Chapter 6 Rose
“Quickly, come in,” McGregor says, skittering into the old brick building Parker and I have spent the past ten minutes waiting outside.
McGregor beelines down a labyrinth of door-lined corridors and disappears inside his office.
Parker and I follow him, Parker pausing at the threshold and gesturing for me to enter before him.
I roll my eyes and step into the stuffy room. My throat tightens. Bookshelves line the walls, crammed with aged textbooks and journal articles that leave barely enough space for the dark, mahogany desk and the two chairs before it.
McGregor sits behind his desk, staring at me as if I’m a disobedient student. Holding back my own scowl, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against one of the bookshelves.
“May we sit?” Parker asks, as if he’s about to schmooze McGregor over a lavish lunch.
The slight incline of McGregor’s head is stiff. I pick up a mound of papers resting on one of the sad fabric chairs and plant my ass down. I keep my face blank but, hidden by McGregor’s desk, my left foot twitches like I’m an addict in withdrawal. Parker reclines in the seat beside me.
McGregor clasps his hands on top of his desk and leans forward, his beady eyes darting between Parker’s face and mine. “I want you to tell me absolutely everything you know about time travel,” he says in a sharp tone.
“You taught us everything we know,” Parker says. “Anchors and shields and theories—your theories really. All of the research was conducted by you.”
McGregor’s stern expression gives nothing away. “When do we meet? What year?”
“In—”
“Parker,” I say. I’m not hand-feeding McGregor from a silver spoon until I know he’ll make it worth our while. “All you need to know is that we’ll meet in the future at a time-traveling institution.”
“Run by whom?” McGregor asks.
“We were never told,” I say, shaking my head. “We weren’t the first time travelers to live there. But we were the first group to be formally recruited.”
“Why?” McGregor asks Parker.
“To stop—”
“Next question,” I snap, and McGregor’s lips pull down at the corners.
“I want to hear it from the beginning,” McGregor says, eyes flicking to Parker. “From him.”
I grit my teeth as Parker launches into conversation with McGregor before I can stop him, beginning with Neurovida, the time travel training institution where we first met McGregor’s future self.
As they speak, Parker weaves in personal recollections of the time he and McGregor shared at Neurovida, cementing the close relationship I never knew they had.
I keep waiting for McGregor to chuck us out, or for Parker to say the wrong thing but…
He won’t. Because Parker is… Parker. And I may have bad luck, but if life’s a hand of cards, he was dealt a royal fucking flush. Dick.
“I was hoping you’d take a look at our blood, see if anything stands out,” Parker says.
“I’m willing to study your blood under a microscope, but I won’t promise anything else,” McGregor says, adjusting his glasses.
Parker releases a breath. “Thank you. You told me the key to time travel is in our white blood cells.” His eyes dart to mine. Don’t do it, Parker. “I want you to look at mine because… I’ve lost my ability to travel,” he says, and I huff.
“How?” McGregor asks.
“A drug. Injected into my neck.” His fingers brush the puncture site as if he can still feel the sting of the needle. “You created it, in the future. And I’m hoping if a drug can be given to take someone’s powers away—”
“One can be created to restore it,” McGregor says, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Exactly,” Parker says. “Rose’s powers are intact. I’m hoping you can compare our blood and see what’s different with mine. Then figure out how to reverse it.”
I study the dust-lined bookshelf while Parker pulls out his trump card, making an offer we knew would have McGregor eating out of the palm of our hands before we even entered the building.
My head pounds as Parker and McGregor rise to their feet and shake hands, McGregor sporting a deep, troubled frown. He wanders toward his office door, scratching his jaw with an unfocused gaze. I throw Parker a questioning look. His answer is an indifferent shrug.
“Follow me,” McGregor calls from the corridor, and he leads us to a nearby lab.
Inside, he glides past rows of metal benches and collects numerous items from the cupboards above an industrial-looking sink.
Parker shadows his every move, but I hover by the doorway until I’m called forward to surrender four small vials of blood.
“I’ll look at the samples and let you know what I find,” he says to Parker. “How will I contact you?”
Parker grimaces and scratches the back of his head. “That ties into the other favor we need to ask you. Do you have anywhere we could stay? To lie low until we hear from you.”
“I might be able to find an unoccupied residence,” McGregor says, rubbing his forehead. His sharp eyes land on me. “Until then, I want you to stay out of sight.”
“Finally, we agree on something,” I mutter, looking at Parker.
“We’ll take anything you can give us,” he says, with an infuriatingly charismatic smile.
“Wait here. I’ll see what’s available,” McGregor says, and he leaves the room.
The moment the door closes, Parker pulls me into a hug, lifting my feet off the ground. “Didn’t I tell you he’d help us?” he says.
Our bodies are pressed together between rows of metal benches, Parker’s chest firm and warm against mine. My breath hitches and I claw at the strong forearms wrapped around my waist. “Put me down before I take you out.”
Parker stiffens and releases me, relaxing back against one of the workbenches with his arms stretched out on either side of his body. “You can say it.”
“Say what?” I ask, eyeing him.
“That I’m a genius and I was right.”
I laugh. “I’m never saying that to you, Jimmy. Your head is gigantic.”
Parker only grins and slips his hands into his pockets. The movement shifts the fabric of his shirt over his biceps, and I look away.
The minute McGregor develops Parker’s cure, I’m going to put years of distance between us.