Timebound(26)

“I don’t know where Saul ended up, but he figured out the same thing that I did, Kate—that parents with the CHRONOS gene can produce children able to bypass the safeguards. Like Prudence did. Like you nearly did yesterday morning. And based on what we are seeing, he has managed to create himself a small army of people who can move through time at his command. All I have to combat that, Kate, is you.”

Katherine had clearly hoped that this statement would make me understand, and to some extent, it did. But the enormity of what she was saying—that she seemed to be on the verge of asking me to single-handedly take on an individual she had just described as insane—scared me. “I want Dad in on this. You talk to him, we make these decisions together. Or I walk out of here and you’re on your own.”

“Agreed. We’ll call him when school is out and—”

The clock on the microwave showed that it was 12:22 P.M. “No,” I said. “I have class with him in about ten minutes. He’ll worry if I’m not there anyway, and if I leave now, I can make it.” There was a small voice in my head insisting that I should stay put, but I shut it out. All I knew at that moment was that I had to get away, to get out of the house so that I could clear my head.

I headed for the front door, grabbing my shoes from beneath the table and tugging them onto my feet. Katherine followed behind me, still talking, but I was no longer listening. I looked around for my backpack before remembering that it—and my books—had all disappeared into the past or future or some weird alternate version of the present.

“I’ll see you after I talk to Dad.” I closed the door behind me and was halfway to the gate when I heard Katherine running up behind me.

“Kate, come back!”

I turned just in time to see her stop, a few yards away from the house, pulling back suddenly like a dog wearing one of those radio collars when it detects the signal and is afraid of being zapped.

She was holding out the medallion. “Take this. I have another one. I just didn’t have a chance to grab it because you left so suddenly… and I almost forgot about the boundary. The signal fluctuates a bit, but it’s never farther out than the maple.” She nodded toward a tree a few feet to her left.

“Don’t remove the key for any reason,” Katherine said. “Keep it on your person. And be careful. I don’t know what the scene on the train was about and I have no idea what Kiernan’s motives are, but I won’t feel comfortable until you’re back here.”

Katherine looked pale and anxious. I could tell that the emotional morning had taken a toll on her. I took the medallion, putting the chain around my neck and slipping it inside my blouse. I was still angry, but I forced a smile for her sake. “Relax, okay? I’ll be back this afternoon. With Dad,” I added, as I headed for the gate. “If you’re right, and it really is me against an army, then we’re going to need all the help we can get.”





6





I walked at a brisk pace, nearly jogging. I would have to check in at the front desk and make some excuse about missing morning classes, which meant I would probably be late getting to Dad’s class anyway. My toes still hurt, but the exertion felt good otherwise and some of the tension I had been carrying began to melt away.

The morning had been a bit cool for mid-April, but the day was warming up and my hair was hot on my neck as I headed into the building. That reminded me of the fact that my hair was down, in violation of the Briar Hill dress code, and that reminded me of Kiernan. I could see my dark green hair band, vivid against the skin of his wrist as he vanished, looking like a knight carrying his lady’s favor—a scarf or ribbon—into battle. I wiped that ridiculous image from my head and pushed open the door to the main office.

“Kate Pierce-Keller. I’m checking in late,” I told the rather stern-looking middle-aged woman who was one of three who worked the main office at Briar Hill. The two who usually handled the front desk were much more personable, but they were probably at lunch. I waited while the woman pulled up the attendance log on the computer. “I don’t have a note. There was an emergency this morning and I forgot to get my mom to write one before I left the house. I’ll bring it tomorrow. And… I forgot to put my hair up. Do you have a spare rubber band?”

The woman raised her eyebrows and then rummaged around in one of the desk drawers. After a moment she found a large manila-colored band, which she held out silently toward me, along with a pink hall pass.

“Thanks.”

I pulled my hair back into a loose knot as I walked down the hallway. I reached the classroom several minutes late and peeked in through the small window on the door, hoping to enter when Dad was between sentences and get to my desk with minimal disruption of the class and with as few people as possible staring at me. Dad was standing near the Smart Board, pointing at an equation… and then I felt the same gut-wrenching sensation that had hit me twice before.