Chapter 23 #3
“And why do you think that?” His tone was laced with boredom, as if I were little more than a buzzing fly. When it met mine, his gaze was lifeless, like staring across a vast, empty chasm, like everything inside him had already rotted away.
“Because,” I said, leaning forward, digging my fingernails into the scarred tabletop, “we haven’t found anything. Or haven’t you noticed?”
I locked eyes with him, matching his ice with my fire.
He scoffed and looked away. “And you think it’s my fault, don’t you?”
“Of course it’s your fault!” I snapped. “No one wants to talk to you! You walk around with this aura like you’re two seconds away from slitting someone’s throat!”
He turned his head and fixed me with a gaze so sinister, it chilled the marrow in my bones. “Yours, perhaps.”
A shiver crawled up my spine, but I refused to look away. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.
My blood boiled, rage rising like a tide. Images of John James surged through my mind—his calm smile, false promises, the ease with which he sent us here and left us to rot.
“John James promised we’d find the daggers here!” I growled. “How could I have been so stupid? He lied! Just like everyone else. Everyone lies!”
I drained my mug in one angry gulp, letting the heat of the ale burn away the edge of my fury.
“Dead ends surround us; meanwhile, Balthazar is still out there. Still waiting.”
Dancing Fire didn’t blink.
“Are you done with this little display?” he said with a sneer, gesturing lazily between us.
I slammed my mug onto the table so hard that the ale sloshed over the rim. “Stop patronizing me! I’m sick of it!”
He leaned in. “I’m through playing your games.”
The few patrons scattered throughout the tavern turned toward us, their chatter dying mid-sentence. Mugs hovered in the air. Eyes widened.
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, leaning across the table.
“Or what?” he snarled.
I faltered. “Or… or…” My words withered on my tongue. “I don’t know.”
The fire drained from me in an instant. My limbs felt heavy, my skull aching from too many sleepless nights and unspoken fears. I wanted to lay my head on the table, let the noise and fury fade—but there was no time for that.
“We need to go back to John James,” I muttered. “I don’t like being lied to.”
Dancing Fire stared at me for a beat longer, unreadable, then exhaled hard through his nose. He stood, reached into his coat, and tossed a few battered coins onto the table with a clink of finality.
Then he turned and walked away.
“Wait!” I cried, scrambling to my feet and rushing after him. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t stop until he reached the tavern door. Then, glancing back over his shoulder, he said simply, “Back to see John James. Like you said.”
His eyes flicked toward the moonlight spilling through the window.
“The full moon is happening now.”
And with that, he disappeared into the night.
We time-traveled back during a brutal heat wave. The sun beat down ruthlessly, turning every breath into a struggle. Sweat soaked through my clothes as I slogged up the hill, my boots dragging through the dry earth.
John James’ cabin finally appeared, nestled beneath the gnarled trees. He was seated outside on a stump, lazily fanning himself with a curled parchment. His eyes blinked open, surprised at the sight of us.
I had no energy to storm up and accuse him like I’d planned. Instead, I sank into the dust beside him and said flatly, “We didn’t find the daggers. You lied.”
He stood, stretching his back. “I certainly didn’t lie. Based on what my sources told me, I gave you the best information I had.”
“Well,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow, “they lied, then. That’s all I ever get. Lies, lies, lies.”
John James exchanged a glance with Dancing Fire, unreadable.
“I never said you’d find the daggers,” he said with a note of exasperation. “I said it was a promising lead. That’s all.”
I groaned and flopped back, staring up at the cloudless sky.
Then he leaned in slightly, his tone shifting. “What if I told you I’ve got a better lead now? Something new.”
I snorted. “You’d probably tell me to go to hell.”
He smirked. “You’re already living there, remember?”
I turned my head, eyeing him. “I’m listening.”
John James leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, eyes glittering with excitement. “While you were away, I came across something... recent. A name. A connection. My twin brother, Jack.”
I raised a brow, skeptical. “You have a twin?”
He nodded. “Yes. And he’s the key to all of this. Jack immersed himself in the future. Specifically, 1988. He’s become a leading mind in time travel, in ways even I can’t comprehend.”
I squinted, trying to make sense of it. “Why would I go looking for Jack James?”
“Because,” he said triumphantly, “he holds the answers you’ve been chasing. Answers I can’t give.”
I stared at him, the seed of suspicion taking root. “Is there anything else you’ve been keeping from me?”
John James lifted his hands in a casual half-shrug. “Just one more thing. Something that might tip the scales.”
He paused—then dropped the final twist with maddening calm.
“My brother and I… we’re Timebounds. If that means anything to you.”
The words hit like a lightning bolt.
Heat surged through my chest—not from the sun but something deeper. Rage. Confusion. Realization.
“Wait—what?” I shot upright. “You and your brother are both Timebounds? What is that? And why the hell was this never mentioned before?”
John James just smiled, maddeningly serene.
“Because you weren’t ready to understand. Until now.”