Chapter 12 Mariella
I’m saturated in white light, sparkling rays reflecting off my skin like shooting stars.
I edge toward muffled voices, but with each step the surrounding light fades.
The high-pitched notes of a music box echo around me and an icy shiver races down my spine.
The last rays of light wane, plunging me into darkness, but the song reverberates, each off-key tone twisting my stomach into tight knots.
A deep rumble begins in the distance, cascading toward me until the ground below my feet is quaking. The noise doubles in intensity, threatening to burst my eardrums. I turn to run, the sound waves pulsing across my skin and vibrating through my chest.
I stumble forward on trembling legs, swallowed by a roaring, unrelenting abyss.
Pain erupts in my abdomen, and I scream, hunching over.
Wet warmth coats my hands, and my heart falters, fluttering like a bird trapped inside a shrinking cage.
I gasp for breath, but the deafening noise is compressing the air within my lungs.
Clutching at my bleeding torso, I fall to the floor, legs burning as the skin scrapes off my knees.
Lost in the darkness, suffocating, I wait for death to take me. Time slows. The pain fades, and I slip away. I’m floating in deafening silence.
I love you, Mariella.
A sharp whisper cuts through the calm—the speaker’s deep, smooth voice a gentle symphony as I take my last, shallow breath.
I wake gasping for breath, electricity flooding my body and those words echoing in my ears.
I love you, Mariella.
I’m clutching my necklace in my trembling hand, my heart racing beneath my clenched fist. I’m half asleep, still trapped in my nightmare, the unrelenting roar crushing my chest. Another shiver races down my spine and my eyes snap open.
Morning light pours through Silas’s living room window and recollections of last night rush through my head: fleeing Parker’s apartment.
Flagging a passing taxi. Mumbling Silas’s address to the driver before my brain caught up with my mouth.
I’d texted Anna, houses and streetlights flying past in a blur, spaced further apart as we drove closer to the edge of the Middlesex Fells Reservation.
I banged on the door for several moments before retrieving the spare key hidden above the porch light.
Letting myself in, I called out for Silas, but the air in his cottage was still, the fireplace in the living room unlit.
With heavy eyelids, I collapsed onto his couch and passed out moments later.
I sit up, rubbing my neck as Parker’s departing words ring in my head.
“You’re acting crazy.”
I draw in a tense breath and scan Silas’s living room, silent except for the steady ticking of the clock beside his record player.
His once subtle scent is now powerful in the absence of my meds, minty yet masculine, mingled with remnant smoke from the fireplace, and lingering traces of soap from his bodywash.
I rub my hands over my face. Coming here was a mistake. Thank God he’s away for work.
I reach for my phone and sigh at the dead screen.
Surely Silas has a phone charger somewhere?
I roll off the sofa and edge toward his bedroom, drawing in a breath before I enter his room.
His clean, minty scent lingers, yet his room’s unchanged from the last time I was here—spotless aside from a stray shoe on the floor and a small box sitting beside his nightstand.
I walk over and peer inside. It holds a sweater and a half-empty bottle of my sleep medication that I must have left here.
I open the top drawer of his nightstand and my mouth drops.
It’s overflowing with half-dispensed pill packets—codeine, oxycodone, diazepam, tapentadol.
The list goes on. The packets scrape against one another as I rifle to the bottom of the drawer, discovering a collection of old soccer cards and a brass key.
Silas told me he took pills for headaches, but this is something else entirely. This is an addict’s candy store.
I rub my brow. I shouldn’t be surprised.
Silas kept his life wrapped in secrets, and peeling one back will only reveal more.
We were inseparable for five months, and I learned nothing of his friends and family, only that he’s married to his job.
I laugh dryly. Does he have a work wife locked in that study of his?
My head shoots up, looking to the office door handle gleaming through the open bedroom door.
“Never go in there, Mariella.”
Before I can breathe, my fingers are curled around the cool metal. I twist the knob, releasing a breath when it doesn’t budge, locked. I press my ear to the door and a faint ticking filters through. Perhaps the key in his bedside drawer—
Someone pounds on the front door, and my heart jumps into my throat.
I creep along the hallway and peer through the peephole. My heart drops. Rose stands outside, clad in black, white vapor curling from her mouth. She brings her knuckles to the door and pounds again. Gone is any sign of the vulnerable woman from last night.
“Ella, are you there?” she says, her voice taut.
I pause, clutching my charm. I’m not ready to talk to her, but if I don’t, I’ll never understand why I feel this familiarity toward Parker, or why they’ve been following me.
“How did you know I was here?” I call through the door.
“Your roommate.”
Damn it, Anna.
“Open the door and I’ll explain everything.
Starting with this.” Something drops through the mail slot, falling at my feet with a soft tink.
Picking up the necklace, I brush my thumb over the writing inscribed into the worn gold.
My fingers fumble to the heart-shaped charm resting between my collarbones.
How does Rose have an exact copy of my mother’s necklace? And why?
“It’s not a replica,” she calls.
This doesn’t make any sense. I press my eye back to the peephole. Parker stands a few paces behind Rose, leaning against the porch railing with his hands tucked into his pockets. His words from last night flicker through my mind. “I can’t do this again.”
Do what again?
Rose’s gaunt face moves in front of the peephole. “Let us in and I’ll explain everything.”
I shouldn’t let them in, but I want answers. I need them. With a deep breath, I open the door, the necklace still clutched in my hand. Rose steps forward, but Parker remains still, watching me.
“You have five minutes,” I say.
“Thanks.” Rose barges past me to enter Silas’s cottage, her boots thumping on the wooden floor. She snatches the necklace from my hand on her way past and secures it around her own neck, pulling her dark, thick plait free from the chain.
“Are you coming in too?” I ask Parker. He’s still relaxed against the balustrade, despite the tense muscles in his forearms. He offers me a small smile, but something about it feels wrong.
“Jimmy, get the fuck in here,” Rose calls from the hallway.
Jimmy?
Parker pushes off the railing and steps inside, avoiding my gaze. We all linger in the tight corridor.
“Can we sit?” Rose asks, her full eyebrows raised.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why do you have that necklace?” I’m doing my best to keep my voice stern.
“Can we please sit?” repeats Rose.
I lead them to the kitchen table and pull up a heavy wooden chair. Rose grabs the chair directly opposite while Parker stands at the end of the table, hands still tucked away in his pockets. His gaze flickers to me as I sit, but he immediately looks away.
Rose’s sharp eyes survey the room, pausing on the soccer magazine lying open on Silas’s coffee table. “Will he be home soon?” she asks.
Wouldn’t I like to know. “I’m not sure,” I say, and Parker smirks. What exactly did Anna tell them?
“In that case, I’ll make this quick. I’m sure you have questions and, to save time, I’ll give it to you straight.
” She lifts the duplicate of my mother’s necklace from underneath her black hoodie.
“This necklace isn’t a copy of yours. It’s the same one.
You’ll give it to me in the future, because you know I’ll need it to prove you can trust us. I know how important it is to you.”
I glance between Rose’s hard stare and Parker’s averted one. He shifts on his feet. I’m waiting for them to laugh. Do they think I’m an idiot?
I force a smile. “Right. The future. Got it.”
Rose’s face is deadly serious. “In your future, you’re recruited to a place where we’ll meet.”
“And what is this place?”
Rose hesitates. “I’d rather not go into specifics.”
It’s hard to go into specifics when you’re messing with someone. These two are unbelievable. I never should’ve let them in the front door. I go to stand, but Rose grabs my arm.
“Wait.” She exhales. “Fine, it’s called Neurovida, and it’s a place where you’ll train to develop—special skills.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t have any special skills.”
Rose and Parker exchange a quick glance. It’s as if they have a way of knowing what the other’s thinking without needing to speak.
“Not yet, but you will,” Rose says.
I laugh. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m one of the X-Men?”
Rose’s mouth twitches. “The skills you’ll learn to develop at Neurovida solely involve the act of time travel.”
“Get out,” I say. I’ve been tricked before, too many times to count. The girls at boarding school practically trained me for moments like this.
Rose lets out a deliberate breath. “Ella, if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t believe me either. But I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then prove it,” I say, raising my chin. “Show me. Time travel.”
“It’s not a fucking parlor trick,” Rose says, shaking her head. “Even if I wanted to, my precision sucks. I can’t risk losing our footing on this specific moment in time. We might end up in last month or—”
“Last year,” Parker adds. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they arrived.