Timekeeper (26 page)

Michele nodded slowly.

“When I found your journals in the passageway this week, I was so grateful I got to hear your story and learn about you. I only wish Mom had been the one to find them.” She lowered her eyes. “I went to the Time Society after learning about them from your writings, and the president told me that as a time-crossed child, I’ll be involuntarily split between your Time and my mom’s, traveling against my will. It’s already started.” She looked up at her father fearfully. “I don’t know how to control it.”

“Oh, Michele.” Irving’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t know. I never meant for you to have this burden. But now
that I’ve met you … you’re perfect, and I know that you were meant to be here, to do great things with your gifts and your life. I promise—I will do everything I can to try and help you.”

Michele smiled, moved by his words.

“There is one bit of hope. Today I learned I can travel without a key just like your father could.”

She watched as Irving’s eyes grew wide and he beamed with pride.

“Unbelievable! You can’t imagine how many times I’ve tried to do the same since leaving the 1990s, yet I’ve never been able to time travel without the key. The gift must have skipped a generation. You’re my father’s granddaughter indeed.” He gazed at her fondly.

“But if you can’t travel without the key, how did you return to 1888 after leaving it behind for my mom?” Michele asked.

“I held on to the key while beginning my Time jump, dropping it only after I felt myself moving into the air. The physics professor I worked for at the time was my one confidant—he believed in time travel and was fascinated by my story. He took the key as it fell from my hand, and he was to make sure Marion received it. I wonder, when he saw that I didn’t return and Marion never left … why didn’t he tell her the truth?”

“I looked him up when I found the note he left for my mom along with the key. He died after a years-long battle from a stroke,” Michele explained sadly. “He must have never had the chance to talk to her.”

Irving clasped both her hands in his. “Your mother and I … our story is a tragedy, and I feel the pain and loss every single day. But you—you are the ray of light in all this.

Discovering you now … it makes everything seem all right. Millicent always said the most skilled Timekeepers were the ones who could travel even without their key—like a wizard able to do magic without a wand. Time-crossed or not, you are powerful,” he told her firmly. “I know you will be able to have the full life you want and deserve, regardless of what the Time Society says.”

“Thank you … Dad. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. And now that we know I can travel without the key …” Michele reached around her neck to unfasten the necklace, but Irving stopped her.

“No, it’s yours. I want to know that you’ll always have it with you, if ever something should happen and you need it. Besides, you’re meant to hand it down to your own child one day.”

His image began to waver in front of her, his voice faint as he said something she couldn’t hear, and Michele reached out for him, desperate to keep her father with her for just a little longer.

“Dad, I can feel it—I’m going back!” she cried out.

He pulled her into one last hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you until now,” he said intently. “But this isn’t the end. You can always find me. The past is open to you. You are a Timekeeper. And I will do everything I can from here, to help you succeed. My daughter, I love you.”

Michele smiled through her tears. “I love you too.”

And then she felt her body begin to hover above the ground, her father’s image blurring, until he was gone and she knew with certainty that she was back in her own Time.

DAY SEVEN

Michele awoke feeling like the world had somehow changed overnight. The sky was a darker, duller gray with not a trace of sun, and the usually speeding cars and squealing sirens of Manhattan were uncharacteristically quiet. It was as though the city were hiding in anticipation of Rebecca’s impending Visibility.

This time Michele relented when Walter and Dorothy asked her to stay home from school. She hated to think about it, but should Rebecca succeed that night, Michele wanted her grandparents to have one last memory with her. The three of them spent the day huddled together, talking about everything: their memories of Marion, Michele’s meeting with Irving, and her relationship with Philip. It would have been her most special day ever spent with Walter and Dorothy, if it weren’t for the event that lay ahead.

Philip pulled up in his Audi at dinnertime, and as Michele introduced him to her grandparents, she thought how surreal and strange it was that their first meeting should be taking place before this impending fight against Rebecca. Walter and Dorothy had listened in astonishment to Michele’s story over dinner the previous night, when she revealed her relationship with Philip and his knowledge of Rebecca. She could tell they’d been frightened by the idea of history repeating itself with another romance across time, but they also seemed to find comfort in Philip’s potential to help her.

After a tense dinner where none of them managed to eat, the four of them piled into Philip’s car, Michele taking the front seat. As they were driving, Philip placed a reassuring hand
over hers, and she marveled at her ability to feel sparks from his touch, even at a moment like this.

1953

Philip Walker buttoned up his overcoat and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck, trying to fend off the sudden, fierce gusts of wind. He’d certainly picked the wrong day to go for a brisk walk over the Brooklyn Bridge. Only a few pedestrians joined him and he could hear their disgruntled mutterings about the weather.

I’m already halfway across. No sense in backing out now
, Philip thought with a shrug, and he continued along the path.

1904

Irving waited in tense anticipation at the walkway in the center of the Brooklyn Bridge. Would Rebecca come? He’d sent a telegram to meet on the bridge and never heard back, though he knew she always liked to keep people on their toes. After all these years, he imagined she’d be too curious to refuse. He tapped his foot nervously while he waited, his thoughts more than a hundred years in the future with his daughter.

2010

After parking the car, Philip, Walter, and Dorothy surrounded Michele, rallying around her as they stepped onto the bridge. The four of them moved toward the railing, and Philip’s fingers laced with hers as they looked out over the darkened East River. For one brief moment Michele let down her guard, pretending
they were on a date rather than on this dreaded outing. And then she heard her grandmother scream.

1904

Irving’s spine stiffened as the hateful vision came into focus: a tall, stately figure with a mass of black hair and feral dark eyes, stalking toward him. He fought a wave of nausea, his hands balling into fists, as she came closer.

“Irving Henry. I knew you missed me.”

The intimacy in her voice was repugnant. Irving forced himself to stay calm, to meet her eyes. As he looked into them, he drew back in horror at what he saw.

1953

Philip Walker felt eyes boring into him. He turned to see one of the other pedestrians glaring at him with distaste. He peered closer, doing a double take in alarm. Was it really …?
Yes
. It was Rebecca Windsor, the very person Michele had warned him about twenty years ago. Philip hadn’t seen Rebecca in nearly a half-century, yet still Rebecca recognized him, eyeing him with hatred. Philip’s heartbeat quickened with fear as he remembered Michele’s words.
“She wants me dead.”

2010

Michele and Philip spun around at the sound of Dorothy’s screams, then clung to each other as the figure from their nightmares advanced toward them. Rebecca looked frighteningly powerful in her full human form, her body tall and sturdy
with black curls coiling around her hostile face like snakes, her eyes black pools. She wielded a fire torch in her hands, and Michele cried out at the sight of her grandmother—hunched over in agony as Rebecca’s flames burned at her feet. Michele raced to her side, just as Rebecca dropped a second torch, directly hitting Michele’s leg. Michele screamed in pain, her legs buckling beneath her as the fire burned. She heard Philip yelling as she hit the ground; she could hear him and Walter struggling to stamp on the flames surrounding her and Dorothy. In the split second Michele and her protectors had their eyes down, fighting the fire, Rebecca moved in behind her. And the sharp blade of a knife sliced into Michele’s side.

Michele howled in pain. This was it, she was going to die. She watched in horror as blood seeped through her shirt, the fire still enveloping her jeans.

Over Dorothy’s screams and Philip’s roar of rage, she heard a cold voice say the words, “At last.” The final thing Michele saw before blacking out was Rebecca Windsor brandishing the bloodied knife, her savage eyes gleaming.

1904

Irving trembled with fury as he looked at Rebecca, the vision filling his mind: Michele, doubled over on the Brooklyn Bridge, covered in blood and flames while Rebecca stood over her with the blade. He had to do something—he
had
to stop it.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Rebecca smirked. “You haven’t seen me in sixteen years.”

Irving seized her with a force he never knew he had, pushing her up against the railing of the bridge.

“You will
never
. Hurt. My. Daughter,” he growled in her ear, before throwing her over.

2010

“NO!”
Philip cried in agony. Watching Michele passed out and bleeding on the burning bridge, he felt as if he were being split in two. The sight of Rebecca’s smile set him over the edge. He let out a strangled yell and lunged toward her, catching her off guard. Gathering every ounce of his strength, Philip lifted her body. Walter rushed forward to help shoulder the weight, and the two of them hoisted her into the air—pushing her over the Brooklyn Bridge before she had the chance to harm Michele again.

1953

It happened so fast. Philip’s mouth fell open in shock as he watched what looked like an invisible hand
pushing
Rebecca over the bridge. One moment she was there, walking toward him—the next she was dead in the waters below. He backed away from the sight.

Did I do that?
It wasn’t possible. But then … who? How?

Philip hurried forward, anxious to get far away from Rebecca’s final standing place. As he ran to the end of the bridge, a thought floated through his mind, flooding him with relief.

Michele is going to be okay; she’s safe. Rebecca can never hurt her again
.

2010

As Rebecca’s body hit the East River, Millicent’s key at long last snapped off the thief’s neck, flying straight up into the sky.

Michele’s eyelids fluttered. As Walter frantically dialed 911, Philip joined Dorothy, who was leaning over her, holding her wounded body.

“It’s over now,” Philip told her, reaching for her hand. “She’ll never hurt you—or your family—ever again.”

T
he Natural Timeline is another word for Fate. This is life without the interference of time travelers; where Timekeepers may observe events out of sequence on the Natural Timeline, but they do not affect it
.

If a Timekeeper does somehow effect change, have they altered Fate? Or did Fate intend on the Timekeeper’s actions all along?

This question is still up for debate—though I have to admit, my belief leans toward the latter
.

—THE HANDBOOK OF THE TIME SOCIETY

15

A soft knock sounded at the door of Michele’s room at Lenox Hill Hospital.

“Come in,” she called, glancing beside her and smiling to see Philip still asleep on the visitor’s chair.

As her guest walked into the room, bearing a huge bouquet of flowers, Michele sat up straighter, her eyes wide.

“Ida Pearl!”

“Hello, dear,” Ida said warmly, standing over the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better every day.” Michele smiled bravely.

“I came as soon as I heard.” She paused. “I believe I owe you a thank-you … and an apology. Because of you, Millicent’s key is no longer giving power to a madwoman. You’ve
restored a sense of order to our world—you and your young man.” Ida smiled at the sleeping Philip.

“My dad too,” Michele added. “I know he helped from 1904, just like he promised.”

“We were wrong about you and Irving,” Ida confessed. “I see that now, and I hope you can accept my apology, and invitation to join the Time Society.”

“I’d be glad to join—especially if you can help me.” Michele’s expression grew serious. “As much as I love experiencing history and traveling back in time, I want to live in the present with Philip. I don’t want to have to worry about time-crossing to 1904, I just want to live in the here and now. Do you think you can help?”

“I promise to try,” Ida agreed. “The fact that you can travel without a key shows that you have a higher level of power than most Timekeepers. We might want to schedule some private lessons for honing your skills. I wouldn’t be surprised with the talent you’ve already shown, if you can find a way to control this.”

Michele let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. And … there’s something else.”

“Yes?”

“If like you said, breaking the Society laws isn’t always bad … then what would happen if I went back and tried to stop my mom’s accident?” Michele looked up hopefully at the Time Society president. She had wondered about this often since discovering she could time travel. Though she’d dreamt of her mother telling her not to tamper with destiny, that it had been her time to go, Michele still wasn’t able to accept it.

Ida sighed. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible. It creates a paradox.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother’s death is what caused you to discover the key and your power. Therefore, you can’t go back and stop the very event that enables you to travel in the first place,” Ida explained. “You can try, but when it comes to paradoxes like these, no matter what you do the outcome is always the same.” She reached over to give Michele’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “The only thing you
can
do is aim for acceptance.”