Timepiece (Hourglass #2)

Timepiece (Hourglass #2) Page 7

That explained the fear and uncertainty I could feel pulsing around the room. There was no anger from Michael or Em for having to wait until this morning to get details. That was all me. But something was off with Em.

“Poe mentioned someone named Teague last night. Who is that?” I asked. Might as well get things started.

“Teague,” Dad said, and was quiet for a minute, as if he were shuffling through mental files for information. “She used to be the head of the parapsychology department at Bennett University before it was dismantled,” Dad explained. “Her unconventional ideas stripped the credibility of some very sound research and led to a major loss of funding for the department. Once the money was gone, so was she, along with several staff members who chose to leave.”

Everything from melancholy to fear jumbled up inside him. The past mixed with the present, too tangled for me to sort out.

“Wait a second.” Nate switched positions on the floor beside me so fast it made my head hurt, and his mind moved as quickly as his body did. “You said that the staff chose to leave. If staying at the school was one choice, what was the other?”

“Joining Teague.” Dad’s lips pressed together in a grim line.

“Where? What makes her powerful enough to send an assassin and demand—” I stopped. I already knew the answer.

So did Em.

“She’s part of the consequence Cat warned me about before I went back to save Michael.” Em slumped back hard on the sofa. Dust flew two feet in the air. “Teague must be part of the Powers That Be.”

“The Powers That Be.” Dad nodded. “Chronos.”

Dune placed his elbows on his knees, and one of his dark brown dreads escaped the leather tie, swinging into his eyes. He ignored it. “I thought Chronos was a myth.”

“That’s what they want you to think.” Dad’s voice was grim and layered in what felt like years of frustration.

Dune’s focus drifted toward Dad’s bookcase and his hourglass collection. They were the only things on the shelves that weren’t dusty.

“I didn’t follow Teague,” Dad explained, his expression resigned. “I’d begun researching the time gene, and I was ready to start the Hourglass. Cameron College offered me a position, and Cat and Jack followed me to Ivy Springs. It was past time to get out. She wasn’t completely certain how it worked, but Teague knew about my ability and Cat’s, as well as Grace’s.”

My stomach took a dive at the sound of my mother’s name.

“Why does Teague want Jack now? How can he repair the damage he … we did to the continuum?” Em focused on a spot on the floor. Pain. Sadness. But not one hint of regret. Michael took her hand.

“Poe didn’t say that Jack could repair the continuum.” I nudged Em’s knee with my elbow. “He said if we found Jack, there was a possibility the continuum could be repaired. You were kind of … out of pocket for that part.”

“Oh yeah. I was on the ground bleeding to death.” Em laughed halfheartedly.

No one else did.

“Can Jack fix the continuum?” I asked.

Dad put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the bookcase. He was hiding so much. I could feel it, but I couldn’t explain any of it. “I don’t think that’s why Teague wants him.”

“Why, then?” Em asked.

“That’s not for you kids to worry about.” He was protecting us. He was also terrified. After pausing for a moment, he seemed to make a decision. “I’ve already said too much. The message from Teague was for me, not all of you.”

“What? That can’t be it. We still have questions.” I pulled myself to my feet, angry. “You have to let us help you.”

“No, I don’t.” Dad shrugged with an air of finality, and then stepped forward to shuffle papers on his desk.

“Yes, you do.” I spoke firmly, enunciating, letting Dad know that I didn’t plan on backing down. “Everyone in this room was part of the plan to bring you back. If that doesn’t give us full rights as Hourglass members, then something is way wrong.”

“I have the help I need.” Dad’s words didn’t give the answer away, but Michael’s emotions did. I spun around to face him.

I shook my head in disgust. “Why doesn’t somebody just make you a freaking superhero cape?”

Michael’s expression didn’t change.

“Son. Michael’s an adult, and he’s capable of making his own decisions.”

“He’s nineteen.”

“I refuse to put anyone else in jeopardy, especially if they’re underage. What happened last year almost ruined us.”

“Oh, what, you mean how enrollment at school dropped after you blew up in your lab?” I laughed bitterly. “Or when it dropped after you came back from the dead? I can see why you’d jump to Michael for help, considering what an ‘adult’ handle he had on that situation.”

“All of this falls squarely on me,” Em spoke up. “Jack compromised the continuum because he wanted my ability to travel to the past. It’s not right for me to sit safely and act like I’m not responsible.”

“Jack didn’t kill me because of you, Emerson,” Dad assured her. “He wanted the Hourglass, and after that was his, he got greedy. He tried to use you as a tool for some grander scheme to change something in his past.”

“Please, Liam.” Em scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned forward, staring until Dad met her eyes. “I want to be a tool for the right reasons. Let me help.”

“Michael and I can handle it,” Dad insisted, his eyes shuttering any emotion. “I only wanted to catch you all up to speed. Oh, but I do need one thing. Someone to tell Ava that Jack is back.”

Everyone looked at me.

Chapter 6

I didn’t believe in delaying unpleasant tasks. I went straight from Dad’s office to the stone gatehouse on our property and knocked.

“We have to talk,” I said, when Ava answered.

She tried to slam the door in my face.

I stuck out my foot to block it, glad I was wearing boots. It bounced off and swung open. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious, too. I don’t want to deal with you today.” Ignoring me, she went to the couch and picked up the television remote. When she pressed a button, a scene from nineteenth-century England disappeared from the TV screen. “Besides, there’s nothing we need to discuss.”

She wore a tank top, and I could see every detail of her shoulders and collarbones beneath the tiny straps. Too skinny to begin with, she was starting to resemble those runway models who ate cotton instead of real food because it was chewy and calorie free.

“Actually, there’s a lot to discuss.”

“Go home, Kaleb,” she said, with barely concealed disgust.

A couple of weeks ago, Ava and I had run into each other after school. Physically ran into each other. I’d tapped into her emotions against my will. She’d been wound so tight I went against my better judgment and asked her if she was okay. One word of kindness, and she’d spilled her guts. We’d ended up huddled together on the floor while she cried until all her tears were gone.