The Bureau of Time (2 page)

The school.
She needed to find a phone, call for help.

But it was different this time. The other times, they had simply observed her – they had let her know they were there, but
this
time, the monster was pursuing her.
Why?
What possible reason could the faceless horror have for killing her? Her head spun, the sharp headache distracting her.

She tore her eyes away from the trees and threaded her way through the bleachers, entering the small stadium.

She had taken two steps onto the artificial turf when a rush of energy tore through the world with all the intensity of a bomb blast. She staggered, her hair billowing backward. There was a blinding flash of light and a torrent of snow and ash jetted past her. She raised an arm to shield herself, squinting into the white halo.

Two figures emerged from the center of the light, their faces waxy and blank. A horrified scream caught in Cassie’s throat, dying out as a startled gasp. The bright light faded, darkness rushing in to fill its place. A cold wind tugged at her clothes, the shallow cuts on her arms stinging.

The monsters stepped forward, steel knives held low.

She turned and bolted toward the far end of the field, her feet sinking into the artificial turf and melted snow. It felt like she was running through thick oil. Every step took more effort than the last, her legs burning, her lungs screaming for oxygen. She kept her eyes on the horizon, that strip of blue, the color of freedom—

Another burst of energy hurled her backward and she hit the ground. Red spots danced before her vision. She blinked into the blinding flash of light, her heart stopping dead when she saw a third assassin appear, a wicked grin stretched across its inhuman face. Cassie scrambled away, only to find herself surrounded by the other two attackers.

She gripped her forehead tightly as the headache intensified, a beacon burning in her mind, blazing with a furious intensity. A torrent of energy swirled across the football field, stronger than anything she had felt before. The invisible power gathered around the three monsters, ghostly lights flickering around their bodies, like a bright ray of sunshine through shattered glass.

Cassie looked between her pursuers, the faceless creatures gazing at her without eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” she cried, her voice breaking. Tears ran down her cheeks and her body quaked. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to fight and live, but what if this was inevitable, pre-decided by the invisible engine of fate? “Get it over with!”

In unison, the creatures tilted their heads to one side, like perplexed dogs. Why were they just standing there? Why hadn’t they attacked? Wasn’t that why they had been stalking her, waiting for the opportune moment? She balled her hands into fists, blinking through the tears. Was it just her imagination, or was that another bright light overhead?

The roar of a helicopter filled the air and a blinding searchlight set the world ablaze. Rotors whipped the field, powerful sheets of wind staggering the monsters. The creatures snarled, cowering from the approaching helicopter, and Cassie seized the opportunity. She pushed through a gap between two of the assassins and bolted toward the school, the searchlight illuminating the stadium with all the intensity of a miniature star.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw ropes descending from the helicopter, dark figures hitting the ground – men clad entirely in black, assault rifles slung across their chests. She let out a surprised cry as the newcomers opened fire, rifles rocking back into their shoulders. Gunfire cracked through the air, bullets pummeling the monsters. Thick ribbons of
black
blood curled through the air, and she watched, paralyzed with shock, as the monsters died.

Perhaps
died
wasn’t the right word – as the creatures fell backward, a dark hole opened from somewhere in their chests. The assassins’ bodies collapsed, consumed by a swirling black void, vanishing into a tiny pinprick of space. Only their steel knives remained, abandoned on the grass.

Another halo of light exploded a dozen feet away, the pulse of energy ripping straight through Cassie’s stomach. The assassin stepped forward quickly, its mouth curled into a thin snarl, knife plunging toward her; it was too close, she couldn’t move, couldn’t protect herself—

A black SUV tore across the football field, plowing into the monster and crushing it beneath the car. The doors slammed open and four men emerged, dressed in the same all-black clothing, with no patches or nametags to identify themselves. Cassie’s eyes found the youngest of the strangers, a boy about her own age, with gray eyes and bleached-white hair. The fiery beacon in her mind flared sharply, and she realized that the teenager was the source of the power.

Then she was surrounded by a dozen men and women –
soldiers, they must be soldiers –
with their guns pointed outwards, forming a protective circle around her. She caught glimpses of people in white HAZMAT suits collecting the assassins’ knives, placing them in steel boxes.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” someone asked her. She blinked, focusing on the young man standing before her. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen, but there were deep lines around his mouth that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a man twenty years his senior. His hair was sandy-blonde, and his green eyes darted all over her, lingering on the bloody scratches, his forehead crinkling in concern.

“Ma’am?” the soldier repeated. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Cassie mumbled, shaking her head. Inwardly, she thought,
And Ma’am is for my mother.

She never got to introductions.

The assassin appeared in the middle of an incandescent flash. Jagged shards of light speared outwards, glimmering off its knife. A wet splutter escaped the soldier’s lips, and his body straightened like a board, blood pooling through his shirt. The silver tip of the knife protruded through his chest and his knees buckled, his body crumpling to the ground.

The soldiers opened fire, catching the monster in a hail of bullets, but Cassie barely heard the roaring gunshots. She crouched beside the fallen soldier; his mouth was open in a silent cry for help, his lifeblood spilling onto the artificial grass. She had known him for less than thirty seconds – she didn’t even know his name, or who he and the other soldiers
were
 – but his death seemed far too cruel.
She
was the one the assassins wanted to kill – this blonde-haired teenager shouldn’t have died in her place.

Something burned inside Cassie’s veins, a powerful energy that rose up from a hidden place deep inside her core. She felt the universe pulse around her, the same invisible energy she had associated with the assassins now flowing toward her, becoming a fiery wave of heat that started at the base of her neck and washed through her body, racing toward her fingertips.

A ripple of energy burst from her body, and a solid wall of power raced across the football field, followed by a flash of light.

She blinked and the world had changed.

The black SUV raced across the field, plowing into the assassin. The doors opened, and four soldiers stepped out.

Exactly as they had before.

Cassie saw something like surprise flicker across the white-haired boy’s face, but she didn’t have time to think about it. The soldier – the one she had
just seen die
 – stepped in front of her.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Cassie didn’t know what was happening, but she let pure instinct guide her. She seized the soldier and pushed him to the ground, just as the assassin arrived in a rippling burst of light.

Pain erupted in Cassie’s chest as the assassin’s knife found its mark, burying hilt-deep into her ribcage. A bubbling cry escaped her, pink frothy blood spilling from her mouth. She sank to her knees, the agony overwhelming her. The edges of her vision darkened and the world became muted and gray.

In the darkness, she saw soldiers press around her; the white-haired boy crouched beside her, but the effort of keeping her eyes open was too much. She slumped forward, succumbing to the pain and the welcoming embrace of the dark oblivion.

THE HUNTED

“I never get used to this.”

“What’s that?”

“The ash.” Shaun Briars gestured at the dark flakes scattered through the snow, white and black drifting down over their heads. The anomalous weather was unpredictable, appearing briefly and vanishing moments later. Only the dark clouds remained. “Makes you wonder where it comes from.”

“
That’s
what disturbs you?” Operator Ryan Boreman snorted, stepping around a patch of slick ice on the sidewalk. “We kill Adjusters on a daily basis, and
ash
freaks you out?”

“It’s not natural,” Shaun replied, running a hand through his dyed-white hair, black particles fluttering away. “It smells strange too, not like wood ash. More like…burned rubber.” He suddenly felt nauseous and started breathing through his mouth.

“Enough talking back there,” Captain Tallon shouted, his voice hoarse from a lifetime spent yelling at soldiers. “We’re approaching the Spike Zone. I want radio silence, hand signals only.”

“Copy that,” Shaun replied, a thrill of adrenaline running through his body.

The Operators of Clockwork Unit formed a single line, their heads swiveling as they made their way down the quiet street. Their black combat gear melted into the shadows, their clothes deliberately plain – no markings, no ensigns. They were paramilitary soldiers, part of a secret war that didn’t officially exist. They were the last line of defense between American civilians and the monstrous Adjusters.

Captain Tallon gestured at the house on their left side and Clockwork moved swiftly across the manicured lawns. Snow lay in thick drifts, melting in the warm summer air; heavy footprints led away to the street – and smaller footprints too, uneven as though their owner had been running.

Shaun raised his rifle to shoulder level, staring down the iron sights, alert for the slightest flicker of movement in the long shadows. He reached out with his mind, activating his extra senses, searching for the telltale shift of Temporal Energy that accompanied an incoming Adjuster. In his mind, the world was fuzzy and filled with static, but far away in the distance, he could
feel
something, a tiny flame in the great void of the universe.

Is it possible?
A lump formed in his throat.
Or are we too late, again?

Another series of hand signals and the unit advanced up the driveway. The door hung loosely from a single hinge, creaking loudly. Shaun kept directly behind Ryan. The sandy-haired soldier was only a few years older than Shaun himself, but despite their similar ages, they couldn’t have been more different. Unlike the rest of his unit, Shaun possessed an innate power that gave him an edge over the Adjusters.

The same power that made him a target for them.

Tallon and Ryan stood on one side of the dark doorway, with Shaun and Agent Diego Fuentes on the other side. Fuentes – a Hispanic man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose – tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed to the house. Tallon confirmed the order.

Of course,
Shaun thought, with a sour taste in his mouth.
Send the Timewalker in first.

Shaun looked at Diego and gave him a single nod.

The agent slammed his boot into the door, swinging it back on the remaining hinge. Shaun moved into the house, hugging the right-hand wall, his muscles tightly coiled. His Affinity buzzed sharply, a headache spreading across the back of his head. Raw power lingered in the air, waiting for him to reach out and manipulate it with a single thought.

Shaun crossed the entrance, his eyes glancing over photo frames barely visible in the watery darkness. He saw a young girl with fiery hair, no older than seven or eight, smiling broadly at the camera, her parents on either side of her. He moved on, entering the kitchen, the room painted pale gray with light leaking through the curtains. The other operators followed, Agent Fuentes bringing up the rear. Shaun activated the tactical light on his carbine, illuminating the dark house and sending jagged shadows leaping across the walls.

The shock through his scalp was his only warning.

He jumped sideways at the last moment as the Adjuster teleported into the room with an explosion of light. The monster emerged from the bright halo, bearing down on Shaun, a steel knife aiming for his neck.

Shaun stumbled back, a sharp pain erupting in his shoulder. He fired his carbine, two short bursts, and inky blood splashed over the kitchen table.

The creature vanished into a pinprick of space, leaving behind its signature blade.

“Clockwork Actual, this is Clockwork Lead,” Tallon said rapidly, breaking his own radio-silent rule. He spoke into a small comm device clipped on his left ear, addressing the main headquarters of their agency. “We have had contact with the enemy. I need a Containment Team on my location, over.”

Ryan and Diego took the stairs to the second floor, tactical lights sweeping across the landing. They returned a few seconds later.

“Area secure,” Ryan announced, approaching Tallon. He wiped a hand over his face. “Somebody – or something – was definitely here before us. Look at the door.”

“Agreed,” Tallon said, his dark eyes darting toward the entrance. “Intel suggested a Timewalker here, so we—Briars, check yourself there.”

Shaun looked up. He followed the Captain’s eyes toward his own chest and saw blood spreading around his shoulder. He swore. The Adjuster had cut him, the wound at least an inch deep. The adrenaline of the fight had masked the pain.

He focused on the injury, drawing on the hidden energy of the universe, gathering it and compressing it with a single thought. He felt something activate in his body at a genetic level, and a wave of heat coursed through his veins like wildfire. As he watched, his muscles knitted back together with an odd sensation not unlike a zipper; his skin grew over again, leaving a thin white scar.

Just one of the hundreds that marred his body.