Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1) (8 page)

Gwen stepped back. “Then
what
are you?”

The shadow of the cowl covered everything except his lips, which were turned up into a wicked smirk. “Now that’s more like it.” He shrugged. “Completely irrelevant. Still, a better effort.”

She balled her hands into fists. “Care to tell me what is relevant—if it wouldn’t be too much of a problem?”
We need to seriously rethink our idea of when sarcasm is
appropriate.

“The test.” He yawned. “A waste of time. We both know you won’t be tempted by my offer.”

Her teeth ground. “Try me.”

He shrugged again. This time the ravens cawed at him, pecking at the hood with sharp beaks. “Restless, are we?”

Gwen wasn’t sure if the comment was meant for her or the birds.

“Right. Temptation. It’s all so dull.” He sounded bored. “What was the name again? Madeline? Melissa?”

“Maggie.” Her voice was a venomous whisper.

“Ah yes, dear old Margaret.” He waved his hand. “Forfeit the test, save her life. How pedestrian.”

“Why should I trust you?”

He laughed, delighted. “You shouldn’t, my dear girl. I should think that was obvious.”

Her jaw ached from the pressure. “So you have no intention of saving Maggie?”

“Maggie’s life is the offer I was told to give. By all means, don’t accept. The other option is so much more … interesting.”

“Care to share?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The birds flew from his shoulders, swooping so close to her, their feathers brushed her cheeks.

The man had disappeared, but his voice remained, teasing her from the shadows of the room. “You’ll find out …” A dark laugh. “…soon enough.”

The room shifted, an alcove opening in front of her. With croaking laughs, the birds soared away.

“Come and play, Gwen.”

If we are dealing with invisible voices, I’ll take the Cheshire cat any day.
Grinding her teeth together, she took a deliberate breath. Then she picked up the flashlight, and with her head held high, walked through the alcove.

There was another room, illuminated by a roaring fire centered on the stone floor. The heat swept over her, sweat breaking out on her skin.

A giant, black-framed mirror dominated the wall behind the fire. It reflected the flickering reds and golds, a twisting, ever moving thing.

She stepped closer to the fire—and closer to the mirror.

Her own reflection was absent. Squinting, she stared into the image of the fire. Something wasn’t right. First, it was a speck. It gradually grew larger, an inky black stain forming in the mirrored fire.

The heat was oppressive, yet the growing darkness turned her blood to ice. She backed away from the mirror.

A low growl.

The reverberation of the sound shuddered through her. The metal of the flashlight bit into her palm. A giant wolf blocked the exit, the hair on its neck bristling.

“Do you like my surprise?” The voice bounced around the room.

“Not really.” She sucked in a breath, clutching the flashlight like she would a weapon.

The lips of the wolf curled in a horrifically human expression. It crouched low preparing to lunge.

Every muscle tensed. She stared not at its eyes but at the animal’s legs. Springing with a snarl, the animal rushed towards her. Her body reacted on pure instinct.

Gwen jumped. The beast was fast, but its size hindered it. Smaller and more limber, she dodged, and the animal crashed by her. It yowled as it slammed into the wall.

She froze, her gaze riveted on the image in the mirror. A staggering figure grew closer in the reflection. Claws scrabbled on the ground behind her, yet she didn’t turn. She couldn’t look away from the dark figure.

Vaguely shaped like a man, its edges were distorted and indistinct.
Like smoke.
There was no face, no eyes, only a deep shadowed darkness. A loud yawning roar filled her ears.

With a scream, she smashed the flashlight into the mirror. The glass exploded, slicing her arms as she raised them to cover her face. Wind filled the room, sounding like the howl of the wolf, and Gwen dropped to her knees with a cry.

The wind rushed over the ground, sweeping up the glass and the fire. Swirling in a maelstrom of noise and light towards the wolf, it engulfed the creature. And with a yelp, the wind and the wolf were gone.

Panting, Gwen closed her eyes. The metal weight of the flashlight shifted in her hand, and a small gold compass sat in her palm, the tarnished metal gleaming in the light.

She looked around. No more mirror, no more fire, no more wolf. It was empty. She was alone.
Was it
over?

Curling her fingers around the compass, she started to shake. The adrenaline leaving her system so quickly, it left her empty. Hollowed out. Everything hurt: her knees, her palms, the shallow cuts covering her arms, and sweat stung the scrape on her cheek.

With the sound of shifting rocks, a door appeared in front of her. At first, she didn’t move. Just sat on the ground and tried to slow her breaths.

Then she staggered to her feet and limped towards the door. If the room wanted to play, she would play. Bracing herself, she gripped the compass and stepped through the door.

C
HAPTER TEN

T
HE DOOR TOOK
HER back to the Archives. The scene in front of her was so welcoming it was slow to sink in. She gave a soft exhale, watching the door melt into the wall. Sinking to her knees, she buried her head in her folded arms. Shudders racked her frame, and she bit her cheek to prevent from screaming.

Terror thickened her blood. She refused to think of anything the test had shown her. The fear would pass.
It always did.
She would survive.

The last of her muscles ceased to shudder. The pain was gone. She blinked, staring at her raised hands. The skin of her arms and palms were free of any wounds. No cuts. No bruises. Not even any dirt.

So it had been just a test? All in her mind? Of course, it had to be. Hadn’t the room shown her Maggie free from her illness?

So the man, as terrifying as he was, was just as fake.
Not real.
Of everything the maze had showed her, he was by far the worst. Still, he was only a creation of the test.

At a slow pace, she walked down the hallway and into Alistair’s rooms. She needed the extra time to shake off the last remnants of fear, to convince herself the test was over. She had passed. The shadow man couldn’t hurt her.

Alistair jumped from his chair at her arrival. “Are you alright, Miss Conway?”

She smiled and dipped her chin.
Always Miss Conway when he isn’t quite comfortable.
His familiar behavior was a balm on her soul.

“Of course she’s okay. Our little Gwendolyn’s a tough one.” The tips of his scuffed boots peeked over the back of the couch where Rafe sprawled.

Alistair coughed, and Rafe’s head popped up over the couch.

“Problem?” His grin was infectious.

Gwen laughed into her hand. It sounded genuine, if a little rusty. Their behavior was so wonderfully normal.

Although Alistair’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t answer Rafe. “I’m pleased to see you have completed the test unharmed.”

“Alistair speak for ‘I’m proud of you.’ ”

Something in her warmed, dispelling the chill coating her bones like ice. “I’m pleased too.”

“Do you feel comfortable discussing what happened in the test?”

Gwen dropped her gaze from Alistair’s, tracing the patterned carpet with her foot.
Talk about salt on a raw wound.
“Is there any chance … I mean, could we …” She trailed off—not wanting to be weak, although dreading the idea of speaking about the test so soon.

Alistair winced. “I understand your reluctance. However, there is so much you don’t know about what’s happening.”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time.” Rafe got up to stand between them. “We both
understand
how exhausting the testing can be.” There was a strange emphasis to his words.

Alistair stared at the younger man. “Of course. My apologies, Miss Conway. Sometimes I find the events of the past dictate my behavior in the present.”

“It’s okay.” She accepted his apology without hesitation, but she filed away his reference for later examination.
What
events?

“This conversation cannot be delayed indefinitely.”

“I’m sure there is enough time for a quick ice cream. We can talk after.” Rafe smiled.

Decision made, the two men turned to her. She raised her eyebrows.
Are we asking or telling?
The thought of arguing with them to prove she could make her own decisions crossed her mind, and she dismissed it. Ice cream, after all, did sound nice. “That’s fine with me.”

“Of course,” Alistair said. “I’ll be in my office when you return.” He disappeared out of the room.

She didn’t speak until she was sure he couldn’t hear. “Is he always like that?”

“A sanctimonious ass?” Rafe grinned hopefully.

Laughing, she shook her head. “Does he always blow so hot and cold? Brimming with hidden hurt one minute, cold and formal the next?”

Shaking his head, he laid an arm over her shoulder and eased her down the hall in the opposite direction. “Alistair is many things, but he does have your best interest at heart. He hasn’t had it … easy, and that affects how he sees and responds to the world.” Even though he had been joking before, his voice was serious.

“I’m listening.” He raised an eyebrow and she clarified. “I think I deserve a few answers.” She tried to sound certain, but her voice ended on a questioning note.

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “God knows I don’t get the man most of the time. The easiest explanation is that you remind him of someone …” He hesitated before continuing. “… his wife. She was taken from him, and it’s a loss he hasn’t recovered from. Understandable. I think he sees in you the same qualities that put his wife in danger and he is trying to stop an event that he feels is inevitable.”

“Does he think I’m in danger?” She remembered the shadow man’s glinting eyes, his amused laugh. “That I’m going to die, too?”

Rafe stopped walking, turning her so she faced him. “You will not die.” His voice was emphatic and brutal in its sincerity. “I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. Still, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she smiled, touching his arm when he released her. He shifted, as if uncomfortable, raking a hand through his hair.

Nudging him, she moved in the direction he had started to lead her. “So …” She cleared her throat. “… where were we going?”

He seemed to struggle to shake off his serious mood, although soon he was smiling again. “Doesn’t chocolate make everything better for you girls?”

“Charming.” She punched him in the arm.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger, especially if he gets you ice cream.” With a wink, he pulled her down the hall.

Gwen let herself laugh and followed him, mindful of the compass still warming her palm. The test would have to be explained; Alistair’s conversation couldn’t be put off forever. For now, she would let herself laugh and eat a delicious dessert. She would pretend to be the carefree girl she never had a chance to be. Her nightmares, the test, even Maggie’s sickness, it would all be set aside for one blissful moment. And then … well, then she would figure out what the compass meant.
And why Alistair is so certain I’m in danger—
her steps faltered—
so certain I am going to
die.

Rafe leaned back, arms stretched out along the back of the diner booth. He watched the young woman in front of him eat, playing with the necklace he had given her. He tried to ignore how it rested perfectly between the swell of her breasts. Best to stay away from those kinds of thoughts. He could imagine what bits of his Alistair would be after if he found out.

Gwen pushed the dish of ice cream away from her and sighed.

He arched his eyebrow, running a finger along the rim of his coffee cup.

“What?”

“Nothing at all. Is there anything else I can get you? I’m sure they have some kind of sweet dessert still left in the building. If not, there is always the grocer down the street.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled even as her cheeks turned a soft pink. “I was hungry.”

“Apparently.” He opened his mouth to tease her further only to be interrupted when their waitress hustled over, bending over the table.

“More coffee, hon?” A plain white nametag hovered in his view, attached to the forenamed Deidre’s impressive assets.

“I’m good thank—” He stopped as she filled up his coffee cup. The curvy blonde gave him a pronounced wink before sashaying away with Gwen’s empty bowl.

Gwen gave the waitress’ back end an annoyed glare before staring down at her empty cup. “Honestly.”

He laughed, while making sure to shift his body so he wasn’t in danger of making eye contact with the trolling blonde. “What? I can’t help it—Oh bloody hell, here she comes again.”

“Here’s your check, sweetie. Is there anything else at all I can get you?” Her voice was a silken purr.

“I think we’re fine, aren’t we, Gwendolyn, love?” He winced as her foot connected with his shin.
Fair enough.
It was worth it to have the vampy blonde’s attention off of him. As the blonde and Gwen shared one last glare, he switched his full cup with Gwen’s empty one.

As the waitress trounced off, Gwen dipped her head and caught sight of the cup in front of her. “Oh.”

He smiled. Accepting her unspoken thanks for the coffee, he turned his gaze to the window, watching the people walk past. His mind stayed on Gwen. She was such an interesting study in contradictions: sometimes cold and annoyed, other times smiling like she was pleased he was still around.

He knew what it was like not to trust anyone, and his answer was to treat everyone with the same jovial attitude. Normally, he didn’t care one way or the other what people thought about him. Gwen, however? He wanted her to trust him. Her eyes were so much brighter when she smiled, not as haunted by whatever shadows of the past she carried around with her.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Does it ever become too ridiculous?”

He tilted his head in her direction. “Hm?”

She pointed to the people as they wandered by. “To be surrounded by all these people who have no idea of how small their lives are. Does that ever get to be too ridiculous for you?”

Watching the people go by, he formulated his response. “The first thing you have to realize is I’m not from this world—” He gestured down to his grey t-shirt and worn jeans. “—even if I might look a sight more normal than when we first met.”

“I don’t know. I kind of miss the ‘just-been-caught-in-a-torrential-downpour’ look.” Gwen grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He grinned back. “What I meant was, the order and stability here is far removed from when I was born.”

“Wait … Come again?” The coffee sloshed over the rim of her coffee cup. She hissed and blew on her hand. “When you were born? Seriously, you’re like, what, thirty at the oldest?” Her eyes were comically wide. “And, oh wow, how did I miss it? Not from this world?”

“Too distracted by the thought of me shirtless?” He loved how easy it was to bring color to her cheeks.

“Come on, Rafe.”

“Too boring.”
Not here, not now.
He waved her off, pointing to the people outside to emphasize his point. “Maybe these people walking by don’t think their lives mean very much in the grand scheme of things, but I can see the meaning, the beauty.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, eventually turning to watch as a harried businessman rushed by. “Most of these people probably wouldn’t agree with you.”

He shrugged. “He may not think his life is worth much. It might not be the life he grew up dreaming of. Yet, he still gets up in the morning—maybe to support his wife and children. Or maybe he sees glimpses of the purpose of his life.”

The wrinkled suit disappeared from sight. “What purpose?”

He leaned back again, his long legs bumping Gwen’s under the table. “I have seen worlds where there is no order, just chaos and pain. Maybe the man doesn’t live the world-changing life he wished for. Still, he matters, to his family, to his loved ones. He has a chance to live, to make something of himself.”

“Yes, but everyone matters.” She said it like she was so certain it was true.

“Maybe in your world.” His fingers gripped the empty cup in front of him so tightly his knuckles turned white. With a conscious effort, he relaxed his grip. While he smiled, he kept his gaze from meeting Gwen’s. “I guess the short version would be no, I don’t find it ridiculous. I can’t help but appreciate their small lives—” With a fatalistic smile, he shrugged. “—or something like that.”

“You’re a bit of a contradiction.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”

Her green eyes didn’t waver.

He rolled his neck, hoping to relax the tense muscles. He didn’t enjoy being the center of attention.
At least serious attention.
Standing, he dropped money on the table before shrugging into his jacket. “Well, are you ready?”

“What?”

“I want to show you something. You should see it, and I’m sure it would take Alistair ages to get around to it.”

Gwen shot to her feet and struggled to pull on her jacket. Rafe laughed, shaking his head. She was like a child with a present whenever a new mystery was mentioned.

“Stop, you’re making it worse.” Laughing, he took the tangled jacket from her and helped her into it, pretending not to notice how she froze when his fingers brushed the back of her neck.

Pulling her jacket straight, he slung an arm around her shoulder, promising himself that he would dispel any shadows his unplanned confession had created. “Off we go, then.”

“Where?”

“Why, dear Gwendolyn, on an adventure!”