Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1) (13 page)

C
HAPTER FIFTEEN

G
WEN FELT HALF
ASLEEP, calm with a quiet interest to know what was going on. She stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a beautiful city of white marble. It was familiar. Yet in her odd half-conscious dream state, she felt no desire to question how she knew this place. A warm breeze teased the long skirts of her dress, and she admired the clothes she wore.

A figure approached her from behind. The toga Max wore was blindingly white against his dark skin. But the clothing fit him more than the modern outfit he had worn before. The eyes she remembered as a simple brown were now a glowing gold.

A voice in the back of her mind cautioned her, telling her she should question what was occurring. It was easy to ignore. She smiled up at him.

“I need to show you something, Gwen. It will help you understand what is to come.” He took her hand. “The Guardians have seen fit to hide so much from you, this is the only way I know how.”

The voice was no longer so quiet, and she blinked. As if her return to herself broke the spell, dark clouds started to roll over the horizon bringing with it an icy wind.

“What is this place?” Heavy rain started to fall, soaking her clothing. “Where am I?”

“It’s my home.” He pointed at the city, the white marble turning a dirty gray in the rising storm. “A place that can now only be seen in my memories.”

“Is this a dream?”

“My dream, maybe. It did once exist.” He frowned. “I’m afraid the story of Aeon and the black mirror sounds too much like a fairytale the Guardians created to keep all young travelers in line. Words aren’t enough to show you the truth.”

The wind picked up and tore at Gwen’s clothing. Through her stinging eyes, she could see the city crumbling before her. Even the howling of the wind was not loud enough to cover the groaning of the marble as it crashed in on itself.

As she watched the city die, she thought of Cassian’s words. Aeon destroyed time lines by his existence alone.
I never imagined it like this.
As the destruction grew, Max’s firm grip on her shoulder kept her from running.

“My home was destroyed, both physically and temporally.” The roaring wind had no effect on Max, and he stood like a sentinel, watching with an unflinching gaze as the city was turned to dust before him. It didn’t take long until nothing of the marble city remained. The destruction continued to spread, and soon the hill they stood on started to quake.

With little haste, Max pulled her along until she stood on the stone steps of a giant temple. Huge marble columns rose up around her, and her attention was drawn to the center of the temple. A colossal figure stood in the dim light of the temple interior.

The rumbling outside was forgotten as she took in the towering marble and gold figure. The golden goddess stood tall and proud, a smaller winged figure in one hand and a shield resting against the ground in another. It clicked. “Athens.”

When she turned to look at Max, he nodded.

“I don’t understand. Athens still exists in my time.” She turned to look back at the ruined city. The view changed, and the resulting shift made her dizzy. Instead of one ruined city, it was as if she was looking through a kaleidoscope. Images overlaid on one another, some ruined, others beautiful and whole. “What’s happening?”

“My home, my version of Athens, is forever lost to me. Remember, Gwen, destruction can lead to rebirth.” Max’s hand tightened on her arm, and the dreaming world came back into focus. “Aeon is dangerous, but don’t lose hope. The power to change can be wielded for the good of the time streams. The Guardians wish for you to understand one side of the story. That path leads to failure. Hope, Gwen. You cannot turn your back on hope.”

The rumbling started to get louder, and the ground began to shake. Howling, the wind snaked its way inside, whipping her hair around her face, and her vision again started to go blurry.

With an earthshaking crack, she felt the temple give a mighty heave.

Gwen woke up with Alistair’s worried face above her. She sat up, pressing a hand to her head. “Where’s Max?”

Alistair backed away and settled into a chair next to her, seeming to relax now that she was conscious. “With Max, that is a difficult question to answer. I hope there are no ill effects from what you saw?”

Folding her hands in her lap, she stared down at her entwined fingers. Now alone with Alistair, she felt uneasy. There was a lost memory niggling at her conscious mind. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull it to the forefront of her thoughts. “If you mean other than giving me a thousand more questions? No, no ill effects.”

Bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair, Alistair leaned forward with his chin resting on his folded hands. “I am sorry everything is so complicated. The decision to go forward with the testing was perhaps misguided on my part. Rest assured, I will take full responsibility when it comes to any consequences.”

Frowning, Gwen continued to stare at her fingers. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, yet she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Alistair looked troubled by her silence. “Is there anything you wish to talk about, Gwen? I realize this must all be very confusing for you.”

Gwen couldn’t bear the look of worry in Alistair’s gaze. “I think I’m tired. I woke up not feeling very well.” She shrugged.

Surprise flickered across his face, as if Alistair couldn’t believe his curious assistant would pass up the opportunity to have any of her questions answered. “Of course. You’ve been through a great deal. Perhaps you should head home early.” He stood and she trailed after him. “Feel better, Miss Conway.”

As she brushed past him to leave, his kind words made her feel even guiltier. Instead of meeting his gaze, she mumbled her thanks as she left.

Alistair prowled through the Archives, trying to quiet the feeling of restlessness gnawing at his mind. His skin crawled with unease, like the itch of an army of ants running over his body. Whether it was the Guardian’s visit or something else, he wasn’t certain.

Instinct took him to a seldom-visited hallway. He paused outside a sealed door, staring down at the lock with narrowed eyes.
Something isn’t
right.

He hurried to retrieve the key from his rooms and returned to open the door. What he found chilled him to the bone.
This shouldn’t be
possible.

The room was lined with mirrors. Some were opaque, their glass covered with a thick layer of dust. Others were cracked and shattered, some so broken they appeared to have imploded.

He kneeled down, with a crack of his joints, touching a broken piece of mirror. There was still power left in it. Whatever fragment of the gateway still remained, it felt wrong and twisted. Power started to grab his fingers, and he snatched his hand back. There would be no traveling the broken gateways until he knew what was happening.

Sensing someone was there, he turned to see the large dark Guardian standing behind him, arms crossed as he stared at the mirrors.

“This shouldn’t be happening!” Alistair gestured to the mirrors.

“She is connected with the presence behind the mirror.” The deep voice was controlled, a rebuke against Alistair’s outburst. “As she grows stronger, so too will he.”

Alistair flinched, backing away from Max with a shake of his head. His words were as sharp as knives. “Why now? Why her?”

“I’m sorry, Alistair.” Max placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Events have been put into motion that will not be stopped. I can only advise you to prepare.” His grip tightened to the point of pain. “Aeon almost destroyed everything we stand to protect the last time he was free. He cannot be allowed to rain down such destruction again.”

Bowing his head in defeat, Alistair’s voice was weary. “I have lost everything I have ever loved to this place. Must I do so again, in new ways I don’t even wish to imagine?”

“You can’t rely on what you knew any longer. You’ll just have to weather the surprises with the rest of us.” Max walked towards a broken mirror and traced the frame with a fingertip. Its weak glow spread to the other mirrors in the room. “Change is coming, no matter how hard we fight against it.” His voice took on a faraway quality. “Old powers are rising, shaking off the sleep of a thousand years. You are not alone in this venture.” In the glowing light, Max’s brown eyes had a golden sheen. “There is always hope. Teach your girl that. She may be connected to the black mirror, but she is also connected to higher powers. They will go a long way to keep her from failing.”

Alistair had the distinct impression Max counted himself among these supporters, and the despair in his chest eased.

The golden eyes held his gaze. “All is not lost yet, old friend.”

The mirrors ignited in a blinding flash. When his eyes adjusted to the dim room, Alistair was alone.
Max always did know how to make an
exit.

If he couldn’t rely on what he knew, then he would have to find a plan elsewhere. He thought of the young woman who had become so important to him. With grim determination, he headed for the Archive’s library, steeling himself for a night of little sleep.

CHAPTER SIXTEE
N

T
HE CRACKED LINOLEUM
and buzzing fluorescent lights never made for the most relaxing of settings. Now the basement hallway terrified her. As she walked to the office, her overactive imagination showed her images of the same hallway occupied by a hunched and shuffling form. The thought had scared her so much, she ran the rest of the way to the office.

Sneaking through the door, a wave of relief ran through her. Alistair’s desk was empty. With hardly a sound, she crept to her small office and collapsed into her desk chair.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her shirt, she swallowed against the nausea sitting like a lump at the back of her throat.
What’s wrong with me?
The pressure behind her eyes intensified.
What am I forgetting?
A bleeding mirror. An endless ocean of red.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rested her head on top of her folded arms. The desktop was cold against her cheek. The thoughts in her own mind felt like they didn’t belong to her. They were strange and foreign, unconnected to any emotion within her.

It must be exhaustion. If she could sleep for one full night, uninterrupted by any nightmare, then she would feel more like herself. Sitting here and wallowing in her misery wasn’t helping. She should get to work. Promising herself she would get up and move, she shifted to a more relaxed position and fell asleep.

Heavy darkness surrounded her. It pressed down on her skin, making her struggle for air. Trying to sit up, she banged her forehead against rough stone and fell back with a cry. She shifted and froze.

Not only was there stone above her, heavy rock framed her on either side, leaving her just enough room to raise her arms. Her fingers clawed at the unyielding surface. The chill of the rock below her seeped through her thin clothes, stabbing her bones with icy cold fingers.

With a sinking realization, it hit her. If she didn’t fight, she would be trapped in this stone grave forever. Her fists and feet made a renewed attack against the stone, and even though the rough stone tore at her fingers, she didn’t stop. And then the stone above her shifted, and she gasped in the fresh air rushing over her face.

She was in a circular room, a giant black mirror the sole adornment on the wall in front of her. While the presence of the mirror terrified her, she paid it little attention. Instead, she was transfixed by the sight of the smaller stone coffin next to her. Weak shouts for help reached her ears.

Scrambling out of her own coffin, she rushed over to help the person trapped inside. Shoving at the stone lid, she yelled she was coming, to hold on. The lid was so heavy. Too heavy.

Howling wind tore through the room, whipping at her hair and making her eyes water. She searched the room, trying to find help. Her stomach dropped. The mirror’s surface was distorted and rippling. She recognized the smoky figure on the other side of the mirror.

She shoved harder at the coffin, ignoring the pain in her hands as she tore at the stone. Something hissed and bubbled behind her, falling to the ground with a plop.

An icy chill hit her skin, and she tried to ignore the thick black smoke she could see circling her legs. The cries from the coffin were growing weaker and weaker until the only sound was the wind and the hissing smoke.

A dark voice chuckled in her ear.
I win. I always win.

With a yell, she shoved at the lid, almost falling over when it slid off. It hit the ground with a reverberating thud. A small form was curled up inside, inky curls covering a pale and still face.

Gwen tried to pick the boy up, to get him out of the coffin. While small, he was too heavy for her to move. The chill around her legs grew colder, biting at her flesh.

She climbed into the coffin with him, wrapping her arms around his cold skin and burying her face into his curls. “Please, wake up. Please.” Her pleas went unheard, and she could feel the room growing colder, until her whole body was shaking.

The dark, velvet chuckle echoed around her.
Give up, Gwendolyn. It would be so much easier if you just … gave … up.

When she looked up again, the room was dark with black smoke. Her tears froze on her cheeks, and she could see the soft clouds of her breath in what little light was left.

The body in her arms shifted, and she looked down. Instead of green, black eyes looked back at her. The boy laughed with the smooth eerie voice from before.

Gwen opened her mouth to scream. The smoke enveloped her and rushed down her throat. Everything was pain and cold—and black.

Gwen woke with a shriek, standing in a corridor of the Archives she had never seen before. The lights overhead crackled as if rusty from being unused for too long.

Leaning against the wall, she sank to the floor with a tired sigh. The images from her nightmare were still clear and sharp in her mind. She mourned for the loss of the small dark-haired boy.
A dream, it’s only a dream.
No matter how hard she tried to remind herself, her arms still ached with the weight of the boy’s limp body.

She closed her eyes against the painful thoughts. It made her remember the heavy feeling of cold stone surrounding her. Her eyes snapped open. Wrapping her arms around her chilled body, she shivered. She wanted someone there to tell her it would be okay, that she wasn’t losing her mind.

Whispers of half-remembered phrases filled her mind, warning her she couldn’t trust anyone with her dreams. No one could find out. Shuddering, she closed her eyes again. Even though it made her skin crawl with remembered confinement, it was better than the empty hallway in front of her.

A slight touch startled her from her thoughts, and she jumped to her feet. Wide-eyed, she stared at Rafe, who was watching her with a look of puzzled concern on his face. “Hey, you okay?”

She went to grab her necklace, missing its calming weight in her hand.
Why can’t I remember I took it off?
He looked even more worried after her fumbling for the absent necklace. She shrugged her shoulder in feigned nonchalance. “Why would it matter?”

Rafe shook his head and smiled, not noticing her sarcasm was missing its teasing undertones. “What happened to your necklace? Looking for another adventure without its protections?” He touched his own temple as if to remind her. “Didn’t work out so well for you last time.”

Gwen pursed her lips. “It was a silly necklace. I wasn’t aware I needed to wear it all the time.”

“You woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

If you only knew the half of it.
Gwen stayed silent, a stabbing pain starting deep inside her already pounding head. She had an overwhelming desire to tell Rafe about the dreams. The ache intensified, and she clenched her jaw.
Thief.

Rafe slung an arm around Gwen’s shoulder. “What are you doing in this part of the Archives?”

Gwen jerked away from him, hissing as if his touch burned.
Don’t trust him. Thief. He’s a thief
. She steadied herself against the wall with a shaking hand. “So everything I do is your business? I didn’t get the memo.”

His gaze grew serious. “Gwendolyn.”

She glared at him, feeling like an observer trapped in her own mind, watching the scene unfold in front of her and powerless to stop it. “For the last time, it’s Gwen. Is it that difficult to remember? Need me to start wearing a nametag?”

“I’m not sure what your problem is.”

“You wouldn’t be sure, would you? Maybe that’s because you don’t even know me. You think we have some kind of unspoken bond because you call me Gwendolyn. God, be real.” Gwen rolled her eyes and started to walk away.

He grabbed her arm and something flashed behind his eyes. “What’s the matter with you?”

Gwen wrenched her arm from his grasp. “What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you go be useful instead of bothering me all the time? I don’t even know why Alistair lets you hang around here. You don’t ever do anything.” She looked him over. “Why don’t you go bother him?”

Rafe made an irritated noise, running his tongue over his teeth. “Looks like the little cat does have claws.” Even his characteristic good humor seemed to have its limits. Still, he wasn’t leaving, and Gwen’s heart started to race with panic.

She choked out a mocking laugh. “Why are you still here? I don’t feel like putting up with your little flirty game right now.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his cool blue eyes narrowed.

“How big of a masochist are you?” Her words felt like broken glass in her throat. “Mummy didn’t pay enough attention to you when you were young, and now you’re begging for attention somewhere else?”

Claws were digging at her skull, and she wanted to cry from the horrible things she was saying. She knew what it was like to grow up alone and unloved. Why was she using it as a weapon against Rafe?
Thief! Liar!
She laughed again, the sound brittle, if only to cover up the screaming voice in her head.

He stepped closer to her, his eyes burning with anger, and she stepped right up to meet him, her face inches from his. The voice was terrifying. She focused on the anger instead, welcoming it. Anger was easier than fear. “Did I hit a nerve?” Her shoulders were heaving. “Mummy didn’t love you as a child, boo hoo.”

“Last chance, Gwendolyn. Care to act like an adult and tell me what’s wrong?” He stretched out her full name, his voice low.

Unexpectedly, tears welled in her eyes. Gwen brushed at them, her shoulders still shaking with anger. She wanted to scream, to push him away, to say the horrible things that would make him leave. Another part of her wanted to bury her face in the front of his shirt and cry, to have his arms wrap around her and block out everything except the warmth of his embrace.
Thief!
She stepped closer to him so that they stood nose to nose. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

His nostrils flared.
Point to me.
He leaned closer to her so she could feel the warmth emanating from him. The anger still surged through her, although with it was something different. She licked her lips. And when his gaze darted to her mouth, she was aware of how close they were standing.

Everything stood still. The voice was quiet; the pain was gone; and they stood in air gone thick with tension. She shifted, imperceptibly, towards him, the silence deafening.

Then it came back in a rush: the pain, the voice. It was screaming at her sick promises of what would happen if she trusted Rafe, if she told him anything.

He must have seen the shift on her face. He didn’t move away. Instead, he touched her cheek. “Gwen …” The anger was gone, now replaced with obvious worry.

Lying, he’s lying. He doesn’t care about you. They never do. Liar! Thief-liar-thief-liar-thief-liar!
Gwen shoved him away. “You’re all alike, so easy to manipulate.” She laughed and flipped her hair. “Pathetic.”

His eyes were cool again, and Rafe shook his head. Raising his hands in defeat, he backed away from her. “You win, Conway. Not sure what we were fighting for, but you win.”

“Fantastic.” Her voice was snide.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. When his gaze once again focused on her, it was cool and flat. “See you around, then.” He started to walk away.

“Can’t wait.” Her words were ice cold and juvenile. His stiffening shoulders as he disappeared around the hallway corner told her they were, at least, effective last words.