Page 84 of Gifted Destiny

Garrett’s muscles ripple, and he manages to ask a question without words. Should he shift?

“Not yet,”I whisper along the mental link.

I have no idea what to expect, and the figure that greets me is so surreal that I think I’ve entered a parallel universe. At this point, it wouldn’t be the craziest scenario.

The woman is plain and nondescript. If I met her on the street, I probably wouldn’t remember her the next day. She’s wearing a pantsuit – the kind of apparel I only see on television. It’s not perfectly tailored but not overly large, and the fabric is a dull brown. Her eyes and hair appear to be the same color. The short bob is probably intended to be low maintenance, and it’s neither flattering nor off-putting. The only interesting thing about her was a thin computer tablet that appeared more high-tech than anything I’d seen at the orphanage. Corporate lackeys generally prefer phones, in my experience.

Nothing about her suggests magic, but she just appeared out of nowhere in a space that should be impossible to trespass. I can’t let my guard down.

When she first appears, I smell nervous confusion before she dispels it and straightens her shoulders. Glancing at the tablet balanced on one forearm, she reminds me of the health inspectors who would occasionally visit the orphanage – theyounger ones who weren’t so disillusioned by their careers that they still cared.

“This is highly irregular,” she mutters after another glance at her tablet. The eerie glow of the electronic device makes her appear sallow. The comment isn’t intended for us. I grasp every clue and trickle of emotion that leaks past her tight defenses, and I hope my mates are doing the same. If we survive this, I definitely want to discuss it. It has to be one of the strangest occurrences of my lifetime, although that degree of evaluation doesn’t hold the range it used to.

I wait for the woman to make the first move, and my mates follow my lead. The library’s wordless warning advocated preparation. Sage hasn’t implied that the woman is a threat, but I feel like she could be.

When the stranger clears her throat, my ears twitch with anticipation. “As a messenger sent on behalf of the Cronos Corporation, I have been ordered to issue a citation. This anomaly is in direct violation of the time code as stated in Statute 3, Chapter 11, Paragraph B. This serves as a warning to cease and desist.”

Although her words have shaken all of us, my sphinx intuition is distracted by something other than the drivel she’s spouting. With her first word, I noted somethingwrong. My nostrils flare, but I can’t identify a single scent that might have been added alongside her appearance. This is impossible. All humans carry scents – their cleaning products, their last meal, or their specific, individual pheromone and chemical odor.

“Zosia?”Garrett inquires along our link.

Our uninvited quest interjects before I can formulate a response. “Mental communication is not allowed when in the presence of a Cronos representative. This is a violation of Statute 11, Chapter 6, Paragraph 15.”

My body stiffens, and I halt halfway between her and my guardians. I hadn’t realized that I’d taken several inquisitive steps toward the woman, and she’d given no indication either. She hasn’t shown any sign of fear or trepidation that a predator prowls toward her, but this revelation sits behind the other. Can she hear our bond? Or is she just aware that we’re communicating?

That niggling sense that something iswrongwith her grows with each minute. “What are you?” The question flies from my brain to my lips before I can reconsider.

The messenger, who I’m now positive isn’t human, doesn’t blink in response. “I am a messenger from the Cronos Corporation,” she repeats in a flat tone. “We oversee this planet, and I am personally assigned to your string. Headquarters has ordered me to address the illegal time anomaly that has manifested in this time and place.”

Her explanation is confusing, but I believe the strange words are intended as a distraction. My nose lowers, and I evaluate her with something more than my own senses. For the briefest second, I understand that I’m drawing on all of my mates’ abilities. What I find is unnerving, but it’s also nearly irrelevant.

Oblivious to my inspection, the creature fashioned to look like a woman, gestures to the blue fog around us. It grew still and stagnant when she arrived; the scents and images have disappeared. Another spark of intuition suggests that it’s not exactly pleased about her presence, though. I hadn’t considered it might be sentient ….

“You’re one of the time meddlers,” Bren mutters. It’s the first word any of them have spoken aloud since the woman arrived.

The woman’s chin tilts into the air, but I don’t believe she fully understands who – or what – she is defending. “The Cronos Corporation is dedicated to the populations of Gaia, Pangaea, and the lost world. Its messengers and representatives adhere tostrict instructions to achieve this end. Unsanctioned time magic is a threat to the fabric of time and space. Our actions and duties are devoted to preservation.” Her speech is wooden and reminds me of a professional’s rote recitations.

“Pangaea? The lost world?” Kodi echoes.

“Are you a robot? An android?” I prod, feeling an inexplicable desire to shatter her composure. I understand we have more urgent problems, but I can’t shake this compulsion to free her. Just like the book downstairs, there is a soul trapped somewhere within the shell standing before me.

“I am a messenger from the Cronos Corporation. My title is Timekeeper,” she retorts. I see a fissure in her demeanor, however, signified by a brief glimmer of uncertainty in her blank gaze. She’s never questioned her existence before; she’s never wonderedwho,what, orwhyshe is. Even calling her a woman or affording her feminine pronouns is incorrect, but she hasn’t suggested an alternative.

Bren’s sudden appearance at my side prevents me from cracking the fissure further. “What is this time anomaly? Whatever we did, it was an accident.” Although he’s also curious about our visitor, he’s more interested in uncovering the mystery surrounding us. I cede the moment to him. My magic played a part, but this is ultimately his creation. Besides, pressing further will only cause the woman to shut down.

“And why have we never heard of this so-called Cronos Corporation?” Garrett growls. He steps alongside me while Avery and Kodi remain right behind me. The messenger doesn’t react differently in response to our nearness.

The woman takes a deep breath, seemingly relieved at the change in conversation. Unlike Kodi, she appears to need the breath, but it’s carefully regulated. “The Cronos Corporation operates covertly, and your lack of knowledge is understandable. The Corporation manages the business of time and safeguardsits secrets. This includes interacting with the planetary populations only when necessary.” Her gaze slips to the tablet at the end of each sentence. It’s barely perceptible, but I notice because I’m watching for it. She isn’t reciting now; this is new territory for her.

“The anomaly that has manifested here is an exception and required an exceptional response. The proper term is time slip. Time slips are folds in the continuum. These folds draw the timelines closer together and subvert the natural order.” Her gaze darts more rapidly toward the tablet during the last portion of her explanation, and her fresh uncertainty is intriguing.

“So, we can time travel?” Kodi asks eagerly. In addition to acting unconcerned for her personal safety, the woman also doesn’t appear interested in my guardians. Her gaze doesn’t linger on any of them in a less than clinical manner. I can’t expect all women to flush when confronted by their various charms, but her reaction supports my assumption that she isn’t human.

When she looks at Kodi, she appears appraising. “You are another anomaly because you only exist in this timeline.” Her observation isn’t from the tablet, and I believe these comments are truer than the ones she reads. “Time travel is forbidden,” she adds as she glances at the digital aid again. “Using Gaian terms, this time slip is a misdemeanor. Time travel is a felony.”

“Is ours the true timeline?” Bren asks. He cranes his neck as if trying to read the text on her screen.

The messenger doesn’t seem to notice as she swipes the screen. I imagine she’s following a flow chart that gives her the correct replies. The ambient light projected by the screen appears less … pure when compared to the blue miasma of roiling magic.

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