Storm Front: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 3) (11 page)

“I will tell you when I can. For now, it’s imperative that you simply do as I request. There is no time for these lengthy discussions and your inquiries to my motivation. As a rider, it’s merely your job to finish the alteration, not question it.”

“So you think you’ve got it all figured out, then? Once you have Nikola’s patents you’ll be on your way?”

He steps away, creating the usual safe space between us. “I know it with every bit of my being, but my tests to recreate the pulses have failed. I’m so close.”

Too close.

Why did Ilif want tesla’s papers.
 

Tesla reveals that Ilif came back to see him. Once. Made him start thinking about time travel. And of course you’d been here. He said he was close to recreating the pulse that helped him to find the original lightning rider. He shrugs. “We spent an afternoon on the problem, finding a solution.”

Confusion. Sort through the details. The old convo about Ilif—close, too close. I saw Nikola throughout his life. Why didn’t he tell me any of this? I watch him, bent over his papers, already back at work, too consumed by solving his own problems to worry about mine that he’s answered; Ilif came to see him, they fixed it, next issue.

Then why is Ilif still looking for them?

“Time is a loop. Perhaps he needs them now so that he can come see me in the future.”

“How will you proceed now?”

Constantine thought she could hide her own lightning on Penya, create residue to track her with—because Penya doesn’t arc, so she doesn’t create residue and she erases Tiana’s.

Ask Nikola if it would work.

“Of course.”

But what does it break???

Shadow boxer:

I sigh and pull a burgundy cashmere sweater down from my rack and pair it with a cream linen pair of pants. Dumping my boots in a duffle along with my jeans, I lift a gold pair of heels and slip them on. I feel like a stranger.

(She took this duffel to her dad’s house. It’s safe there.)

C
HAPTER
37

O
NE
SOLVE
FOR
things with Penya: from SB, page 211:

He stares at the fire. “You know, if you were good”—he smiles crookedly and I cuff him on the shoulder, scattering bread crumbs across the blanket—“you could hide just enough lightning on her to create residue to follow.”

“She’s not creating any residue, remember.“

He hooks a hand around the end of a bench and drags it over, wedging it against his map table and wadding the end of the blanket against it, creating a cushioned backrest. He leans against it and pats the blanket between his legs. I scoot over and nestle into his lap then lean over his thigh and pull the plate closer.

“I’m not talking about relying on her residue, but yours.”

I think about what he’s suggesting. I’ve been careful to keep my lightning sheathed when she’s been around because we originally thought it would end the transmission—like it messes with Ilif’s. “Do you really think that would work?”

I feel him shrug. “Worth trying.”

Found her!

I found a trace. They’re in London.

I am instantly aware we didn’t follow Papi as we land on a set could be straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Tall narrow houses—walk-ups they’re called—flank us on either side and other than a few well-dressed individuals walking their tiny dogs toward the entrance of a lush park at the far end of the lane, it’s a quiet street. The back of a big industrial warehouse stands guard behind us, but the neighborhood looks like it grew up around the industry, maybe for the workers in the area at one time, but now it looks deserted. One block over, on the other side of the warehouse, cars and people move briskly, creating plenty of noise to make up for the subdued atmosphere of this side. We need to find out when and where we are, but walking blindly into a situation neither of us knows about is foolish.

Quaint street lamps click off as the sun warms the foggy morning. While I’ve never been to London, this is how I always imagined it, with couples strolling along cobbled streets and every inch dripping with aristocracy. We may not have landed in Ada’s time, but I have to be somewhat close, otherwise we wouldn’t have come this far into the past.

Until we figure out, we can’t keep standing in the middle of the street, quiet or not. I push Constantine backward and into the alcove of the building’s entrance so we’re hidden from prying eyes peeking out the windows, but not for long. His wide eyes try to take it all in in an attempt to process where we are and what he’s seeing. I move slowly, surprised at the level of his shock. He’s taken my time in stride far easier than this, but we’ve always stayed confined to Papi’s house. Not I fault him, London is a lot to take in and has me in awe, too.

I grip his shoulders and force him to look at me. When his eyes focus I give him a second to settle. “We’re fine. Papi and Ilif ended up somewhere else, but that’s no big deal. this is London, so we can learn more about Ada and dial in the timeline.”

“No big deal?” He swallows and I wait for him to get his breathing under control. 

Once his eyes constrict and he’s focused back on me, I take a small step away so I can make a plan. With all the manipulation Penya and Ilif have done to my previous alterations, I have to wonder if this is what a pure one starts like, though if I’m tagging along on Tiana’s, maybe not. I have no idea how many rules I know are ones created by those two, rules don’t apply at all anymore.

At least I didn’t start a new alteration… I hope. That would suck if I had to not only figure out an alteration on my own, but handicapped with a giant freaked-out warrior.

All I can do is proceed with what I know, which isn’t much. If this were my alteration, I’d have to have some clue what to fix, so I must have latched on to Tiana’s. To do more recon, we both need new clothes. 

I close the gap between us and reach around him, wiggling the doorknob. The lock comes free and I push the door open, him along with it. We quickly scan the building and he’s coming around, I need to keep him busy for a second. The building really is empty. Completely vacated and looks like its been way for a while. It must have been an old warehouse or something. Tall overhead beams support the spanning roof and it’s a giant open space with broken tables and piles of lumber and metal scraps throughout. A perfect place for us to get our feet and plan. 

Constantine runs a trembling hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck. “Do you perhaps know when we are?”

I touch his arm gently. “Not yet, but we'll be okay. London didn’t see much turmoil, except during war, and we’ve missed all of those by a couple decades.”

“You can’t know that. What if one begins tomorrow?”

“Then we’ll have to handle it, but I doubt it. There are safe times in history, so IDTk this alteration of Tiana’s includes any danger.”

He looks skeptical, a man used to violent attacks around every corner and from everyone he encounters. In peaceful times he’s always been a warrior.

“Do you feel her?”

I shut my eyes and embody stillness. Nothing out of the ordinary alerts me, but it's not like I'd know what she’d feel like. In the warehouse I didn’t know she was coming until she popped in behind me. I sigh. "Nothing."

“Should we wander the streets?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I knew it was a long-shot we’d all end up here together. First, I need to find you something to wear.”

He glances down as his tunic, sandals, and sword. There is no mistaking body in getup for anything other than who he is. I hope I can find him clothes fit. I move to the other end of the building where the front door might be. The windows are covered with newspapers but the glue has come away in several places, letting the paper fall and revealing filthy glass with shadowed movement beyond. We can’t go walking around together, so I’ll have to slip out and find clothes for him. I’m hell on guessing sizes, but I don’t have a lot of choices. He can’t walk into a store looking like he does.

Constantine follows a short distance away, curiously picking at the piles and mumbling about waste and weapons. I’m sure he sees all kinds of bits they could have used for the armory and I wonder what he makes of all this. I wish we had time to debrief and let him ask questions and adjust. I clean a small stripe on the window, enough for me to look out and as it comes into focus, the wonder of the city emerges. Women and men hustle by, most are dressed from neck to wrist to ankle, looking sharp and impeccable. I loved about Nikola’s NYC too. Kind of a bummer we all dress like slobs these days.

Depending on how old these newspapers are, I’m assuming we’re only less than a year past the date on them, and that’s an excessive window. I glance behind me at the heaps of junk. This place is definitely rundown and deserted, but there isn’t a thick layer of dust, like it hasn’t been closed for long. I check the pages and they're all from the same day’s edition, January 12, 1830.

The nagging question is whether those papers are from this year, or a decade ago.

And more importantly, where is Tiana on the timeline for this alteration and how are we going to intercept her?

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Constantine as I wiggle the handle of the front door.

He covers my fingers with his. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“It’s fine. I’m going shopping.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not going off without me. We either do this together or we don’t do it.”

He has a point. I still have to be on my guard. There’s a vast possibility while Penya is with Tiana, she taught her goons how to time travel and sent them after me. They could be anywhere, and I have to treat everyone I meet like they could be working for Penya. Involving Constantine is risky… but he’s always been involved. And I want him involved, need him involved. Just not yet.

“We can’t stroll down a busy London sidewalk with you looking like this.” It will be bad enough with me not in full dress, but at least I’m used to looking like a barbarian and the distrustful stares and actions come along. “Trust me. I’ll be back before you know it. Nothing will happen to me.”

“What if you see Penya? What if she has her military with her?”

“It’s not an entire military, it’s a couple guys.”

“Who’ve already tried to kill you.”

I turn and put my hands on his shoulders. “I’ll be fine. You have to trust me. I trust you in your time, don’t I?”

“That’s different.”

I lift my hands and cradle his face. “Not really. I’ve been a lot of strange places without you. I do need you, and I'm glad you protect me, but I can make it to the store and back without getting captured or killed.”

He glances out the smudgy windows. “I don’t like it.”

I kiss him softly. “I know. But we have to work together this time. No more butting heads about stuff. We don’t have time. I promise I’m heeding your warning. I’ll be careful.”

“Hurry.”

The door opens with another good tug and I walk briskly down the sidewalk, looking around at the storefronts. They’re adorable and vintage. This is definitely the hub of this small town, warehouse notwithstanding. A grocery market anchors the far end of the street and between here and there are a ton of stores, from tailors to bicycle repair shops… Everything I’d imagined in 1800s London. I enter the first men's clothing store I come to and breathe in the smell of soap and leather and fine linen. Shame these don’t exist anymore. A curve of mirrors filled the back wall, reflecting a tailor and customer. I duck down so they won’t see me. I couldn’t tell Constantine the whole truth, but in my usual T-shirt and jeans, I’m too immodest for now and don’t have the right cash on me.

“He-llo…” The tailor’s voice dies in confusion as he turns toward the door. I hurry through the sparse racks of clothes, this was no Nordstrom’s was for sure. Thankfully, I didn’t need anything fancy, a shirt and pants befitting a warrior. I have a feeling he’s going to lose his mind when it comes to getting dressed.

In the middle of the store, I find a pair of tweed pants and a button-up shirt about his size and tuck them beneath my arm, then sneak to the front. The men are caught up in a discussion about horses and I race out the door, letting it bang shut behind me. I’ll figure out a way to make amends—these are dire situations and I can’t be delayed answering questions about my payment methods.

Though I’ve only been gone a total of fifteen minutes, Constantine is a sweaty, stressed out mess by the time I get back. He grabs me the moment I open the door and pats me down. “Are you hurt? Did anyone accost you?”

I shake him off and do my best to look at the situation from his perspective, but he seriously needs to chill out. “I’m fine. I promise. Here.” I hand him the bundle. “I found you some clothes but I didn’t dare try to pick out shoes for you.” I glance down at his sandals. “I still have to change my own outfit but I didn’t want to leave you much longer.” And it’s a good thing I didn’t. Two more minutes and he’d have been stomping up and down the street looking for me attracting all sorts of attention. And while we do need to find Penya and Tiana I don’t want them to know we’re here.

He unrolls the clothes and looks at the shirt with disgust. “What am I to do with this?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Well, you put it on, for starters.”

He holds it out in front of him between the tips of his finger and thumb like I’ve handed him a half-tanned pelt of a wolverine instead of a hand-tailored shirt probably costs a weeks’ wages around here. “Here. Let me help you.” I unbuckle his belt and set it on the floor. We’ll have to stash all our clothes somewhere so we can come back for them. There’s no way he’ll leave this stuff in London if he can help it and I don’t want him to have to. I know how attached he is to not only his weapon, but this training outfit as well. He stands woodenly while I push his tunic up over his head. “It’s not bad. Really. It’s a shirt.”

He grunts.

I try not to get distracted as my palms graze the skin of his bare shoulder. But while clothed Constantine is impossible to ignore, the naked one has me wishing we had a few moments for me to explore it. I hurriedly push his arms through the pressed sleeves and tug the stiff collar up against his neck.