Timepiece, Page 4

  “Actually, there’s a lot to discuss.”

  “Go home, Kaleb,” she said, with barely concealed disgust.

  A couple of weeks ago, Ava and I had run into each other after school. Physically ran into each other. I’d tapped into her emotions against my will. She’d been wound so tight I went against my better judgment and asked her if she was okay. One word of kindness, and she’d spilled her guts. We’d ended up huddled together on the floor while she cried until all her tears were gone.

  Jack Landers did terrible things to her that no one deserved. Things she couldn’t remember, but could still feel.

  Until that day, I’d had no idea. We weren’t exactly friends now, but we weren’t enemies, either. I didn’t call her The Shining anymore, but things were at least twelve shades of awkward between us.

  I pulled at the roots of my hair, glad I’d started growing it out so I had some to grab in frustration. I tried again. “I know you don’t like me—”

  “And I’m your favorite person?”

  I stood my ground.

  “Fine,” she said. “Why are you here? Have you added sadomasochism to your list of extracurriculars?”

  “No. It’s about Jack—”

  She raised a long, skinny arm and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  “Stop cutting me off,” I yelled, instantly sorry when she flinched. I tried again in a lower voice. “You have to hear this. We called a truce, remember? All I’m asking for is a few minutes.”

  Her face remained blank. “I’ll give you three.”

  “He’s back.”

  She stared at me, her face going paler with every passing second. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see him? With your own eyes?”

  I nodded.

  She seemed to lose the strength to stand, and slid down the arm of the couch onto the cushion with a soft thump. “Where?”

  “Last night. He showed up at the masquerade party, but he was gone before I could get to him. Popped in and out. Not before he tried to take a shot at me. With a gun.”

  Across the room, a mug on a sideboard rattled and then jumped before slamming into the wall. Black coffee dripped down the patterned wallpaper.

  I stared openmouthed. I’d never seen any evidence of Ava’s ability in person.

  “What do you mean ‘popped in and out’?” she asked, ignoring the splattered coffee. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “I tried.” I explained Chronos and the ultimatum, but left out the part about Em and the throat slashing. “We have until Halloween to find Jack. Or we’re at the mercy of Chronos.”

  When she shivered, I handed her a sweater from the back of the couch. She pushed her arms into the sleeves and wrapped herself in it.

  “Hey,” I said in what I hoped was a comforting voice, “it’s going to be okay. He won’t get to you again. We won’t let him.”

  “How? Is someone going to be with me twenty-four/seven?” The remote rattled on the glass end table but stayed put. Ava closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. “Not just me, what about Emerson? What about about your mom? He worked here, for years. He knows this place inside and out.”

  Dread.

  “You’re alone out here,” I said in sudden realization.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  One of Ava’s roommates had graduated; the other two didn’t return to the Hourglass school for the year. Probably because of the whole “the school’s founder blew up in his lab and then came back from the dead and, by the way, your classmate killed him” thing. I made a snap decision. “I think you should move into our guest room.”

  “What?” Ava snorted in disbelief. Shock. A little bit of hope. “Are you drunk?”

  “Not right now.” I stared at the coffee stain on the wall. “What Jack did to you is wrong. The things he did to all of us are wrong. We’re going to have to get past it all if we’re going to find him, and you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” She shook her head. “Me, trust you?”

  “Please stop fighting with me all the time.”

  Abruptly, she stood and disappeared into the tiny kitchen, staying away long enough that I wondered if I should go after her. Then she returned with a handful of paper towels and dropped to her knees to wipe furiously at the coffee-stained wall.

  “Kaleb, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to fight with anyone. But you just asked me to trust you. What about you trusting me? How can any of you stand to look at me?” An ocean of desolation and loneliness waved across the room. “After everything that happened, how could you ask me to move into your house? I killed your father.”

  “The past is the past.” A world of hurt revolved inside her, so twisted I wasn’t sure how to respond. I stood, reached her in three steps, and kneeled down beside her. She stilled but didn’t meet my eyes. “What happened wasn’t your fault. It was Jack and Cat’s. They used you, forced you.”

  “That’s not true. How could I have done those things—pursued Michael that way, been jealous of Emerson to the point of hating her, tried to kill your dad—and succeeded—unless I wanted to?” There were tears in her eyes, and her skin was blotchy. “I had to want to, right?”

  “I don’t think we understand everything about Jack. We didn’t even know about his ability to steal people’s memories. Think about it. No one ever asked why he was here. Or maybe we did, and he took the memory away from us.”

  Ava picked up the now empty coffee cup and placed the remaining paper towels on the sideboard. “Taking too many memories without replacing them leaves a void.”

  A void like the one inside her. It was terrifying, the nasty, black, hate-filled pockets of self-loathing, the empty spaces where fear and doubt took up residence. Nothing changed her emotional landscape. Joy never managed to creep into the mix, overtake the darkness, offer hope.

  If my mom ever woke up, I wondered if she’d feel the same way.

  “Well, then, let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I took the coffee cup out of her hand and nodded toward her room. “Just start packing.”

  I’d carried the last bag to Ava’s new room in my house when my cell rang.

  “It’s Em,” she said when I picked up. She hadn’t waited for a hello, and she didn’t take a breath before continuing. “After the meeting today, Michael and I had an argument—I mean, a discussion—and now we need you to come downtown.”

  “I don’t do couples counseling.”

  She made a raspberry sound into the phone. “Just come meet us. Have you ever heard of Murphy’s Law Coffee?”

  Chapter 7

  I stepped into the coffee shop, and a bell rang over my head.

  I’d walked past Murphy’s Law a million times, but I’d never been inside. I wasn’t one for sitting, and sipping a hot beverage while chatting someone up wasn’t on my list of favorite things to do. Even so, I inhaled deeply, appreciating the mingling smells of baked goods and freshly ground coffee.

  Stunning framed nature photographs hung on every patch of the sunny yellow walls. Shelves were packed tight with new and used books, and a children’s section boasted low tables full of puzzles and toys.

  I found Em and Michael in the front corner of the room at a table surrounded by a grouping of overstuffed orange chairs. They reminded me of the giant toadstools from Alice in Wonderland.

  “What’s so mysterious you couldn’t share it over the phone?” I asked Emerson when I reached them. I dropped into one of the chairs and tried to relax against the fat cushions.

  “Nothing, now,” Em said, gazing out the huge plate-glass window, holding a tiny cup containing something very dark.

  Her voice didn’t hold a tenth of the energy I’d heard when she called.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I thought I had an answer. To the finding Jack thing.” She tipped the cup and drained it of its contents before placing it on the empty saucer in front of he
r. “But I was wrong. And stupid. And a terrible friend.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Michael reassured her, touching her lightly on the knee. “It’s not like you asked for a frivolous reason.”

  “She’d never ask me to do something like that.” The trust she had in him—the trust they had in each other—was so intense that I felt alien and intrusive.

  I rapped my knuckles against the table, wishing I had something productive to do with my hands. “I can go … if you need me to …”

  “No, don’t leave,” Michael said. He inclined his head slightly away from the table. “Just give us a second.”

  I followed the smell of baked goods. Even though the building had obviously been around for a while, everything in the place was neat and organized, from the highly polished floor, which was stained a dark chocolate brown, to the selection of books in the bookcases. I reached the bakery display case and leaned down to peer through the impeccably clean glass.

  I spied a sight that enticed me way more than any éclair or doughnut ever could.

  I’d know that back end anywhere. Just last night, my hands had been on it.

  Tiger Girl was behind the counter.

  Knowing she most likely hadn’t forgotten or forgiven, I stayed down and tried to figure out how to escape without belly crawling to the exit. Then she moved out of sight, and I heard the swinging door to the back of the shop open and close.

  I stood and shot back to the table. Emerson and Michael looked up at me in surprise. “You know what? I need to go. Can we meet up later? I’ll find you. Okay.”

  Their focus shifted to something behind me, and I cursed under my breath.

  “Em, can we talk in the back for a sec? I feel like I need to explain,” Tiger Girl said, her husky voice insanely close to my right ear. “I’m so sorry—”

  Em interrupted. “No, I am.”

  Tiger Girl knew Emerson. Emerson knew Tiger Girl.

  When she noticed I hadn’t moved, Em started to make introductions. I shook my head furiously and eyed the front door. So close, yet so far.

  Em ignored me. “Lily, I want you to meet my friend Kaleb. Kaleb Ballard, this is my best friend, Lily Garcia.”

  Best friend. Awesome.

  I turned to face her and all brain function ceased. Long dark hair knotted on top of her head, skin like butter, and curves that begged me to reach out and touch, all combining to completely obliterate the memory of her solid smack across my face.

  For the first time in my life, the morning reality was exponentially better than the fantasy of the night before.

  When I found my voice again, I said, “I’m Kaleb. And I’m also sorry.”

  Lily leaned her hip against the side of Em’s chair, crossed her arms, and stared at me with hazel eyes. “Not so nice to meet you, sorry.”

  “How do you two know each other?” Em asked.

  Lily’s nuclear gaze remained steady. “Remember how I told you about the guy grabbing my junk right before that lunatic took the stage with his gun?”

  “No,” Em breathed. “Kaleb, you didn’t.”

  “Oh, but I did.”

  “Are you hungover?” Lily asked me. Not in concern. Her hair slipped out of the loose knot to fall around her shoulders.

  I shook my head and tried not to pay attention.

  “Too bad. So.” She looked at me with the perfect combination of disinterest and disdain. “How is it that you happen to know my best friend?”

  The hissing and whirling of the coffee machine behind her stopped, and the shop held its breath.

  “His dad is Liam Ballard.” Em, eager to diffuse the situation, hurried to answer for me. “The man Michael and I went back in time to save.”

  “The director of the Hourglass? Oh crap.”

  Lily dropped into an empty chair, and the shop exhaled.

  “She knows?” I asked Em.

  Lily’s frown started in her eyes, spreading to her forehead and mouth like an afterthought.

  Em worded her answer carefully. “She knows about the time travel thing, and what happened with your dad, and about the purpose of the Hourglass. I got permission from your dad to tell her that much.”

  So she hadn’t given Lily specifics about other people’s abilities. Hopefully.

  “What does he know about me?” Lily asked.

  “Nothing,” Em answered.

  “Nothing,” I repeated. “At all.”

  Lily looked up at me balefully. “Except how my ass feels in your hand.”

  A group of older women spilled into the shop, chattering in delight. Tourists, definitely, here to antique shop and soak up small-town atmosphere.

  “I need to get back to work,” Lily said, scooting to the edge of her chair. “Pumpkin Daze is starting, and I have to stock the pastry case so I can go hand out candy.”

  “Do you need me to stay and work?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Call me?” Em asked.

  “After my shift.” She lifted her arms to adjust the apron strings around her neck, and then shook out her hair before catching it up in another knot. She caught me looking.

  “What?” I asked, with a failed attempt at innocence.

  “Did you need me to stand up? Twirl around?” Lily stuck her index finger in the air and made a spinning motion.

  I had the good sense to respond by mumbling, shaking my head, and staring at the floor.

  Chapter 8

  Emerson’s expression was priceless as we filed out of the shop onto the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you grabbed Lily’s … You know, Kaleb, maybe you should start drinking organic milk. It has less hormones.”

  The town square teemed with people and energy. The fall festival ran for the whole month of October, kicked off by the masquerade. Today was the Town Trick or Treat, and little kids rushed around everywhere, holding out bags and taking candy from shop owners and employees. A cauldron with individually wrapped chocolates sat unattended in front of Murphy’s Law.

  “Exactly how much does she know about the Hourglass?” I asked Emerson.

  A tiny ballerina in a purple tutu danced up and held out her bucket. I scooped some chocolates from the cauldron and gave her two. She smiled up at me with sparkly pink lips, exposing the space where her two front teeth should have been.

  I gave her the whole handful.

  “Lily knows everyone at the Hourglass has a time-related ability,” Em answered. “But I kept the details to myself.”

  “We gave her specifics about travelers, but we didn’t go into anything else,” Michael said. His cell phone rang, and he read the caller ID. “Be right back. Hello?”

  “Why were you and Lily apologizing to each other?” I picked up the cauldron and passed out more candy to a couple of boys with king-sized pillowcases bursting at the seams.

  Em stared at Michael’s back and sat down on a bench flanked by flowerpots filled with yellow mums and purple pansies. “I can’t really talk about that.”

  Even though I could sense emotions, I didn’t always know the cause of them. When someone was angry, it could be directed at me, something I did, or it could be because the Yankees won. If someone was afraid, it could be because of a social situation or because they were awaiting the result of a medical test. I hated never being sure.

  Like with Em right now. I didn’t understand why I felt fear from her, especially fear wrapped up in guilt.

  “Why can’t you talk about it?” I asked.

  She dug at the concrete with the toe of her sneaker. “It would mean betraying a confidence. Not that I don’t trust you … it’s just … I can’t.”

  I picked a piece of candy out for myself. “But Michael knows?”

  Em hesitated for a brief second before answering. “Well, I had to tell him.”

  “Sure you did.” Putting the cauldron back in its chair, I smiled thinly at her, turned on my heel, and walked away.

  “Kaleb, wait!”

  I’d just crossed the square, weaving thr
ough craft booths bursting with canned vegetables and jars of jam, as well as homemade candles and really creepy-looking dolls, when Emerson caught up to me in front of the Ivy Springs Cinema.

  She grabbed my arm. “Please.”

  Her face was so vulnerable, just like it had been the second before Poe had cut her throat open. The memory of her bleeding and broken on the ground made me soften. “What?”

  “Michael’s known about this particular situation for a while…. I’m not trying to hide anything from you on purpose. But I promised to keep a confidence and I can’t break it.”

  Her raw honesty almost leveled me. This girl wouldn’t know betrayal if it punched her in the face. “You’re excellent at keeping your word. Aren’t you?”

  Her hand was still on my arm. “I’ve never told him how you took the pain from me when we thought he was … dead.”

  “You mean how I tried to take it.” I’d been completely willing to carry her grief for her, but she’d stopped me.

  “What happened was between us,” she said. “And it’s not like it was a betrayal.”

  I knew part of her felt it was. Taking emotion from someone was intensely personal. It created a strong bond. And with Emerson, it was a bond I didn’t want to break, even though I knew I had to.

  “You can tell him. I want you to. It was your pain, your business,” I argued, when she started to disagree. “It’s your place to share that, not mine.”

  “Only if you promise to talk to him about it after I do.”

  I nodded. She’d tell him how it connected us. I’d have to promise to disconnect it.

  “Soon. And you need to talk to your dad, too. After the way you argued with him today—he just wants what’s best for everyone.”

  “I’m not ready to talk to my dad.” I stared at the line of movie posters on the brick wall in front of the theater. They must have been running a revival of some sort, because all of the posters advertised black-and-white films, with the exception of Gone with the Wind.

  “He loves you. He’s proud to have you as his son. His only son.”