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Didn’t I say this was going to happen?
This is why women and time travel don’t mix. Things have only been cool on Earth for the past few decades, and even then “cool” is loosely defined and not shared by everyone. Once this is all wrapped up, I’m going to find myself a good old-fashioned matriarchy and hang out there while all of this blows over.
And the next time I’m visiting the past, I’m learning how to apply a false beard.
“Witches! Dear God, will there be no end to these witches?”
Blayde and I pressed ourselves against the brick wall, staring out into the street where the mob was already conveniently forming around the screaming man. So much frantic handwaving going on.
“Shit,” I said. I tried to stuff my hands into my pockets before realizing this dress didn’t have any, and my sweaty palms just slid down my skirts. “I thought Zander had this whole SHC thing under control.”
“Seems like he’s got some kinks to work out,” said Blayde. Her lips pressed into a tight white line. “So help me, if it wasn’t full of civilians, I would be blowing up the Agency centuries early.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” Throwing the time stream to the wind seemed like a good idea right about now anyway. My sweaty palms rolled into fists.
She shook her head. “Well, we can’t just stand by and let them ruin more people’s lives.”
“Wait—”
But she was already dashing toward the mob. She trotted up a stack of barrels with the agility of a mountain goat, waving her arms, demanding attention.
“Listen to me, people of...shit, what’s this town called again? People of Virginia! There are no witches within this town. This I know for a fact! I—”
The crowd fell silent, turning to stare at her with their wide, glassy eyes. Even from down the alleyway, I could see the twisted glares she was getting. Terrible feedback.
“Oh, frash it all, you’re after me, aren’t you?”
“You are hereby accused of—heresy!”
There was Parchment Guy from the night before, sans parchment but with a hat twice as tall as I remembered. Still with that pompous air and fire-and-brimstone voice. One of his men reached up to grab at Blayde, but she kicked him squarely in the face without removing her gaze from Parchment Guy. The crowd gasped as one, ripping a hole in the ozone right then and there.
“Look, just because I’m a stranger here doesn’t mean you can accuse me of heresy,” she said. “I’m really lovely once you get to know me.”
“Witch!” a man roared, soon to be followed by the rest of the mob. “Burn her!”
“She appeared out of nowhere!” said the first man who had screamed. Ah, that explains it. He must have seen us return from the party. Good luck explaining that away. I pressed harder against the wall. “She communed with the shadows and then returned to flesh. She’s worse than a witch. She’s a demon in human form!”
“She has come here to tempt us!” added the man who had been kicked in the face. “Yesterday, she was a pauper, and today, she wears finery. She used the devil’s power in her hair to seduce a good man into becoming her slave!”
“I have done no such thing!” Blayde gasped, a hand going to her bosom. Gone was the warrior woman. In an instant, she had transformed into a bleating, innocent girl. I was going to have to hire her for acting classes. “It was out of sheer kindness that one of your own, a godly fellow, offered me hospitality in exchange for nothing.”
“Here’s another one!” a man shouted, and the world turned black as a burlap sack was slipped over my face. It must have once held potatoes or veggies of some kind because dirt rained down on my face. “Uglier than the first!”
I coughed up dust. Shit! I’d been so focused on Blayde I hadn’t been covering the rest of the alley. Not only was I a terrible manager, but I made a terrible sidekick. And now I was going to pay for it.
“Hey!” I cried, aiming a kick behind me. My heel collided with his shin, hard enough for something to snap. The man cried out as I swung back my elbow, slamming it into his ribs. But before I could grab that stupid burlap from my head, more hands grabbed my wrists and shoulders, holding me still.
“Let me go! I’m not a witch!” I struggled against the hands, but there were too many of them. Fingers dug into my skin. Hands gripped my biceps, squeezing. Disgusting, rough hands all over me, grabbing me. I screamed. “Blayde!”
“Burn her! Burn the witches!”
“I told you we need to hang them! They like fire!”
Cool your jets, great-great-great grandma. Your descendants will probably go no-contact for your behavior here.
My guts wrapped up into tight concentric knots. I had read about the witch trials, the sham that they were. Here I was, unable to die. Where would that put me? Blayde had probably made it through worse before, and she was still here. I’d never been drowned or burned at the stake, and I doubted it would be pleasant. Maybe I could make it out of a hanging if I just... hung around long enough?
“Blayde!” The woman’s cry was loud and shrill—and filled with such relief and shock that I felt the energy in the street sizzle. “Sister, I thought that was you! I have been searching for you for months!”
For a second, I thought maybe James had come to save us, but the voice was too high to be hers. My own ragged breathing filled the burlap sack and drowned out half of what was going on around me. But the crowd had gone silent.
Blayde gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Our parents missed you, dear sister,” said the stranger, not missing a beat. “We were worried sick!”
“But, my dearest sister, you needn’t have. As I said, I can survive on my own.”
I couldn’t see anything, even pressing my eyes against the burlap. All I got for my trouble was more potato dirt in my face.
“It appears that you are doing perfectly well here, aren’t you?” She let out a heavy sigh and then...a laugh? “Here, I believe this will cover all the damages. Now, I think I just saw my sister prove her innocence. May I take her home?”
There was a shuffling in the crowd, muttering from every direction. The hands holding me slackened slightly.
“Uh...” A small metallic rattle filled the air—coins. Parchment Guy’s tone shifted completely. “No good lady of the law could ever be a witch, surely. Not when they have such a... kind and loving family. It would be ungodly for me to keep you apart any longer.”
“Oh, sister!” the stranger sobbed.
“Sister, I missed you more than anyone!” Blayde cried. “Come, Sally, we must celebrate.”
I took a deep breath and reached up for my sack, only for the hands to tighten once more, pulling the burlap back down. It was only then that it hit me. Not once had this woman said my name. She was here to rescue Blayde. And me...
“We have no proof of her innocence!” bellowed Parchment Guy.
“You have as much evidence before you as you have for either girl,” said the stranger. “Either they are both innocent or neither.”
The hands disappeared from my arms, and I pulled off my burlap sack, tossing it to the ground. In front of me, Blayde was in a tight embrace with a tall, raven-haired beauty in expensive silks—who I most definitely had never seen before. She grasped Blayde by her shoulders, tenderly looking into her eyes, and...were those tears?
Behind them, Parchment Guy was completely engrossed by his new moneybag. No one gave a crap about me, thankfully. The crowd dispersed, huffing, and I made my way to the two women, trying to think of something badass to say.
“Thanks.” It was the best I could come up with as I sidled between the two of them, who were still gripping each other by the forearms. “I owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the stranger, finally turning to me. She had this soft familiarity to her, like someone I might have once seen in a high-end fashion magazine. “Who’s this, then? Your intern?”
“Let’s walk.” Blayde looped her arm around the stranger’s, nodding in the direction of the house. “I’d rather do introductions somewhere I might not be put on trial for existing.”
I forced a smile. Blayde hadn’t given me her name. Did she not know her either? By their closeness, it would have been hard to think they were anything less than sisters.
“Right. Call me Sidera,” she said. She waved for me to follow with her white-gloved hand. “Of course, I already know who you are, Blayde. Your reputation precedes you.”
“It has a habit of doing that,” said Blayde.
“I’m Sally,” I said, once again forgetting about the existence of fake names. “Have we met before?”
She shook her head, smiling a quirky half-smile that could almost be confused with a smirk. There was something off with this girl, something I hadn’t noticed in the flurry of adrenaline. Now that it was wearing off, I was more wary.
The good actors they were, they intertwined their arms in a loving, sisterly manner. I trotted behind them down the street, trying to remain as casual as I could, even with the hateful glares of passersby burning me as I walked.
It’s like I’d just cut off their only source of entertainment. But I could handle that. I’d kicked roommates off my Netflix before.
“Look,” said Blayde, “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but—”
“What am I doing saving you from public humiliation?” Sidera asked, chuckling. “Yeah, well, I’m a tourist, so you could say. I was just in town searching for my brother, who’s supposed to be on Earth for the moment, though no one seems to know where exactly he is. Ended up in Hindustan for way longer than I’d wanted to stay. It was a complete accident that I found you. I recognized you instantly, so of course I had to jump in. You look different from what I thought you would.”
“Well, thank you,” said Blayde. “You said you were looking for your brother?”
Sidera nodded again. “Have you seen him? Very tall, his hair as dark as mine. Very, very smart. His name is Desmond.”
If I had a drink, I’d have spat it out. “Desmond?”
No. This couldn’t be right. I glanced at Blayde, whose eyes were wider than her gaping mouth. This couldn’t be a coincidence, not another one. Be it fate or us, something was bringing us together, right here, right now.
And I didn’t like it one bit.
Neither did Sidera. She froze, which was not the reaction I had expected from her. Her face drained of all color so fast you’d have assumed she was a printer trying to scam us into buying more cyan.
“You met him.” Sidera trembled as she spoke, hand rising to the pearls around her neck. “Whatever he’s said to you, he’s lying. Oh, oh no. He didn’t...didn’t scratch up a deal with you? This is terrible. He can’t have...tell me he didn’t—”
“Yes, he did,” I said. Blayde shot me a look, biting her lip, but I kept going. I needed answers. “We help him, and together we find the labyrinth.”
“He’s using you.” Sidera gripped her necklace tight. “He’s been searching for that vile place for years. He believes he’ll be given some great power by finding it, and the search has driven him mad. He wants the power of the labyrinth for himself. That greedy little bastard! He’s been searching all his life. The last time he tricked some people into helping him, they ended up scattered across at least three galaxies. If he finds it—”
My skin went cold. Desmond, using us? It all made sense, too much sense. Could he have somehow lured us here to help him? No, I was getting ahead of myself. My head was screaming, screaming that I’d let myself be too trusting, that I’d let everyone down once again.
“We’re almost there,” said Blayde. She quickened her pace, dragging Sidera out of her stupor and down the street with her. I rushed to keep up with them.
“We have to be careful,” she said. “He is a liar, and he’s dangerous when he’s found out. An animal with his leg in a trap who’s more likely to gnaw it off than face capture.”
“Ah. Well, thankfully, this is us we’re talking about,” said Blayde, patting her arm. “This is the kind of thing we do on a regular basis.”
Except the house wasn’t there when we got back. In its place, the air glowed with brilliant, white light, like a column from heaven had opened and stolen the house.
Which, if you’re inclined to believe heavenly voices, is exactly what happened. I blinked against the blinding light, looking up, up, until my eyes adjusted and I saw...the house, glowing with otherworldly power. A chorus of angels filled the sky with song, perfectly harmonized voices accompanying the house as it was called up and away.
“Is this... the Rapture?” I spun around, but all the other houses were staying on terra firma, the way houses should. Only Desmond’s house had felt the call of God. Townsfolk, catching sight of it—how could you not?— ran toward us, pointing up, clutching their hats or dropping their heads into prayer.
“Worse,” said Blayde with a sigh. “An Agency escape plan.”
I should have known. My hands tightened into fists, not that it would do any good when there was no one and nothing to fight. The Agency, literally playing God on my world. Much like Meedian’s shop back home, the Agency safe house was taking off. Unlike Meedian’s shop, though, it had given itself a cover story. But rather than fake burning down, the safe house was playing the religion card rapturing itself up to orbit.
With our friends aboard.
Zander. James. What’s Desmond doing to you?
“Sally, you take up the rear. I’ll take point,” Blayde ordered, laser pointer poised. Rear of what? Were we going up there? “Sidera, you—”
“I’m coming with you.” Sidera took a deep breath. “If you have to face my brother, I’d better be with you. This is family. This is personal.”
“Then come on.” I braced myself for the jump, but Blayde grabbed Sidera and me and ripped us forward into the pillar of light. I half expected it to whisk me away like the tractor beam from Stook’s ship, but no, it was just a dull hologram, covering the gaping hole in the ground where Desmond’s home had stood just minutes before. High-tech automated gizmos were already filling it in, burying any trace of the home ever being there.
I was so busy staring at the process I almost tripped over the body on the threshold—Urruin. The butler lay face down in the dirt, arms outstretched like a T. I dropped to his side, searching for a pulse, but his skin, it was so cold.
“He’s gone,” I said, ripping my hand back. No, not again. Not another death I could have, should have, prevented.
Sidera tapped his body with the toe of her shoe. His head rolled, revealing a mess of blue wires where his nose and mouth should have been. “Decommissioned, it appears.”
“Decommissioned?” My body went rigid. “Urruin was a...”
“An android,” said Sidera, nodding. “Desmond’s little pet projects. Makes it easier for him to flee when karma catches up to him.”
I braced myself. Maybe I should have felt better, knowing he was never alive to begin with, but Urruin was a he. Someone had killed him and left him the dirt to be buried along with any sign Desmond had ever been here. His body sunk slowly into the new ground. And if Urruin was a droid, then what else had Desmond built here? And if he was skilled enough to program an AI that none of us could see through, then why had he needed Zander to debug the Agency’s code?
How much power had he given the Agency over my planet?
I stared up at the house, rising farther and farther away, the choir of angels getting fainter by the minute. Every second taking it farther away from us, carrying Zander and James closer to the Agency. What were they doing up there? Were they even... no, I couldn’t think like that.
We couldn’t just stand here. I turned to Blayde, teeth gritted.
“What’s that?” said Sidera, pointing up. “Was anyone other than Desmond in the house?”
I squinted into the light. Was she...no, there was something there, someone there, clinging to the steps, legs dangling. If they said anything, it was drowned out by the heavenly choir.
“James!” Blayde squealed. “Hold on, I’m coming!”
I’d never heard her voice so high-pitched before. Before I could react, Blayde grabbed my wrist and split my atoms to the wind. My eyes grappled with new, blinding light, my feet fighting for purchase on the tiny landing of the flying safe house.
“Blayde!” I cried, my voice carried away by cherubim. “Warning, next time!”
Don’t look down, don’t look down. My ears rang with the intensity of the angelic song. There wasn’t enough room for the three of us, and James’s hands were the only part of her I could see.
The song changed pitch and intensity. Like a swarm of bees, they were upon us. I had been right; they were cherubim. But it wasn’t a pre-recorded message. They were real. Pudgy angels flew down from the rafters, swarming us, long brass trumpets prone for thumping. My God, no one ever told me how many teeth they had. Hundreds of tiny, sharp spears, set in rows like sharks. I screamed as one raced for my face, blaring a note fit for the end of days. I didn’t even think. I threw my hands up to protect my face, grabbing the trumpet and throwing it—and the cherub wielding it—toward the planet. But the momentum, no. My heels dipped off the landing, and I dropped backwards. I was going to fall; I was going to fall—
I fumbled for a handhold, grabbed the doorknob a little too hard, and fell backwards into the house, Sidera collapsing on top of me. I scrambled to my feet, reaching for Blayde, who was dragging James up by the scruff of her neck, darting away from the cherubim. She lunged for the door, and I slammed it closed behind her and Sidera slammed a chair under the knob as the cherubim pummeled the wood.
“Get it off!” Blayde yelled, dropping a panting James on the foyer carpet, swatting the lone cherub away from her face. He was more agile than his brothers, effortlessly darting away, swinging his trumpet like a baseball bat, catching half the decor in his wake. She blasted her pointer, missing, managing only to scald the ceiling.
Sidera ripped the curtains off the living room window and launched them at the tiny beast—perfect aim. The cherub crumpled under the swatch of fabric.
Blayde stood breathing heavily over James, arms braced on her knees. “More of Desmond’s?”
“Probably,” said Sidera. “He does love his attack bots.”
“Desmond?” James groaned, pushing herself up to her seat. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she pressed a hand against her temple. Her fingers... she must have been gripping that ledge for ages, by the look of her hands. Every digit was red and raw.
“He’s trying to harness the power of the labyrinth for himself,” said Sidera. “He’s been using you.”
James blinked once, twice. Then dropped her head into her hands. “Are you kidding?”
“Yeah, well, I was wrong,” said Blayde. “It does happen on occasion. Rarely, but on occasion. Do I get a thank you for saving your life again?”
Felling groaned, reaching a hand up to grab Blayde’s, squeezing. “And this is...?” Her gaze landed on Sidera.
“Uh, this is Desmond’s sister, Sidera,” said Blayde. “Sidera, James. A...a friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Sidera, bowing low.
“Desmond has a sister?” James’s brows furrowed.
“Can we do introductions later?” I said, unable to hold it in any longer. “Where’s Zander? Is he okay?”
As if drawn to his own name, Zander appeared on the landing, looking...absolutely, totally fine, albeit slightly confused. His gaze darted left and right, searching, not the panic you’d expect from discovering your house was trying to rapture you up to space.
“James? He doesn’t seem to be in any of the rooms up here,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Have you had any luck—oh, hi, Blayde, Sally. Have you two seen Desmond? He’s gone.” He paused, looking over at Sidera, whose jaw was now hanging to the floor. “Who’s this?”
“Zander, this is Sidera, Desmond’s—”
I didn’t have time to finish. The girl was already rushing toward Zander, leaping into his arms, hugging him tightly around the neck. His eyes widened in shock, even more so when she let out a squeal, one short word that ran through the room and shocked us to the core.
“Daddy!”
