“Where are you going?” Barnabas said as I swung my leg over my bike.
“Home.” Being dead sucked. I couldn’t tell anyone, and now I was going to be passed around like a Christmas fruitcake no one wanted. If Barnabas didn’t want me around, that was fine with me. But to stand there while he told Ron was humiliating.
“Madison, it’s not that you’re failing me. I can’t teach you,” Barnabas said, his brown eyes holding both worry and sympathy.
“Because I’m dead and stupid. I got that part,” I said miserably.
“You’re not stupid. I can’t teach you because of whose amulet you’ve got.”
His words held a scary amount of concern, and I stopped, suddenly frightened. In all this time, Ron had never been able to figure out what kind of amulet I’d taken. “Kairos’s amulet?” I whispered, then stiffened at the sudden tickling between my shoulder blades. I froze, my gaze darting to the shadows, wondering if they hadn’t just jumped forward. Barnabas’s gaze went behind me, and his expression turned to an odd mix of relief and caution.
“I’ve only got a moment. Let’s see your amulets,” came the timekeeper’s distinctively crisp voice.
I spun to see a small man squinting in the sun. “Ron,” I said softly as he strode forward, his loose gray robes just as bad as Barnabas’s duster in terms of being totally wrong for the heat. I glanced at the school, hoping no one saw me with them. I had a bad enough reputation already for being weird. Six months, and I was still the new girl. Maybe I should start dressing down. No one else had purple hair.
Chronos—Ron for short—looked like a cross between a wizard and Gandhi, having a martial arts–like robe and brown eyes that gave me the impression he could see around corners. His eyebrows were blond from the sun but his skin and tightly curling hair were dark. Shorter than me, he nevertheless had a huge presence about him. It might have been his voice, which was deeper than one would expect. He had a pleasant, crisp accent, as if he had a lot to say and not a lot of time to say it.
He moved fast, too, and had an amulet that allowed him to tap into the time stream and kept him from aging, since unlike the reapers, timekeepers were human for some reason. Which begged the question of how old he really was. He used his ability to manipulate and read time to help the light reapers. It was through him that Barnabas got his scythe-prevention assignments.
Glancing sourly at the sky, Ron held out his hand, fingers wiggling. “Madison?”
“Ron, about my amulet,” I started, holding it before the timekeeper, still on its leather lanyard around my neck.
“Yes, I know. I’m going to fix that,” he muttered as his fingers blurred out of existence for a moment, encircling my amulet. I felt a tingling across my scalp, and then it was done. “When did you dye your hair?” he said lightly, his sharp gaze not meeting mine.
“After prom. Ron—”
But he was already standing before the light reaper, his hand held out in a possessive fashion. Barnabas looked positively ill as he towered over the small man. “Barnabas…” the man intoned with warning, or recrimination maybe. I think Barnabas heard it too, since he took his amulet from around his neck and handed it over instead of coming closer. Without his amulet, Barnabas couldn’t make a scythe, losing much of his abilities. Without mine, I’d be a ghost, more or less.
“Sir,” Barnabas said, looking uncomfortable as his amulet took on the same hue it had when his sword was bared; then it returned to a matte black. “About Madison’s amulet…”
“It’s fixed,” Ron said smartly as he handed Barnabas’s back.
Barnabas looped the simple cord back over his neck and tucked his amulet behind his T-shirt. “The dark reaper at the scything recognized it.”
“I know! That’s why I’m here! You were identified,” Ron barked, fists on his hips as he peered up at him, and I dropped my eyes, chagrined. “Both of you. On her first scythe prevention. What happened?”
Great, I’d gotten Barnabas in trouble again. “I’m sorry,” I said contritely, and Barnabas’s head came up.
“It was all my idea,” I gushed, thinking that if I took the blame, Barnabas might give me another chance.
My knowing that auras had sounds might make all the difference in our practice, and maybe then we’d be able to accomplish thought-touching. “Barnabas didn’t want to take me until we could thought-touch, but I convinced him it wasn’t that big of a deal. And then I met Susan. I couldn’t let that reaper kill her. It happened so fast.”
“Stop!” Ron barked, and I jumped. The man’s eyes were wide, and he was staring at Barnabas—who was…cringing? “You told me she could thought-touch!” the small man accused, and my mouth dropped open. “You lied? One of my own reapers lied to me?”