Chapter 18
“What if Anna doesn’t believe us?” I asked. “Nicole and Laura are her protégés. We need proof.”
“We might not have time for that,” April said. “First, I need to get past the guards. I don’t want them calling my parents—they’d freak out if they knew I went off base.”
I looked at Oya. She nodded, already reading my thoughts. The only time I had ever given her a direct command was the last time we saved April and the others.
“We can ride Oya again,” I suggested.
April turned to her, hesitation flickering in her eyes. She fiddled with her fingers before pulling her coat tighter around herself. Silence answered for both of them. Oya’s eyes rolled upward in irritation before she exhaled, her breath sharp with offense.
“I can do more than be transportation,” Oya muttered.
“Yeah, last time was rough for me,” April said, half-smiling. “She’s so small—I was surprised she could even carry all four of us.”
That did it. Oya’s expression hardened. She rolled up her sleeves.
“I’m tired of being underestimated because I lost one battle.”
Before either of us could react, she raised her right hand toward the sky. A thick fog began to swirl from nowhere, dark and heavy, rolling outward until even the guard booth across the street disappeared.
“Follow me,” Oya commanded.
A narrow path opened through the fog, and we followed her up the hill toward the base checkpoint. I could hear the guards panicking, shouting into the darkness, but they couldn’t see us—and we couldn’t see them. Oya veered left, avoiding the main street. Within moments, she stopped.
The fog began to retract, dissolving into the night air. The stars reappeared, crisp against the black sky. We stood across from the first row of courts—the side where April and Javier lived—by the gated forest that bordered the base. The electrified fence shimmered faintly.
“Oya, how far does your fog reach?” April asked, genuine curiosity softening her voice.
Oya smiled—an honest smile, not the kind I’d been faking lately.
“Well,” she said proudly, “thanks to Lonnie reading your mind and me reading his, I can say my power covers up to four hundred eighty-four yards—about a two-point-two-mile perimeter, if you think of it as a square.”
April whistled softly. “That’s… actually really impressive. And we didn’t even have to ride her.”
Her smirk faded as she gasped. “Oh no—not again.”
I felt it too. The familiar numbness crawled up my legs, the metallic taste of iron coating my tongue. April’s voice began to fade as the world around me blurred. The air smelled faintly of rust—like cleaning an old tool. My hands turned translucent.
“I’ll tell Anna,” April said, her voice distant, fading. “Don’t worry about me—I got it.”
Her words dissolved as the snow and sky bled together in blinding white light. My body grew heavy and numb, like a limb that’s fallen asleep. I’d decided to call this the Trouble Seeker Effect—it always happened when April was in danger. Maybe that was the rule: help her, and I could return to my body in the past. One piece of the puzzle, at least.
The white began to darken, black veins spilling across it like ink on paper. My body solidified. My eyes fluttered open.
Once again, I was in the medical room at Reidlinger’s mansion.
“Ah, you made it back without my guidance,” she said.
Reidlinger sat in a rocking chair, serene, as if she had no worries in the world.
“How long have you had these blackouts?”
Since Wednesday, I wanted to say. Since the hit that sent me here.
She wasn’t wearing her usual elegant gown. Instead, linen pants and a cream shirt—simple, comfortable.
“You can read minds?” I asked, forcing a smile, trying to deflect. “Last time I blacked out, I heard your voice calling me. When I woke up, you were already in my head.”
“Ah, yes—my checkmate,” she said, standing carefully. Her knees buckled slightly before she steadied herself. “To answer your question—no, not quite. I’m not a telepath. It’s empathy—real empathy. I can read thoughts attached to emotion. I feel your disgust, sadness, anger, fear… all that you try to hide behind your joy.”
She tilted her head. “You don’t belong here, do you?”
My chest tightened. April had accepted my truth so easily. But telling Reidlinger—someone from the past—about time travel could twist everything. Create paradoxes, new timelines. The kind of stuff that makes my head ache.
“Are there checkmates that involve… time travel?” I finally asked.
Her head jerked slightly as she studied me.
“Ah. There’s your fear again,” she said. “Afraid of what I’ll find. Afraid of the answer.”
She motioned for me to follow. I did. April was safe now—Nicole and Laura would think she drowned. She’d reach Anna soon. And Brenda was safe here at the mansion.
“I don’t belong here, Reidlinger,” I admitted quietly.
We walked down the dim hallway. A few of the Black workers were tidying the dining room; the smell of pine reminded me of the forest.
“Yes,” she said. “Time manipulation is possible for a checkmate—but it’s never pure time travel. It’s usually a form of control. I had a student once who could slow or speed time—it looked like speed manipulation to others. Another could jump five seconds into the future. Technically, she froze everyone else. If your ability is what I think it is… it’s rare. And powerful.”
I exhaled. “Each time I blackout, I come here—to the past. Then, I wake up back in my time.”
“What time is that?”
“2024.”
She didn’t flinch.
“Well,” she said, “that would be an extraordinary form of temporal manipulation. But yours works through astral projection?”
“That’s what my friend Daniel thinks. Anna—the grandmaster—” I stopped myself, the paradox flashing in my head.
Reidlinger smiled faintly. “I can feel your fear again. Yes—telling us about the future is dangerous. Perhaps this is already the paradox. Still, you’re the first I’ve known to travel centuries. If your physical body’s here, though… that’s unusual.”
“Then how did my body end up here?”
“My boy, I don’t know.” She paused at a door. “But if Curtis knew you could do this—perhaps that’s why he targeted you. Imagine the power of someone who could use you to change what happens to him.”
“Help him change the future,” I murmured.
“Exactly.”
She sighed, opening the door to a small but elegant room: a twin bed, dresser, desk, and window overlooking the courtyard.
“Time is finite for the living,” she said, turning toward me, “but infinite as a force. You can’t control it—not really. You can only make do with what you have.”
She was about to leave when pounding footsteps echoed down the hall.
Brad, Morgan, and Krystal appeared, out of breath but wide-eyed.
“We can’t find her,” Morgan said, hands on her hips.
Reidlinger’s face went still.
“Who?” I asked, though dread already clawed at my chest.
Reidlinger turned toward me, eyes grave.
“Brenda.”