Authors: Tracy Cooper-Posey
“Too many people,” Demyan added. “Is that what you mean, Pritti? Deonne controls the media, which speaks to masses. He can’t reach them all. He can’t reverse her influence.”
Pritti nodded. “He was glad you were going to die.”
Deonne drew in a shaking breath and looked at Justin. “I’m hurting him. Me.”
Justin shook his head. “Not anymore. Not for a while. You’re leaving. Right now. Demyan?”
“Coming,” Demyan assured him, picking up Pritti’s hand.
No one protested, this time.
* * * * *
Deonne found strength returning to her as she moved through the agency, back to the conference room to collect her carrysack. Justin stayed by her side, although he didn’t speak.
Once she had all her belongings, including the twenty-first century clothing she had arrived wearing, he guided her to where Demyan sat waiting in the glass-fronted foyer, with Pritti beside him, her white dress glowing in the bright noon light.
It was only midday. Deonne felt like it should be twilight at least…it had been an extraordinarily long day already.
Demyan stood up as they approached.
“Give me a moment,” Justin murmured.
Demyan nodded and turned to face the windows and the view outside. Pritti stayed seated, her gaze upon them steady and frank.
Justin tugged Deonne closer to the far corner of the room, where a thick pillar gave them partial privacy. He rested his hands on her waist, his eyes steady on her face. “There’s so much I could say.” He brushed his thumb along her cheek bone and the gentleness in his caress made her eyes sting.
“I don’t want to leave,” Deonne confessed. She dared to rest her hands on his chest. “Not alone.”
Justin shook his head. “I can’t go back in time. I won’t, even to be with you. It’s too dangerous.”
“
Dangerous?
They’re trying to kill me here in this century. China is…boring. Bucolic and over-zenned. How can it possibly be dangerous?”
Justin’s expression told her that he wished he hadn’t spoken.
“Why is going back in time dangerous, Justin?” she asked, keeping her tone reasonable.
He pushed a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. You’re safe there and I won’t rest easy until you’re back there.”
“But—”
His lips blocked her protest and Deonne sighed into his mouth as she let herself float into the kiss. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that this kiss would have to last for the lonely weeks ahead.
Justin rested his head against hers, his eyes closed. “I’m glad you came to visit.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say in response, because all she wanted to do was cling to him and never let go. Deliberately, she stepped away from him, breaking his hold on her waist. “I wish it was more than a visit.”
He drew in a slow, deep breath. “So do I.” His lips parted, as if he were about to say more, but instead, he turned and beckoned Demyan over. “Take care of her.”
“Of course,” Demyan said, sounding offended. He glanced over his shoulder. “Would you…do you mind waiting here with Pritti? She doesn’t want to go back to the others.”
“I don’t want to go back, either.” Justin gave Pritti a smile. “We’ll just sit and wait.”
“I’ll jump back here.” Demyan stepped closer to Deonne. He was shorter than her, but only by an inch or so. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Deonne lied. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at Justin over his shoulder. “You’d better miss me, Kelly.”
His expression shifted, as some emotion she wasn’t able to identify fast enough crossed his face. “I already do,” he said bleakly.
SEGUNDA PARTE
Chapter Twelve
Macapá, Brazil, 2264 A.D.:
Brenden refused to allow Stelios to visit the caverns, stubbornly insisting upon maintaining the integrity of their mountain shield. “As soon as you let a human in here then let him out again, we’re exposed. I won’t allow it,” he’d growled.
So twenty-four hours later, Ryan and Nayara found themselves aboard the American circle train, crossing through the Amazon jungle toward Macapá, on the coast of Brazil. The Worlds Assembly was located in Macapá, at the base of Earth’s original beanstalk. This stalk had been built on the equator, to minimize Coriolis forces. Ninety years later, when more was understood about beanstalk technology, the Sydney stalk had been built to service the commercial traffic to and from Earth. The old Macapá stalk was reserved purely for diplomats and government business.
Macapá had grown into a sprawling western city. Where once it had survived by mining local resources and faced extinction when all mining had been banned around the globe, now it thrived on the business of government and all the supporting industry that surrounded it. The Brazilians, already polyglot users of English, Spanish and Portuguese, found themselves useful greasers of wheels and spinners of deals.
The great circle train ran daily from western Canada, down along the spine of the Rockies into Mexico, and through Central America before swinging east and following the Amazon’s trail to the city. It took twelve hours to make the journey south and the other twelve hours to return to Jasper, with only six stops at major cities along the way.
But they reached Macapá just on nightfall and were spared the belting heat of the day when they emerged from the massive station. The station was located on the south side of the Amazon mouth, right across the water from the Worlds Assembly building, which was lit up and glowing golden in the early evening. Behind it, the base of the beanstalk rose up into the inky black night.
“The Assembly is still in session,” Ryan said. “We’ll go straight there.”
Nayara looked around, a smile on her face. “It’s fabulous!” she exclaimed loudly. “Look at all the lights!” She caught his eye and gave a tiny shake of her head.
Satisfied they were not being followed, he headed for the water taxi dock across the road, shrugging off his coat.
The water taxi was a pitted, ancient steel-hulled craft, but the hemi-fusion motor pushed it across the muddy headwaters at a satisfying speed. The driver wasn’t curious or chatty and left them alone at the transom.
A tram took them from the river’s edge and deposited them at the foot of the imposing Assembly building. Ryan stretched, a hand at the small of his back. “Days like this give me a fresh appreciation for the benefits of jumping.”
“It’s not over yet.” Nayara tugged at her own human street clothes and quickly coiled her hair into a neat, business-like chignon. “Let’s tackle the gatekeepers.”
* * * * *
Assembly sessions could run for longer than twenty-four hours at a stretch. Many of the Assembly members came from the off-worlds and preferred to conclude business in a few marathon sittings, especially those members from the two worlds with lighter gravity than Earth’s.
So Nayara and Ryan found themselves kicking their heels in Cáel’s outer office, while his puzzled assistant delivered a note by hand to Cáel, at his place in the main chamber. Nayara convinced the assistant not to use an electronic device to alert Cáel, while giving away nothing of their true identities.
The assistant returned barely twenty minutes later. “He will be with you shortly,” the assistant said. “The Assemblyman has to vote, first.”
It was nearly an hour later when the door to the office suit swung open. Cáel strode through, his head down, reading a board with tunnel-vision focus. He wore formal robes that were the epitome of style, but his chin was dark with growth and his eyes red.
“Assemblyman,” Ryan said, his voice and expression both those of a stranger.
Cáel looked up, frowning. Then he nodded with cool politeness. He glanced at his assistant. “Remember their faces. These people are to have direct access to me, whenever they request it.”
The assistant lifted a brow. “I will remember,” he said with dignity. He nodded towards Ryan and Nayara, walked to another door and shut it behind him.
Cáel beckoned with his fingers for them to follow him. He led them through tall double doors and shut the massive doors behind them.
The room they had stepped into was airy, with long, slender windows that looked out upon the hills and jungle that hugged the edges of the city. The windows were polarized, but they were set to clear right now, giving an unobstructed and unfiltered view.
There was a large automated desk to one side of the big room, strategically placed to take advantage of the view, yet still be able to see the doors. Cáel dropped the board on the desktop, where other boards were stacked, and turned to face them. “This room is sound-proof, bug-proofed and was swept just this morning.”
“Can you trust your assistant?” Ryan asked.
“He’s bonded and certified. He’s also my great nephew.” Cáel gave a tight smile. “You are both here,” he said flatly.
“With reason,” Ryan replied.
“It had better be a stupendous reason,” Cáel said, anger tinging his voice. “Of all the idiotic stunts…how did you two get to be a thousand years old? If Gabriel learned that we were all standing in this room together—”
“We made sure we weren’t followed,” Nayara told him, “and as you can see, we’re passing as human for this trip. No one took any notice of us.”
“Who is minding the agency while you’re both here?” Cáel demanded. “Who is protecting them?”
Nayara moved close to him and touched his lips. “We missed you, too, Cáel.”
“Damn it to hell,” Cáel muttered and pulled her against him. He thrust his hand into her hair and kissed her. Nayara clung to him, making no move to halt the kiss or his hand as it smoothed its way up the length of her torso.
Cáel finally lifted his mouth from hers to look at Ryan. “Come here,” he said, his voice hoarse, and held out his arm.
Ryan made his way across the floor to where they stood close by the desk. He wasn’t using the cane, and his progress was uneven and shuffling.
Cáel’s hand lowered slowly as he watched Ryan’s limping gait. When Ryan reached them, Cáel swallowed. “I’ll kill Gabriel myself, for this,” he said roughly.
Ryan touched Cáel’s cheek. “Join the queue.”
Cáel pulled Ryan to him with one hand and kissed him. It was a thorough kiss—as thorough as it could be when he still had one arm around Nayara’s waist.
Nayara reached for the fastenings on Cáel’s robes and slipped them undone.
Cáel pulled his mouth away from Ryan’s, to look down at his chest as Nayara pushed the robes aside. Her fingers rested against the Tree of Life medallion lying against his flesh.
“You said the room was sound-proof, didn’t you?” Nayara asked Cáel.
“I did,” Cáel agreed.
Ryan pulled the robe from Cáel’s shoulders then reached for his trousers. “And bug-proof,” he added.
“I thought the matter that brought you here was urgent?” Cáel asked as the pair of them swiftly undressed him. His cock jutted proudly, stiff and red with anticipation.
Ryan drew him toward the couches by the window and Nayara followed, removing her clothing as she walked.
“We’ll speak of it once I can think straight,” Ryan said and lowered him to the couch.
* * * * *
Chronologic Touring Inc. – Sydney Office—2264 A.D.:
When he returned to the Sydney agency, Justin broke with over two decades of habit by not stopping to speak to anyone on the way to his office. He also shut the door, closing out everyone including Rosalinda, who had followed him through the building from the reception area. He glimpsed her surprise and concern as he closed the door on her, but he just didn’t have the energy to spare to make her feel better.
He lowered himself into the chair behind the pristine desk and rested his head in his hands. He felt like shit, which didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.
Briefly, he wondered if the psi trick they’d pulled on him and Demyan had left a residue that was screwing with his physiology. But he also knew he was reaching for an excuse to avoid acknowledging the truth.
The door opened without an announcement, forcing him to look up to see who it was.
Rosalinda stepped in and shut the door behind her. “Is there something I can do?” she asked softly. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but if there’s anything….”
Justin lifted his head to look at her. He forced back the irritation that rose at her question. “Probably not,” he said evenly. “This one is all on me.”
Rosa lifted a carrysack she was holding. “I have something for you.” She opened the sack and reached inside. “I did some backtracking and some fast talking…” She pulled out the blue shawl and laid it on the desk in front of him. “I thought you might like it back.”
Justin gently rested his hand on the silky soft, cozy fabric, feeling the smoothness under his fingers. Warm and smooth and silky…it wasn’t just the color of her eyes. It felt like her, too.
He scrunched the shawl up under his fingers and looked up at Rosa. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I do like having it back. A lot.”
But he felt even worse now.
Rosalinda smiled happily. “Good. Oh! And something came for you while you were in Sweden.” She dipped into the carrysack one more time and withdrew an envelope that she placed on the desk beside the shawl. “I’ve heard of delayed letters, but I’ve never had to handle one before. Is that real paper?”
Justin looked down at the browned, stained and crumpled envelope. “I’ve never seen one before, either,” he said. “It was paper once. When it started out. The agency’s archivists irradiate these things with plastic and polymer steel. It makes them almost indestructible. That’s how they get them to last until they deliver them.”
He turned the envelope around to read the address.
Justin Kelly, Travel Consultant, Sydney branch, Chronologic Tours, May 17, 2367 A.D.
It was Deonne’s handwriting.
Justin felt his heart lurch against his chest. He pushed the heel of his hand against his breastbone to ease the ache and looked at Rosa. “Give me a minute, huh?”