Mirrored Time (A Time Archivist Novel Book 1) (7 page)

His eyes grew unfocused. “Fear. It used fear.”

She swallowed. “Is it worth it?”

“Part of me wishes I could tell you to walk away.” He made a frustrated sound and grabbed her by the shoulders so that she turned to face him. “There is something to be said about a normal and simple life. But has your life ever been normal? Ever been simple? If that’s what you want, turn around and walk away. I’ll even tell Alistair for you.”

His hold tightened. “If you want more? I can’t promise it’ll be easy or simple. But worth it?” He paused and his gaze burned. “Hell yeah, it’s worth it.”

“Well then,” Gwen said, “see you on the other side.”

He smiled, squeezing her shoulders one last time before releasing her. “If you’re very good, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“Oh, I’m always good.” Managing a laugh, she tried to focus on Rafe’s smile and not the concern in his eyes.

CHAPTER N
INE

T
HE FIRST THING
TO register was the darkness. Gwen struggled against the instinct to panic. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought of Rafe’s last words. The room would try to use fear against her.
So far, it’s working.

Trying to slow her heartbeat, she focused on her breathing.
Air in, air out.
It was a battle, but she started to calm down. Without the thundering beat in her ears, she could think. A gentle breeze buffeted against her face bringing with it the sound of dripping water.

You can do this, Conway.
She opened her eyes. Either her sight had adjusted or the space had gotten lighter. A narrow stone pathway stretched out in front of her flanked on both sides by rough-hewn walls. She touched one, her hand coming away damp and gritty.

Rubbing her fingertips together, she took in the view in front of her. It was a little claustrophobic, although altogether more harmless than she was expecting.
Probably best not to go looking for monsters when there aren’t any. Hopefully.

A loud grating noise filled her ears, and she turned around to see a solid stone wall. There was no sign of the door, the one that would have been her escape route.

“Well, that’s slightly disconcerting.” Her voice echoed in the empty space. It felt silly to be standing in an unknown place talking to herself, even if it made her feel less alone.

With no other option, she started down the path, following the twists and turns. It was filled with false starts and blind corners. Every time she had to turn around and retrace her steps, her anxiety grew.

Her certainty something horrific would happen was like an invisible presence leaning over her shoulder. To distract herself from the tension thickening the air, she kept up a constant stream of inane chatter. Part of her wished something would happen, if only to release the horrible pressure tightening her muscles.

Be careful what you wish
for.

Cold fingertips skimmed down her neck and along her spine. She jerked, whirling to check the space behind her. Nothing. Just the same murky path and the incessant drip of water. Rolling her shoulders, she willed away her goose bumps as she continued down the path.

Jolting again when the grinding screech of moving metal parts tore through the silence. The ground lurched underneath her, and the walls shifted. She watched as the path changed around her, now ending in a dead-end.
A maze that reforms itself. How
perfect.

“Okay room, point to you.” Her fingernails dug half-moons into her palms.

The farther she walked, the narrower the pathway became. At times the walls were so close together she needed to squeeze between the rough rock. It wasn’t long before her shirt clung to her sweaty back, her hair plastered to the back of her neck.
Attractive.

After scraping her cheek in her struggle to squirm free from another narrow crack, she stopped walking. She couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched, and she was tired of being the maze rat to some unknown scientist.

Whatever was going on, walking blindly in one direction wasn’t going to get her anywhere. As she surveyed her surroundings, the path in front of her began to grow lighter. A feather light touch brushed across her cheek, and underneath a whispering wind, she could hear the echo of a dark laugh.

The light grew brighter.
Thump, thump, thump.
She fought to stay calm. Her fingernails bit deeper into her palms. She wouldn’t let the room win. She was stronger than this.

Still, the light grew brighter.
Thump-thump-thump.
Realization sank in and fear splashed down her spine like an icy wave. The thumping noise wasn’t her heart; it was the light—or whatever was coming with the light.

Another hideous screech of metal on metal and the path behind her was gone. The urge to curl up in a ball was dismissed. Denial was not going to get her out of this mess. She needed an escape, a place to hide.

And then there was a door, looking just like the entrance to the Archives. Relief rushed through her. Caution screamed, demanding she didn’t go inside. It wasn’t there before. Nothing good could come of it. Still, it was too familiar. It was safety.
It was home.

As the thumping noise grew louder, she opened the door and slipped inside. Candles circled the room. At her entrance, they burst into flame illuminating a table before her. It was laden with a feast of fantasy proportions. The ruby red of a pomegranate gleamed on top of a silver platter.
Nice try, room. A little nod to Persephone, right?

With a firm grip on the door handle, she peeked through the tiny opening. Even though the light continued to get closer, there was no hint of what was making the noise. She opened the door a little farther, the sight of the feast making her feel bolder. If the test was going to deal with trite clichés, then she could handle it.

Big
miscalculation.

A blast of wind rushed through the room snuffing out the candles. At the same time, the door was ripped from her grip and slammed shut.
You just had to get cocky, didn’t you?

She groped around in the dark trying to open the door. Sharp clicking noises echoed around her. Something slithered over the ground, making a raspy sound that set her teeth on edge. A nervous laugh escaped her lips as her hand closed around the handle. But no matter how hard she pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

The slithering got closer.

She pressed her forehead against the wood, willing herself to be strong. Then she turned around.

The darkness was a weight against her skin, thick and heavy like a blanket. Bouncing on her toes, she fought to see through the inky black.

With a splutter, a candle burst into flame. Then another, and another. She braced herself for what the light would illuminate. The room was no longer empty.

Her family sat around the table—or, what should have been her family. Her mother, her father, Maggie—they stared at her with blank eyes and grins stretched too wide. Fear licked down her spine. They didn’t speak. Nonetheless, the room filled with the sound of laughing voices begging her to join them.

The phantom Maggie beckoned her with an arm supple with good health. Instead of being a happy sight, her stomach churned with acid. The room could do what it wanted with her parents. Maggie, on the other hand, she was sacrosanct.

“This isn’t right.” Tears stung her eyes. “You aren’t real.”

Phantom Maggie tilted her head, her smile no longer so welcoming. She raised her little finger, her gaze never leaving Gwen’s face. The flames flickered. And in the flickering light, the faces before her were skeletal, flesh dripping from boney forms. Then Maggie’s finger dipped.

The candles went out, guttering in their wax with angry hisses. This time pride didn’t stop her. Her fists banged against the door, the wood tearing at her skin.

Something wove around her legs, and she jumped with a shriek. It held on tight, yanking her to the ground. She fell with a heavy thud, blood filling her mouth when she bit her tongue.

Her fingers clawed at the ground, nails tearing, as she was pulled farther into the room.

Fingers like daggers pulled and tore at her clothes. She kicked out, bucking against the weight that held her down. Her foot connected with something, and it collapsed on impact like rotten fruit. She gagged.

“Not real. You’re not real.” She continued to fight, wet warmth splashing across her skin at each impact. It became a mantra she screamed out into the dark.

A sliver of light fell across her face. The door was open.
Freedom!
She lunged forward, tripping and sliding on the floor. Exploding from the room, she raced down the path, ignoring the pain blooming through her body as she scraped through narrow crevices.

Her headlong rush was stopped when she tripped, the skin on her palms and knees ripping as she slid across the coarse ground. She sat, brushing the gravel from her bloody palms. Tears dripped from her cheeks, burning like acid when they touched her cuts and scrapes.

Staggering to her feet, she wiped a sleeve across her face. She didn’t want to go on—except Alistair and Rafe were counting on her. Although the reasons for taking the test felt miles away. It took effort, but she trudged forward.

The path disappeared into darkness. Freezing at the edge of light, every instinct urged her to turn and run. She tried to muster whatever courage she had left. The test had taken her this far, and she had the feeling she wasn’t passing with flying colors. Alistair and Rafe trusted her; they believed in her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.
I won’t let them
down.

She wished for light, if only to break up the inky darkness.
Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.
As she stepped, her foot scuffed into a hard object. It made a tinny noise as it rolled away.

Bending down, she picked up the flashlight, its metal gleaming in the dull light. With a click, a welcoming beam of light pierced the darkness.

In a similar maze, separated by eons of time, a black mirror glowed. The presence there smiled. Everything was going as he planned. An elaborate web of events—all of his making.

The girl’s power called to him, sizzling through his veins like fire. A Locator like her hadn’t existed for a very long time. The last had been an ally of his—until she was taken. With a sharp crack, another flaw appeared on the face of the mirror.

His presence swirled behind the mirror, tensing, flexing. It didn’t matter. What was lost was gone forever. Yet, he was being given a second chance. It wasn’t an equal trade, but this Locator could give him what he wanted.
Freedom.

He had waited for this—yearned for it. It wouldn’t be as perfect as coming face-to-face with his adversary. For now, it would be enough. The girl’s power would need time to grow.
It would need to be cultivated.

So, he would continue to play the game. Piece by piece. Pawn, rook, bishop.
Queen.

He would be careful and he would be patient, until he could clear the board with one angry swipe of his hand.

Chuckling into the darkness, he sat back to watch the coming show.

As she stepped into the room, with a grating shift, the path behind her was sealed. That particular trick was getting old.

The room was empty. Stone alcoves blocked one minute, then with the familiar screech, open to a pathway the next. She was in the hub of the maze, the center.
All roads lead to
Rome.

The flashlight danced over the ceiling revealing a mantle carved with exquisite detail. A giant setting fire to a field, a serpent rising from the sea, a wolf breaking free from the chains binding him. Flames, death, destruction. The sound of screaming in her ears and the taste of ashes on her tongue.

There was the rustle of turning pages. The beam jerked, illuminating a large raven. Another rustle and she flicked the light and saw another bird, its beady eye glinting with strange intelligence.

It cawed and the first bird answered it with a mocking croak. Her jaw clenched. They tilted their heads, staring down at her. Their eyes shined like obsidian.

A freezing wind swept around her, bringing with it snowflakes that melted on her skin. The birds took flight, circling around the room, their cries screaming in her ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

The flashlight fell from her hand, light jumping around the room as it spun to a stop on the floor.

The man, if it was a man, towered over her. A thick shadowed cloak hid his form. Within the darkness of his hood, his eyes gleamed like an animal’s glowing from reflected light.

The birds swooped through the air, each landing on a shoulder. “I do so hope they haven’t been bothering you.”

The sound of his voice sent a rolling tremor down her spine. “Who are you?”

“Gwen, Gwen, Gwen. Is that really the first question you want to ask?” The cloak swirled around the figure, shadows creeping around his feet. “I’ve been called many names. None of them my true name, of course.” He sighed. “Humans are so prone to exaggeration.”