The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (27 page)

“But you’re still going out there tonight and put yourself in danger for something you think is wrong?”

“Just because I think it’s wrong doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Fate exists. And it can be foreseen. Gloria worked with my uncle for years before she got out only a short time ago.”

“Why can’t you do the same?”

“Because just as there was a bus destined to kill you, there is a bullet destined to kill me. And I can’t be here when it finds me.” He stroked my face as if trying to memorize me. “Be safe, Sophie.”

“Adam . . .”

“And just for the record, I never thought your paintings were dirty. I thought they were beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Just like you.”

He kissed me. But before I could draw him closer he pulled away, pushed the door open and left the safe house.

Fate.

It was fate that I’d spoken to that little boy. Fate that I’d given him my drawing. Fate that that bus was supposed to kill me. Fate that Adam would save me.

Was it fate that I’d fall in love with him?

It had to be. What I felt was as real as anything I’d ever experienced.

I wiped away the tear sliding down my cheek and turned to Gloria who stood by the floor-to-ceiling window looking down at the city below.

“So,” I said shakily. “Did you see that coming too?”

“I did,” she replied gravely, and then turned to look at me. “It was fate that Adam would leave here in search of his own death tonight.”

I was surprised. “It was?”

She nodded. “Yes. Just as it’s fate that you will go after him and save him from his own pig-headed stupidity.”

I just stood there and gaped at her.

She put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stare at me or are you going to go after him? Like I said, fate changes. Just because he knows how he will die, doesn’t mean it can’t still change. But it won’t unless you get your ass in gear and move.”

Gloria was right. Of course she was. Adam hadn’t accepted that I’d die from getting hit by the bus. He’d changed my fate. And I could change fate for him as well.

I turned away from her and something caught my eye. A painting on her wall. A painting I’d done of two lovers only a couple of weeks ago after a vivid dream I’d had.

I’d called it
Destiny Awaits.

“You’re an excellent artist,” Gloria said. “I paid seventy-five grand for that little piece. It’s filled with the fire and passion I want to see from you right now.”

“Thanks, Gloria.”

“You’re welcome. Now move it. There’s no time to waste.”

The seer gave damn good advice.

Without another word spoken I ran from the apartment, headed down the elevator and emerged on to the sidewalk out front. I couldn’t see Adam anywhere.

Fate.

If I was meant to stop this, I’d know what direction to go in. I’d pick one and it would lead me to him. Hesitating only a moment longer, I turned left and hurried along the sidewalk. After a minute, I took off my heels, threw them to the side and ran along in my bare feet until I finally heard something.

“Stupid,” a voice said. “You are so fucking stupid, Adam. For a woman? You’d ruin your entire life for some meaningless woman?”

“Just shoot me and get it over with, Harris,” Adam replied. “I know you want to.”

“Your uncle would be disappointed in you. Always so perfect in his eyes.”

“What the hell do you care?”

“What do I care? That nepotism earned you the perks I should be getting. It’s not fair.”

I flattened my back against the side of the building and sneaked a peek into the alleyway.

“Tell me where she is,” Harris said.

“Where who is?”

“Your little artist bitch from the past. Despite our quarrel right now, this can still be fixed. I just need to put a bullet between her eyes and everything’s the way it should be.”

“And if I don’t tell you a damn thing?”

“Then that’s going to be a problem.”

“Did you look in the Books beyond Sophie’s listing today?” Adam asked. “Did you look at the Book for here? Right now, twenty years later to the day from when she was supposed to die?”

“Why would I bother with that?” Harris asked.

“Because,” I said, stepping out from the shadows, “it has your name listed.”

He shifted the gun to point it in my direction.

Adam turned to stare at me with shock. Did he really think I was going to stay out of this just because he’d planted me in that safe house in the sky like Rapunzel?

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“And yet here I am. The walking dead.”

“I like that you’ve finally accepted your fate,” Harris said. “Now come closer so we can finish this.”

“No.” Adam pulled out his own gun and pointed it at Harris. “Let’s not.”

“So I shoot her and you shoot me?” Harris asked. “Is that how this is going to play out?”

“Not exactly what I’d had in mind,” Adam said. “So I warn you not to even think about pulling that trigger.”

Harris didn’t flinch. “The thing is, I don’t believe her. My name wasn’t in the Book. Not a chance.”

“But it was,” Adam said evenly. “It was right under mine.”

That surprised Harris. His eyes widened and he swung the gun back around towards Adam as if feeling threatened for the first time that night. On bare feet, and by instinct alone, I ran. A split second after Adam had fired his gun, I threw all my weight at him to push him out of the line of fire.

Adam’s bullet hit Harris in the chest.

Harris’s bullet ripped into Adam’s shoulder.

Harris dropped his gun, touched his chest in shock, and fell forwards. His eyes open and unblinking.

I fell to the ground next to Adam. He wrapped his good arm around my chest and pulled me back behind some trash cans.

He swore, grimacing in pain. “Sophie, what have you done?”

I checked him for more serious injury, but there was none. “A bullet in the shoulder can’t be pleasant,” I said, “and you’re bleeding like crazy, but it didn’t hit your heart.’’

“What the hell did you think you were doing coming here and putting yourself at risk like that?”

“Saving your life,” I replied. “Giving fate the finger. Losing my really expensive – and now apparently
vintage
– shoes. Not necessarily in that order.”

“So that’s all it takes to change fate?”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of new at this sort of thing. Was Harris’s name in the Book? Because I was totally bluffing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said. “I was bluffing too.”

“Great minds think alike. But he’s dead?”

“Pretty sure. I’m a really good shot.”

“Bragger.” I almost smiled but I wasn’t nearly ready to feel relieved yet. “But the fact that somebody not fated to die tonight ended up dead – that’s probably a good indication that we changed things, right?”

He pointed at his shoulder wound. “I got shot. Just not in the heart.”

“Serves you right for taking off on me like that.”

He looked at me incredulously. “Why would you follow me and put yourself at risk after you were safe with Gloria?”

I looked at him sternly. “Do you know how hard it is to find a decent boyfriend in New York City? It was hard enough in 2009, let alone 2029. A girl’s got to fight for what she wants, you know.”

He smiled but it was edged in pain. “And what you want is me?”

I stroked the dark hair off his forehead. “I’m thinking I just might.”

Adam looked worried. “They’ll be after me now. Just like they’ll be after you. My uncle won’t make an exception for me. I broke the rules in a big way.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ll be watching out for each other. We’ll both stay at Gloria’s for a while until we figure out what to do next.”

Adam kissed me, but he looked very serious afterwards. He held my face gently between his hands.

“We may have changed the future by both of us staying alive tonight. Forever.”

I smiled at him, then brushed my lips against his. “I’m kind of counting on it,” I said.

Patrice Sarath

The Hatch-registered freighter
Godolphin
drifted in space, about 200,000 kilometres from Merritt’s skiff, the
Crane
. The
Crane
’s sensors reported the details. The
Godolphin
’s hull had been breached and the ship had lost propulsion, engines, most life support. The distress call was on auto and getting weaker. No one could be alive – Merritt flipped the readouts to visual and zoomed in to see for himself and, sure enough, the freighter was dark.

Raiders had likely cleaned her out and taken the crew as captives for ransom.

“So why didn’t they tow the boat in for salvage?” he said out loud. He was the only one on board the
Crane
, but it didn’t stop him from talking. He thought better that way and, right now, he had a puzzle. The ship had been left to drift when arguably she was the biggest prize of all. He flipped back to the datastream, sat back in his chair and considered. He could tow the freighter into Crowe’s World, one of their notorious chop shops, or play it the other way, tow her into Hatch station for the reward or stake a salvage claim. All without firing a shot. He let himself dream for a bit. If the ship were still sound, he could set himself up as a skipper, hire a crew, and get ahead of sector police. “You know, go straight,” he told the datastream, running in heads-up display in front of him. “Settle down somewhere.” Make the family proud.

It was a nice dream. He indulged it for a few seconds more, then turned down the datastream. More likely, if he towed that ship in, he’d find sector cops just waiting to bust him one more time and he would never see space again.

The
Godolphin
would have to continue her solitary journey through the galaxy’s spiral arm, and Merritt would be the last one to see her. That didn’t mean he shouldn’t at least board her and confirm she was derelict. It was the charitable thing to do. And if he happened to pick up anything of value that might have been left over, well, even a good Samaritan deserved something for his trouble. He went to suit up.

He was surprised to see that the
Godolphin
still had atmosphere when the airlock whooshed and opened up for him, but with a hull breach the ship could vent at any time, so Merritt left his faceplate closed. His breathing was loud in the confined space of his helmet, and for a moment his readouts showed that he had elevated pulse and respiration. The ship’s interior was dark and his headlamp flashed through the smoky darkness. He needed to get some lights working on the old girl. That was confirmed when he tripped over the first body. She had been killed with a pulse weapon. The woman’s uniform had the Beauchamps logo on it. Beauchamps – one of the smaller merchant clans. Merritt’s own clan was Crane, though he was only a distant relative of the great family and he didn’t doubt they had as little care for him as he did for them. A Crane ship would not have been attacked. Raiders were smart enough to go for easier meat.

He counted three more bodies, scanning slowly. There had been a running gunfight, and there was plenty of scarring along the bulkhead.

Merritt tamped down his sudden desire to get the hell out of there. His suit sensors kept up a data feed, along with a ship schematic, which it displayed on the inside of his helmet. The hatch to the bridge was down the corridor, and Merritt headed that way, sidestepping the dead. There’s not gonna be any salvage, he told himself, but he kept going anyway, knowing it was sheer stubbornness that drove him on. His helmet readout flashed a single dot, signifying his position along the schematic, and then, faintly, another dot flashed out of the corner of his eye.

There was someone else alive on the
Godolphin
.

Merritt stopped. With great care he thumbed the button on his suit to replay. The dot flashed again, flickered, came back. With his other hand he unholstered his pistol. Whoever it was might be dying, might not be human, might be trying to shield from his suit. He got a lock on the other dot and saw that it was on the bridge. There was a hatch about twenty metres ahead. He found it, and climbed up, his boots clicking on the rungs. He was sweating by the time he got into the control room, and he found the body, suited up with the helmet latched. He muscled between overturned chairs and broken panels and knelt stiffly next to it. The man opened his eyes and muttered something that Merritt couldn’t catch. Under his faceplate, blood crusted around the man’s mouth and nose.

“What happened?” Merritt said, hardly expecting an answer. “Raiders?”

The Beauchamps captain moved his head slightly inside the helmet.
Yes.

Merritt’s suit beeped, letting him know he was running low on air. “I need to get you to my ship,” he said. “I can’t carry you. Is there a float?”

The captain shook his head again. He tried to say something, spoke hoarsely. “Get off my ship.”

Merritt kept from rolling his eyes.
Man’s dying and he’s
still
pushy.
“Sorry, captain. Looks like this is a rescue.”