“About as much as anyone who isn’t a Cyrist, I guess. They’re pretty secretive—but I’ve known a lot of members, both here and abroad. They’re everywhere in Peru. Not quite as numerous as Roman Catholics, but it’s a close call. I don’t like it when they try to lecture me on ‘The Way,’ especially when they seem so genuinely worried that ‘The End’ is near. But otherwise they seem harmless enough. And they do a lot of educational work with the poor and other charities, so…”
I explained about Saul’s creation of Brother Cyrus and the Cyrist International, and as I expected, Trey’s reaction was pretty much the same as mine had been. It was hard to fathom how an organization that had, in our view, existed long before we were born could have possibly been formed in just the past year.
“But you know,” he said, considering the possibility, “if you wanted to build a power base that was outside the scrutiny of the government, a religious organization gives you a lot of room to maneuver. And the Cyrists have an odd mix of liberal and conservative views—the purity pledge, and then women can be ordained, but they have to marry another ordained minister. Most of the temples are led by a family, with control passed down from one generation to the next.”
He paused, pointing at the CHRONOS medallion on my chest. “So if you took that thing to a Cyrist temple, you’re saying that they would see it the way you do? And that they could use it?”
I nodded. “The leaders of the temple, yeah. Or at least that’s the theory we’re going on. They’d be able to power the diaries, too.” I walked over to the table, then picked up Katherine’s personal diary that I been listening to earlier and opened it. As with Charlayne, Trey could see the scrolling text, but he couldn’t make it scroll.
I pulled my hair back a bit and removed the small disk from behind my ear. “Want to try it?”
“Sure.”
My fingers brushed the side of his face as I reached up to tuck the little disk into the hollow between his ear and jaw. He pulled my hand toward him once the disk was in place, pressing the skin of my inner wrist against his lips. “You smell wonderful.”
I blushed, and tried to slow my pulse. “It’s probably the jasmine soap…”
He smiled, shaking his head. “The jasmine is nice, too—but it’s mostly you. And this is going to sound crazy, Kate, but I missed you from the moment I left.”
“I missed you, too.” I looked down, still a bit embarrassed. Trey tilted my chin up until our eyes met and then he kissed me, his lips soft against mine. I leaned into him slightly, thoroughly enjoying the tingle that pulsed through me at his touch.
It took several seconds for me to notice the gentle scratching at my knee. When I pulled away from Trey, Daphne took a step back from the two of us. Her head was tilted to one side, a quizzical look in her soft brown eyes.
Trey laughed and scratched her behind the ear. “I think we have a chaperone. Yes, Miss Daphne. I’ll behave.” He looked back at the diary. “So… what is this ear thingy supposed to do? I don’t see anything…”
I gave him a half smile. “And now we know for sure that you don’t have the CHRONOS gene. I was seeing a video of a much younger version of my grandmother, filmed in 2305, explaining in pretty graphic detail what she was going to do to a coworker who wouldn’t stop using her tea mug.”
“I just see a bit of writing and some squares, there… and there.” He removed the disk from behind his ear and faked a sad look. “Guess I can’t be part of the secret club then.”
“You say that as though it’s a bad thing.” I took the disk and pressed it back into place behind my own ear. “If you could operate this, they’d put you to work memorizing half a million jump locations—or stable points, as they’re called. I feel like I’ve spent the day in a rather odd history class. As I’m reading Katherine’s historical diaries, every now and then I’ll see a question that Katherine asked, like, ‘Who is the Infanta?’ or ‘What is a simoleon?’”
“In SimCity, a simoleon is money,” Trey interjected.
“Yes—it was slang for a dollar back in the late 1800s. Anyway, I couldn’t understand why she was writing the question when the answer was right there on the page.”
“Maybe they have like a 28G network in the future and they just texted her back?” he suggested. “Seems unlikely, but…”
“The answer is actually really simple, if you’re not thinking in a straight line. See this button—oh, no, I guess you can’t.”
He made a face at me.
“Sorry!” I gave him an apologetic smile. “At any rate”—I pointed to a section of the display that he couldn’t see—“when Katherine or the other historians pushed that button, the diary recorded the question. At the end of the trip, the historian returned at a set time, but the diary itself was set to return twenty-four hours prior to the time that the historian left on the trip. As long as Katherine made it back to CHRONOS as scheduled, each time she jotted down a question in the diary, a response would pop up because the question had already been answered by the researchers during that day before the trip began.”
“Okay—that kind of makes my head hurt.”
“Welcome to my world.” I grinned. “The bad news is that I can’t use that neat little trick. The date can be altered, but Katherine is pretty sure that the diaries are hardwired to return to the CHRONOS research department. She tried to send a message when she got stranded and the diary just disappeared. Poof. So when I go, I’ll have to rely on the information that’s already in the book or in my head.”
“So you’re really going to be… using that thing soon?” He gestured toward the medallion, with a note of concern in his voice.
“Yes, although Katherine says that it will be short local hops initially. There are a dozen or so stable points in the DC area and I’ll just do a quick shift there and back—a few hours or maybe a day ahead. That sort of thing.” I sounded more confident than I felt. “But even that’s a little while out.”
“And how exactly are you going to change things? How are you, all alone, supposed to be able to restore the timeline? I mean…” He shook his head slowly, a very skeptical look on his face.
I shrugged. “We’ll figure out when they killed Katherine—and then I’ll warn her and try to get her to return to CHRONOS headquarters before it happens. I’m sure they had—will have?—some sort of emergency return-to-base protocol. We haven’t really gotten that far.”
“You said the guy on the Metro—the one that mugged you—was armed.”
“Yeah, I think so. At the very least, he wanted me to believe he was armed.” I paused. I was torn between kind of liking the fact that Trey sounded protective and not wanting him to think I was totally helpless.
“But if the Metro hadn’t been crowded,” I continued, “and if I hadn’t suspected he had a gun, I would have tried to flip him. I’ve been taking karate since I was five. I have a brown belt. Or at least I had one… I guess that disappeared, too.”
“Really?” His voice was serious, but his eyes were clearly laughing. “Think you can flip me?”
“I could,” I teased. “But on a marble floor? You’d crack your skull when you hit. And we would scare poor Daphne. She’s still looking a bit concerned from… earlier.”
“I want a rain check, then. You don’t look like you could flip anything much heavier than Daphne. No offense.” He grinned at me. “Prudence Katherine Pierce-Keller, time-traveling ninja.”
“Oh, ho… funny.” I laughed and then faked an angry look. “Lawrence Alma Coleman the Third clearly likes to live dangerously.”
Trey’s smile lingered for a moment and then his eyes grew serious. “No, Kate, not really,” he said. “And I think I’d be happier if you didn’t have to, either.”
The next few weeks fell into a pattern. I spent my mornings reading the mission diaries that seemed the most likely targets for Katherine’s murder. In the afternoons, I would focus on memorizing the stable points, and by the end of the second day, I had begun trying to pull up visuals of local stable points while holding the CHRONOS key. On the occasions I managed to hold the focus steady, I could see a holographic display. If I moved my eyes carefully, the medallion picked up those movements and I could adjust the digital display to set a date and time.
Within a week, I’d become pretty good at locating the specific stable points and even setting the time display. I had also learned how to set a new location—in this case, two points within the house—although this was, Connor said, not something you wanted to do unless you knew for certain that those points would remain stable. Otherwise, you might materialize over an empty elevator shaft or in the middle of a busy freeway.
Katherine said I was making incredible progress, but I found it frustratingly difficult to maintain focus with the medallion. At first, while holding it, I found myself repeating what had happened in the kitchen, when Dad was there—I would zip through a series of scenes, overwhelmed by sensory input and the absolute clarity of what I seemed to be seeing and hearing. On several occasions, I was again in the field with Kiernan. Watching him, feeling his warm skin beneath my fingers, was downright unnerving and I immediately put the CHRONOS key down and moved on to a different task when this happened.
And even though it was probably irrational, as the days went by, I found myself feeling disloyal and a bit angry at myself when Kiernan’s face appeared. Trey’s visits were the only thing I had to look forward to, especially since Katherine and Connor were adamant that I wouldn’t be leaving the house at all for the time being. Trey came by most evenings and on weekends as well, and we would work on his homework or he’d bring DVDs. There was no TV in the house, so we ordered pizza and watched the movies in my room on the computer—at least Katherine wasn’t a prude and allowed us some privacy. Even Daphne had begun to relax a bit in that regard.
Trey was funny, smart, and handsome—everything I would have looked for in a boyfriend. (Although, as a little voice in my head that sounded a lot like Charlayne pointed out, I had rarely given guys with hair as short as Trey’s a second glance.) It was wonderful to curl up next to him, watching the Man in Black and Inigo Montoya battle left-handed atop the Cliffs of Insanity, or laughing at Shrek and Donkey or some silly comedy Trey had rented. He was clearly picking movies that he thought would make me smile and, at least for a short time, help me escape my present reality. I eventually satisfied his curiosity about my karate skills by flipping him—after setting out a pile of cushions and making sure Daphne wasn’t around to object. Trey then pulled me down beside him when I tried to help him up and discovered my own personal kryptonite—terribly ticklish feet.