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

changed in this time
"adjustment," as she likes to call them, aside from the possible
removal of Kate. My jaw tightens at that thought. There's no way I'm accepting
that Kate no longer exists. Maybe the time shift just keeps us from meeting?
    "Kind of hard to get to Estero when my key's been
stolen, Pru. The last thing I remember is getting my head bashed in the alley
by a bunch of thugs. They took my stuff, including my medallion. I'm not even
sure how I got here."
    She lets out a dramatic sigh. "I had no idea! I told
Simon to peek in on you a few hours ago when you didn't arrive. All he could
see was shadows through something red, so he called me." She points to the
curtain, now strewn across the floor. "Why was that thing blocking the
view?"
    "How would I know? I don't remember putting it up, Pru.
If I did, it's probably because I don't like Simon or anyone else watching me
while I sleep."
    The main reason I put it up was Kate's distrust that Pru
would keep clear of us. I made Pru erase the stable point she'd set for this
room from her CHRONOS medallion when she found out about Kate—my equivalent of
asking her to return the key to my apartment, I guess. The curtain was just a
bit of insurance. You can't hear what's going on when you preview a stable
point before a jump—just see it—so a curtain actually afforded us a bit of
privacy. Pru must have had Simon or someone break in and reset it. Probably
when they busted down my door…something my mind still insists happened, even
though I can see that the frame is unbroken.
    "Listen, Pru, my head's killing me. I think I have a
concussion or something. It's like my memory…parts of it are there. I mean, I
remember you. I remember us, but…"
    While I hope she'll think this is from my not being under a
CHRONOS field when the shift happened, much of it's the honest truth. My head
throbs every time I move it and even harder when I try to concentrate. And I do
remember more than I'd like—definitely more than Kate would like—about
Prudence. Although that relationship was at least a dozen years ago for this
version of Pru, it was only two years ago for me. Back then, she was just a
confused kid who felt betrayed by her family, and unsure of the role she was
expected to play in building this grand new Cyrist future her father was
planning. She was frequently angry in those days—that seems to be a fairly
persistent personality trait for Pru—but there was also a
certain vulnerability. Crazy wasn't added to the mix until later. Still,
I'm amazed her mind is functional at all. Who knows how many different sets of
memories she's juggling in her head at this age?
    Pru slides closer to me, holding her medallion up to my head
like a flashlight and pushing my hair out of way so that she can pull up the
corner of the bandage. "God, Kiernan. That needs stitches or it's going to
scar. There was no cause for him—for whoever did this—to hit you that
hard."
    "It'd be difficult to knock me unconscious with gentle
tap on the head, Pru. And I wouldn't have let them take my stuff without a
fight."
    "Have you seen a doctor? Who patched you up?"
    "I don't know." There's no way I'm mentioning
Jess. I'm not sure whether Prudence knows I'm still in contact with him, and
the last thing I need is her snooping around right now, when he has memories of
a timeline that he shouldn't even know exists.
    "I can't remember much of anything," I repeat.
"I remember getting hit in an alley. I don't know how I got there. And
everything about the past year or so is bits and pieces. I remember you. Nuevo Reino . Simon. My mom…she died." I'm sure of it in the
other timeline, but as I speak, I feel a tiny spark of hope as I realize that
may have changed. "Right?"
    Prudence nods. "About a year
ago." Her eyes narrow a bit as she speaks, deepening the creases at
the edges. I suspect she's thinking about our last, very unpleasant, conversation
on the issue of my mother's death and trying to gauge how much of