A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2) (13 page)

Breathe.

He got out and headed to the trunk. Opening a suitcase there, he fished out his breather. He held the medicine in his lungs as long as he could before letting out a satisfying exhalation.

Amato returned to the driver’s seat and made a decision. He would go to Rome, flying out of the Fiumicino Airport. It was large; he would be able to melt into a crowd without difficulty. Amato kept his thoughts to himself, not even mouthing the airport’s name silently.

He had never been so alone. He had always relied on his parents and then Maro to tell him what was required. But now he had neither. He focused on his face in the rearview mirror. After a moment of reflection, he was surprised to see a convincing look of confidence appear. Amato then put the car into gear and headed for the airport.

“You summoned me, my master?”

Kaileen was kneeling submissively. She planted a closed fist in front of her, supporting her weight and then bent her head low, allowing her red curls to sweep the floor. She knew the man standing before her demanded total submission. She would give it to him at least until the time that she was more powerful than he. It was not yet to be. The echoes were loud around her master. It was a peculiar and distinct rhythm that was impossible to mistake. He was powerful and made a point to show off that power around her.

“Yes, my love. I need to know what happened in Italy. Was the intelligence not timely?”

“The locations you gave me were accurate. My target, however, had been warned.”

“Rise.”

She first lowered her forehead to the ground in an act of worship. After lightly touching the brown earth, she pressed with her arms until she was on her knees and then to her feet. She moved with grace, slowly, taking her time. Slow motion was an show of respect; a perceived attack upon him would be nothing short of death. All Nephloc and Perazim feared her—she feared him.

She stood tall, but kept her eyes downcast. Her master was wearing a dark cloak—not unlike the Nephloc. His hands protruded out from the armholes but were covered by dark leather gloves. She kept her eyes down at his black cap toe oxfords. Above the shoes and just under the bottom of the cloak, she could see dress pants.

She often wondered of his true identity, but never voiced or made any gesture that could be interpreted as curiosity. At every meeting, he appeared either masked or with a random morphic representation. Today, he had the face of a man in his mid-twenties and dressed as a professional. The meeting location was just outside DC. She knew Marcus and the others were nearby and by his clothes and the location, she could only assume her master had some kind of contact with the Temporal.

“Is Maro...deeaad?” His voice was darker than his cloak. He lingered on the vowels of the word “dead” mimicking the Nephloc’s slurred speech. But he was no Nephloc. He was relishing the word.

“Yes.”

There was no chance to react defensively. She was glad for it too; a reaction of any kind could be misinterpreted as disobedience. As she woke from the momentary lapse of consciousness, she realized what had happened.

He had thrown her through the wall and into the next room.

She had displeased him; he had known she was lying. She hadn’t been able to confirm Maro’s death. As she heard his footfalls grow in volume, she hastily threw herself down, bowing with her arms outstretched and her forehead hard onto the floor.

He was leaning over, breathing behind her, the air from his nostrils wafting through the hairs standing on the back of her neck. She had not heard any other footsteps and yet he was now above her. He had stopped time and moved to her location. Only her master could stop time without her knowing.

She felt her hair fondled and repositioned. His gloved hands massaged the back of her head, gently and lovingly. She heard him kneel behind her, the crackle of leather mixed with the whoosh of his cloak bending with the movement.

She felt his two hands start from her shoulders and then progress down to her buttocks. It was a weapons search—quite unnecessary, she wasn’t stupid—but he was taking his time with the process, enjoying it.

His left hand removed, but his right made its way back up to her head. It stopped at the nape of her neck, wrapping the tips of his fingers under the bone of her chin. He gripped tightly and lifted. She had no choice but to obey, raising her head in an effort to mitigate the pain. Seconds later, she was standing and his grip was released. He walked around to face her. She kept her eyes down at his shoes. They were real, not morphic. He had been somewhere recently that necessitated a pair of thousand dollar shoes.

“Do not lie to me, my sweet.”

Her master had been around Marcus. She could sense it. He had been with Marcus recently and often. Marcus was a fool; his senses were dulled. Or more likely, her master had perfected his echo shield. Not even Marcus could pick up the echo of his old enemy and erstwhile friend.

“I...I saw him fly off the cliff. It was a death jump. I didn’t hear his echoes, nor did I see any movement.”

“But you didn’t search for the body. You didn’t stay long enough to confirm he wasn’t hiding his echo signature.”

“I...I had no time. They were coming. The police, the humans were alerted and drawing in fast. I…” She had no understanding of the word “regret,” but she understood fear. It is true she could have searched more. Keeping time at a sluggish rate would have allowed her to thoroughly scout the base of the mountain before the humans could arrive. But she had been so certain Maro hadn’t survived. How could he? Her chest heaved as if the heavy burden of fear was pressing upon her.

“Shhh…” the man said, returning to his position behind her. He rested his gloved hands on her shoulder and leaned into her ear. She almost smiled. She had done what she was doing to many men, many humans that she wished to deceive—the fearful and hurt lady in distress desperately in need of a man to make things right for her. But his weakness was not lust or power over others; his was a seduction of pure fear. “I know you had no time.” He backed away from her. “Maro lives.”

“How do you…” She stopped mid-sentence.

“I know because I’ve seen him.”

“Yes, my master. Forgive me, but I have one question.”

The top of his hood lowered slightly indicating a nod. For the briefest of moments, she saw his face change to that of an older man. It had only been momentary, but unmistakable. She did not dare let a smile form on her face.

“Master, were the remaining collections cancelled?”

“Your old friend, Marcus, commanded the planes to only land during the daytime.”

“A mild inconvenience.”

“Yes. But it means no Nephloc and it will be harder to find Perazim willing to make the journeys. Marcus has wisely chosen to keep it a secret. He alone will give the authorization and it will not be in advance.”

“Master, we are so close to our revenge. I want their heads; I want their blood!”

“As do I, but patience, my love. Our armies are not yet ready.”

“Training at the foundry is ahead of schedule.”

“Good, good. With Marcus having warned the remaining Temporal, we have lost our advantage. It was an inevitable outcome, but one that I had hoped would have come after more Temporal become dust.”

Kaileen bowed slightly. “Forgive me for allowing so many worms to escape.”

“I am pleased with you Kaileen. You have excelled beyond many of the old masters. I have heard the echoes, echoes that will come to pass should you remain obedient. I have seen you defeat them all!”

She bowed deeper, and upon rising, she began to walk toward the newly formed hole in the wall.

“Hunt for him, Kaileen,” she heard the reverberated voice behind her say. She turned to see no one. The bodiless voice continued. “Send all the Perazim you can spare to search from every direction around the mountain. Find and destroy Maro. Search where you can until I am able to retrieve the names and locations for you. I will do so even if I have to personally rip it from Marcus’ brain!”

Kaileen stepped outside, smiling. She had seen her master’s true appearance. It was only a moment, a fleeting glance, but she was sure of it. Not only that, but he was overly concerned with Maro. Like Sam, Maro could possibly be a threat to her master. She found a patch of earth appropriately dark and began the process. A moment later, she was gone.

Sam headed to the kitchen. He was exhausted. Trying to keep track of all the Temporal while worrying about Ian and the Nephloc spy was a terrible burden. Adding to the confusion, Dr. Bracker’s thoughts, feelings, and intentions were still blocked to Sam’s gifts. This continued to bother Sam even though there was no rational reason to doubt his trustworthiness. Dr. Bracker had earlier delivered Marcus’ phone and done everything in his power to aid the rescue. Sam’s gift, after all, could be ineffective to most people around the world. He didn’t know. But he did know that this was the first person with whom he had come into contact that he wasn’t able to at least feel out.

All this almost made him forget he was hungry. Although the kitchen was fully stocked with ingredients for just about any dish imaginable, he craved a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He had a smile on his face as he opened a drawer in search of a knife. The creature seemed to have a crush on Suteko. It was still masking its thoughts and Sam could only pick up faint garbled bits of meaning, but when Suteko visited, the creature’s defenses lowered. Sam could probe a bit deeper. There were still hard feelings under the surface and he couldn’t read anything specific, but Suteko’s influence was clearly therapeutic, opening it up. Perhaps just a few more visits and the creature would actually help them.

Sam doubted the Nephloc had any information that would help them immediately, but knowing the location where Nephloc and Perazim trained and lived could be most useful once the time to take to the offense was at hand, once the Temporal could be gathered in strength.

As he pulled a knife from the silverware drawer, the earth shook—or more precisely, Sam’s inner being shattered. It was like he was internally experiencing the devastating earthquake on Noto Peninsula in Japan that had been the moment that gave him his gift. Only nothing outside him was damaged—at least not until he crashed into something behind him. He felt intense pressure build in his chest and feared he was experiencing a heart attack. But just as the pressure became unbearable, it all stopped.

Sam took account of his surroundings and his condition. He was breathing rapidly, but he was not in pain. He was, however, on the kitchen floor. Moving his arms slightly, he realized both of his arms were also halfway into a cabinet. He looked up and saw his last position eight feet away. On the floor near the sink was the knife.

It was a strange feeling. As his mind cleared, he began to feel discomfort. Sam tore his arms free of splintered wood and broken granite and stood.

The earthquake had ended, but something else was happening. Sam stopped and stood absolutely still. It wasn’t as dramatic as before, but still quite unnerving. He was experiencing knowledge fly into his head. Sparks of light appeared in front of him, grew larger as they approached, and then flashed away into nothing. It wasn’t just a fireworks display, however. He was learning. With each passing spark, he realized he knew things that he hadn’t known a moment before the flashes. It was unlearned knowledge, but it was knowledge.

He closed his eyes and absorbed the teaching.

Suteko.
He was seeing—remembering—Suteko’s past. He was coming to experience what she had lived through over a hundred years before Sam was born. It was as if he were in her head experiencing her distinct memories. He even heard voices speaking in Japanese. Somehow, he had no problem understanding.

He could see her surroundings. It wasn’t as if he was witnessing events played before his natural eyes. It was like recalling a memory from long ago—only it was a new memory, coming to him for the first time.

And then he understood—he remembered—how she became a Temporal.

For Suteko, it hadn’t been an earthquake. It hadn’t been a great battle. Her Extending—the moment she first experienced eternity and the echoes—was while in bed.

She was dying. Consumption. Tuberculosis in a time before antibiotics and in a country that shunned Western medicine. There was little hope. As her body weakened, she suffered feverous night sweats. Sam could see her mother at her bedside, swabbing her forehead. He saw the mother lovingly lean in to kiss her forehead.

Then it all changed.

Sam could feel Suteko sitting up in bed. He couldn’t tell if it was seconds or months later, but she was up and screaming with all the energy in the world.

Fragmented images of someone else’s memories continued to flow into Sam’s mind. He remembered how Suteko’s strength returned. She could walk, eat by herself, and speak to those around her. It was a miracle, but one not devoid of sacrifice, a sacrifice Sam was also well aware of.

Sam realized what had happened. He had experienced it recently. Only, he’d had Suteko to guide him and provide comfort. Suteko experienced her Extending alone, without understanding what was occurring.

Sam watched as his mind recalled new memories of Suteko and her mother leaving their hometown. They journeyed far through cities, towns, and villages until arriving in Satsuma in the western part of Japan.

Sam inwardly cringed. He could feel the tension all around them. It was a time of great political upheaval. And Satsuma was the heart of the discontent.

It was a dangerous move, but Suteko’s mother had family there and permission to enter. Satsuma was to be their new home.

Sam’s heart ached with the revelation of a new memory. Mere weeks after they arrived, Suteko’s mother passed away. It had been a sudden sickness. She had passed without pain, but Suteko was alone. The distant relatives her mother had sought after were not to be found. Suteko was totally alone and, after spending the little money she had on lodging and medicine, she was also broke.

Sam recalled a memory of Suteko being alone, sobbing with helplessness. He wanted to reach out, but what he was experiencing was not occurring within Sam’s time, nor was it a vision that could be seen and interacted with. The hurt Suteko that he was remembering lived over a hundred and fifty years before. Still, somehow he knew the Suteko of today continued to cry inwardly for her mother. Even now, she carried the burden placed on that young woman so long ago.

Then she received a visitor that dried most of those tears. Sam couldn’t tell how he had found her, but he was sure the echoes were leading him to her. Perhaps the old man had sent him there. Sam nodded in total acceptance and approval. She needed him.

It was Ian.

Still standing there in that kitchen, Sam could feel tears form in his puffy red eyes. She was lost, helpless, and without a friend. With all his being, Sam wanted to help her, but he could do nothing. And the nineteenth century Ian had come so far—journeyed through dangers unimaginable in that day and age to give comfort to her.

Sam knew a little of the history, but more than that, he could experience it through this strange melding of memories. Thousands of samurai felt betrayed and dishonored. They had led the movement to overthrow the Tokugawa Bakufu under the banner of “
Sonnō, Joi
”—Revere the Emperor; Expel the Barbarians. The Shogun handed power over to the Emperor at Nijo Castle ending the Edo Period, but it wasn’t the victory that these Satsuma samurai had hoped for. Foreigners and, more shockingly, foreign ways were encouraged and eagerly sought after. It was the dawn of the Meiji Restoration.

The foreigners came. With them came new knowledge and ideas. Some came for wealth, others for adventure, but one came for Suteko.

Then it was as if the book closed. His insight into fresh memories was gone. He could recall everything he had seen and heard, but these experiences were now his memories and not merely witnessing the experiences of someone else.

Sam placed his hands over his face and bowed low. He was surprised to feel how hot his face was even as tears fell from his eyes.

Ian.

Sam suddenly felt ashamed. Ian had sacrificed much to give Suteko comfort. He had risked all by going to Satsuma to find her at a time in history when doing so could have meant death. He had been there for her when Sam wasn’t—when Sam couldn’t have. And now he was doing the same for Maro.

The memories cut off just before Suteko met Ian. He knew they did end up meeting—Ian, Marcus, and Suteko had said that much. But he did not know what happened after that. The echoes were silent. His received memories were no longer pouring in.

He trusted Suteko and had a newfound respect for Ian. And yet, Ian of the present clearly wanted to take Suteko away from him. Could she have had less control as a new Temporal? Could she have sprinkled love-pixie dust over Ian out of ignorance? Sam knew Suteko had a calming gift. He wasn’t sure how far she could influence other people’s thoughts and actions, but she could soften their anger as well as their resolve.

But if she had not been able to control her gifts early on, Ian could have simply been at the wrong time and place. Sam wanted to feel pity for him, but as much as he appreciated Ian coming to help stop the Nephloc and as much as he now appreciated what he had done for Suteko in the nineteenth century, he couldn’t bring himself to want him around today.

He got up to leave the kitchen without a sandwich; Sam was no longer hungry. As he walked across the house to the meeting room, he saw Marcus sitting at a table. Seeing the old man’s face triggered a memory fragment—a memory he had just received but had not yet internalized.

Marcus and Kaileen had a long and complicated history. He wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew it had something to do with Kaileen’s interest in him.