Chapter 5 #2
“Sure.” I pushed back from the table and retrieved the parchment from the bedroom. When I returned, I handed it to him.
Lee held the note carefully, his lips moving as he silently read the words. His eyes darkened. “Have you met this man? Have you met Malik?”
I shook my head. “No. But somehow I feel like I know him, as if we’re bound by something deeper than time. He’s saved my life more than once.”
Lee nodded, his expression unreadable. “If Malik sent you here, the mission has begun.”
Like feathers brushing against my spine, a strange sensation shivered through me. “What does that mean?”
Lee tapped the parchment. “The letter says you must find Tristan. But Jack and I have been searching for him for months. It’s as if he vanished into thin air.” He splayed his fingers. “Poof. Gone.”
My appetite disappeared. I pushed my plate away and leaned forward on my forearms. “Do you know Malik? What can you tell me about him?”
Lee’s face darkened. “Malik is like a son to Balthazar. Balthazar raised him as his own.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But Malik is ruthless. Dangerous. He’s not a man to be trusted.”
He looked at the window as if seeking answers among the trees. His voice dropped lower. “Still, Alina trusted him.”
I frowned. “They were friends?”
Lee nodded. “Yes. She believed in him.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No,” Lee admitted with a shake of his head. “But before she died, she returned to his time and gave him her journal.”
He sighed, rubbing his fingers together as if recalling something long lost. “Her journal was her most prized possession. She was always writing in that damn thing—her secrets, her adventures, the mysteries of her past. If she gave it to Malik… it means she saw something in him.”
Excitement bloomed in my chest. “Yes! The journal! Olivia and I have to find the book containing her writings.”
Lee’s expression darkened, clouds storming his eyes. “You’ll never find it.”
I stiffened. “Why not?”
“Because Malik has it.”
A heavy silence settled between us as I digested the revelation.
Across the room, Jack continued bustling in the kitchen, rinsing dishes and placing them into what I’d recently learned was a dishwasher.
If Malik had the journal, how would we ever retrieve it? And without it, how would we find Tristan?
Lee interrupted my thoughts. “I wonder why Malik needs Tristan.” His brows furrowed. “I always found Tristan strange… mysterious. But I could never put my finger on it. He must be important if Malik insists you find him.”
“Well, we’d better locate him.” I pushed back from the table, wincing as pain lanced through my chest. “I need to time travel with him in tow.”
“No.” Lee placed a firm hand on my forearm, his grip grounding me. “You need to rest and recover.”
Frustration flowed through me. I slammed my fist against the table, rattling the dishes. “I need to time travel! Balthazar is hunting us!”
A visible ripple of shock rolled off Lee as if my words had struck him like a physical blow. His jaw tightened. “Tell me more about Olivia. How has she handled Balthazar?”
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.
“She’s terrified. She struggles to understand him…
and her darkness. She tries to fight against him, but so far, she’s been unsuccessful.
” My voice dropped lower. “None of us truly know the depths of his depravity or the supernatural skill with which he moves through the natural world.”
Lee stroked his chin, his gaze distant as he stared out the window.
I clenched my fists, my voice breaking with urgency. “Olivia—my wife—is pregnant. And I’m not there to help her. I’m not there to protect her from that hideous demon.”
Lee’s burnished skin paled. His fingers tightened around his mug, his expression unreadable.
“There must be a way to find out how she is,” Lee murmured. “Even from another time and place.”
In the kitchen, Jack continued clattering about, the sounds of metal and ceramic filling the silence. But I barely heard him.
I could only think of Olivia. Of the life growing inside her. Of the darkness closing in.
And of how, no matter what it took, I had to get back to her.
“There is a way,” Lee said at last. “When you married Olivia, did Grey Feather bind your daggers?”
“Yes,” I said, my heart hammering. “Grey Feather cut our hands during the ceremony and recited the ancient scriptures. He said we were now bound—that if we were ever separated, we could find one another through the blade.”
Lee’s face brightened, and he sat upright. “Where is your dagger?”
I hesitated, then turned to Jack.
Jack wiped his hands on a dish towel. “I put it away for safekeeping. I’ll get it.”
He shuffled out of the room and returned carrying a parcel wrapped in red silk. He placed it gently on the table before me and reverently peeled back the fabric.
The light caught the blade, and my dagger glistened like liquid fire.
Relief surged through me as I picked it up. It was as much a part of me as my skin.
Lee extended his hand, palm up. “May I?”
I gripped the handle tighter, reluctant to let go.
Sensing my hesitation, Lee’s voice softened. “We need to find her. To see how she has fared.”
My loose-fitting garments suddenly felt too tight. A shivery sensation curled through my belly.
I was going to see her, my Olivia.
My hand shook as I extended the blade to Lee.
Jack took a seat beside me, his eyes gleaming with unspoken emotion. He knew he couldn’t witness what the blade revealed—Jack wasn’t a Timeborne.
I squeezed his forearm. “I’ll tell you everything I see.”
He wiped at his eyes and gave a stiff nod.
Lee wrapped his fingers around the hilt, then gestured toward my open palm.
I hesitated only a moment before extending my hand.
With practiced precision, Lee pressed his fingers to mine and sliced the dagger’s edge across my palm.
I winced as the sting flared, sharp and immediate, but I didn’t pull away.
Because in that moment, I knew—
I was about to see her again.
Blood seeped from my palm, and Lee began to recite the sacred scripture.
A single ray of sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating my hand and casting the room in an eerie hush. The dagger pulsed with light, its surface glowing with an ethereal brilliance.
Jack’s mouth parted in awe. “The blade—it’s glowing.”
“Shhh,” Lee murmured, eyes locked onto the knife.
The gleaming metal swirled with images, shifting like water ripples until Olivia appeared.
My beautiful, courageous wife lay inside a teepee, her body curled in agony. Emily knelt beside her, clutching her hand, whispering words of comfort that couldn’t reach her.
“I can’t save them!” Olivia’s voice cracked with despair. “I can’t save any of them. The Kiowa are nothing but ruthless warriors!”
My chest tightened, my breath hitching.
Then the vision shifted—
Balthazar.
He was there with her.
Rage twisted his features as he struck at Olivia, his hand lashing across her face before shoving her violently to the ground.
She let out a choked scream, her arms wrapping protectively around her belly.
A mangled cry tore from my throat.
Lee slammed my bleeding hand onto the table, grounding me, but the fire inside me roared.
“What is it?” Jack whispered, his voice urgent.
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t breathe.
The vision wavered, revealing Olivia again, slumped inside the teepee. But this time, she wasn't just grieving—she was broken.
Emily knelt beside her, murmuring words Olivia could barely hear through the ringing in her ears.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said gently. “You lost the baby.”
Olivia clutched her abdomen, a silent scream twisting her face before the sobs tore free, raw and uncontrollable.
Her sorrow crashed into me like a tidal wave, brutal and unrelenting.
No.
Red-hot rage ignited in my veins, consuming every part of me. Balthazar had taken everything. My child. My future. My family.
I wanted to kill him.
I wanted to break him.
To wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life from him until he felt even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted.
My head fell back, and a guttural bellow ripped from my chest—a primal sound of agony.
Pain slashed through me, jagged and merciless.
“Stay with us, son,” Lee urged, gripping my wrist. “You can do this. Olivia needs to feel this connection.”
Tears streamed down my face, hot and persistent. My breath came in broken gasps.
I had never felt so powerless.
I’d never felt such shame—shame at my tears, my weakness, my inability to protect my wife.
I had failed her.
The blade darkened, shadows swallowing its glow. I had to strain through the gloom to see the next vision. It was as if I were peering through Olivia’s very soul—through her grief.
I watched, helpless, as my wife—my strong, unbreakable Olivia—sat rocking back and forth, her body gaunt, her eyes vacant. She looked as though she had surrendered to fate, to loss, to the cruel hands that had ripped everything from her.
A cold, murderous rage unfurled inside me. The desire to kill Balthazar roared through my veins, burning away my sorrow until only white-hot fury remained.
Then the vision shifted, softening the wild pounding in my ears.
A man stood beside Olivia, offering comfort.
Malik.
Curiosity twisted through my chest, tangled with something I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. But why was he the one reassuring my wife?
The image blurred before I could understand it, reshaping into something new.
A quaint cottage.
A man who looked remarkably like Jack sat at a worn wooden table. Marcellious and Olivia were there. The three of them engaged in quiet conversation, their expressions grave.
The image flickered, morphing again—
Olivia’s face twisted in terror as Balthazar drove a blade through Marcellious’ abdomen.
Blood. Shock. A harsh gasp.
Balthazar turned to Olivia and Emily, his lips pulling back in a wicked snarl.
“You’d better run,” he roared. “Run for your lives, ladies. And I’ll be right on your tail.”
The vision branded itself into my mind, searing me with the truth—I could watch, but I couldn’t change anything.
I bolted to my feet, my chest heaving. “I’m going to destroy Balthazar!”
The scene warbled again, shifting—this time, Olivia and Malik appeared inside a grand mansion. The sight of them together doused my rage, replacing it with confusion.
What is she doing there? And why is she with Malik?
A memory from last night’s dreams washed over me—Malik and I racing across the plains on horseback, our bond fierce and unbreakable.
Then his voice echoed through my mind—I am a monster, but you treat me like a brother.
My own words followed, unspoken yet inevitable—You might have been born a monster, but you will never die as one. Even the darkest monsters can transform. One day, you will change and be the hero.
The images unraveled, dissolving into golden dust motes drifting through the air.
And I was left standing there, fists clenched, my mind reeling.
A grandfather clock ticked steadily from the other room, its rhythmic pulse an eerie contrast to the chaos inside me.
The scent of bacon and coffee still lingered, grounding me in the present, but I felt a thousand miles away.
Jack clutched my forearm, his grip tight. “What did you see?”
I shook my head, unable to form a meaningful sentence. My heart lay crushed beneath the revelations.
My brother is gravely wounded or dead.
My wife—broken beyond recognition.
And I was stranded in a different time, unable to reach her, unable to do anything but bear witness.
“Tell me,” Jack pressed. “Tell me what you saw.”
His bony fingers dug into my flesh, desperate for an answer.
Lee exhaled heavily and answered for me. “The baby is gone.”
The words hung in the air, suffocating.
Jack staggered back. “Oh, God…” His voice splintered. “My grandchild… My daughter… What have we done, Lee?”
His hands pressed against his cheeks, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I should never have listened to you. We should have told her sooner. We should have trained her the right way instead of hiding the truth from her. Now she’s wounded, broken, suffering because of our secrets.”
Lee’s gaze met Jack’s, guilt weighing heavily in his eyes. “I know, Jack. I know. We should have prepared her. We thought we were protecting her, but instead, we failed her. And Balthazar found her because of it.” He ran a hand down his face. “What are we going to do?”
The fury inside me ignited like dry brush in a wildfire.
I slammed my unsliced palm against the polished kitchen table. “That son of a bitch—Tristan.” My breath came in short bursts. “There’s no more time to wait. We start looking for him immediately. Olivia needs us more than ever.”