Stealing Infinity, page 35
Killian clutches me tighter, whispering, “I’m sorry, but please, just go with it for now,” then continues to push his lips against mine.
The guards pass, hurrying in the direction we came from, as Killian loosens his grip and starts to pull away, but not before I sink my teeth deep into his bottom lip.
“Good God!” he cries, depositing me back on my feet, and raising both hands in surrender.
“I don’t know how long you’ve been gone—” I glance over my shoulder as I make to flee. “But the rules have changed. You need to ask for consent.”
He wipes a hand dramatically over his mouth, as though erasing the kiss from his lips, or maybe he’s checking for blood—it’s hard to tell. “I needed it to look authentic.” He hurries alongside me. “Do you seriously believe the French can’t tell the difference? Not to mention there are blood spatters on your dress that my coat can’t hide—do you really want them to see that? And, for the record, judging by the way you kissed me back, and how quickly the guards moved on, I’m thinking they weren’t the only ones fooled.”
I start to argue that I absolutely did not kiss him back, when he laughs so hard I realize I played right into his trap.
“Is Natasha your real name?” He peers down at me from behind his mask.
“Isn’t Killian yours?”
“It is now,” he says. “A lot of us make them up. New life, new identity. That sort of thing.”
“I knew Elodie Blue was a fake,” I mutter under my breath, but Killian heard me.
“Elodie, huh?” He peers into the distance, whistles softly to himself. But not a sexy whistle, more like a here-comes-trouble kinda sound. And I make a note to get to the bottom of that, but later, not now. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name, or even wanted to.” Shaking free of the memory, he says, “Do you remember where you left it? The doorway, I mean. Because without the aid of the mask—”
I roll my eyes, annoyed that he’s treating me like some kind of amateur. I mean, maybe I am, but I’m not the one who’s been stuck here for God knows how long.
The second we’re out of the palace, I break into a run. But Killian’s legs are much longer, so for him it’s more like a jog.
“Up ahead,” I gasp, pushing my own legs to pump harder. When we clear a thick grove of hedges cut and manicured into perfectly submissive triangles, I catch sight of the statue marking the location of the portal and double my efforts, taking nothing for granted.
“Deceit?” Killian chases the word with a laugh. Unlike me, he’s not at all short of breath. “And let me guess—you think that’s a coincidence?”
He laughs even harder, and this time, it’s pretty clear it’s directed at me.
117
“You sure about this?” I ask as we start to close in on the gap between us and what I hope to be the glimmering doorway I can’t actually see. “You sure you want to go back to Gray Wolf?”
“On one condition.” He grasps my hand and moves before me, effectively blocking my path.
“You’re seriously trying to negotiate?” I huff, pressing a hand against my ridiculously tight bodice and struggling to steady my breath. “I mean, here—now?”
“Considering how I’m on your list of Gets, I think I’m in a position to bargain, don’t you?”
“How do you know you’re on my list?” I straighten my spine, smooth a hand down the front of my wreck of a gown.
Killian laughs. “Why else did they send you? To filch a gold ring from a duke?”
I roll my eyes and push past him, continuing toward the portal when I realize what he just said, and I whip around to gape at him. “That predator was a duke?”
I’m not sure why I’m surprised by the news. In addition to being an asshole, a predator, and a dangerously violent offender, he was totally arrogant and entitled. I frown at the memory, wondering if I’ve made a mistake by not ending him when I had the chance.
“The Duke de Valentois himself,” Killian says, jogging right alongside me. “Though not to worry, I’m sure he had it coming.”
“Worry?” I scoff, picking up speed. “I would’ve finished the job if—”
Killian grasps hold of my elbow, stopping me cold in my tracks. “It wasn’t your life to take,” he says, his voice earnest.
“And what about the groundskeeper?” I shoot back, watching as Killian cocks his head in confusion. “You didn’t have any problem leaving him to bleed out.”
Killian runs a hand across his chin. “The groundskeeper? Is that what you think he is?” He breaks into a laugh that roars through the night. It grows even louder when I shake my head and push past him again.
“For the record—that man was a Timekeeper,” Killian says, trailing just behind me. “And trust me, no one is going to miss him. As for the duke, he’s managed to make plenty of enemies, and it won’t be much longer until one of them finishes what you started. But not until after the duke impregnates his wife, who will then give birth to a daughter, who will ultimately go on to birth several more children, one of whom will make a significant, lasting impact on the world. And that, in a nutshell, is why I stopped you. Think of it like dominoes—you knock one down, you risk losing the whole line. Besides,” he says. “Offing dukes is not what you’re here for, now is it? There’s a reason Arthur told you my name.”
“You told me your name.” I shake my head. Ugh, what is with this guy? “Last time I was here, you gave me your handkerchief, claiming it was so I wouldn’t forget you. But really, you wanted me to show it to Arthur. Which means, you were already awake.”
He slips before me, and starts jogging backward, which instantly succeeds in annoying the hell out of me and delaying my progress. It’s like he wants to watch me blink right out of existence.
“If I gave you the handkerchief then, how could I have given it to you a few moments ago when we were back there?” He lifts an arm, gesturing toward the place where the whole bloody mess went down.
“Because I arrived earlier this Trip and…” I shake my head in frustration and say, “Whatever. None of that matters.”
“Then what does matter?” he asks, voice betraying a hint of amusement, which serves only to fuel my fury.
“Getting to the portal before it’s too late—obviously!” I cry. “I mean, exactly what sort of messed-up game are you playing?”
I charge past him, sprinting the rest of the way, until I’ve finally made it inside what I hope is the glimmering doorway, as Killian remains stubbornly just outside.
“Haven’t you ever had something for so long you stopped seeing the meaning behind it?” he says, and before I can reply, he pulls a sword from a sheath at his hip and tosses it onto the ground. “Speaking of, won’t be needing that anymore. If you want your claiming of me to look authentic, it’s better if I’m unarmed.”
“You had a sword?” My eyes flash wide, my voice rising in outrage. “That whole time?”
He laughs, jabs a thumb toward it. “That old thing? That’s just my party sword. Much smaller than the one I use in battle. Turns out, it was no match for your shiv.”
I roll my eyes, grab him by the arm, and pull until he’s finally standing right beside me. And even though I’m really not loving the idea of his company, the relief of having made it in time, with both Gets secured, sends a tsunami of tension rolling right out of me.
“Ready?” I ask, reaching for the sapphire that doubles as a clicker, just about to press it, when Killian stops me.
“What’s the rush?” he says.
“Are you joking?” I make a wide gesture. There are revelers everywhere, some of them too close for my comfort. “They can come after us any second, and then what?”
Killian looks around in obvious confusion, then settles on me. “There’s no one here,” he says. “It’s just us.”
“Oh, really? What about them—right over there!” I gesture past his shoulder and go on to describe the group of people who’ve spread a blanket near the bassin so they can enjoy a nice picnic on a beautiful spring day. One of them I easily recognize as Marie Antoinette.
Only just after I say it, I realize it’s not spring.
It’s not daytime.
This is nearly thirty years before Marie becomes queen.
Also, the ground beneath my feet is trembling ever so slightly. The only reasons the lights aren’t blinking off is because there is no electricity in 1745.
“Wow.” Killian’s voice snaps me back to the present, or at least this version of the present. “I didn’t see that one coming. Does Arthur know about your gift?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me with renewed interest.
“My…what?” My voice cracks, making me sound as shaky on the outside as I feel on the inside.
“Your ability to see through time.”
118
The Unraveling.
I look back to where I saw the tragic French queen enjoying a picnic with friends. She’s gone now, all of them are, but much like the girl in the maze my first morning at Gray Wolf, and my parents fighting in the kitchen over a pregnancy test, the memory lingers.
And yet, this is the first time I’ve peered into the future instead of the past.
Is it because I’ve traveled into the past only to catch a glimpse of its future?
“I’m not psychic, if that’s what you think.” I return to Killian. “If I was, I would’ve known better than to end up here.”
“No,” Killian says, regarding me carefully. “What you have is entirely different.”
“Maybe it was just a distortion of some sort…” My voice fades. We both know that’s not at all what it was.
“My advice?” Killian says, his head bent conspiratorially toward mine. “Don’t tell anyone what you can do.”
“But now you know.” I gaze up at him, breath caught in my throat, while I silently admit to a more horrifying truth: And I’m pretty sure Arthur knows, too. Isn’t that why I’m here?
“And so I do,” Killian says. The moment stretches between us, and I’m not sure how to read it. “Before you push that—” He gestures toward the clicker. “I need you to promise me something.” I guess I must look wary, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t forget you owe me. I saved you. Also, I’m the only one who knows your secret.”
“You can’t be serious!” I balk. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who made the weapon and beat the shit out of that duke.”
“Okay, okay.” He flashes his palms in surrender. “So you’re not exactly a damsel in distress, but you were in a full-on Fade, so—”
“Get to the point already. What do you want?”
“I want you to pretend that you’re returning me to Gray Wolf against my will.”
Now I’m confused.
“I want you to promise that when we arrive, you will hold that shiv to my neck, looking like you have every intention of using it. Same way you looked at the duke. Can you do that?”
“Why?”
“I need you to promise.”
“Fine. I promise. But at least tell me why, so I’ll know who or what it is that I’m up against.”
He inclines his head closer. In a grim voice, he says, “Everyone on that rock should be on your radar. Though I’m hoping after everything we just went through, you and I can be friends.”
I study him for a long, cool beat. But, since the eyes hold the key, and his are obscured by his mask, it’s hard to glean much of anything.
“Why do you want to return if you think it’s so awful?” I ask. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling this is not just fear of repercussion after what we did to the duke and the guard.”
He leans back, inhales a lungful of air. On the exhale, he bends toward me and says, “Because I’ll be the first. No one ever returns once they’re lost in the past. Mostly because Arthur never sends anyone to retrieve them. And the fact that you’re here leads me to believe he never knew I was lost in the first place, because someone lied and told him I was dead. Still, the plan works only if that person doesn’t suspect that I know.”
“There’s a plan?”
“You really think Arthur created Gray Wolf for the sole purpose of collecting trinkets and art? Everyone in that place has a plan, darlin’. Especially Arthur. And it ain’t about that.”
The way Killian said that makes me wonder if he knows about the Antikythera and Arthur’s plan to remake the world.
But what I say is, “Don’t call me darlin’.”
“Aw, I see.” His lips crack into a grin. “Looks like someone beat me to it.”
I roll my eyes. It’s a shame he can’t see it.
“Who lied—who left you behind? Is this about Elodie?”
Killian looks back toward Versailles, that beautiful jewel of a palace lighting up the night sky. Then he takes my other hand in his and says, “It’s about Braxton.” Before I can ask him to elaborate, he adds, “And, by the way, you were amazing back there. The way you kicked that duke’s ass was truly impressive. Also, for the record, while I apologize for the embrace, especially after everything you suffered with that asshole of a duke, you did kiss me back.”
Next thing I know, he pushes the sapphire, and we zoom two hundred seventy-five years into the future.
119
The second we land on the launchpad, I punch the blade so hard to Killian’s neck, blood begins to bead around the small wound at the tip.
“I said pretend,” he snarls through gritted teeth.
“That’s for the kissing comment,” I say. Then loosening my grip only slightly, I add, “This is for pretend.”
Killian clears his throat, adopts the posture of a guy who’s been dragged through time against his will. But to me, he whispers, “Well, he doesn’t change, now does he?”
I turn to find Arthur striding toward us, his gaze darting between Killian and me, but whatever he’s thinking is for him to know and for the rest of us to ponder.
“I was beginning to worry.” Arthur comes to stand before us. “You were running down the clock. But it looks like your Trip was successful after all.”
“Is this what you wanted?” I jab the tip harder, causing Killian to wince.
“Easy, tiger,” he mutters under his breath. Relaxing his stance only when Arthur lowers my arm and removes the weapon from my grip.
“I take it you ran into some trouble?” Arthur stops a moment to examine my hastily crafted blade before handing it off to Keane, who’s also joined us.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I smirk at Killian, but he’s too smart to respond.
“Are you okay?” Arthur bends his head in study, granting me way more interest than he gave to the weapon. But that probably has more to do with my disheveled appearance than anything else.
The honest answer would be, I’m not sure.
Possibly followed by a long list of reminders of how he purposely put me into a dangerous situation, to do a dangerous job, in a time when it was dangerous just to be a female in the world, let alone one accused of committing a crime.
I was assaulted.
Tossed into a cell.
Nearly raped.
And destined to die.
It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but I’m in no mood to relive it. For now, I’d rather focus on the triumph, and how with a little ingenuity and a streak of ferocity I never would’ve guessed at, I managed to survive.
To Arthur, I say. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He motions for Keane to escort Killian into the control room, while Arthur concludes our debriefing.
“He didn’t want to come.” I watch as Killian refuses to cooperate, forcing Keane to grab him by the arm and forcibly drag him away.
“But you managed to convince him.” Arthur offers me a seat, but I prefer standing.
“You going to tell me who he is?” I ask.
“He didn’t tell you?”
For a moment, I freeze. Does Arthur know we’re only pretending?
Maybe.
Probably.
Arthur knows pretty much everything. But I’m committed now, so I need to keep going.
“He told me his name is Killian de Luce, but it sounds made-up.”
Arthur barks out a laugh, a genuine, wholehearted sound. “And what about you?” he asks. “Are you happy staying as you are?”
I start to reply, but soon recognize the question as being much bigger than I first thought. Arthur’s not just referring to my name. He’s asking me to choose between the person I’ve become since my arrival at Gray Wolf versus the future self I’ve yet to discover.
I remember sitting in that jail cell back home, gazing into a future that offered little hope.
I remember how easily I surrendered my fate, first to Elodie, then Braxton, before ending with Arthur.
I remember watching my mom’s face light up at the sight of all that abundance, as my own meager existence was quickly dismantled.
The girl I was then lacked the courage to even try to shape her own destiny. She refused to listen when Mason insisted it wasn’t too late to write her own story, choosing instead to believe the lie she told herself, that she didn’t have the luxury of deciding her fate.
But according to Jago, the roads were already paved. There were numerous routes to choose from—plenty of ways she could’ve turned her life around. But she was too apathetic to put in that kind of energy, so she left it for others to make the choice for her.
The girl I once was could never have fought her way out of 1745. She lacked the courage to even attempt such a thing, much less return with the prize.
Twice I’ve found myself tossed in jail since this whole ordeal began, only the endings were so radically different, it’s ridiculous to even try to compare them.
