Waging War (22 page)

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
She said a little breathlessly.

Her voice hit me like a jolt, and I grinned
at her. “Hi, Stella.”

I slipped in past her and caught a glimpse
of her startled look as I turned the corner into the Colossus
room.

The massive machine was making a humming,
clacking noise that wasn’t unpleasant, just rhythmic, and it was
definitely putting off heat. It was at least ten degrees hotter in
that room than it had been outside, and I took off my jacket
without thinking.

There was a man kneeling behind Colossus,
and the movement must have caught his eye because he stood
suddenly, and I stepped backwards, startled.

“Saira?” His voice sounded like shock and
surprise and hope and wonder all wrapped up in a whisper I could
barely hear over the clack and hum of Colossus.

I managed a smile somehow, despite my
nerves, and was surprised to find my voice actually worked. “Hi,
Archer.”

He looked different. The same, but somehow
less … himself. Until he smiled.

“My God, it’s really you.” He was already
moving toward me, and my own body was in motion before I could
think the command. But he didn’t fling his arms around me like I
expected, and my arms were already held wide when he stopped right
in front of me. I dropped them self-consciously as he searched my
face with his eyes.

“You’re here,” he whispered. His eyes
brimmed with tears, which to my complete shock, rolled down his
face. He didn’t even seem to notice.

I nodded and reached up to wipe a tear off
his cheek. He held my palm to his face and closed his eyes. His
hand trembled, and I whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

His smile was back, and it was so
heartbreakingly beautiful I wanted to cry. Then his eyes shifted,
and he suddenly saw Ringo behind me. They widened in surprise.
“Ringo? Is that you?”

I turned to find Ringo grinning at Archer.
“Ye think I’d let ‘er come see ye without me?”

The surprise was replaced with pure joy as
Archer strode to Ringo and threw his arms around him. It was the
hug I’d expected. “God, man! It’s been a half a century since I’ve
seen you like this. It’s so good to see you!”

Ringo hugged him back. “You too, my
friend.”

Archer stepped back from him and his eyes
locked on mine again. “So I did find you.”

“You knew you would. I told you that you
would.”

He looked at me with something like longing.
“There are times I wonder if it was all just a dream. But then I
remember the things you told me,” he waved his hand around the
room, “and I trust that you are real.”

I touched his face again. I couldn’t help
myself. “I am real.”

Someone cleared their throat behind me, and
I spun around to find a young Indian man standing next to Colossus.
I was about to say hello to Ravi when Ringo poked me. He shook his
head sharply when I turned to glare at him.

Archer reached for my hand. “Ravindra Singh,
this is my … this is Saira.” Despite the hesitation, his tone was
proud.

Ravi’s expression, initially suspicious,
became something friendly and warm. He stepped forward to take my
hand. “Miss Saira. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He bent
to kiss the back of it, and his smile was bright and genuine.

“Thank you, Mr. Singh, it’s a pleasure to
meet you, too.”

“Oh, please call me Ravi. It is what my
friends call me, and I would be honored if you would as well.”

Archer introduced Ringo to Ravi as his
brother, and I could see the pride shine in Ringo’s eyes. Despite
their physical differences – Archer was dark-haired with blue eyes
and refined features, and Ringo had sandy blond hair, green eyes,
and an impishness that would probably still light up the
old-man-face he would eventually wear – they both held themselves
with calm confidence, and they moved with a similar athletic grace.
They really could be mistaken for brothers, and I knew it was how
they thought of each other.

“I’ll go for tea, Ravi,” Archer said. “Can I
bring you anything?”

Ravi shook his head and gave me another
smile before returning to his work. Archer ushered us out and spoke
in low tones. “I have a private place to talk.”

“Your secret room. It’s where we came in,” I
said quietly.

He looked startled for about half a second,
then smiled again. “Hearing you say that makes me absurdly happy.
It just confirms that we’ve been together in your time.”

“Still are. You’d be here with me if you
weren’t here already.”

Something clouded in his expression, but he
didn’t say anything else until we had all slipped into the hidden
room inside the mansion. “As you’ve no doubt assessed, the public
rooms at the front of the mansion are unused from sundown to
sunrise. With rationing being what it is these days, the big
blackout drapes originally made for these windows were cut up long
ago to cover the windows in the huts. That’s where the important
work is being done.”

He lit the stub of a candle on a stool next
to his bed, and I dropped down to sit cross-legged on his bedroll.
I patted the spot next to me. “Sit. I can’t think with both of you
looming over me, and I’m too tired to stand anymore.”

Archer hesitated for a brief moment before
he finally sat. Ringo squatted with his back to the door and his
arms around his knees.

“As you say, my future self would be here
with you if I weren’t already here. That takes this visit out of
the realm of a social call. So, how can I help you?” Archer’s voice
had a clipped, formal edge to it that hadn’t been there when he
first saw us.

Ringo was silent, obviously waiting for me
to take the lead. So I bit my tongue against all the lame protests
his tone inspired and ran down the bare facts about the message
they’d be receiving tomorrow.

Archer’s gaze didn’t waver. “So, I’m to look
for a message about an Englishman named Landers leading a Werwolf
incursion into London, decode it, and pass it along to you.” Again,
his tone spoke volumes more than his words did.

I sighed. He was clearly annoyed, and I was
too tired to disarm it. “There’s a huge amount of back story to it,
but I’m afraid to tell you most of it because whatever you know now
could affect the future when it actually happens. And I’m feeling
pretty useless at the moment because I haven’t slept in way too
many hours. Can I just lie here for a minute and figure out what’s
safe to tell you?”

The hard edges around his eyes softened a
little as he stood and offered me his bedroll. “Of course. I’ll
leave my shift early so perhaps we can have a chance to talk before
I go down for the day.”

“I’d like that.” I smiled up at him. The
tenderness was back in his eyes, but I couldn’t shake the feeling
that I was on eggshells with this Archer. Then he looked at Ringo,
and the tenderness was gone again.

“I only have the one blanket, but I can find
a small rug for you if you’d like.” Archer’s voice was carefully
neutral, and Ringo responded with a smirk. He wasn’t letting Archer
put up any formality walls with him.

“Ye’ll remember yer lady talks in ‘er sleep.
If I’m to get any rest, I’ll need to find a cupboard for myself and
meet ye back in yer ‘ut at sundown if it’s just the same to
ye.”

My eyes were drifting closed, but I could
hear the smile in Archer’s voice. “Yes, she does talk in her sleep,
doesn’t she. Come, I’ll point you in the direction of a private
cupboard that could work.”

I was asleep before they’d even closed the
door.

“Archer?” I whispered into the darkness.

“Shhh, stay asleep,” he whispered back.

I reached for him, and I
was
still
mostly asleep. I found him sitting on the edge of the bedroll, and
I pulled myself into his lap before I gave it a second thought.
When he tensed, I realized my mistake and struggled to sit up. This
wasn’t my Archer, who held me close without hesitation, and who had
slept wrapped around me as often as we could find time to be alone.
I didn’t know this man, not really. Not yet. And fifty years was a
long time ago for him.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Nearly dawn.”

“Then you should lie down. I’ll sit.”

He hesitated. “Would you being lying next to
me in your time?” His whisper was so tentative it was almost
silent.

“Yes.”

I could hear the catch in his breath when he
spoke again. “Then we’ll share the bed.”

“Only if you shove all your Victorian
judgments about my morals down around your ankles.” I tried to keep
my whisper lighthearted, but I meant it.

“I don’t think—”

“Yes you do. But we haven’t done more than
sleep – actually sleep – together. Even seventy years from now you
have the crazy idea that we have to be married for anything to
happen.”

“We should be married,” he said quietly.

“
There’s
the Victorian in you. That’s
the one I’m talking about.” It’s hard to scoff a whisper, but I
pulled it off.

“No. I mean we
should
be married. I
should have married you fifty years ago.” His whisper dropped
again. “I wanted to.”

Instead of yelling
What is it with you
and marriage
? like I wanted to, I remembered that this Archer
and I had never had that conversation. So I took a deep breath and
said simply, “I’m too young.”

“And I’m too old.” His voice sounded sad.
“And the world is at war. And people are dying. And you are not in
your time. But among all the uncertainties in the world, of one
thing I am most certain. You are the reason I have the strength to
go on. Since we first met, every path I’ve chosen has been with you
imagined by my side, with the hope that someday we would walk a
single path together, find a place that is ours together.”

I couldn’t find the right words to respond,
and Archer reached for my hand to pull me close to his side. In
this position, I knew I’d be able to sleep again, and I settled
back into him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve had far too much time to
dwell on my feelings for you, and you barely know me. I find I’m
jealous of myself – of all the time and experience with you I will
have. Forgive my intensity.”

My chest was tight and I couldn’t breathe
properly, but the warm, spicy scent of his skin was like my home
and I felt myself begin to relax. “It’s okay. You’ve done it
before.”

“I have?” He sounded slightly less intense,
and I thought he might be relaxing into me, too.

“Yeah, I had just come back from my first
time in 1888 and your older self dropped a whole bunch of intense
emotions on me. God, I should have names for all of you. Victorian
Archer, Modern Archer. What should I call you?”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “If I
have my way, you’ll call me husband.”

I did eventually fall back to sleep, despite
the
husband
word that made me itch, and finally woke when
Archer lit his small lantern at dusk. He looked just like himself,
and a little like Cary Grant. I, on the other hand, felt like a
giant vacuum had sucked all the moisture out of my eyes, and rats
had taken up residence in my hair. I sat up, rubbed my face, and
struggled to finger-comb the tangles out. My hair was still at bob
length, which made it somewhat easier, but Archer picked up a comb
and turned my back to him so he could work through the knots. His
touch was so gentle, I felt myself melting into him. Fingers
running through my hair was my kryptonite, and Archer chuckled.

“You’re like a cat getting her fur stroked.
I almost expect to hear a purr.”

“Mmm, this is me, purring.” I sat up
suddenly and turned to face him. “Oh, right. You should know. I can
Shift into a Cougar, but I have to be wearing the Shifter family
artifact – this bone – to do it.” I pulled the leather cord out
from under my shirt and showed him the ancient carved bone.

Archer’s eyes widened in surprise, and not,
I hoped, disgust. “How does it feel, to Shift?”

Okay, not disgust, but I wasn’t sure why I
was even worried about that. Maybe because my Archer and I had
already been through so much together by the time he learned about
my feline nature, and this one only had a week in Ringo’s loft in
1888 to go on. “At first I hated it because I couldn’t control my
Cat. But I’ve been working with Connor and Mr. Shaw, and they’ve
been teaching me how to be a boss.”

“Shaw is your teacher?”

“Right. Descended from my father’s
brother.”

Archer nodded thoughtfully. “And Connor is
…?”

“A friend. Of both of ours. He came with us
to France …” I sighed. “Okay, here’s the thing. Once we have the
message, the plan is for us – me and Ringo – to go deal with
whatever there is to deal with on our own.” His mouth was already
opening to protest, but I cut him off. “Honestly though, I have the
feeling the two of us won’t be enough. But if you come with us,
trying to protect you from information you shouldn’t know yet feels
like sending you into battle with an unloaded gun.”

He regarded me steadily. “You once told me
my memories about you weren’t clear until you had set them in
motion, so why shouldn’t it work that way now? If, as you say, I’ve
already done these things without proper foreknowledge, you telling
me now is only going to clarify the memories of you telling me
about them for my future self. At the time we did the things, I
didn’t
know
yet.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You think it’ll be the
same thing?”

“I don’t see why not. Temporal rules seem to
have held so far.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see the
split.”

“The split?” He looked confused and
horrified at the same time.

So I told him. Or at least I gave him the
bullet-point version of Wilder escaping Tudor England with Tom,
then turning Tom into a Vampire and Clocking back to an alternate
timeline that Henry Grayson had created by capturing Joan of Arc.
We didn’t have time for a lot of detail, but the broad strokes were
pretty mind-blowing all by themselves.