Текст книги "Return Once More"
Автор книги: Trisha Leigh
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
He faced the water alone, his tanned, toned body obeying his commands to stretch and go through some complicated breathing exercises. A blue mask and snorkel sat on his forehead and he fixed it in place, jumping in the water and kicking lazily back and forth for a while. The expression of contentment on his handsome face felt incongruous, but only because I knew what was about to happen. Still, if I had to die, it would be good to know it would be doing something I loved half as much as this boy loved diving in the ocean.
That was this recording’s hidden moment of beauty. Jay’s passion.
When Oz’s lips brushed my ear, it startled me. I jerked away and shot him a glare, but he moved in closer, using a hand to hold me in place. “Do you know what would have happened had he not died today?”
I kept my eyes, my glasses, trained on Jay. I didn’t need any more trouble.
Oz switched to silent speech, apparently realizing an outward conversation would be recorded along with our observations. “He would have died tomorrow in a boating accident with his wife.”
The whispered words, facts that could only be glimpsed with the help of the strange Projector, sent shivers down my spine. My mind lost complete track of what I was supposed to be recording as Jay grabbed hold of a rope anchored to the sea floor and kicked below the surface for the last time.
“His is the only trajectory I’ve ever seen that keeps stopping no matter what. If we saved him, it would buy him another twenty-four hours. If we saved him tomorrow, he’d get another week.” Oz leaned in even closer. “It almost makes one believe in fate.”
I gave a small shake of my head and elbowed him away from me. I didn’t believe in fate. None of us did. The concept was nothing more than the result of choices made by men—by us and the people around us—and, despite the anomaly Jay Moriarty apparently presented, could always be altered.
Still, Oz’s little Projector lesson turned over and over in my mind, like a pancake flipped and flipped until both sides were burned black. I used the brain stem tattoo to search information on Jay Moriarty, a task that should have been completed before we’d left had I been paying proper attention to my studies the past couple of days. I found more than one reference to the fact that Jay, even as a boy, had felt a strange certainty that he would not live a long life.
Then again, one could argue that if he hadn’t been attracted to dangerous sports, this day might have been avoided.
Except according to Oz, Jay’s early death was predestined. It made me think of Caesarion and his belief in beings who watched our lives play out, planned from beginning to untimely end. As much as I wanted to believe, as hard as I tried and wished there was a grand design that would bring us together again in another realm, I didn’t. Couldn’t.
We stood still on the beach, moving every once in a while to shift position or wander toward the water so that no one would take note of the group of five people seemingly riveted to smooth, clear water when Jay’s body was later discovered.
A while after he’d kicked to the bottom, two other divers roamed the area. The eyeglasses shared the strangers’ eventual eyewitness accounts with me, including the fact that they’d seen Jay on the bottom but had left him there, assuming he was training.
It was sad, and interesting, but I didn’t understand why we were here. Aside from Oz’s strange and cryptic statement about fate and Levi’s obsession with the psychology behind extreme sporting, if Jay Moriarty had never been meant to live, then his death couldn’t have any lasting positive or negative impression on humanity.
Could it?
Perhaps that was today’s lesson. The overseers might have a specific aspect of today in mind, one we should have noticed. I should have been paying more attention. As usual.
We left before Jay’s friends sent out the search party that would recover his body. It wouldn’t look right for the five of us to be in the same spot, morning to night. People would remember that, once this day became memorable to them, and despite the ancient Egyptian tale about dark ones showing up in the pages of history, we’d been trained to take every effort to ensure no Historians accidentally appeared in Earth Before’s history books.
Silence accompanied our group on the way back up the beach. We’d witnessed the death of a boy of only twenty-two, and even though it wasn’t violent or horrifying like so many of our observations, this unsettled me, too. Perhaps it was the idea that we could be so fully alive and present one moment and gone the next. That the smallest choices could change everything.
A small group of people—two girls, four boys, all young—sat around a crackling fire at the edge of the beach, books embossed with the title Holy Bible opened in their laps. They looked as though they might be seminary students of some kind, based on their serious expressions and the fact that they sat on a gorgeous beach to read religious texts instead of enjoying the sun or water. One of the boys read aloud in a pleasing tone that helped ease my mounting tension.
“So, God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, ‘Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’”
He continued, his voice fading as we passed by, making our way back to the secluded coconut trees. The words sounded right, and yet they didn’t. My mind played with the verses, trying to figure out why they felt wrong. My brain stem tattoo was no help—every version of the Bible it searched came back with the passage read exactly like the boy had intoned it moments ago, yet my memory, which had always been excellent, insisted it was off.
As we gathered together inside the blue bubble, waiting for our return trip, it hit me. The passage had been missing something—the words “be fruitful and increase in number, fill the earth and subdue it.”
My mouth went dry and my knees buckled, causing Analeigh to reach out a hand to steady me and Oz to raise a sharp look my direction.
All I could think was that since my brain stem tat hadn’t been able to find any texts with the correct wording, they were missing from the historical record.
Which meant someone, sometime, had purposely taken them out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Oz’s prickling gaze remained on me until we left the air lock, but I refused to meet his eyes. He’d been watching me too closely these past days, and though we knew each other’s secrets—some of them, anyway–he wasn’t my friend. I wasn’t sure he was a friend to any of us anymore. He’d been working behind our backs, trusting the Elders, and it was too soon to tell whether he actually believed the bullhonky they were feeding him.
No matter how understanding he’d been about Caesarion, or that he’d shown me the Projector instead of telling the Elders where I’d been and what I’d caused … he hadn’t been totally honest with me about anything. There had to be more to the project the Elders had him working on.
Analeigh sensed my unrest, her body rigid and her breathing quick at my side. It was hard to believe Booth and everyone else couldn’t hear my heart pounding and the bile sloshing in my stomach. If spending a few days with Caesarion had such massive consequences, who knew what kind of shit storm altering a text like the Bible—a book that literally influenced the daily life of billions of people—would stir up.
Oz, and maybe the Elders, were using the Projector to change life on Earth Before. To alter the time lines that led to the major issues that destroyed society—first, Oz and gun development. Now, religious texts, particularly those of the Judeo-Christian variety were being changed to no longer encourage procreation—which would go a long way toward curbing devastating overpopulation.
I dragged Analeigh into our room, even though the dinner alarm had sounded, and waited for the door to slide and lock into place behind us. Sarah had already left—she and Oz had a standing supper schedule and she wouldn’t break it, especially not since he’d been gone all day.
“What happened?”
I sank into the chair behind one of the desks. My stomach had never been twisted into more knots and my head pounded, this time not because of fighting the bio-tat’s instructions. “Did you hear that kid reading from the Bible on the beach?”
“Um, I guess?”
“You didn’t notice anything weird about the passage?” My voice sounded strangled even to my own ears, the words spilling out in such a jumble they almost felt out of order.
Analeigh’s face paled. “Kaia, you’re freaking me out. Tell me what’s going on.”
The air in our room hummed with unspent energy. Analeigh and I had been friends for long enough that our moods played off each other’s, and I sensed her discomfort and the fear mounting in the face of my own. I couldn’t do this alone anymore. Oz didn’t count, and Caesarion wasn’t an option any longer. I needed my best friend.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I think I know what Jonah was talking about, the secret the Elders are keeping. And it’s dangerous, like he said.”
Analeigh sank down on her bed, her green eyes never leaving me. “I’m ready.”
“They’re trying to find ways to fix Earth Before, based on the largest issues that led to our evacuation.”
Her eyes went wide, her knuckles white as she gripped her bedspread. “How? But. Why? How?”
The sputtered questions died out as I shook my head. “I don’t know, Analeigh, but that Bible passage was missing the command about populating the earth—the part the Church used for hundreds of years to assert God’s resistance to birth control. What’s one of the primary contributors to the loss of Earth Before’s viability?”
“Overpopulation,” she whispered.
“Right. And that’s not all. Oz’s trips all focus on the development of automatic weaponry—unmitigated violence. That’s another major contributor.” I paused, my brain trying to click pieces into place. “They’re trying to fix it.”
“How can they? After all these years, drilling into our heads that even the slightest alteration made—allowing ourselves to be seen or heard, acting inappropriately in the past—how can they be sure their actions won’t inadvertently wipe us all from existence?” Her voice rose, red circles on her fair cheeks betraying her panic. “That Bible verse, Kaia. How many people won’t be born because contraception isn’t frowned upon? It could be our grandparents.”
She crossed her arms, grabbing her biceps and squeezing as though she might disappear any moment. Her words echoed my own fears, barely mollified by the knowledge of the Projector or any of Oz’s nonsense about fate. If the Elders were altering the past, they had a reason. Intentions.
“There’s more. You’re going to be pissed at me for not telling you sooner, but you were already so angry, and … I knew you would tell me to stop and I didn’t want to.”
“Kaia, I think what’s happening with the Elders pretty much overshadows any additional rules you’ve managed to break. Not that there were many left,” she added dryly.
I told her everything. About all my transgressions with Caesarion, about what Oz had shown me regarding the consequences of my unintended effect on my True’s demise. About the Projector, and that Oz refused to admit the danger it could pose.
Her face grew so pale I worried she’d pass out, but as always, Analeigh proved to be stronger than she looked. “How are you not being tracked?”
I got up and rummaged around in a drawer, pinching Jonah’s chip between my thumb and forefinger and holding it up. “Jonah gave it to me. He said someone made it for him when he went back to save Rosie.”
“How does it work?” Her eyes hardened and flickered, and the flatness in her voice pricked my curiosity. It almost looked as if she’d seen the chip before.
“I shove it into my wrist tat and it shorts out the tracking. When I get back, I use those two filaments to jerk it out. It hurts, but I’m kind of used to it.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, staring at the chip in my palm and chewing on her lip. “Sarah made it.”
“What? We were barely third years when Jonah left.”
“She’s brilliant with comps and tech, you know that. And she had a huge crush on Jonah before she found out Oz was her True.”
“Are you sure?”
Analeigh’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes. I remember her showing me drawings, babbling on about crap I couldn’t understand, and honestly, I didn’t really want to know why she needed to invent such a thing.”
We fell silent, both looking at the tiny piece of tech that had allowed my brother—and me—to change the past. Sarah had never said a word, but surely Jonah had asked her to stay quiet.
“Anyway, after today, I think it’s clear they are changing things, and I don’t see how that Bible verse could have been removed from every version by accident. Someone went back and changed the original text.”
She nodded. “I agree. And I don’t think Oz would do this alone, without an assignment or direction. He’s … well, he’s always been quiet. Different. But he’s not a liar, Kaia. Or a bad person.”
“I really don’t care what Oz thinks or doesn’t think right now.”
“Right. Sorry. Bigger fish.” Her wide eyes met mine. “Starting with, are you really going to kill Caesarion?”
“I either have to do it or get someone else to do it. And I don’t see how the latter is possible.” Nausea bubbled, but I swallowed it. “This is my mess and if I don’t fix it, I wipe out my family. My grandfather.”
That statement sunk in and her shoulders slumped. Maybe if my grandfather hadn’t been there, someone else would have stepped in to initiate the idea of colonizing Genesis—someone must have because the Projector only showed the loss of twenty or so families from the System, not all of us being sucked into oblivion.
It might have been possible for me to go back and save Caesarion’s executioner from the robbery, but messing with more people and events and time lines seemed like a recipe for disaster.
“How are you going to do it?”
“Oz said he can grab me a sonic waver. It will be fast.” I meant to sound confident, but it came out in a wet whisper.
“It won’t be without some repercussions. How are the ancients going to explain liquefied organs?”
“The freaking Bible just changed. I think organ soup is the least of our worries.” The weak joke did nothing to dull my pain and we sat in silence for several moments, until I recalled the other reason it wasn’t going to be as shocking as my best friend thought. “Also, there are people who have seen Historians already. Caesarion’s guards called me a dark one, and they were scared.”
“Dark one?”
“They have stories about people dressed in black who appear out of thin air, kill without weapons.” I moved to the bed while that sank in, wanting to feel her warmth, the consistency of her presence in my life.
“Oz has killed people?” Now Analeigh looked as though she was going to puke.
“I don’t know if it was Oz, but someone has—and it must have happened more than once. I can’t imagine that kind of pervasive rumor stemming from a single incident.”
Analeigh reached out and grabbed my hand, smashing it between her palms.
I needed proof of what was going on, or better yet, which Elders we could trust. They couldn’t all be bad, and the ones who weren’t would realize the dangers the Projector posed.
After all, these were the people who made me believe we were better off now, and that our jobs as Historians ensured we would stay that way.
We might be able to get answers, especially if we could convince Oz to help, but the Elders were already monitoring the Archives that could lead an apprentice to stumble upon their little experiment. I found that out when they busted me for following the development of gun production.
“I’m going to sneak out tonight before lockdown. I have to get this Caesarion thing over with as soon as possible.” In spite of all my false strength, the words caught in my throat. Analeigh reached out and squeezed my hand, not saying anything, just being there. I swallowed, siphoning her strength. “I’ll be back before breakfast.”
“What can I do? In the meantime?” Her gaze was determined behind her glasses. “We need to compile evidence. Something the Elder Council would have to listen to, even if it’s against Zeke.”
“I started collecting information on Oz and his travels. It’s hidden in my private file that Sarah set up. I can share it with yours, but you have to be careful. Figure out how to search from a different angle. They’ll know if you start looking directly, the way they caught me following the gun files.”
She pursed her lips, fingers absentmindedly unwinding her long braid. “They can’t track every tangent sprouting off the Bible. I can start there, hopefully find evidence of that alteration.”
“Yeah. Maybe check passages that could affect the other major contributors—commercialism, environmental degradation, sectarianism,” I recited from memory. Those were the big five, and of course they were largely interconnected. There were another dozen or so minor causes, all subheadings under those five. Hatred. Hunger. Widening class division. War. Civil Rights.
“Okay. Right. Out of those, the environmental causes are probably the easiest to research and have the widest range of contributors. Maybe I can find something they tried to change there. If they want to fix Earth Before, they’re going to need to fix the actual planet, not just the people who lived on it.”
“That’s good thinking. Okay.” I leaned in and gave her a quick hug. “Don’t get caught, Analeigh. They’re not going to believe we both accidentally wandered into the wrong archives in the same week. Even if we didn’t know they were flagged.”
“With your massive fake crush on Oz, I can’t believe Zeke isn’t watching your every move already.”
I almost wished Zeke would intercept me on my way out tonight. Then I could pass the buck. Let someone else take the life of the one person I wanted most to live.
But our future was on the line. Everyone’s but most of all, my family’s. Now that Analeigh was involved, her trajectory tangled with mine. Sarah, too, if she really had invented the chip tech for my brother. I wasn’t sure even David Truman’s position would excuse Oz if the Elders found out that not only had he shown me the Projector, but that he’d helped hide my illicit travels and forbidden interactions as well.
I may not have liked Oz very much, but I didn’t want his blood on my hands. Caesarion’s would be enough, even though it had been and would remain on Octavian’s hands. A blood sacrifice that would tie the future imperial seat of Rome up in a neat little bow.
All I had to do was murder the boy I loved. Save the world.
*
Egypt , Earth Before–30 BCE (Before Common Era)
Caesarion looked surprised to see me.
I didn’t blame him. I’d toyed with the idea of sneaking up on him and his guards in the middle of the night and using the waver Oz had handed over, but it didn’t feel right. My True knew he had to die, but Caesarion valued honor and bravery. Murdering him in his sleep seemed cowardly.
Unworthy.
I’d seen many deaths over the past seven years. Some violent, others calm. The ones that left the bitterest taste were the sucker punches, like Jesse James or Dillinger. We’d watched Caesar get one of the biggest ones of all time mere weeks ago, and his son would not die the same way. Not if I had anything to say about it.
Which, it appeared I did.
They were taking a break from riding, the horses grazing along the banks of a stream and the guards wading in the shallow water. Caesarion stood barefoot on the bank, staring down into the trickle of brackish liquid as though it held the secrets to unlocking the universe. Now, with him alive, breathing in front of me, and looking damn sexy in such a relaxed pose, my courage to do what needed to be done withered.
My lips tried hard to smile when he caught sight of me, but I knew they failed. His handsome, tanned face curled up in a sad grin, dusky blue eyes crinkling at the edges. My heart climbed into my throat and throbbed until he blurred into a human-shaped form that reached out and pulled me against his chest.
He whispered words that meant nothing, nonsensical comfort, into my hair. “Kaia, my love, what’s wrong?”
Over his shoulders, all of the guards had sprung from the water and studied me warily, hands on their weapons. They would kill me if they got the chance, and it hurt that my actions would shorten their lives unfairly. Nothing about this was fair.
I shook my head and held on tighter, never wanting to let him go. Staying long would be too great a risk with Analeigh digging through the Archives at home, but maybe a few minutes. Thirty at the most. Caesarion had to die at the end of them, but surely I had time before it had to be done. Before the rest of my life without his touch and his voice and the warm presence of his solid, lithe form.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“I wanted to see you, too. From the moment you left.” He pulled back and studied my face. “There is something else. What has happened?”
Our relationship had begun with a misunderstanding born of the vast gap between our worlds, and there were still so many things he could never understand. I wished that he could return with me to Sanchi, but it was impossible. We had not perfected time travel from the past into the future—the few attempts had not been successful in circumventing the aging process. Caesarion would be nothing but dust by the time we arrived in 2560.
Staying here wasn’t an option. One second past twenty-four hours and my own organs would liquefy. A voice in the back of my mind whispered that perhaps that was the poetic choice—to die with him in a big pile of romantic goo. But Analeigh was counting on me, and the rest of Genesis was, too. They just didn’t know it yet.
“Nothing happened.”
“You are a terrible liar,” he said with a small smile, before bending to kiss me.
I kissed him back, nothing romantic or sexy about the tears and snot and desperation racing through me and pouring onto him. My legs shook when I pulled away and tried another smile, with a bit more success this time. “I’m actually a pretty good liar. You just see through me.”
“I’m not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse,” he mused.
He grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me onto his chestnut mare, then leaped up into the saddle. His lips moved against my ear, sending tingles and excitement through my abdomen that quickly spilled lower, landing in my knees. It was a far cry from the way Oz’s whispered questions had affected me earlier that day in the Maldives.
Caesarion kicked the horse into motion, his guards following a little too close for comfort. I almost hadn’t bothered with period-appropriate clothing but was now glad I had—we would be riding past other contemporaries, most likely, and the fewer people I had to take out with my waver, the better. We rode in silence for a while, the clomping of the horses’ hooves and the far-off patter of human voices a low hum in the late afternoon heat.
“How long are you staying?”
“Not long.” I pressed my back harder into his chest.
“Perhaps until tomorrow?” he nudged.
I didn’t respond. He pointed out animals and constellations as they appeared, but mostly we breathed together in the soft evening. I put my hand over his and pulled the horse to a stop, turning so that I faced him, my thighs draped over his and our fingers clutched together.
My eyes burned and my throat felt raw from holding back the truth. “Your time, Caesarion. It’s now. Not tomorrow. We’ve already changed too many things, and …” I trailed off as my fingers found Oz’s sonic waver in my bag and pulled it loose.
Fear flashed in Caesarion’s gaze. My heart shattered into so many pieces it would take poor Isis a hundred lifetimes to find them and put me back together.
Steely acceptance banished the other emotions racing across his face. When his eyes raised to mine, they held love and sorrow in equal measure. “If I must die, I want it to be in the arms of the woman I love, not at the hands of a cruel executioner.”
The words squeezed the air from my lungs. The request should have made this easier, but somehow it made it worse that he trusted me enough to give me his final moments. To share them with a girl who had made everything in his life harder from the moment she’d walked into it.
I nodded, and tried to gather some courage, because that’s what I had come here to do—kill him. Make sure that the time line was righted before the repercussions were too many and too far– reaching to be recalled. I slid from the horse onto the marshy ground, then pulled my Historian cloak from my bag and secured it around me. One of the biggest barriers to sonic weaponry during its early development was that the person holding the device became as susceptible as their unsuspecting victim, but the cloaks were built with an adequate barrier. I tied it at my throat, ensuring all of my vital organs were covered, except my face. I would do that last.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “It will be fast. It won’t hurt.”
Caesarion dismounted and beckoned his guards to do the same, then walked to my side. “I will send them away. If they see you kill me, they will take your life.” He moved a sweaty piece of hair off my forehead. “We can’t have that. You’re going to live a long life, and be happy.”
Happiness seemed impossible in this moment, sacrificed at the altar of my disobedience.
As my True spoke with his guards, who eyed me with distrust but led the horses away until they dropped from sight, I palmed the waver and secured my hood over my hair. My thumb flicked the safety off, the device slipping against my sweaty skin.
Caesarion closed his eyes, pushed his shoulders back, and waited. Tears burned in my throat and I squeezed the waver harder, trying to remember the thousands at home instead of the one in front of me. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t ready.
Everything Caesarion had taught me about duty felt like faraway concepts when faced with putting them into action. I had been kidding myself. I was still the same silly Kaia—a girl who broke the rules but couldn’t grow up enough to handle the consequences.
He’s already dead, I told myself, trying to use the truth as reassurance.
I couldn’t do it. Failure crashed through my system, the hot despair and self-loathing like slime in my veins, but none of it spurred me into action. I dropped my arm to my side. Caesarion opened his eyes when a sob tore from my throat, but didn’t move to touch me. My weakness was making this harder for him, and that killed me more than anything else.
“I’m sorry.” His face blurred through my tears and I gripped the waver tighter. “I can’t.”
Before he could move, Oz popped onto the scene behind him. He held a second waver in his outstretched hand, his body cloaked from head to toe. His gray eyes flicked wildly about the scene, probably searching for Caesarion’s guards. “Kaia, close your hood,” he shouted.
My grief cleared immediately, making way for a panic that jammed my racing heart into my throat. It couldn’t be this way. “Oz, no!”
Caesarion paused, looking between us with fear returning to his posture. The scene moved in slow motion as I ran to his side, but as Oz pushed buttons on his waver and tugged the strings to shield his own face, I instinctively did the same.
The telltale, invisible thrums, like the heartbeat of a small animal in your palm or a million lead balls dropped onto a silent gong at the same moment, shook my blood. I stumbled the final steps, blind with the shield in place, and crashed into Caesarion’s body as it crumpled. We landed on the ground in a heap as my arms found my True Companion’s and held on tight.
