The Bureau of Time (3 page)

“All better, sir,” he said. “What should we—”

His sentence was cut short by a voice in his own comm device, the same message relayed to the whole unit.

“Clockwork, this is Eaglepoint. Please be advised, abnormal Temporal Activity, half a kilometer to your west. Repeat, abnormal Temporal Activity, expect enemies in the AO—”

Shaun was already halfway out the door, Tallon shouting behind him. The rush of blood in his ears drowned out the Captain’s words. His heavy boots hammered onto the sidewalk as he raced toward the SUV parked a few houses away.
No, no, no. This can’t happen, not again, please no…

“Briars! Slow down!” Diego bellowed, coming up beside him. “Shaun!”

“I’ve seen this happen before!” he yelled, coming to a stop, color rushing into his cheeks. He felt a pang of fear in his gut, mixed with a desperate urge to find the Timewalker he knew was in danger. He could
feel
them, in the static at the base of his skull, he could
feel
that beacon in the dark. He knew there was another person like him, somewhere close by, and they were in trouble. How he knew that, he couldn’t say – it was just a feeling, as though a great tragedy was about to occur and he would, once again, be powerless to stop it.

“Shaun,” Diego said, lowering his voice as the other operators approached. “This isn’t like Hayden, I promise.”

“How is it not?” Shaun was almost shouting. “Bad intel that leads us astray, and by the time we find the Timewalker, they’re—” He stopped, unable to say the word
dead.

“I know,” Diego said, his words rolling with a Latino twist. His expression softened. “This is different though, trust me.”

It was an empty, unfulfillable promise, but he accepted it anyway. If the Adjusters wanted to kill somebody, there was very little that Shaun, or Diego, or the rest of the agency could do to stop them.

But they had to try anyway.

“Eaglepoint says the Spike is at the high school,” Tallon shouted, jumping into the driver’s seat of the SUV. “Everybody in, let’s go!”

Shaun climbed into the backseat alongside Ryan. The door swung closed and Tallon planted his foot, performing a quick U-Turn that almost took out somebody’s mailbox. Shaun reached out with his Affinity, trying to identify the Timewalker. It had been months since the incident with Hayden, months since they’d had even a tiny sliver of positive news. They were vastly outnumbered and outmatched by the Adjusters, and the assassins were always a step ahead, hunting the fledgling Timewalkers.

Tallon hung a right-hand corner so sharply that Shaun smacked into the dark-tinted window, his jaw rattling with the impact. The Captain made no apologies for his driving, weaving in and around traffic, yelling into his comm device as they hurtled toward the school.

“Clockwork Actual, what’s the ETA on air support?” Tallon shouted, ignoring a red light and narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Shaun winced as a car swerved to avoid them, and a moment later, he heard the crunch of metal as the civilian car rear-ended a truck.

“Clockwork Lead please be advised, air support is thirty seconds away,”
the response came. Right on cue, Shaun saw the black gunship overhead, white searchlight pointed over the football stadium.

They turned toward the school, and Shaun felt her.

He instantly knew the Timewalker was a girl. It was yet another function of his Affinity – his mental ability to sense Timewalkers and Adjusters. His Affinity spiked, losing its undefined edge, pointing him directly toward the girl’s signature – her own unique pattern of energy that identified her in the universe.

“Brace for impact!” Tallon roared. The SUV tore across the school grounds, rocking the operators around, but Shaun’s eyes were fixed on the sight ahead of him.

He saw it all, a single moment in time.

The gunship hung over the pitch, the searchlight illuminating the soldiers streaming across the field. He saw the swirling voids of dying Adjusters, their knives tumbling to the ground.

And he saw
her,
the Timewalker. Even from a distance, he could feel the energy swirling around her body, her red hair fluttering as an Adjuster teleported into existence just feet away from her.

The SUV slammed into the teleporting Adjuster and came to a screeching halt.

Shaun threw the door open, swinging his boots onto a thin layer of snow and ash. He felt a sharp tug inside his gut, and a powerful feeling of déjà vu swept over him.

I’ve never been to Hermitage in my life
.
So why does this place feel so familiar?

Ryan was already in front of the girl, the other soldiers of the Temporal Operations Division swarming around her, carbines and shotguns pointed outwards in a defensive ring. The helicopter touched down, sheets of wind buffeting Shaun and nearly knocking him over.

Containment personnel in HAZMAT suits carefully removed the Adjusters’ weapons, locking them away before the public, or the media, could find them. It was bad enough that the media were usually on location to film the strange weather conditions. The world didn’t need to know about Adjusters – and the Bureau wanted to keep it that way.

Shaun moved toward the girl, noticing her pale skin and fiery hair. There was something beautiful about her, despite the grime and sweat coating her face; and through the fear in her electric-blue eyes, he could see her determination to live burning brightly.

He was too distracted to notice the shift in the universe, and when the light exploded in front of his eyes, he was too slow to react. The girl grabbed Ryan and shoved him to the ground with surprising strength; the Adjuster lunged, its knife plunging deep into her chest.

An agonizing pain struck the back of Shaun’s head, like someone had pushed a needle straight into his brain. A high-pitched whine filled his ears, an alert system inexplicably linked to the dying girl. An unbidden roar of anger escaped his lips, directed at the faceless monster.

The other soldiers turned to attack the Adjuster, but it was Shaun who made the first move. His clenched fist collided with the back of the monster’s head in a satisfying crunch of bone against bone. The creature stumbled, snarling with surprise; Shaun ignored his gun and pulled a combat knife from his thigh, bringing the weapon around in a single, smooth motion, jamming it straight into the Adjuster’s jaw.

Inky blood cascaded over his hand and the monster howled as it staggered away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the assassin disappear into a swirling vortex of darkness.

Shaun knelt on the ground, the pain intensifying in his mind. The red-haired girl lay dying on the artificial grass, blood pooling around her body and soaking through her shirt.

“We need a medevac,
now
!” Tallon bellowed, his voice breaking through the clamoring shouts as the soldiers formed around the two Timewalkers.

“She won’t make it!” Shaun answered, grimacing through a headache. “She needs help
now,
or she’ll die!”

“There’s a local hospital,” Tallon said. “But they won’t have the help she needs. The knife’s penetrated her lungs. There’s nothing we can do for her.”

“Don’t say that!” Shaun snarled, but his anger wasn’t directed at Tallon. He had already seen one Timewalker die – one too many.
No more.
He had made that silent promise to Hayden’s ghost, a promise he intended to honor for as long as he lived. “I think I can heal her.”

“That’s impossible,” Ryan argued, on his feet again. “You can only heal yourself – you know that.”

“I have to try,” Shaun murmured, more to himself than anybody else. He had never attempted it before, never even contemplated it. But right there, crouched on the grass, his pants soaked with the fading lifeblood of an innocent Timewalker, he
knew
he could do it. The painful headache was gradually lessening, but it wasn’t comforting – he was losing her.

Shaun closed his eyes and placed his hands on the girl’s chest, either side of the wicked blade impaling her body. Would it be the same? He had Timewalked his injuries hundreds of times before – everything from minor scratches and broken teeth to a fractured arm.

Silence surrounded him. The operators gathered around, as though expecting a Biblical miracle. He blocked them out, focusing on the girl’s face, on her closed eyes. He imagined those piercing blue eyes opening, the spark of life flickering once more.

Shaun drew on the latent Temporal Energy hanging in the air, his body becoming a magnet for raw power. The static in his mind buzzed louder again, turning into a roaring ocean crashing against the rocks of his subconscious.

Nothing.

The girl remained lifeless and limp, her body cold. Her blood was congealing, forming a wet paste on his palms.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We tried our best.”

Shaun balled his hands into fists.
No. I refuse to accept that.

He refused to accept that he had failed, that he had lost another Timewalker. He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t be the last Timewalker – he would not
allow
it. Rage bubbled up inside of him, rage at the Adjuster and at the injustice of the world. The universe quickened around him, time altering its pace to match the energy humming through his bones. He yanked the knife out of the girl’s body, the blade coated in dark ichor; he threw the weapon aside and planted his hands on her chest again.

A rush of heat stormed through his body, starting at his feet and ending in his extremities, the heat of life itself pouring into the girl. Shaun gritted his teeth, every cell in his body screaming with effort. A low roar escaped him as he compressed Temporal Energy into the Timewalker’s body. The universe responded to his command, amplified by his proximity to the dying girl, his fingers burning as though he had placed them in the heart of a fire.

The headache cut off abruptly and the static turned to silence.

Shaun lowered his hands, the energy fading away as quickly as he had summoned it. He sagged forward, sweat coating his brow. The onlookers stood without comment, watching from a wary distance.

There was a spluttering cough, and the girl opened her eyes.

THE SAVED

A white-haired boy crouched over her, his hands stained red. Loud shouts filled her ears, but she couldn’t make out the words. She was placed on a stretcher and an oxygen mask slipped over her face. The world swam around her; she couldn’t focus clearly. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, time had skipped forward.

She was inside a large helicopter, fierce-looking men with assault rifles sitting on either side of the stretcher. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she saw an I.V. line feeding into her forearm. Panic seized her, tempered by a drug-induced fog seeping through her mind. She tried to pull the line out, but her limbs refused to respond to her commands. The drugs overpowered her and she lapsed into unconsciousness again.

When Cassie finally awoke, all she could see was a blinding light.

She blinked rapidly, her vision returning to her. She was laying on a hospital bed, inclined in a semi-sitting position. The I.V. line was still attached to her left arm, a clear liquid dripping from a bag. Sticky electrodes had been placed on her chest, with small cables leading back to an ECG machine. Her heart rate beeped steadily, the only noise in the small room.

She moved under the sheet and realized she was wearing nothing but a thin gown – she instinctively crossed her legs together, pulling the sheet closer to her body.

The ECG beeped quicker. Confused images and half-formed memories flashed before her eyes – the faceless monster, the young man dying in her arms, the knife twisting into her ribcage. She brought a hand to her chest, but there was no knife there, only the ghostly reminder of the attack.

How am I alive?
She glanced around the small room, her eyes passing over the closed door. There was only her bed, an empty chair, and a table with a glass of water. She pulled the gown away from her chest and looked for the wound, but there was nothing there – just a thin, almost invisible, scar.
Impossible.

Cassie tried to push herself upright, but only succeeded in sinking deeper into the uncomfortable bed. The cannula tugged in her arm, the buried needle stabbing her. The ECG machine beeped even louder and on the screen, a computer-generated line spiked angrily as fear flooded her body.
Where am I? What happened to those creatures? Where are the soldiers?

The door opened and a short lady wearing a white doctor’s coat entered the room. She had caramel-colored skin and black hair tied in a tight bun. As the door swung shut, Cassie glimpsed a nurse’s station with young women in green scrubs, and standing just outside the room itself, two men in black combat gear.

“Who are you?” Cassie croaked, her throat dry.

“My name is Doctor Sharma.” The newcomer approached the bed. Her face was kind and motherly, heavily lined far beyond her middle-age years. “You can call me Amita,” she added, with a quick smile. “How are you feeling?”

Cassie swallowed, one hand instinctively touching her chest, where the knife should have been. She eyed the doctor cautiously, dozens of questions tumbling through her mind.

“Where am I?” She coughed on the final word. Amita passed her the glass of water, and she drank greedily, the cool liquid rushing down her throat.

“You’re somewhere safe,” Amita said, taking the empty glass. “Those monsters can’t find you here.”

Monsters. So I didn’t dream it all?
“There were all these men – soldiers,” she said, quietly, not trusting her own voice. “And there was one—” she couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.
I saw a man die, and I brought him back to life.

Amita ignored the question, preoccupied in snapping on a pair of latex gloves. Cassie flinched when the doctor touched her – her hands were icy cold. She squinted as the doctor shone a bright light into her eyes, dots fluttering across her vision when the flashlight was taken away.

“You look perfectly healthy to me,” Amita announced.