The Syndicate (Timewaves Book 1)

  Using my thumbs, I slowly lifted the lid and inhaled sharply. The deep blue stones twinkled in the light of the chandelier above, the delicate gold filigree winding an intricate pattern around it. Exactly like the locket I wore around my neck.

  Removing the oversized cufflinks from the silk lining of King Tut’s box, I turned them over in my hands. The gold gleamed up at me. The large egg-shaped stones were so deep that an entire ocean swam inside. With a deep breath, I ran my finger over the back, feeling for the one thing that would make this all the more real: the five-leaf clover.

  There, engraved around the post meant to be threaded through a shirtsleeve, was my proof.

  “The craftsmanship is unparalleled,” Worchansky said softly. “Though I suppose you were already aware of this.”

  “Yes…they match my necklace,” I breathed.

  I placed both small circles in a single palm, then held them out to let the light shine upon them. The cool metal seemed to call to my tattoo, sending a tingle up my arm. If I’d needed confirmation that the cufflinks and locket belonged together, that was it.

  Energy coursed through my veins, as a rush of adrenaline made my heart race. Maybe I hadn’t found the answers I was looking for, but I was one step closer to my past. I felt it with every cell in my body.

  “What do you know about them?” I asked our host. “Where did they come from?”

  “It was actually Trudy who selected them. She always had such a keen eye for items of intrigue.” Worchansky smiled wistfully, his thoughts clearly in another time with another woman. I gave him that moment with his Trudy, wondering if she and I would ever cross paths.

  “We attended an estate auction of my great-grandfather’s first cousin,” Worchansky finally continued. “I know that he received the cufflinks from his father, but that is as far back as I have found. Though I’ve searched for their story, it seems to flow only in circles, with looping questions and cul-de-sacs of uncertainty. As you can see, the metal is bright and unblemished, despite being quite old. The compound is not something I’ve seen elsewhere, so I know there is a tale behind the pieces. It has been an anomaly to me for many years; I do hope you will find answers. Having another piece like it is quite promising.

  As Worchansky pointed to my necklace, Charles surprised the hell out of me.

  “Two others, actually,” he said, taking out the pocket watch.

  Worchansky’s eyes grew wide.

  “A third item?” he said wondrously. “How many more might there be?”

  “That’s what I hope to find out,” I said with a smile. “As you said, there is doubtlessly a legend that accompanies these pieces.”

  “And you will come back to share it with me?” Worchansky asked, showing the first hints of vulnerability.

  “Of course,” Charles said, surprising me once again. His eyes had turned soft, a kind smile crinkling the edges. We exchanged a look. I realized that he’d come to see Worchansky as I did—an old man whose adventurous spirit was hindered by an aging body. He was someone who longed for the knowledge of history, and all the intrigue that punctuated the eras of time.

  “Thank you for this,” I said quietly. “I cannot express how much it means to me.”

  The old man shook his head, snapping out of the discovery of Charles’s watch.

  “I feel the same, my dear. I do hope you will succeed where I have failed.”

  “I promise. As soon as I learn anything, I will come again,” I swore.

  That promise was one I intended to keep.

  I will probably never know what thoughts were swirling in Worchansky’s mind when he looked at me just then. But the intensity gave me chills. It was a look that made me feel as if he knew all of my secrets.

  With an expression that was a churning mix of wonderment, contentment, and disbelief, Worchansky breathed, “Yes, I do imagine I will be seeing you again soon, Ms. Prince.” He smiled blissfully. “Sooner than I expect, if I had to guess.”

  “YOU MADE QUITE the impression on Mr. Worchansky,” Charles said as he drove me back to the townhouse.

  “He is a very kind man,” I replied absently, my thoughts elsewhere.

  The cufflinks were tucked back inside Tutankhamun’s box at Worchansky’s home, a proper encasement for such exquisite and valuable items. A slip of paper detailing what little the collector knew about his relative was clutched in my hand. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lot. His name was Benjamin Markson, and he’d lived his entire life in France before dying intestate. With no will, and no heirs materializing to claim his many items, an estate auction had been held.

  Much to my surprise, the listing of those who’d bid on the cufflinks was short but notable: Bonheur’s had volleyed back and forth with Worchansky over the pieces. I couldn’t help but wonder why the jewelers would’ve bid so high on a piece they’d crafted themselves.

  “Do you honestly believe you will be able to trace the origins?” Charles asked, bringing me back to the moment.

  I shrugged noncommittally. “I made him a promise, and I will do my best to keep it.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I know you will.”

  “You know it’s not just for him, right?” I asked, watching Charles as he kept his eyes on the winding road. “And it’s not just for me?”

  Without looking, he released my hand and gently stroked my cheek.

  “I know,” Charles replied simply.

  When we arrived back in the fourteenth arrondisement, we parked several blocks from the townhome. Charles shut off the engine and turned to face me, settling in to his seat.

  “Thank you for taking me to see Mr. Worchansky,” I said. “I am so sorry that we didn’t find any real answers today that would lead you to Tessa’s family.”

  Charles shrugged. “It will, eventually.”

  “I hope so.”

  We sat in companionable silence for a long moment. Charles fidgeted in his seat, seeming oddly uncomfortable for such a confident man.

  “I should really—” I started.

  “When can I see you again?” he blurted out, then laughed sheepishly. “Sorry. That was not supposed to sound so abrupt. What I meant to say is, I would like to see you again. Maybe we could have dinner and see a show? I could even pick you up properly, so your uncle is not so against our courtship.”

  Courtship….

  His gaze was hopeful, his emotions hovering just barely below the surface. Gone was the man with the devilish twinkle and sultry smirk. Charles reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. “Maybe we could even arrange for a private box at the opera. Just you and I, alone in the dark?”

  Okay, so that guy was still there.

  I laughed. “How very forward of you, Mr. DuPree,” I joked.

  Charles unfolded my fingers and set his palm against mine, then threaded his fingers through the small gaps. Using our intertwined hands, he pulled me across the bench-style seat. The sun had set while we were inside Worchansky’s. Few people were still wandering the streets near my townhouse. Still, cuddling with Charles in a car, in full view of passersby, seemed like a really bad idea.

  But this was also my last chance to make really bad decisions where Charles was concerned.

  His free hand began playing with a lock of my hair.

  Seeing those strands of red slip through his fingers made me realize how fake our courtship truly was. From my hair to my name to my backstory, everything Charles thought he knew about me was a lie.

  Staring into those honey eyes, I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted him to know my story.

  I wanted him to know me.

  “I like you, Stassi,” Charles whispered.

  “You don’t know me,” I told him quietly, mirroring my thoughts.

  Charles smiled. “But I want to.”

  Maybe it was the fact that he called me Stassi. Maybe I was just tired of being boring. Maybe my hormones overpowered my common sense. Maybe I liked him enough that nothing else mattered in that moment.


  I pressed my lips to his. This kiss was different than the ones before it. This kiss was hungry, desperate, and filled with everything I couldn’t say.

  Charles pulled me closer. His hands began to wander, lightly skimming the fabric of my dress. Though his touch wasn’t wanton or excessive, it was so electric that my skin tingled beneath his fingers. I ran my own hands over his chest, and the hard muscles tightened in response.

  Our lips parted. And then his mouth was on my neck, trailing hot kissing down my throat. His hands were in my hair, pulling my head back to give him better access.

  Unfortunately, a car, not matter how opulent, is not an ideal sexy time venue.

  The steering wheel dug into my back when he pulled me into his lap. That might have been okay, had I not somehow managed to knock the gearshift into neutral.

  The Rolls-Royce began to inch forward.

  Caught up in each other, neither of us noticed the movement.

  I arched my spine as Charles’s gentle fingers found the hollow of my throat. Leaning back for balance, I connected directly with the center of the wheel.

  The horn blared a long, loud note, waking both of us from our hormone-crazed haze.

  I glanced out the window, looking for pedestrians who might have stopped to watch the show. What I saw sent me into a panic. Streetlamps, storefronts, and a fire hydrant ambled past.

  “The car is moving!” I exclaimed. “Charles! The car is moving.”

  I scrambled off of his lap. Lids still heavy with longing, he tried to hold onto me. I batted his hands away and jabbed the air, trying to draw his attention to the world around us and the fact it was moving past at an increasing pace. Only the empty street had saved us thus far from a collision, and our luck was running out.

  Charles swore loudly, using a most ungentlemanly curse word, and reached for the emergency brake. The car came to an abrupt halt, inches away from the bumper of another car parked not far from the hat shop. Given my perilous perch on the seat, my side slammed into the dashboard when we stopped, my head coming worryingly close to bouncing off of the windshield. I groaned.

  Charles’s breath was coming out in short gasps.

  “Are you okay? Stassi? Say something.”

  I moaned, rubbing my bruised shoulder.

  “Stassi? Please, I am so sorry.”

  “This is why man invented mattress,” I intoned.

  Needless to say, that was the end of that.

  AFTER A RELATIVELY chaste goodbye to Charles, I walked into the townhouse alone.

  The living room was a beehive of activity. Cyrus was pacing. Ines was crunching hard candies, since my boss had put the kibosh on her nicotine habit. Dr. Merriweather was sitting on the couch looking befuddled. And Naomi and Felipe were staring at one another, as though confused over why they were there. Gaige was noticeably absent from the party.

  “Stassi! There you are,” Ines announced. Her hands were trembling as she unwrapped another candy.

  Cyrus came to an abrupt halt. His laser-like gaze landed on me and, for once, his expression was easily readable. Worry warred with anger, underscored by despondency. I’d never seen my boss so troubled.

  “Stassi,” he sighed heavily, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

  Words I didn’t like to hear. Alarm bells began blaring inside my head.

  “What’s wrong? Where’s Gaige?”

  Everyone looked at me, but no one answered. My unease ratcheted up another notch.

  “Where is Gaige?” I demanded. “Is he okay?”

  Green eyes full of sympathy and resignation, Cyrus stared at me for a long moment before answering.

  “He’s been arrested. The police discovered that his travel documents are fake. They want you for questioning, as well.”

  The world tilted on its axis. Strong arms were around me, supporting my weight as shapes and colors whirled around me.

  “You can fix this, right?” I asked Cyrus. “I mean, you can get him out? Like on bail? He just needs to get out of there, then he can jump home.”

  Cyrus led me to the couch and guided me down onto the cushions.

  “We’re working on it,” he promised.

  Someone handed me a glass of water. I drank deeply from the cup, only to discover it wasn’t water. I spit the mouthful of vodka back into the glass and handed it to Ines with a withering glare.

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “It will help calm your nerves, dear,” she told me.

  “Like you?” I asked dryly, nodding to her trembling hands.

  She bit down hard on the candy in her mouth and pointedly ignored my question.

  I glanced around the room, my gaze falling on the doctor.

  “What about his condition? Can’t you say he’s sick?” I pleaded.

  Cyrus patted my hand. “We did make that argument. Inspector Thoreau promised to have the prison doctors watch out for him.”

  “Prison doctors?” I exclaimed. “That is not reassuring, Cyrus. Do we even know what’s wrong with him yet?”

  Dr. Merriweather’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I am doing my very best.”

  The initial sip of vodka had worked its way into my system. Though I wouldn’t admit it to Ines, I was starting to feel calmer. I sighed and focused on finding a solution to the mess we were facing. Resigned, I snatched up the glass and took another burning gulp.

  “Okay, so what’s the next move?” I faced Cyrus and fired questions at him in quick succession. “Are you going to pose as his lawyer? Or do the alchemists have a lawyer? Someone who knows what they’re doing? You guys have those, right?”

  “Slow down, Stassi,” Cyrus said soothingly. “There is an alchemist lawyer on his way down to the prison now. He is going to see about bail.” His expression turned somber. “Truthfully, I am not sure it will be granted. Gaige stands accused of murdering multiple people in horrific ways. Dr. Merriweather is going to argue his health at the hearing. But I want you to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. The prison doctors will not find anything wrong with Gaige. Whatever caused him to black out is either an uncommon substance, or time sickness, or simply a fluke. In any case, the tests they run will come back negative. They will deem him healthy and fit to stand trial.”

  I closed my eyes.

  This can’t be happening, I thought, rubbing my temples with both of my hands.

  “What’s the next move?” I repeated calmly.

  Cyrus took so long to answer that I opened my eyes, momentarily worried I’d somehow blacked out and missed his response.

  “You and I will go to the sanitarium in the morning, as planned. I will then help you retrieve the last piece of Blue’s Canyon. In the meantime, the alchemists will work on having Gaige released.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your answer? To stay the course?”

  Cyrus’s emerald eyes met mine and held them intently.

  “We stay the course,” he said evenly.

  His confidence raised my own ever so slightly. My boss knew what he was doing. As the Founder of not just the Atlic Syndicate, but the entire system of syndicates, Cyrus was the most capable person I knew. I had to trust him. Squaring my shoulders, I gave him a reluctant nod.

  “Okay.”

  “How is Hadley Richardson?” Cyrus asked, all business once again. “Do you think she will be feeling well enough to go out with you tomorrow?”

  “It’s just a hangover, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I replied. Though I knew my boss deserved my faith, I had to tamp down the urge to defy him and bolt for the police station.

  Gaige was my partner and I should be with him. I should be there, arguing for his release.

  “Good,” Cyrus continued. “Did you get a feel for their apartment? Is the study easy to access? I will start my search there, since that is the most likely place.”

  I stared at Cyrus, momentarily confused by his questions. How would I know the setup of the Hemingway’s apartment? Unless—

  “Hadley and
I visited on the terrace,” I answered quickly. Gaige must have told him I was over at the Hemingways’ when I was with Charles and Worchansky. “I didn’t really get a chance to look around. She wasn’t feeling well, and Ernest was working inside.”

  Just as so many lies before, this one flowed from my lips like water from a faucet. But there was a big difference: I’d never before outright lied to my boss. Taking a steadying breath, I told myself that it was a minor non-truth, and would not affect the mission.

  Lock it up, Stassi.

  “Shame. Well, the place is small, I should be fine.” Cyrus turned to face the alchemists huddled together on the other side of the coffee table. “It’s late. I think it would be best for everyone to turn in and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a full day.”

  Merriweather, Naomi and the others all nodded and began to gather their things. The doctor closed up his medical case, then came over and squeezed my shoulder.

  “Our people are trained for these situations, Stassi. We will have him out as soon as we can,” he reassured.

  “Really? You guys have freed a runner accused of mass murder?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly felt bad. Even if the man had accused Gaige of using drugs. “I’m sorry, Dr. Merriweather,” I quickly added.

  “No need to apologize, dear. This is a very stressful time, and we are all on edge.” He turned to address Cyrus. “I will inform you as soon as we know more.”

  While the group of alchemists headed for the door, Naomi hung back and caught my eye. She smiled tentatively. When she opened her mouth to speak, panic made me stiffen.

  Was she going to say something about Charles? About seeing me with him when I was supposedly with Hadley?

  I needed to preempt the problem.

  “Thank you for coming, Naomi,” I told her in a rush. “I wish we were seeing each other over beautiful clothes, instead of these circumstances.”

  The stylist pursed her lips. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and musical. “I am so sorry about your partner, he seems like a nice man.”

  I smiled with genuine warmth. “He is.”

  Naomi held my gaze for a moment longer before following the others out of the house.