Time's Mirror: A CHRONOS Files Novella (The CHRONOS Files) (22 page)

I’m thinking more and more that I’ve made a mess of things.  And maybe the only way to handle that mess is to follow my conscience, one tiny, incremental step at a time. Baby steps, while I still can, and for as long as I still can. Because I’ve seen the future, in more ways than one. Eventually, my grip on reality will start to crumble and I won’t be good for much of anything other than cryptic warnings in the middle of the night and yanking the stuffing out of teddy bears.

I press a kiss against Tate’s neck. He mumbles and turns toward me, but it takes a lot to wake a Viking. I slip out from under his arm and he clutches my pillow instead. I’ll come back later to tell Tate goodbye—hell, I
have
to come back and keep my appointment with the Juvapod unless I want Saul scrubbing this tattoo off with a Brillo Pad.

But first, I have to go and do this one little thing.

Before I lose my nerve.

Before Saul and Simon erase my sister’s smile.

T
HE
F
ARM

E
STERO,
F
LORIDA

Day 273—May 30, 2030, 6:50 p.m.

I step outside, onto the stoop at the side entrance. Saul has the doors of Founder’s House set to auto-lock for security reasons, but we all find ways to get around it. I pick up a little stone I keep at the corner of the top step and wedge it between the door and the jamb so that I can get back in without going around to the front. From here, I’ll be able to see Kiernan when he comes back from the river.

Ignoring the inner voice that sounds a little like Older-Me and a lot like Mother, I park myself on the bottom step and light up a cigarette while I wait. It’s one of the old-fashioned kind, without a filter, and it’s more for show than anything else. I wouldn’t smoke at all, except for the fact that Saul finds it disgusting. Not the nasty cigars that Simon smokes, however. Those are apparently okay. Saul is the king of double standards.

When I’m about halfway done with the cigarette, the door behind me opens.

“Hey, Pru.”

It’s Kiernan, standing in the doorway. He looks a lot more like his father now that he’s grown up. I glance back over at the barn, confused. “Thought you came in at the stable?”

“No,” he says, but he looks a little uncomfortable. “Should you…you know,
be
here?” Kiernan nods toward the Planetary Court, which makes me wonder how many times he’s been there with my older self.

I like his voice. It has a nice lilt, just a faint touch of his father’s thick Irish brogue.

He comes down the first two stairs, as I’m putting the cigarette out on the step next to me.

“The old lady won’t be out for another ten minutes or so,” I tell him. “Saul’s in his secret lair, meditating or eating babies, or whatever he does in there, now that he’s finished going over his grand plans with the Rat Bastard.”

Kiernan’s lips twitch upward, which tells me that even if he is friends with Simon, he’s aware that the guy has issues. I push myself to standing and head back inside. As I reach for the door, I’m hit by a wave of doubt. This is almost certainly a waste of time. Simon told Saul that Kiernan doesn’t remember this girl, this Kate.

I’m tempted to just blink out from here and crawl back into bed with Tate, but who knows what tales Kiernan might take back to Simon.

I push past him and kick the rock out of the way. “You coming?” I ask, since he’d have to go around the long way if I close the door behind me.

“Yeah.”

I expect him to turn toward the conference room when I take a right at the hallway, but he follows me toward the kitchen instead.

“Listen, Pru—I need to talk to you.”

I sigh and keep walking. At what age did my older self start fooling around with him?

“Not a good idea, Kiernan. You know that.”

“Yes, but this involves you. It’s about your sister and—”

I whirl around to face him. “God, Kiernan, how stupid are you? Shut up or they’ll hear you!”

Grabbing his arm, I drag him down the hall and into the dining room. I glance at the clock and see that it’s almost six fifty-four. Any second now, Simon will be in the kitchen, chatting with that Ron guy. Talking about their plan. And while I don’t know exactly what they’re plotting, I do know that it involves Deb’s daughter.

I hear voices off in the distance, so I push Kiernan back against the wall next to the china cabinet and stare at him, hard. Then I nod toward the door that leads to the kitchen.

Kiernan steps forward. He looks toward the kitchen, as the voices grow louder.

I pull up the stable point I set next to my bed where Tate is sleeping.

I don’t know for certain that what Simon says over the next minute will make any sense to Kiernan. I can’t risk asking him. I’m not even sure I’d know
what
to ask. But his mention of my sister when we were in the hallway gives me hope. If Kiernan remembers that I have a sister, I’m pretty sure he remembers that I have a niece, too, and she’s clearly someone he cared about.   

And what’s the harm in leaving him here to listen? Simon’s comments about Kate and my mother will either mean something to Kiernan or they won’t.

Whatever happens, the ball will be in
his
court now. I’ve done all that I can.

“Who is—” Kiernan starts, but I blink out before he finishes his question.

O
BJECTIVIST
C
LUB,
R
OOM 1013

W
ASHINGTON,
EC

Day 274—July 23, 2306, 1:17 a.m.

Tate doesn’t even stir when I slip back into bed next to him. I lift his arm and rest my head on his shoulder again. He’s my favorite pillow.

I lie there and imagine a world where I control Cyrist International. Where I make certain it does the
right
thing, whatever that may be.

A world without Saul and Simon.

For the first time in ages, I drift off to sleep with a smile on my face.

And Other-Me, the girl with the jagged rock, is nowhere in sight.

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

This note will be short, mostly because Pru’s story doesn’t contain a lot of history, aside from the 1980s.  If you don’t remember that era, go ask your parents. There
is
a good bit of future history in this novella, but to give details about that would, to paraphrase my friend, River Song, constitute
spoilers
.  And we really shouldn’t go there.

I once again tip my hat to each and every one of the friends, family, and early readers that I mentioned at the end of
Time’s Edge
— thank you for all that you do. All of you have been tireless champions of this series and many of you gave feedback and advice that helped to shape this work, tying up any loose ends, and addressing at least some of the “head scratchers” that come with time travel stories.  Any that remain are my fault, not yours, and will hopefully be satisfied in October 2015, when the final CHRONOS Files book,
Time’s Divide,
hits the bookshelves.

Thanks go out to my team at Skyscape, the publisher for The CHRONOS Files books, and to Courtney Miller, my editor, for her flexibility in letting me to go "hybrid" with the two novellas.

Special thanks and appreciation to my family, far and near.  You keep me inspired and focused.

Finally, this one is dedicated, with gratitude, to my Mama. (For those who don’t speak Southern, that translates as “Mom,” not “Mother.”) She did her best to keep this voracious reader in books during my childhood—something that wasn’t easy in the era before Kindles and computers. More importantly, she always supported my dreams and aspirations, even the ones that might not have seemed achievable. Some of them fell by the wayside—for one thing, I no longer have any desire to be the governor of Florida—but through it all, she’s always been there to cheer me on.

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

RYSA WALKER is the author of the bestselling CHRONOS Files series.
Timebound
, the first book in the series, was the Young Adult and Grand Prize winner in the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. 
Rysa grew up on a cattle ranch in the South, where she read every chance she got. On the rare occasion that she gained control of the television, she watched
Star Trek
and imagined living in the future, on distant planets, or at least in a town big enough to have a stop light.
She currently lives in North Carolina, where she is hard at work on the series finale. If you see her on social media, please tell her to get back into the writing cave.
For news and updates, subscribe to the newsletter at
http://www.rysa.com/contact
.