The Bureau of Time Page 2

  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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  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.

  “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 r
aced 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, he
r 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.

  CHAPTER THREE

  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.