Time's Echo: A CHRONOS Files Novella by Rysa Walker Read Free Book Online

the frame is cracked near the deadbolt and it's
off the top hinge. The wood was old, so I never had any illusions that the
deadbolt would stop a determined intruder. Its only purpose was to give us a
few minutes' warning. I push myself up to standing so I can get a closer look.
Although it's just four steps from the bed to the door, before I'm halfway
there, I see the odd rippling effect and the door is whole again. There's no
cracked frame and it's firmly on both hinges.
    I reverse quickly until the back of my legs bumps the edge
of the bed and half sit, half fall onto the mattress. I stay there for a
moment, and then run my fingers across the CHRONOS key—it's nine twenty-four.
I've never jumped back after a timeline shift to the point just before the change,
so I'm not sure what to expect. I brace myself and count down the seconds to
nine twenty-seven, never quite taking my eyes off that door.
    Nine twenty-seven comes and goes, without the gut-punch that
usually follows a time shift. I slowly release the breath I've been holding.
    And that's when I see it. Or rather, I don't see it.
Kate's phone is gone. Her pillow, the squishy one she brought from her time, is
also gone, along with the tin of mints. The diary is still there, on top of the
Conan Doyle book where I tossed it earlier. So is her dress, still hanging from
its hook. I frantically search the space under the
floorboard, but it's empty, aside from a few odds and ends of my own. I glance
around, and aside from the diary and the dress, every trace of Kate's existence
has vanished from the room.
    I don't know how long I sit there, my mouth moving, but no
sound coming out. After a moment, I lean my head back and look up at the
ceiling, the same dull, stained gray as the walls, and that's what totally breaks
me.
    Not a single one of Kate's stars remains in our sky.
    ∞
    Green light coming from the corner of the dark room wakes
me. I'm in bed, although I can't recall getting here. My eyes are swollen and
my vision still blurry from sleep, but I see a shape with long dark curls
emerge from behind the curtain in the corner.
    I suck in a breath. "Bloody
hell, where have you—"
    My eyes have adjusted a bit and I see it's not Kate. It's
Prudence. And, unfortunately, it's not a young Pru. The younger versions are a
lot easier to handle. I can't tell for certain in the glow from her CHRONOS
key, but I'd say this Pru is as old as I've ever seen her. Thirty-five,
maybe. If past experience holds true, I'll need to watch my step to
avoid setting her off.
    Why didn't she send a younger version of herself like she
usually does? Maybe she's finally wised up and realized that reconciling so
many conflicting memories is turning her brain to mush. Or maybe she's so far
gone by this point that she doesn't care.
    Pru tilts her head to the side and eyes me with suspicion.
"Were you expecting someone else, Kiernan?"
    "I was dreaming, Pru. Thought you
were me mum at first."
    Starting out with a crack about her age might not
have been best move. For a few seconds, her expression reminds me of this
character in one of the Harry Potter movies I watched with Kate. I can't
remember the name, but she was one of the bad witches, dancing through a field
of flames, screaming that she'd killed Harry's uncle or something. The fact
that Pru is in a black dress and her hair looks like it hasn't seen a comb in
several days makes the likeness downright creepy.
    Her eyes flash daggers at me as she reaches behind her back
and gets a handful of red fabric. She yanks the curtain downward, ripping out
both of the nails and a bit of plaster from the wall, before dropping it to the
floor.
    "I should be the one asking where in bloody hell you've been." She sits down on the edge of my bed, resting her hand on my foot.
"You knew we had an adjustment scheduled. You were supposed to report to
Estero."
    I sit up as an excuse to pull my foot away. Her thumbnail
scrapes across my ankle as I do. I've no clue what's been