but I think he’s as bad at small talk as I am.

I fumble and manage to remember where we were in the conversation. “There are a lot of things about riding that I do like, and that’s my struggle. Learning something new, especially when I don’t get it right the first time, is tough for me. I like to think I’ve been born with this ability to skip the learning curve—which really only makes my curve steeper and longer.” I huff. “I don’t know why I do that.”

“Impatience. Geniuses are always susceptible.”

I laugh. “Not sure that’s a term anyone’s ever used for me.”

“Really? It must take an above-average intelligence to time travel.”

“Nope. Anyone can time travel.”

He slides back on the cushion. “You don’t say. When I’m not working on Tesla’s things, I find myself enamored with the idea.”

“In that case, I won’t tell you any more about it. Maybe you’re the person who invents it.” I smile.

“Then you’d better tell me.”

We laugh, and I shake my head. Tough guy to like off the bat, but with more time we could be friends. I glance at the clock and stand. “Bathroom?”

“Through the double doors.” He points over his shoulder.

I excuse myself and push through the doors, surrounded by more marble, doubled in the mirrors. A gilded chair rests in one corner, a matching tufted ottoman on the floor in front of it. I glance at my reflection and tuck a few flyaway strands back into place.

A ripple of energy distorts the chair, and Ilif steps forward.

“What is your problem with privacy?”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. What do you want?”

“I came to remind you why you’re here, as you seem to constantly forget. You are here for Tesla, not his assistant, not for sightseeing trips to the past, nor trips to see your father. There is not time for distractions.”

“Time traveler… all the time I need.” A wave of satisfaction accompanies his sour face at my needling. “Besides, we’ve been through this before.”

“Which is why it perplexes me that we must revisit the objective of this alteration.”

I bite my tongue until my eyes water. “I get it.”

He looks me up and down, the disdain clear. “Evidently not.”

I cross my arms and lean my hip against the counter. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ilif, there’s no hurrying him along when he has something to say.

He straightens his cuffs and lets out a sigh. “Evy, I do not mean for each of our interactions to proceed this way. Clearly, we must work together, and I don’t understand why you’re choosing to make this alteration last longer than it should. A simple jump forward would eliminate the amount of time we must spend in each other’s company.”