Chapter 24
Alina
My mind wrestled with John James’ words as he stood beneath the shelter of an oak tree.
Timebounds? Reconnecting with his brother in the future?
None of it made sense. I had a hundred questions, but he wasn’t waiting for them—he was waiting for something else.
A sign I understood. A belief I couldn’t summon.
His gaze flicked from my face to the ground, hesitant, as if deciding what to reveal next.
“What exactly is a Timebound?” I asked. “And why are you here while your brother is… there?”
I motioned toward the horizon—toward the future.
John James nodded, his expression set in quiet resolve. “My brother and I were born in this century but separated as children. Timebounds can only travel with the aid of a Timeborne. Even babies can be moved through time, but never alone. It’s a rare, almost sacred connection.”
He looked at me, then glanced away—toward the door, or maybe the past. There was a flicker in his eyes, a silent plea. He wanted to know if I believed him. If I, too, felt the pull of this strange tale.
Before I could respond, he continued, voice soft but steady. “We were sent to different eras in those first weeks of life. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. All I know is, one day… he was gone. And no one would tell me where or why.”
The heat pressed down on me—maybe from the sun or his words. I wiped my damp forehead with the sleeve of my dress, my throat dry.
“I need water,” I murmured, swaying slightly.
John James was on his feet in an instant. “Sit,” he urged, pointing to the nearby stump. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
I collapsed onto the log, my limbs heavy. Across from me, Dancing Fire stood silently, and I scowled at him.
He should have told me this. I know he knows.
That same damn stony, unreadable expression met my glare. I wanted to scream. Inwardly, I growled. A stare-down with Dancing Fire would lead nowhere, and the heat was unbearable.
I tried to redirect my thoughts. Emily. Could that little charm around her neck have been a key? A marker of some kind? Maybe it appeared when she arrived—an announcement that she was a Timebound.
But my thoughts scattered at the sound of heavy footsteps. John James was approaching, carrying two clay jars of water. He handed one to Dancing Fire and passed the other to me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, the words tasting as forced as the water.
I gulped it down, but it was warm and wooden, likely scooped from a barrel. It only made my thirst worse.
John James stepped closer, extending a hand. “Let me show you how Timebound travel works,” he said. “May I see your dagger?”
I narrowed my eyes, wary, but slipped the dagger from my waistband. “Here,” I said, curt and cold.
Then I turned to Dancing Fire. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, maddeningly casual.
That was all it took. I shot to my feet, heat flaring in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We don’t exactly talk now, do we?” he replied, strolling a few paces before leaning against the twisted trunk of a nearby oak. He tipped the jar back and drank deeply, letting out a smug “Ahh” when finished.
I clenched my fists. My jaw tightened.
John James’ eyes flicked between us, then dropped to the dagger in his hand.
“Watch, Alina.” John James gripped the hilt of my dagger and gave a gentle twist. The blade slid open, revealing a hidden hollow with a small, intricate keyhole.
“The charm from the necklace fits here. The Timebound must draw blood from their hand and press it onto the pendant to activate it. Then, they insert the charm. After that, the Timeborne cuts their own hand and speaks the ancient words aloud. That’s what triggers the travel. Both go together. Always.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning. The logic, the ritual—it felt too surreal to grasp. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to believe it.
“We were brought here—my brother and I—when we were three,” he said softly, eyes shifting from the dirt at his feet to the gnarled tree where Dancing Fire stood, then out toward the far-off horizon.
He never looked at me. “I stayed. He didn’t.
But we share a face. A bond. And a fascination with time travel.
There are… resources in the future. Things we don’t have here. ”
My brow furrowed. “How do you know that? Have you been there?”
He hesitated. “I have connections.”
I wiped my forehead again, the heat relentless. Sweat dripped from my temples, trailing down my neck in salty streams. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
John James glanced over his shoulder like something—or someone—might be watching. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“If a Timeborne dies,” he said, “the Timebound is stuck. Trapped in that time forever.”
“What?” I stepped closer, heart hammering.
But something shifted in John James’ expression—frustration flaring beneath the surface. He waved his hand like he could swat my questions away.
“You must have more important things to do than interrogate me. You need to move on. Head to 1988.”
He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait! Why 1988?”
“That’s where my brother is. Based on my calculations, it has to be true.”
“Based on your calculations?” I snapped, eyes locking onto his. “You want me to leap into the future based on a theory? What if you’re wrong again—like you were about the 1400s?”
“You’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?” he said, voice tight. “What other choice do you have?”
Shock and confusion swirled through my chest. This was the same man who sent us chasing ghosts in the 1400s, and now he wanted blind faith?
“Do you even know if your brother remembers you exist?”
John James hesitated, then shook his head. “I highly doubt it. We were only three when we were torn apart.”
“Then why do you remember, and he doesn’t?”
Something dark flashed across his face. His jaw clenched. “Alina, enough with the questions. Just listen for once. Head to Canada. That’s where he was, last I heard.”
He paused, the edge softening in his voice. “Look, I’m your friend. I am trying to help you.”
“If you were my friend, you’d tell me the whole truth,” I snapped.
His gaze grew cold. “If I told you everything… I wouldn’t live much longer. I’d be dead.”
A silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. Then he added, barely above a whisper, “I’m your last thread of hope, Alina. Your last thread.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving nothing but the echo of his warning and the bitter weight of unanswered questions.
But deep down, I knew he was right.
I had no choice but to follow the threads wherever they led.
On the night of the full moon, Dancing Fire and I were catapulted through time and landed in a world that defied all reason.
Vancouver, BC, 1988 was a land of the bizarre, brimming with color, chaos, and incomprehensible noise.
Metal machines zipped across smooth black roads or soared above us in the sky.
People moved in every direction, dressed—or undressed—in ways I couldn’t begin to understand.
We’d stepped into a dream stitched together from madness and marvel.
A cacophony of unfamiliar sounds assaulted our ears—buzzes, beeps, music blaring from invisible speakers. Strange scents drifted through the air, some sweet, some sharp, all unplaceable. My senses reeled.
One thing was certain—this was not the world we’d left behind. There was no darkness here—only constant, blinding light. And something called technology seemed to reign supreme.
Armed with only our knowledge of time travel and a vague hope of adaptation, we stepped cautiously into the bustling streets, doing our best to blend in. We understood the language… and yet the meaning often slipped past us, drenched in slang, tone, and cultural codes we didn’t know how to read.
Still, as the days passed, I began to adjust. The culture of Vancouver, with all its contradictions and freedoms, unfolded before me.
Life here—especially for women—was unlike anything I’d known.
Women could choose multiple lovers… or none at all.
They fought for gender equality, reproductive rights, and against domestic violence and harassment.
These weren’t whispered about behind closed doors—they were spoken out loud, boldly, without shame.
I embraced those values with every fiber of my being. I became an advocate, stepping into this era as a time traveler and a woman reborn.
Dancing Fire, on the other hand—or Moon Lee, as he’d called himself—seemed to retreat further into himself with each passing day.
“Come on, Lee,” I said one afternoon as we wandered along the Burrard Inlet in Emerald Cove Beach.
The sun was warm on my skin, and the air carried the gentle scent of salt and flowers.
I’d dressed to match the city’s electric pulse—hot-pink leggings, a neon-green mini skirt, and a slouchy black tank top that danced in the breeze.
The park’s beauty wrapped around me like a warm embrace, but Lee remained distant.
I was captivated by the towering fir trees stretching endlessly toward the sky, their tops swaying gently with the breeze.
The air was rich with the scent of cedar and pine, occasionally touched by the salty kiss of ocean air from the nearby coast. Wildflowers flanked the path—purple lupines, vibrant dandelions, and delicate white daisies—a blooming welcome as we wandered through the lush forest toward the beach.
“Come on, what?” Lee muttered, his voice tinged with that familiar sulky edge.
“Admit it—you like women’s freedoms in this era.” I grinned, spreading my arms wide before twirling in a giddy circle. The neon fabric of my skirt fluttered around me like a flame.
He responded with a grunt. No surprise.
“Don’t be shy,” I teased. “This is the age of Express Yourself. You know that Madonna song? “Don’t go for second best, baby,” I sang, tossing a wink over my shoulder. “‘Put your love to the test.’”
Another grunt.
“It’s live and let live, baby,” I said, nudging his arm as we resumed our stroll. “Women are equals here. We don’t just belong in kitchens anymore.”
“When were you ever ‘relegated to the kitchen’?” he asked, brow raised. “You’ve lived a privileged life entirely of your own design.”
“Under the thumb of a control freak,” I snapped, the name Balthazar blooming in my mind like a bruise. I stooped to pluck the petals from a daisy and let them scatter into the breeze, like tiny fragments of a thought I didn’t want to say aloud.
“Yeah,” Lee muttered, shooting me a sidelong glance.
That single word ignited something hot beneath my skin. I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. My good mood vanished with the wind, drifting off with the flower petals I’d just released.
“Yeah, what?” I asked, voice tight, simmering.
All I could hear was our breathing, tangled in the silence between us.
Then he sneered. “That’s the thing—I can’t tell if you want to kill Balthazar or ride him hard and leave him dripping.”
My stomach turned. “Stop spying on me,” I snapped.
“Kinda hard not to, given the cracker box we’re calling home.”
“You’re the one who vetoed me selling my body for cash,” I fired back, crossing my arms.
“You’re right. You’d get arrested. Thrown in jail. Women’s rights haven’t come that far.”
He stormed down the path toward the beach, boots hitting the dirt like war drums.
I raced to catch up. “Then get a better job!”
“I’m working, aren’t I?” he growled. “What do you do all day?”
I scoffed. “You load produce into trucks.”
“And get paid under the table, which, in case you forgot, keeps us off the radar. We’re not exactly legal. No licenses, no legal papers. Just two time-lost nobodies.”
His glare could’ve shattered stone. “You just flit around.”
“I don’t flit,” I shot back. “I’m tracking Jack James. You remember him? The reason we’re here?”
The tension snapped and sparked like static in dry air.
I let out a breath. “Can’t we at least try to be allies? After everything?”
Lee shook his head. “I doubt it. I don’t trust you. Not with how you moan for Balthazar in your sleep.” His jaw clenched, voice rough. “He’s a demon. Or did that slip your mind?”
I stilled. “You don’t get it.” My voice softened.
“When you’re a darkness, love isn’t gentle.
It’s hunger. Craving. Need. It doesn’t play by the same rules.
But don’t mistake that for loyalty. I vow—here and now—I will find Balthazar and destroy him for what he’s done.
Every breath I take from this moment on will be in pursuit of the blades. I will end him.”
Lee grunted, unconvinced. “Whatever.” He turned toward the sand, his tone flat. “I’ve got enough cash for a couple of sandwiches. Let’s eat.”
As we stepped off the beach and onto the sidewalk, something fluttered in my periphery. A flyer stapled to a telephone pole caught my eye—
Enroll Today at McMont College—exciting Programs for All.
Lee turned to see what had caught my attention. “You should enroll,” he said. “Might learn something useful.”
I couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or sincerity, so I let it slide.
But then he added, more genuinely, “I’m serious, Alina. Your English is a lot better. The Italian accent’s almost gone.”
I glanced at him sideways. “I’ve been practicing. People look at me strangely when I slip into Italian. They judge. I’m trying to sound like a regular North American.”
“And you’re doing great,” he said, almost casually. “I barely notice it anymore.”
Is he being… nice to me?
I tore the flyer off the pole, staring at the grainy, Xeroxed image of a college campus—students smiling in coordinated enthusiasm, books clutched in their hands like keys to something bigger. “Do you think I could do it? I don’t even know what I’d study.”
Lee plucked the paper from my hand, scanning it. “There’s a campus nearby. We can grab some food and talk to someone there.”
A thrill surged through me like someone had struck a match in my chest and dropped it onto dry kindling. Could I do this? Could I belong here, too?
Yes. I could. I would.
“Let’s go,” I said with fire in my voice. “We need to see what this place has to offer.”
We arrived at McMont College, the building towering before us with its heavy stone archways and air of quiet prestige. It was intimidating, yes—but something about it called to me. Who said a demon couldn’t strive for greatness?
I stood on that threshold, fierce and unyielding, ready to shatter every expectation the world had cast over me.
What I didn’t know then was how quickly those dreams would be tested—how this place, so full of promise, would threaten to break me before it ever built me up.