Time Thief: A Time Thief Novel (7 page)

“We’ll have proof soon enough, assuming you managed to acquire the DNA from the mortal police.”

“I’ve got the DNA, and yes, I’m certain it’s this family that is involved. No one else was seen near the last mortal who was killed. I’m confident that an examination of the DNA traces the mortals found around the body will be enough to identify just which person killed the victim.”

“The sign informs us that there is a falls of the great height of two hundred feet shortly to come before us,” Sunil read as the local landmark sign became readable. “Fatalities have—ah, but we are driving too fast for me to finish reading about the most impressive sight. Ahead, however, appears to be a location where we can stop and view the deadly spectacle!”

The earpiece buzzed and crackled softly in Peter’s ear
as he continued to drive through the mountains, indicating that Dalton was thinking about this news. Peter damned for a thousandth time the creator of the cellular phone.

“Peter-ji, are you concentrating so hard on the sahib-ji’s conversation that you perhaps did not hear me?” Sunil asked, his light bobbing and weaving with excitement.

“I heard you. It’s probably just another waterfall,” Peter told the animus. “We’ve already stopped for three. I’d like to get to our destination before nightfall.”

“It is probable that the fine government of this country would not go to all the considerable trouble of placing a sign notifying travelers of this most impressive sight if it wasn’t a place of extreme importance and beauty,” Sunil gently chided him. “I am thinking that it would be disrespectful of us to drive past it without at least looking for an hour or two.”

Peter gave in to the censure. He didn’t want to stop at yet another waterfall, but his conscience couldn’t bear the note of sadness that would creep into Sunil’s voice if he failed to indulge the animus’s desire. He pulled over and used the master switch to lower the passenger window. Sunil bounced out of the car, his ball of light hovering briefly around a brown scenic-view sign before perching on the edge of the overlook.

The earpiece crackled again in his ear. Dalton’s voice was hesitant when he spoke. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Sorry to hear what? My conversation with Sunil? He’s driving me insane on this trip, Dalton. He insists on stopping for every single tourist trap and natural-wonder sign he sees, and there are a lot of the latter in this area. I know he’s young, and it’s all new to him, and I am responsible
for his happiness after the…incident…but there has got to be a limit! I don’t know of anyone else who has a soul bound to them who hasn’t yet gone insane, and I begin to understand why!”

“How many people do you know who have an animus bound to them?” Dalton asked.

“Other than me? None. But it has to be a common phenomenon.”

“Sunil has been with you for how long now? A year? Two? How old was he when he died?”

“It’s been three years, and he was seventeen then.” Guilt swamped him at the memory of the tragic event three years past, making him feel like a living, breathing personification of Eeyore. Idly, he wondered if there was a black cloud hovering over the roof of his rental car.

“I’d have thought you would have worked out a bearable relationship by now.”

“It hasn’t been this bad before, but we’ve never been on the West Coast, and he seems to feel like we have to see every inch of it.”

“And of course, you give in and let him see whatever it is he wants to see.”

“If he wasn’t so damned nice about everything, I could tell him no once in a while. But when I do, he just gets sad, and that makes me feel like a bigger monster than I already am.”

“You’re not a monster, Peter, and I’m sure he’ll calm down in a day or two. Assuming you’re there that long. Actually, when I said I was sorry, I was referring to the Travellers.”

“Don’t be sorry on my account.” Peter gritted his teeth for a moment as his cup of annoyance ran over. With an effort, he loosened his white-knuckled grip on
the steering wheel and continued in a bland voice. “I’ll be glad to have this killer imprisoned, where he belongs.”

“It’s your own family, man. You
are
allowed to be angry about that.”

“They are
not
my family. At least not in the way you mean. I was marked from birth as being mahrime. Biologically I may be related to them, but on every other level, they are unconnected to me.”

“Except of course for the fact that, like them, you are a Traveller,” Dalton pointed out in that same benign voice that hid so well an extremely sharp intelligence. “You know, I never did exactly understand what being mahrime entails. It means unclean, doesn’t it? I’ve seen references to non-Travellers being called mahrime, and assumed it was a way to designate outsiders.”

“Yes, although it has a second meaning when applied to one of Traveller blood, like me.”

“Ah. Banished, you mean?”

“Disowned would be a better term,” Peter said grimly, trying not to think of the years of grief his mother suffered when the love of her life cast her out with a newborn son, alone and without any resources or support. “Travellers don’t tolerate anything impure, least of all their own kind. It was fine by them that my father should impregnate a mortal woman, but when she had the audacity to suggest that the family acknowledge me, then all bets were off.”

“A harsh policy, for sure,” Dalton said, and sneezed wetly. “Still, as it’s given the Watch one of its best investigators in this hemisphere, I won’t complain.” There was a muffled sound of a nose being blown. “Can you get the DNA to me tonight? I’m heading for a small town called
Clampton to follow up on a report of a rogue magician in the area, but I can meet you somewhere within a hundred-mile radius.”

“A rogue magician? Rogue in what sense?”

“Selling unauthorized favors. No, not sexual, the magic kind. The committee is concerned that he’s not reporting who purchases what from him, and I’ve been asked to see what I can find.”

“Actually—” Peter consulted a map of the area that lay on the seat next to him. “I was in that area earlier today, in a place called Rose Hill. I’m heading back that way now.”

“That’s where I’m going, as well. I will meet you tonight, then.” Dalton sneezed again, muttering obscenities under his breath before adding, “I’ve risked my health to rendezvous with you, and it may well kill me if I have to stay here much longer. If you get the sample to me this evening, I can take it to the L’au-dela lab in Portland, and be away from this nightmare country.”

“I’ll be there in the next two hours. I found a spot we can use to rendezvous—it’s out of sight, yet close to the camp.”

“Do we need to be out of sight?”

“With several Travellers lurking about? Yes. They already know I’m here, but I’d rather not have them seeing us by chance, and one or the other of them is frequently in town.”

“Very well. Where is the location?”

Peter told him about a small clearing not far from the Faa camp. “I had to run into Blaine in order to check on some new information the mortal police uncovered, but I should be back in Rose Hill within half an hour.”

“You’re still dealing with the mortal police?”

“I am so long as they are having a spate of deaths in the vicinity of my murder victims.”

“Deaths? What deaths are these? I don’t recall you saying anything about other victims.” Dalton’s voice, although thick, was now sharp with concern.

“That’s because the other deaths aren’t connected to us. To the Otherworld, that is,” Peter explained.

“It’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m keeping in touch with the mortal police. So far as I can tell, whenever a mortal’s life is stolen by this Traveller killer, an unrelated mortal suffers a suspicious death.”

“And you think the two deaths aren’t related?” Dalton was clearly skeptical.

“I thought the subsequent deaths were related at first, but the mortals all died by means other than time theft. One died in a car accident. Another choked to death. The one that happened shortly after this latest murder was stabbed in an alley behind his apartment house. None of them were killed by a member of the Otherworld.”

“You are certain of that?”

Peter made a face even though no one could see it. “I have been a member of the Watch for more than forty years. I know when a killer is not mortal.”

“Just so, just so.” Dalton’s interest in the additional murders clearly waned at that reassurance. Peter didn’t blame him. They had enough on their respective plates without taking on the woes of the mortal police, as well.

“I’m continuing to monitor the situation, but I’ve yet to figure out how it’s related to our cases. I think it’s just a matter of coincidence.”

“I suppose that’s possible. What information did you get from the police today? Something tangible toward our case?”

“It might be. They found a gas station receipt, and the
address connected to the account is located in Rose Hill. Coupled with the information I had regarding Travellers in that area, I thought it best to return and do a more thorough investigation. It’s entirely possible that they are using that town as a temporary base of operations.”

“I suppose. Where was the latest victim killed—Yreka? Isn’t that in California?”

“Yes, but it’s close enough to Rose Hill—about two hours’ drive—that it makes those leads viable.” Peter’s jaw tightened again when he thought of the murder scene he’d recently examined. According to the mortal police records he had covertly accessed, the woman had been in her late eighties. That someone could kill an elderly woman was bad enough, but the thought that it was a Traveller who had killed her enraged him. He might not have any ties to his family, or for that matter any Travellers, but that didn’t mean he would turn a blind eye to their crimes. For too long the Travellers had been a world unto themselves, outside the laws of the mortal and immortal worlds. It was time they be brought into the present. It was time they were held accountable for their way of life. “Those bastards stole her life away, Dalton. They just stole it, and left her corpse with nothing.”

“They? More than one?” A note of interest crept into Dalton’s voice. “Are you—” The sound of another explosive sneeze filled Peter’s ear. “Pardon—are you certain it wasn’t a solo Traveller?”

“Two men were caught on the security camera outside her apartment.”

“Is it possible for more than one Traveller to steal time? I was under the impression that the thefts were always conducted by one individual.”

“It’s possible,” Peter said with grim finality.

“I really must request some of the L’au-dela’s records on your people. I feel a sad lack of knowledge about them, and since you are now certain that it is, in fact, a Traveller—or Travellers—who is responsible for this outbreak of deaths along the West Coast, then it would behoove me to familiarize myself with the abilities of such people.”

“They’re thieves, pure and simple.”

“Time thieves, yes. That much I know.” Even through the distraction of pain and the electronic buffer caused by the Bluetooth device, Peter could hear the amusement in Dalton’s voice. “How is it that you’re sure the two men were Travellers? Did you recognize them?”

“No. The security camera was located at an intersection half a block away, and only caught a brief, blurred glimpse of their profiles, and longer shots of the backs of their heads.”

“But you know they’re Travellers?”

There was a moment of silence before Peter spoke one word. “Yes.”

“Ah.”

Neither of the two men said more. There was much unspoken speculation, however.

“I believe you told me some time ago that your grandmother was a savant,” Dalton finally said, breaking the silence. “At the time, I thought you meant she suffered from a form of autism, but that is not what you meant, was it?”

“Is this important, Dalton?” Peter asked, aware that the ever-present sense of annoyance was now quite evident in his voice, but unable to keep it from tainting his words. “I’m in the car right now, and you know how hard
it is for me to concentrate when the damned Bluetooth is giving me a migraine.”

“It is often the littlest things that have the biggest impact,” his boss said in his usual understated manner, which, until that moment, Peter had thought of as being an asset to Dalton’s position. Now it just ruffled his mental feathers, if there was such a thing. “And I’m sorry that you’re still having trouble with mobile phones. Did you speak with the healer I recommended?”

“Yes. He wanted to run tests to see why Travellers can’t be around certain types of machinery without either destroying them or burning out their own brains with migraines. I don’t have time for that. I have a job to do.”

A minivan pulled up behind him. Sunil’s light stopped wandering up and down the edge of the pullout, and zipped back to the car. He had to admit that Sunil was very considerate when it came to mortals, ensuring his presence went unnoticed by them.

“That was a most exciting experience, Peter-ji!” Sunil announced as he settled back into the car seat, his little light quivering with pleasure. “The falls were excellent, and highly deadly, as the sign warned. Did you know that many people have fallen to their tragic deaths right upon this spot? You should take the time to see it. I am sure that you would be appreciating just how magnificently deadly a sight it is.”

Peter didn’t follow that train of thought, but knew better than to ask for an explanation.

“Mmhmm.” Dalton didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic, damn him, and Peter had a nasty suspicion that his boss wasn’t going to leave well enough alone, a suspicion that was fully justified when Dalton continued. “You know, I read a study once that discussed the hereditary
traits amongst Guardians, and how savants were often found in the same family, but separated by a generation. I wonder if the same can be said for Travellers?”

Peter said nothing, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel again.

“Shall we being on our way again?” Sunil asked. “It would be very greatly terrible if those mortal children were to peer into your expensive car and notice me sitting here. It cannot help but be most unnerving for them, and would likely cause them to have the terrifying dreams of exacting painfulness.”