Waging War (44 page)

He opened the curtains and pushed me up.
“Go, or the rascal will eat all the food just to punish you.”

“You come too. I don’t want to face those
two alone.”

Archer stilled and looked at me carefully.
“Are you ashamed of our lovemaking?”

I stared at him. “What? No! I meant that I’m
going to blush like crazy, and I need you next to me so I don’t
turn into a complete idiot.” I pulled him up to stand in front of
me and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I love you, and I’m crazy
in
love
with you. I just want the whole war to go away so we can spend all
day together somewhere sunny and deserted.”

“Except for the day and sunny bits, I’m with
you.” Archer grinned.

My eyes opened wide. “Oh God, Archer, I’m
sorry.”

He touched my face gently. “Not as sorry as
I am, beautiful Saira. Nothing would make me happier than to see
you with the sun shining on your skin.”

My stomach clenched with guilt, and I turned
away to pull my clothes on. Archer watched me dress for a long
moment before he finally moved to pick up his own clothes.

I went to the door. “I’ll see you
downstairs?”

He smiled gently at me. “I’ll be down as
soon as I find another shirt.”

I left the room and made my way to the
stairs. I had lost my appetite and lingered in the staircase while
guilt churned my stomach acid into something frothy and gross. What
the hell was I doing, and what had I done? I was dreaming about
spending time someplace sunny with Archer when a: I had basically
told my modern Archer he couldn’t risk the cure to ever see the sun
again, and b: I wanted to go somewhere to spend time alone with
him? Which him? The one I had just married and shared the most
intimate touch privileges with, or the one I would be going back to
when this was all over?

I suddenly wanted to unzip my skin and step
outside it, because being me was too hard. I had no business
getting married – that’s what adults did, and frankly, I sucked at
adulting.

Archer appeared at the top of the stairs,
pulling on a simple linen shirt. The smile on his face faded when
he saw me paralyzed on the stairs. “What’s wrong?” He said it as if
he already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to figure it
out. He came down and sat on the step, then patted the place next
to him. I sat and leaned against him so I didn’t have to meet his
eyes.

“I suck.”

I could feel him hold back a smile. “In
general, or is there something in particular?”

I took a deep breath. I didn’t need to
protect Archer from myself – he was great at seeing the real stuff
through the murky crap. “What I said to you about sitting out the
war someplace sunny so we could just hang out – everything about
that statement is just so … loaded.”

He picked up my hand and laced his fingers
through mine. “You don’t know how to feel about being married to me
here, while I’m waiting for you in your time.”

My breath caught in my throat and I finally
met his eyes. “It feels so disloyal and weird to want to spend time
with you here … now. I should be doing everything possible to get
back home to you, but this …” I gestured around me with my hand.
“This feels like real life, and anything in my time is just …
happening without me.”

Archer lifted my hand and kissed my fingers
one by one. “I am me, no matter which time I’m in. And I’ll still
be me, and still your husband, when you go back to your time.
Whatever happens here and now between us will exist for me in
seventy years, so if anything, you’re giving me more to sustain me
through the years we’re apart.” He smiled at me, and his smile
untangled some of the knots in my stomach. “And if you need to go
back tomorrow, I’ll have your return to me then to look forward to
as well.”

I shook my head. “I just don’t know how you
can be the
you
that I met a year ago.”

He kissed my forehead. “I don’t either. But
we’ll figure that out when we get there.”

I searched his eyes. “You promise I’m not
screwing up?”

“Not with me, you’re not. Now, or then.”

My gaze was locked in his, and the last of
the knots slipped free. “When the time comes, Archer …” I took a
breath. “Do what you need to do about taking the cure. Whatever you
choose, I trust you.”

He held my face in his hands. “I love you
more than … I love chocolate.”

I barked a laugh and he grinned at me.

“That’s to the moon and back, in case you
were wondering.”

I kissed him playfully. “Since chocolate is
its own food group, I’ll take that compliment.”

He bit my lip. “Oh, you’re definitely your
own food group.”

I shrieked and jumped down the rest of the
stairs. “Ringo! Save me! I’m about to be dinner for a hungry
Vmmph—” Archer managed to catch me and kiss me before the word came
out, which was a good thing, considering the stare Rachel gave us
when we came crashing into the kitchen.

Ringo looked rested. Rachel did not. She had
deep circles under her eyes, and she wore sadness like a cloak
wrapped around her shoulders. She picked at a bowl of tinned beans
without much interest, while Ringo tucked into corn like it was his
birthday and this was his favorite cake.

I sat down across from her, and Ringo shoved
a bowl of peas in my direction. I stuck my tongue out at him and
then took a spoonful of the grayish mush anyway.

“How much do you want to know?” I asked
Rachel. She looked startled, and I shrugged casually. “We’re
clearly not normal, and your life just got very strange. Do you
want to know the whole story, or just roll with whatever
happens?”

Ringo stopped eating and seemed interested
in her answer. Archer just hung in the background so it wasn’t
quite as obvious that he wasn’t eating.

Rachel put down her fork and leaned her
chair back against the wall in a move I’d seen Connor and Ringo do
a hundred times. “I knew you would come,” she said simply.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You are not surprised.”

“Not if you knew to build that wall.”

“Why do I know things?” Rachel asked, in a
tone that said she’d been wondering for a long time.

I shot a quick look at Archer. He stepped
forward and spun a chair around to sit at the table. Rachel hadn’t
really noticed that he was moving without evidence of his injury,
and her eyes widened at the sight of him. He smiled. “I’m fine.
Thank you for your help, and you …” He turned a pointed look at
Ringo. “That was a huge risk you took with my blood.”

He shrugged with a grin. “What’s the worst
that could ‘ave ‘appened?”

“Excruciating pain and wasting death.”

Ringo raised an eyebrow, still grinning.
“Well, when ye put it that way, ye should probably not be getting’
shot again.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Archer turned his
smile toward Rachel. “If I had to guess, I’d say you and I belong
to the same Family.”

She sent him a completely disbelieving look,
and he then proceeded to give her the scholar’s rundown of the
Immortal Descendants, much the same way he had educated me when we
first met. I watched Rachel go through the same emotions I
remembered having. Fortunately, she seemed inclined to believe
things she’d already experienced, like Clocking locations and
Seeing the future. Having witnessed Archer’s injury and miraculous
recovery, she didn’t fight the idea of his lineage either.

Whatever food had been opened was gone by
the time we wrapped up our crash course in Descendants lore, and
the sadness seemed to have temporarily lifted from Rachel’s
shoulders. She was intrigued and fully engaged in the conversation,
and it was clear from her questions that she was not only fluent in
English, but had the same kind of inquisitive intelligence Connor
and Ringo had.

“Can I ask you some questions about
yourself?” I said finally.

“Yes, of course.” Her accent wasn’t just
French. There was something else underneath it.

“Why do you speak fluent English?”

She smiled. “My father taught me English and
German so I could read auto repair manuals.”

“Were you raised in France?”

Her expression didn’t change, but her voice
got a little tighter. “My mother died when I was born, and my
father took me to France because my grandparents tried to buy me
from him. When he refused, they threatened to take me by legal
force, so he left Poland.”

I stared at her. What was wrong with people?
Archer asked the next question. “Is that a Polish accent beneath
the French?”

She shrugged. “Possibly. My father also
taught me Hebrew so he could read to me from the Torah, because the
only time we could ever go to temple was on once-a-year trips to
Paris. I haven’t been for three years, ever since they sent him to
Drancy.”

“Where’s Drancy?” I asked.

“Just outside Paris. But they moved him two
years ago.”

“Where?”

“To a camp in Poland.”

“Do you know which one?” My expression must
have given away the sinking in my gut, because Rachel’s expression
tightened even further.

“Auschwitz.”

“Oh.” There was no part of me that could
force lightness into my voice.

“That’s bad, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a
question, but I answered it anyway.

“It’s not good.”

Ringo stood up suddenly. “Ye know, I think
we should go for a run.” He looked at Rachel. “I know a place ye
might like to see.”

I pushed back my chair. “Do you mind if we
come? I feel like I need to see what’s happened to this city.”

“To be honest, I’m feelin’ a need to make
sure London’s still standin’ too.” His eyes returned to Rachel’s.
“Can I give ye the whirlwind tour of my town?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ye look strong enough, but can ye run?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, and I liked
her a little more just because of that. “When you are a girl
dressed as a boy, and you don’t want to fight – you learn to
run.”

Ringo liked her for it too. “Sounds about
right.” He looked at us. “Ye ready? Let’s go.”

The run down the deserted streets of
Southwark felt like something from a post-apocalyptic movie, and it
wasn’t until we crossed London Bridge that we saw any signs of life
on the streets. There wasn’t a block that hadn’t been damaged in an
air raid, and some areas had more rubble than upright
buildings.

The worst was a bookstore, still filled with
a jumbled pile of books, missing its front wall. I decided to make
a game of it so I didn’t cry. Every pile of rubble was a new jungle
gym to be climbed, flipped over, or jumped off. Of course, Ringo
took to it immediately, and turned every new pile into a challenge
for me to match his moves.

Rachel had kept up with us easily, and about
five rubble piles in, she began to try some of Ringo’s moves. His
competitiveness switched on and off depending on whom he was
talking to. With me, it was all challenges, but with Rachel, he
took time to correct mistakes and give shortcuts. I hadn’t seen him
be a teacher before, and he was very good at it. He was also
leading us toward Aldgate, and when he finally stopped, it was in
front of an old, dark brick, square building.

“What is this place?” Rachel asked.

“The oldest synagogue in London,” Archer
said, smiling at Ringo, who nodded.

“That’s right. I used to let myself in to
practice chandeliers.”

“To practice chandeliers? What does that
even mean?” I scoffed.

He grinned. “Ye’ll see.”

Rachel’s eyes were wide and aimed at Ringo.
He smiled at her and leapt to the top of a trash container, then
pulled himself up the door lintel to the window ledge above it. He
pried the bottom of the window open and disappeared inside the
building in under thirty seconds. Rachel turned her stare to
me.

“He just entered a synagogue like a
thief.”

“Yeah. He’s sort of an equal opportunity
offender when it comes to private buildings. The first time I met
him he broke into Kings College for me. He’ll open the door in a
second so we can go in.”

She gasped. “I don’t think I can enter a
temple when it is closed.”

“It’s open now.” I pointed to the door Ringo
had just flung wide.

Archer held his hand out to Rachel. “Come.
Your faith sees this place as
schul
to learn, and as a place
of peace and worship. There are no hours for that.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Rachel allowed
Archer to lead her inside. I shot Ringo a grin as I walked past
him. “Nice one, Keys.”

He wiggled his fingers at me, then pointed
up as I entered the long room. I stopped in my tracks with a gasp
that echoed what Rachel had just done, but for a different
reason.

Hanging from the tall ceiling were seven
huge brass chandeliers, three on each side of the room, plus an
even bigger one hanging in the middle. “Are you kidding?” I said to
Ringo.

“I’ll show ye,” he said mischievously, but I
stopped him before he could jump up the altar.

“No!” I whispered fiercely. “I don’t think
she could handle that kind of disrespect. She’s having a hard
enough time being in here without the sight of you swinging from
the chandeliers.” Then I grinned at him. “But it looks like
fun.”

I looked over to find Rachel standing in
front of the main altar at the far end of the room. She was staring
up at what looked like Hebrew writing on two tablets at the top.
Archer had stretched himself out on one of the pews under the
biggest chandelier and was looking up at it with such a peaceful
expression on his face that I went to join him. I lay down so the
tops of our heads touched and our feet pointed in opposite
directions. The chandelier looked a little like a kaleidoscope from
that angle.

“It was good to bring her here,” Archer said
quietly.

I looked past my feet to where Rachel stood,
still staring up at the altar, and I saw her shoulders shake.