14
Her hair was longer, and my Charlayne would have considered the white skirt and pale yellow sweater set much too tame, even for church, but it was definitely her. She was laughing about something with the girl next to her as they approached and wasn’t paying much attention, until her eyes landed on Trey. She gave him the quick but thorough up-and-down appraisal that I’d seen her give every guy she considered cute, and then she glanced over at me as if sizing up the competition. Yep, that part was 100 percent Charlayne.
And it gave me an idea. I whispered to Trey out of the side of my mouth, “The one in the yellow is Charlayne. Play along with me, okay? We’re cousins. She’s more likely to talk to us if she thinks you’re available.”
“You’re pimping me out?”
I stifled a laugh. “Just for an hour or so. I know Charlayne—in any timeline. She just gave you her hot-guy appraisal and she’ll talk to you if you’re even a little bit nice to her.”
He didn’t have time to object before the flock of Acolytes descended upon us. Sean introduced Trey, who then introduced me as his cousin, Kelly. The slightly annoyed emphasis on the word cousin was noticeable to me, but apparently not to anyone else. Charlayne’s smile brightened instantly.
After a few minutes of general chatter, we were whisked into the main chapel and seated in one of the first few rows. The circular room was arranged more like an auditorium than a standard church—there were even three elevated sections at the back that reminded me of box seats at a stadium or large theater, except for the fact that most box seats aren’t encased in what I suspected was bulletproof glass. All three sections were lit, and two of the sections were occupied, mostly by older men and a few women in expensive-looking suits.
Just then, a door opened inside the third section and four muscular men, who looked like a security detail of some sort, moved in and inspected the room carefully, even looking under the seats. Apparently satisfied that the area was safe, they went out, and just a few seconds later Paula Patterson entered. It was still hard to think of her as the president, instead of vice president. She was followed by her husband, a somewhat older and rounder man, and her four sons, who were all in their teens or early twenties. Her daughter-in-law was the last to enter, accompanied by two toddlers, neither of whom looked too happy about being there.
I pulled my gaze back to the front of the auditorium, which featured a semicircular stage with a giant plasma screen. A large Cyrist symbol lit the center of the display, surrounded by pictures of Cyrist mission activities that changed every few seconds.
Tall stained-glass windows alternated with white stone panels along the exterior walls. A few of the windows showed scenes from the Christian tradition, similar to those I had seen in other churches—Noah’s Ark, the Madonna and Child, and so forth. Buddha was in one frame as well, but over half were clearly based on Cyrist history. A good number of these depicted a tall man with short dark hair and a white robe, who was blessing children, curing the sick, and handing out gold coins to the masses. It was several minutes before the obvious fact dawned on me—this was my grandfather in his Brother Cyrus guise.
I sat down to the left of Trey. One of the guys from the Acolyte group plopped down on the other side of me. He continued chatting about the merits of the Baltimore Orioles’ manager with one of the other male Acolytes, who was sitting in the row directly ahead, and didn’t pay us much attention.
Charlayne was on Trey’s right, flanked by the friend she’d been chatting with, who had been introduced as Eve. The girl was impeccably and very fashionably dressed and I suspected that her handbag alone had cost more than my entire wardrobe, even before the last time shift reduced me to a week’s worth of clothes.
I knew it was petty to be jealous that Charlayne had another best friend in this timeline, but that didn’t change the fact that I was jealous. I’d had few close friends in my life, and it stung a bit to see that I’d been replaced. I gave Eve a sideways glance and was comforted by the realization that her mascara was smudged and her nose too hooked to be traditionally pretty, although I suspected that would be cured by a trip to the plastic surgeon within a year or two.
Trey was also looking around at the windows, in between answering Charlayne’s questions. He nudged me with his elbow and motioned very slightly with his head to the panel just behind me. A young woman stood in the middle of a garden, with her arms raised and eyes pointed upward. She wore a white sleeveless gown, belted at the waist, and at one end of the belt there was a large bronze medallion. Dark, unruly curls fell across her shoulders.
Katherine’s words—you look like her, you know—echoed in my mind. She wasn’t kidding.
Trey leaned toward Charlayne and said, “Tell me about the windows—they’re so detailed. That one is Cyrus curing the sick, but who is the woman there”—he motioned toward the panel behind me—“and in the panel across the auditorium?”
I tensed a bit, unsure that it was wise to call attention to the window, but I wanted to hear Charlayne’s answer as well. I had found only the vaguest mention of Prudence in my web searches.
Charlayne gave Trey her best smile, the one that I knew she practiced in the mirror. “That’s Sister Prudence,” she replied. “Prudence is an oracle, like Cyrus, but she’s more… personal. I’ve never seen Brother Cyrus—none of us have seen him personally, except Brother Conwell and his family—so I don’t know about the panels that show him. But the panels of Sister Prudence are a very good likeness.”
“So the artist based the work on photographs?” Trey asked.
“Well, maybe. I think there are some photographs of Cyrus, although I haven’t seen them. But I’ve seen Prudence here in the temple—she ordained Brother Conwell when he replaced his mother as leader of this region, about seven or eight years ago. I believe she ordains all of the regional leaders.”
“Oh.” Trey paused for a moment. “I didn’t know she was alive. You don’t usually see stained-glass windows of living people.”
Charlayne paused for a long moment, as if carefully considering her next words. “We don’t often speak of it outside the temple, but Prudence and Cyrus are both alive. Not just here”—she tapped her chest—“within our hearts, like the other prophets. They are alive. Eternal.”
She nodded toward the window behind me. “That image, for example, was created nearly a hundred years ago—these windows were preserved from the previous regional temple in Virginia. My mother saw Sister Prudence when she was a small child and said she still looks exactly the same as she did back then.” Charlayne smiled at me. “You look like her, you know.”
I gave her a nervous smile in return and wished I’d thought to pick up some glasses or anything else that might have disguised my appearance a bit. Of course, I’d never thought we would run into stained-glass windows of my doppelg?nger aunt. Trey adroitly shifted the conversation to some other area of Cyrist doctrine, distracting Charlayne’s attention. Watching him, I realized he was much more skilled at role-playing than I was, and I wished, not for the first time, that he was coming along on my jump to the Expo.
I picked up the hymnal from the row of seats in front of us and began flipping through the pages. I’d attended church with my dad’s parents when we visited them during the summers. It was a small, rural Christian congregation, of no specific denomination, and I’d always found the traditional hymns they sang comforting.
The background music that was playing as we waited for the Cyrist service to start was more modern, almost new age, but there were a few hymns in the book that were familiar to me—“There Shall Be Showers of Blessings” and “I Come to the Garden.” Others were new, and still others were similar to older hymns but had altered lyrics. “There Will Be Many Stars in My Crown” had replaced an old hymn that I remembered singing called “Will There Be Any Stars in My Crown?” While I couldn’t remember all of the words, the lyrics from the Cyrist hymnal—you will know I am blest when my mansion’s the best—didn’t really fit with what I remembered about the spirit of the song.
The incidental music trailed off just before Brother Conwell entered from the left of the stage. He wore a dark, well-tailored suit with a white mandarin collar and a long clerical scarf across his shoulders. It was gold brocade, with large, white Cyrist symbols on each end. A CHRONOS key hung from a white ribbon around his neck. I should have expected it, but for some reason the sight of the medallion, bright blue against the white and gold, caught me by surprise.
From the corner of my eye, I could see that Charlayne’s friend was watching me and I hoped my expression hadn’t been too telling when I spotted the medallion. She gave me a quick smile when I caught her eye, and I turned back to Brother Conwell, trying to keep my gaze focused on his face and not on the glowing blue disk resting just above his abdomen.
“Welcome Brothers and Sisters on this glorious spring morning.” He flashed his beaming smile across the general congregation and toward the back of the auditorium. “We would also like to extend a special welcome to you and your family, Madame President. You have been missed greatly during the past few weeks, but I’m sure that your trip abroad has done much for the advancement of our great nation and of The Way.”
Patterson gave a smile and a slight nod to the congregation. Conwell then raised his arms to direct us to stand for the opening hymn. The lights dimmed and a recessed section of the stage rose up gradually to reveal a large choir and musicians. The hymnals were apparently a relic from earlier days or else were simply placed there for casual reading before the service because the lyrics to “Morning Has Broken” began to scroll across the plasma screen, superimposed over serene images of nature.
Two songs and a moment of silent meditation later, Conwell began his sermon. It was fairly short and very similar to the Cyrist messages that I had read online, with a strong emphasis on self-improvement and at least half a dozen very explicit references to tithing in the half hour or so that he spoke. Conwell had a charismatic aura that was much more apparent in person than in the snippets I had watched online, and I found myself smiling at a few of his anecdotes, despite my predisposition to dislike him.
The responsive reading, however, was really creepy. I had read the Cyrist Creed online and it was printed on the inside back cover of my handy pocket copy of the Book of Cyrus. While it seemed a bit out there, it wasn’t that different from stuff I’d read from other religions that believe they have a lock on divine wisdom and a reserved seat in the VIP section of the hereafter. There was just something about having the words chanted aloud by several hundred people that made them more… tangible, I guess.
The lights dimmed as Brother Cyrus moved to one side, and the backdrop lit up to reveal a group of individuals and families of various races and ages whose faces beamed as they exclaimed, “We choose The Way, so we are the Blessed,” with those words floating across the bottom of the screen. The pictures shifted to a large offering plate overflowing with gold coins, which struck me as oddly similar to a leprechaun’s pot of gold, and the caption changed to “As we give to Cyrus, so shall we prosper.”
The same group of faces, now a bit more serious, declared, “We choose The Way, so we may be Chosen,” just before the video slowly morphed into an apocalyptic background, with dead, blackened trees stark against a red sky—and the voices continued: “As humans have failed to protect the Planet, the Planet shall protect itself.”
The screen then flashed back to the group of Cyrists, whose expressions ranged from determined to angry. “We choose The Way, so we are Defenders. Enemies of The Way will face our Wrath and Judgment.” And then the last line of the Creed, “We choose The Way, so we may be Saved,” showed the group with triumphant faces, standing before a lush and verdant garden—the earth restored, a virtual Garden of Eden. Trey was apparently unnerved as well, because his hand sought out mine for a brief squeeze before the lights came back up.
The service concluded with announcements—the quarterly executive meeting in the annex following the service, two upcoming weddings, and a retirement party—as young men at each end of the aisle passed the collection plate. That was another thing that I probably should have anticipated, but it wouldn’t have really mattered since my very last dollar had vanished with my backpack on the Metro. I gave the guy on my left an apologetic smile as he handed me the collection plate and then passed it along to Trey. He put a rather generous donation on top of the stack of bills, checks, and envelopes, and was duly rewarded by the beaming approval of Charlayne and Eve, who were already whispering to him about the youth meeting after the service.
I toyed with the idea of following Conwell, who was almost certainly headed toward the executive meeting that he had announced, but I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. A copy of the Book of Prophecy would be nice, but based on everything I had read online, the temple leaders didn’t just leave those lying around. Tidbits were doled out to members and initiates; few had seen the actual book.
I suspected that there would be some interesting financial tips handed out at the executive meeting, but we stood zero chance of getting into that little soiree, especially if Patterson was attending. It looked like I would have to make do with what we could tease out of the Acolytes.
Trey and I followed Charlayne and her friends out of the auditorium, with Charlayne practically glued to Trey’s side. I stopped off at the first ladies’ room. Eve and one of the other female Acolytes did the same. I wasn’t sure if they were following me or just needed to pee, since they entered the first two stalls inside the door and went straight to business. I entered the stall at the opposite end and took my time, hoping they would leave without me. They didn’t, and there was a look of impatience on Eve’s face as I stopped by the sink to wash up.
She turned to the other girl and said, “I hope there will still be some decent pizza by the time we get there.” I smiled politely and followed the two of them out the door and down a long corridor, to a large and cheery sign welcoming us to the Youth Center.
The inside appeared to be a combination gym and recreation room, with several smaller rooms arranged along the outer walls for classes or meetings. Trey was seated at a long picnic-style table with Charlayne and the rest of the group that had sat near us during the sermon, and I saw that he’d not only saved me a seat but had also snagged me a slice of pizza and a diet soda.
I slid onto the bench. “Thanks.” Eve and my other companion from the restroom gave a loud sniff, almost in perfect unison, and headed over to the collection of pizza boxes at the end of the table to see what remained.
“No problem at all, cuz,” Trey said. I gave him a look suggesting that he was overdoing it a bit, and he flashed me a quick grin before turning back to Charlayne. “So I’ve read most of the Book of Cyrus, and it’s really interesting and all, but I don’t think it really gives me an idea of what Cyrists do. What you believe. My mom says that you don’t accept everyone for membership—that not everyone is eligible to be Chosen. Is that true?”
Charlayne looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, yes and no. Anyone at all can attend our services—I mean, you’re here today, right? And you could attend the Acolyte meetings and you could become a church member. Then, over time, we would know if you were Chosen. Not everyone is Chosen. You’d have to go through several years of classes, and you would find out whether you could open your mind to The Way. And you’d have to commit to our rules—they’re pretty strict on some things—and then…” She shrugged.
“So is everyone here Chosen?” I asked.
“Oh no,” she said. “We’re still Acolytes. We aren’t independent yet. Most of us are still in school and even after… there’s no guarantee you’ll be Chosen.”
“But the Creed—‘We choose The Way so we may be Chosen’—all of you repeated it in the service?”
“Yes.” She nodded, with a patient smile. “‘We choose The Way so we may be Chosen.’ ‘We choose The Way so we may be Saved.’ We aren’t assured that Cyrus will protect us, but those who choose The Way may be among those who will find mercy at The End. Those who are Chosen may be saved. Those who never listen, who ignore the warnings in the Book of Cyrus, have no chance at all.”
I thought that it seemed like a pretty weak promise compared to other religions I had studied, but I nodded and returned her smile.
Trey took another bite of his pizza and then asked, “So how would you know? I mean, what tells you that someone is Chosen?”
“It varies for each individual. Most people are identified by their gifts—by the degree to which God blesses them once they begin to follow The Way. That’s how my parents became Chosen. The members of the board and Brother Conwell examined their ledgers before they joined and compared it to their ledgers afterward, and decided that God had shown them favor.”
Eve, who was now seated across from Trey, picked a piece of sausage off her pizza and gave me a sideways look. “But there are some who are identified by their talents—who can do miracles, who can prophesy. Sometimes they are Chosen very young. Brother Conwell, for example, was Chosen when he was thirteen. His daughter was even younger when she first read from the Book of Prophecy. They were predestined to be Chosen, so their names are written in the Book itself.”
“I’m still a bit confused. Exactly what it is that Cyrus promises to save the Chosen from?” Trey asked. “From hell?”
The dark-haired boy next to Eve, who had been one of those arguing about sports before the service, laughed. “Cyrists don’t believe in an afterlife. Your rewards are in this life. Cyrus can save the Chosen from The End. The world is going to end, you know—and pretty soon, based on the prophecies we’ve been given. The Chosen will live on, when everyone else dies. They will be the future.”
That gave me a bit of a shudder and it must have shown in my expression, because Eve gave the boy a long, hard look. “Really, Jared. Is this a conversation we should be having at lunch? With visitors?” She turned back to me with a reassuring smile. “All of this would be covered in eschatology classes—the leaders know a lot more about The End than Jared does, believe me.”
“The thing that I like to focus on,” Charlayne said to Trey, “is that The Way gives us the tools for a happy and successful life here and now. And contrary to popular opinion, Cyrists do know how to have a good time. We’re planning a trip to Six Flags next weekend if you’re interested.”
“That’s a good idea, Charlayne,” Eve said. “Why don’t you give Trey the info about the trip? Get his email so that we can contact him. And Kelly, if you’ll come back to the office with me, I can get the two of you a couple of membership kits that will answer a lot of your other questions. Our Acolyte meeting needs to start in a few minutes and that is, unfortunately, for Acolytes only, so…”
Charlayne gave Eve an annoyed pout. I wasn’t sure whether she was irritated that Trey was going to have to leave or simply didn’t like being ordered around, but she reached over and stacked our empty plates onto her own without comment. Trey joined her, gathering the soda cans to take to the recycling bin, while I stood to follow Eve.
I had assumed that she was taking me to one of the small rooms along the perimeter of the gym, but she headed toward the exit at the far side. I glanced back at Trey a bit nervously but followed her. We took a left into a hallway that looked to be nearly the length of a football field, lined on both sides with office doors and the occasional framed piece of artwork. I could see glass double doors opening to a side street at the end, just below a lighted Exit sign.
It looked like the street we had crossed when we were coming in from the parking garage—and I thought that Eve might be heading out to one of the smaller buildings I had seen. We had only walked a few feet down the corridor, however, when she pulled a small access badge out of her handbag and waved it in front of a reader next to a glass door on the right. The door beeped softly and she pushed it open, leading me into a second, more dimly lit hallway.
“We’re nearly there,” she said brightly. “Normally, we keep a few membership kits in the Youth Center, but…” She trailed off as we approached the last door on the left, which she again opened with her access badge, and then switched on the overhead light.
The room was a luxuriously furnished library, with shelves along three walls. The fourth wall was glass, with a stone fireplace in the center of the panels. The chairs in front of the fireplace looked out on a meticulously manicured garden enclave, enclosed by the white walls of the surrounding buildings. Two massive, well-muscled Dobermans were taking a leisurely drink from a smaller version of the white fountain that Trey and I had seen in the atrium of the temple.
Eve closed the door behind us and leaned against the edge of the large desk in front of one set of bookshelves. Another, much less ostentatious desk sat to the right and she nodded toward the small office chair in front of it. “You might as well sit, Kate. We may have a bit of a wait.”
It took a second for the fact that she had said Kate, not Kelly, to register with me. “I’m sure Charlayne will keep your cousin entertained,” she continued. “The silly girl was so flattered when I asked her to sit with me in services this morning. What I don’t understand is why her name is even in your file. She clearly doesn’t remember you at all.”
I took a deep breath as she was chattering and began considering my options.
Option one—take her out while it was still just me against her. Eve was thin and had almost no muscle. I was pretty sure I could have her down quickly, especially if I caught her off guard. She was a good ten pounds lighter than me and I doubted she had martial arts training. The downside was that Trey and I would then have to make a fast run for the exit, and I had no idea which of the other Acolytes she had alerted.
Option two—pull the medallion out and hope I could get a lock on the location back home in the kitchen. Given that Conwell was strolling around with a CHRONOS key on his chest, I was reasonably sure that this was a stable point. That would be the best bet for getting me out of the building, but I wasn’t willing to risk the chance that they might hurt Trey.
Option three—jump back to the kitchen five minutes early, convince myself that this trip was a very bad idea, and go back to bed. I could send Trey a text and cancel—his dad and Estella would be disappointed, but that was a small price to pay if it kept him safe. As tempting as this seemed, I kept thinking of Katherine’s caution about the mental effects of reconciling even a few minutes of conflicting reality. Could I really handle five hours of dueling memories? And what about everyone else—would Trey and all of the other people I’d encountered have the same problem? I had to admit that I didn’t know enough to risk it.
The first option seemed best, but I wanted to get a bit of info from Eve before making my move. I was curious—who were we waiting for and what had tipped her off about my identity? The self-satisfied smile on her face as she sat there on the desk suggested that she actually might be stupid enough to want to brag about how very smart she’d been to put all the pieces together.
I pulled the office chair toward me, then turned it around and straddled it, rolling slightly toward her perch on the desk and leaning my arms against the padded backrest. She wrinkled her nose at my unladylike position while I calculated how effective the chair would be as a weapon if I stood and brought the heavy base up hard and fast beneath her chin.
I was about to ask how she knew who I was, when I suddenly realized who she resembled. “So you’re Brother Conwell’s daughter? The one who was Chosen at such a young age?”
The smug expression faded for a moment, and then it was back. “Could be.”
“Of course you are. You favor him nearly as much as I do my aunt Prudence.”
“If you knew you looked like her, did you really think you could walk in here and no one would notice? Especially wearing a key of CHRONOS? Security called the office the moment you walked in.”
I was very surprised she knew about CHRONOS, but I tried to keep a blank face. “I thought that might happen.” I shrugged, hoping she was gullible enough to swallow the lie. “But it’s probably for the best. Otherwise, I’d have wasted a lot of time trying to prove to you who I am. This way, we can get straight to business.”
Eve raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. “Business?”
I nodded. “I’ve learned all I possibly can from my grandmother. From what I see, she’s waging a hopeless battle and I don’t like to be on the losing side. What I don’t know yet is whether your side has anything better to offer. When will your father be here? I really should be talking directly to him, I think.”
“The executive meeting is usually an hour or a bit more—I expect it will end on schedule since we don’t like to waste Sister Paula’s time.” Her use of the president’s first name was so clearly an intentional bit of name-dropping that it was hard to keep from rolling my eyes at her pretentiousness.
“Daddy doesn’t know you’re here yet—I don’t like to disturb him when he’s preparing for services, and I thought you’d be a lovely surprise when he comes in after the meeting. They can be so stressful.” She pushed herself up to sit on the big desk, and crossed her legs at the ankle.
“But you aren’t really in a position to bargain with anyone, are you, Kate? From what I’ve heard, you won’t even exist if I take your key.”
I gave her my best wicked grin. “I’d like to see you try.” That was only a tiny lie, since I was growing fond of the idea of wiping that perpetual sneer from her face. “But even if you succeeded, and I don’t think you would, do you really believe my aunt—or my grandfather—would be happy with your decision? When I’ve come here freely, of my own accord?”
That one set her back a bit. “I can’t see why they would care one way or another. From what I’ve been told, you’ve never met either of them.”
“True,” I admitted. “But for many people, blood is thicker than water. Are you aware that all four of my grandparents were—” I stopped. I wasn’t sure exactly how much she knew about CHRONOS and the origins of Brother Cyrus, so I kept it vague. “Were originally of CHRONOS? This key isn’t around my neck simply to ensure my continued existence. I activated it the very first time I held it.”
She tossed her blonde hair back over her shoulder. “That’s not possible. It takes months—years in most cases.”
I arched one eyebrow and held her gaze as I reached into the collar of my shirt, pulling the medallion from beneath the layers of fabric. “How many Cyrists have blood as pure as mine, Eve?”
A flicker of doubt passed over her face. She eyed the CHRONOS key with an expression that bordered on lust, and it occurred to me that she had probably rarely been allowed to hold one. Katherine had located ten of the twenty-four that had been in the field when headquarters were destroyed. Even if the Cyrists had found all of the remaining keys, which seemed very unlikely, that left only fourteen, divided among the thousands of Cyrist temples. I doubted they would have more than one in any region.
“What color is it for you?”
“Kind of pink,” she said, watching me warily.
“Really? My dad sees it as pink as well. It’s blue for me.” I gave her a little smile and centered the medallion in my hand, pulling up the display instantly. Eve drew in a sharp breath as the navigation control board appeared between us and then she lurched toward me.
I pulled my finger off the center. As the control panel vanished, I slipped the medallion back beneath my shirt and she relaxed. Her reaction answered one question, at least—apparently I could use the CHRONOS key from this office if I had to.
“Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “I haven’t the slightest intention of leaving.” I gave her what I hoped came across as a sympathetic smile. “Katherine—that’s my grandmother—says she’s never seen anyone able to activate the key as quickly as I did. Was I foretold in your Book of Prophecy? According to your criteria, I should be among the predestined. Or does it even exist? I’ve heard rumors…”
“It exists,” she snapped. “Each Grand Templar has a copy. And you’re not in it.”
“Are you sure? I find it hard to believe that Cyrus wouldn’t have foretold my arrival, wouldn’t have known that I’d want to learn more.” I pushed the chair a bit closer and lowered my voice a bit. “Or will they not let you read the entire thing? I’ve heard that the Chosen are only given little snippets of prophecy—like the paper inside a fortune cookie.”
Her jaw tightened. “Most Cyrists only see the Book on the day they join the Chosen. I live here, however.” Her glance drifted slightly over her left shoulder, to the shelves behind the desk. “I haven’t read all of it—that would take ages—but I most certainly can read anything I want.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “Well, if that’s true and if you know where the Chosen are listed, then why not check while we wait? One less thing to be taken care of when your father arrives. I mean, either I’m in the Book or Cyrus made a rather large mistake.”
“Cyrus doesn’t make mistakes.” She walked around the edge of the desk and searched the fourth shelf up, which was filled with large and ornately bound volumes. Her hand closed around a much smaller book, however, which I recognized instantly as a CHRONOS diary. The only decoration was on the front, where the words Book of Prophecy were engraved in simple gold letters, with a Cyrist emblem below.
She opened the book and then, after a few seconds, snapped it shut again, an annoyed look on her face. “We’ll have to wait. I don’t have the…” She paused, searching for the word. “Oh, the adapter thing… I can’t remember what Daddy calls it.”
“Oh,” I said. “The little translator disk? I have one. Here…” I stood up and put my hand behind my ear, hoping that she would come closer before I actually had to remove it. She walked part of the way around the desk and then paused, waiting.
“Damn!” I said. “I dropped it again. These disks are awful—it’s like trying to find a contact lens…” I leaned forward and a few seconds later, Eve took the bait and joined me, bending down slightly to examine the carpet.
I felt guilty beyond belief but reminded myself that I really had no choice. I pulled the office chair upward and swung hard. One of the wheels flew off and rolled under the desk as the pneumatic base of the chair connected solidly with the side of her head. Eve fell backward and hit her head on the desk with a resounding thump before she crumpled to the floor.
I waited a second and then touched her eyelashes to see if she was faking. There was no flutter, so she really was unconscious, but it was impossible to say how long she would stay that way. Or, I thought, glancing around nervously, whether there were security cameras hidden in the room.
That’s when the barking began. I turned automatically to look and wished I hadn’t because both Dobermans were staring straight at me through the glass, teeth bared.
I took several steps toward the door and then remembered the access badge. It was on the desk, next to the Book of Prophecy. I grabbed them both, stuck the book into the waistband of my jeans under my various layers of camisoles, and ran as fast as I could for the door.
The hallway was still empty. I hurried down it toward the door to the gym, hoping that Trey was still there and not wandering around the temple with the other Acolytes. I waved the badge in front of the keypad as I looked through the small window.
I could see several of the group still seated at the tables, but Charlayne and Trey weren’t with them. The access pad beeped and I pushed hard to open the door, nearly hitting Trey and Charlayne, who had been about to open it from the opposite side.
“Hey, watch out!” Charlayne cried, jumping back. “See, she’s fine, just like I told you.” She moved toward me and looked down the hallway. “Where’s Eve?”
“There were no kits,” I said. “She’s going to look in the main office…” I grabbed Trey’s arm and pulled him out of the gym.
“How can she do that?” Charlayne asked. “You have her access badge.”
I stared at her for a moment. She wasn’t my Charlayne, not really, but I didn’t like lying to her. “Eve’s not your friend, Charlayne. I know you won’t understand this, but she was using you to get to me. Take care of yourself, okay?” And then I threw the badge as far into the gym as I could. As I’d hoped, she gave me a confused look and then turned around to retrieve it.
I slammed the door behind us. “Run,” I said, nodding toward the exit at the end of the corridor and grabbing his hand. “We have to get out of here now.”
We were about a third of the way to the exit when a door opened behind us. I looked back over my shoulder, expecting to see an angry Charlayne at the gym entrance. Instead, I saw a very angry Eve, with a trickle of blood running down her cheek. She was leaning against the frame of the glass door for support. Two even angrier Dobermans were trying to push their way past her. Eve’s legs gave out and she fell forward. One of the dogs yelped as she landed on him, but it didn’t deter either of them from their target—me.
We were still a good sixty yards from the exit and I knew there was no way that we could get out before they reached us. Trey, however, might make it if I could create a diversion, especially since his longer legs covered the ground much faster than my short ones.
I yanked the CHRONOS key out of my shirt, still running, as Trey pulled me by my other hand, trying to speed me up. “We can’t make it unless we split up, Trey,” I said. “Get to the car. I’m going to jump back to Katherine’s house. It’s our only chance.”
“No!” he said, pulling me harder.
“Trey, please! I’m sure Eve has called security—get out of here! I’ll be okay.” I let go of his hand and shoved him as hard as I could in the direction of the door, hoping that I sounded more confident than I felt.
Then I spun around to face 180 pounds or so of snarling teeth.
The dogs were still running toward me, but when they saw the medallion, they slowed their pace and stopped barking. I touched my hand to the center. One of them whined softly, like Daphne had at the door of the library, and took a couple of steps back. The other one looked confused but kept coming toward me, his large teeth bared and looking much too sharp for my comfort.
“Back! Sit!” I said in my most commanding voice, which right then was about as authoritative as Mickey Mouse. The dogs weren’t impressed with me, but they were still eyeing the CHRONOS key warily and moving toward me at a slower pace.
I was tempted to look back to see if Trey had actually left—I hadn’t heard the door open, but the dogs were making it difficult to hear anything else. I didn’t dare break eye contact with them, however. So I stood my ground, pulled up the display, and tried to lock in my destination.
“Good doggies,” I whispered. They were only about ten feet away; I needed to hurry. “Stay…”
The larger and more aggressive of the two beasts apparently didn’t care for the “stay” command because he began barking again and lunged toward me. I countered with a left kick to his midsection.
Unfortunately, his jaws connected with my thigh at about the same time my kick sent him sprawling. I screamed as his teeth ripped through my jeans and raked two deep grooves in my leg. My hands shook and the display flickered in front of me, but I steadied them before I lost the stable point entirely.
I heard Trey calling my name from a distance and footsteps running toward me. “I’m okay! Go back, Trey!” The alpha dog was once again on his feet, his haunches tensed and ready to spring. If I tried to block him, I knew I’d lose the stable point again.
A split second later, the dog was in the air, headed toward the arm holding the CHRONOS key. I did the only thing I could do—blinked my eyes and hoped for the best.