Chaos (12 page)

The coffee shop wasn’t large, and only a few people
were clustered around the small bistro tables—Jasmine registered their individual conversations without actually listening. Ford was gone. How had he disappeared so fast? Had he left the coffee shop while she was distracted by Tyler? She cursed softly. She should have just walked up to him at the gym and demanded answers. Now she had no way of finding him.

“Why are you following me?”

She spun around. Ford.

She hadn’t even heard him approach.

Jasmine took a deep breath. “Because I need answers. You disappeared on me.”

“I wish I had some.…” Ford raised his eyebrows. “And I hate to break it to you, but we’ve never met. I most definitely would remember you.”

Heat climbed up Jasmine’s neck. He had the sexiest smile, and a small freckle, like a tiny star next to his left eye. She hadn’t noticed that before. “At the rotunda,” she said impatiently. He was messing with her. “What happened to the people who were chasing me?”

The playful smile disappeared. “Look,” he said, and frowned. “I don’t know who you think I am, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

She stared at him. “But—”

“I don’t know you,” he said, raising both hands apologetically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sorry.” He scanned her face one more time, like he was trying to decide whether she was crazy. He tried to sidestep her, but she grabbed his arm and a shock ran through her body.

Ford took a quick step back and a flash of recognition passed over his face. When he looked into her eyes again, he seemed afraid. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing. We both know we’re on different sides, so stop following me. I won’t help you.”

“What?” Jasmine was more confused than ever. “I’m not on anyone’s
side
. I don’t know what the hell is going on. All I know is we were at the rotunda together. Then you disappeared. Now you’re pretending that you don’t even know me.” She crossed her arms.

“Miranda,”
Ford muttered, so quietly Jasmine almost didn’t hear him. The name sent a jolt through her.

“What about Miranda?” Jasmine asked quickly. She still had no idea who Miranda was, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that her name kept coming up.

“I knew she must have had something to do with this,” he said. He didn’t look afraid now. He looked tired. “Time was always an obsession of hers.”

“I need to talk to her.” As soon as Jasmine said the words, she knew they were true. “Do you know where I can find her?”

His expression changed again. This time, she didn’t know how to read it. “You really don’t know what you are, do you?”

Before she could answer, a woman pushing a baby stroller nearly knocked her off her feet. “
Excuse
me,” the woman said. “You’re blocking the counter.”

“Sorry,” Jas said. By the time she turned back around, Ford was out the door. She would follow him for as long
as it took to get the answers she needed. He obviously knew more than he was saying. And Jas could be very persistent.

She started to push out the door when a stack of newspapers caught her eye. A huge headline was plastered across the front page:
EARTHQUAKE ROCKS SAN FRANCISCO. LIVES LOST, INFRASTRUCTURE CRUMBLES
.

The date on the top of the paper was Sunday, October 14.

Sunday. That wasn’t possible.

“Are these yesterday’s paper?” she asked a girl with a skunk stripe in her hair who was cleaning off a table nearby.

The girl shook her head. “Nope. We restocked this morning.”

It felt as if the ground were tilting. For a second, Jasmine thought maybe they were in the middle of an aftershock. “Today is Monday.”

The girl gave her a puzzled look. “It’s Sunday.”

Jasmine pushed blindly out the doors.

A sharp, stabbing pain drove through her temples. The earth seemed to blink, and suddenly the ground dropped away.

Luc couldn’t be sure how long he was in darkness.

It could have been a few seconds, a day, or even longer.

But then he was aware again: of his heartbeat, of the dryness of his throat, of the ache in his palms and shoulders.

He opened his eyes. He was inside a tunnel, staring up at a web of wires and tangled cables. It reminded him of a subway, deep under the earth, shadowed and empty. Then he remembered how he’d pierced the membrane of the Crossroad and fought his way through to the other side.

Carefully, he pushed onto his knees, then stood on shaky legs. Invisible weight pressed in all around him, making it an effort to move. Even breathing was a struggle. With each inhale, the air seemed to take minutes to
seep down into his lungs. Like everything was traveling through syrup.

The cable he had grabbed—the one that had snapped—was hissing on the ground, emitting sparks and the stench of acrid smoke.

The tunnel extended in both directions as far as he could see. And everywhere, wires: threaded like spiderwebs, looped and coiled like snakes, hanging like tree branches above and behind and on every side of him. None of the wires seemed to end; he couldn’t see where they were connected or what they connected to.

And the place he’d fallen through—the tear in the wall of the Crossroad—was gone.

He began walking, picking a direction at random. He was trying to quell a sense of rising panic. How long had it been since he’d said goodbye to Jasmine? It seemed like weeks. She would be worried about him.

And he was no closer to saving Corinthe.

There had to be another way out. There was always a way out.

This world looked almost liquid. It seemed to shimmer when he moved; the cables swayed lightly, as though disturbed by the tiniest air currents. Each time he took a step, dark ripples extended outward, like waves on the ocean, though his feet met with solid ground. It made him feel off-balance, as though he might plunge into darkness at any second.

Then, ahead of him, Luc saw something out of place: a shadow, a momentary disturbance, as though someone
else was slipping through the darkness ahead of him, weaving between the cables. His heart sped up. Could someone else be in this vast tunnel with him?

He moved more quickly, fighting through the syrupy air, breathing hard. He wasn’t alone. The person was sticking to the shadows, ducking underneath the webs and loops of the cables, moving nimbly, as if familiar with the landscape. Maybe Luc could learn the way to an exit.

He was close enough to call out. He stepped on a wire and sparks sizzled under his foot. The person spun around, temporarily illuminated by the flashing light.

Black hair, wide eyes, a face like a predator. Miranda.

Instant rage ignited in his gut. Luc launched himself at her before she could react.

Surprise gave him a momentary advantage. He pinned her against a nest of cables, his forearm across her throat. The air around them filled with static. Miranda twisted out of his grasp. She moved more slowly than he remembered. Maybe the tunnels were affecting her, too.

Or maybe she was sick. The thought filled him with joy.

She lunged at him, but he sidestepped, then grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. He needed to restrain her. He knew what she was capable of. Even in her weakened state, she was much stronger than he was.

Luc grabbed blindly for one of the cables above him. It burned his palm, but he barely felt the pain. Miranda was trying to buck him off, snarling, twisting from side to side. He wrapped the cable around Miranda’s throat. She coughed, and clawed at the cables with her fingers.

Just one tug and it would tighten. Suffocate her. It would be so simple.

She had killed Corinthe, or might as well have. She deserved to die.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right here,” he spat out. But he knew he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“Because you need me,” she rasped. “We’re on the same side now.”

Luc snorted. “You tried to kill me. You almost killed my sister. You betrayed Corinthe.” His throat was tight with rage. He could barely force the words out. “We’ll never be on the same side.”

Miranda’s eyes rolled toward him, like those of a frightened horse. But she wasn’t afraid. He knew that she knew that he wouldn’t kill her. “You can’t manipulate the tunnels without me. You don’t know how. I do. Rhys told me.”

“What are you talking about?” Luc tightened the cable enough to make Miranda go still.

“The tunnels of time,” she gasped. “I’m impressed. No human has ever found them.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Luc growled.

The look in her eyes changed. She barked out a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re here by
mistake
.”

He pulled the cable even tighter and her laughter turned into a wheeze. She tried to pry the cable from her throat. Luc saw that she still wore Jasmine’s ring.

The anger was like a curtain; he couldn’t think anymore. He wanted her to die.

“Together we can bring the Unseen Ones down,” she choked out. Now she did look scared. “They can restore life to Corinthe. They can do anything. We’re on the same side, Luc. Don’t you see that?”

“No.” His arms were shaking from the effort of restraining her, and his lungs felt like they were being flattened. If he killed her, he might never find his way out of the tunnels. But he couldn’t let her live. She had imprisoned Jasmine among the Blood Nymphs. She had manipulated Corinthe, lied to her, used her.

Killed her.

Miranda’s hands dropped from her neck. Her eyes fluttered. “The tunnels of time will kill you …,” she whispered.

Now or never.

Luc stepped back, releasing her. The cable slipped from his numb fingers. Miranda gagged, sucked in a deep breath, and stood heaving and coughing with her hands wrapped around her injured throat.

“Good choice,” she rasped.

Luc surged forward and grabbed her hand. Her slender fingers made a fist, but he pried them open. “This,” Luc growled as he slipped the ring off, “does not belong to you.” It was only a cheap carnival ring he’d won years ago, but it was Jasmine’s—and he was determined to give it back to her. He squeezed it tightly in his hand before slipping it into his pocket. “Now tell me how the tunnels work before I decide to take my chances without your help.”

Rhys had said that time was infinite: forward, backward, past, present, future. All of these loops and coils around them, all of the liquid shimmer: it had to be time itself, flowing by.

Miranda lifted her head. She pulled her lips back, baring her teeth. “Can’t you feel it? The tunnels are trying to kill you. Your blood will turn to lead. Your lungs will turn to stone. The tunnels will destroy anything that does not belong.”

“There has to be a way.” He had made it this far. But now what? There were millions of cables and wires—probably billions of them. How was he supposed to know how to bring back Corinthe?

“You can’t help Corinthe if you’re dead,” Miranda said, as though she had read his mind. But she must know there was only one reason he would risk traveling the Crossroad again. “There’s another way. If we work together, we can both get what we want.”

Miranda was right about one thing: the atmosphere of the tunnels was oppressive. Luc didn’t know how much longer he could withstand it. The fight had taken almost all of his energy, and what was left barely kept his heart beating. He was having trouble staying on his feet.

“Promise me you’ll stay away from my sister.” He didn’t know whether Miranda had something to do with the attack on Jasmine, but he couldn’t rule it out. Not after Miranda had kidnapped her and used her to bait Luc into the Crossroad.

Miranda frowned. “I have no interest in your sister.
If she’s in trouble, it’s not my doing. She drank from the garden, from the Flower of Life, which
you
cut down.”

“She was dying,” Luc said, his voice shaking.

“And you returned her to life. The Unseen Ones will not be happy. Their only concern is balance, and they are not happy. She drank the nectar, and now there are consequences. There must be balance. Action and reaction. Chaos and order. Death and life.”

Icy shivers ran down Luc’s spine, even though sweat ran down his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“Only blood can feed the Flower of Life. Death to life, life to death.” Miranda’s black eyes glowed in the unnatural light. “It’s all connected.”

“More riddles,” Luc spat out.

Miranda ignored him. She was moving her hands along the blackness between the cables, as though feeling an invisible wall for a crack. “I’m your only hope, Luc.” Beneath her fingers, the darkness began to sizzle and spark. Her face was tight with concentration. A small hole appeared and started to grow larger; beyond it, Luc could see the flashing colors of the Crossroad. It was as if her touch were acid, eating away at the blackness. A vein pulsed in Miranda’s forehead; she gritted her teeth and slowly parted her hands. As she did, the hole in the darkness grew larger. “Go. Quickly. The tunnels will heal themselves. I won’t have the strength to save us a second time.”

Luc hesitated for a second. She was his only hope of getting out of this place. She had said there was a way to
save Corinthe. Once it was all over, he could still make her pay for what she’d done.