Page 2 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)

Natasha

NEW YORK CITY

998

Tripping is risky.

It’s the warning that’s been drilled into me from the start. A fact I’ve learned to accept every time I travel into the past.

Technology can fail.

Glitches happen.

Portals can close, leaving a Tripper stranded in a time and place where they do not belong.

And God forbid you inadvertently cross your own timeline, since the duality of existence results in nonexistence. It’s a theory I’d never willingly put to the test.

Yet, while I’ve had some close calls with all those things, no Trip to the past ever had so much riding on it, or felt quite as risky, as the Trip I’m currently on.

Then again, this is no ordinary Trip.

There’s much more at stake than the fear of being caught nicking jewels from drunken aristocrats, or piecing together the clues found in numerology, Christopher Columbus’s map, and a handful of tarot cards to uncover some long-hidden artifact.

Aside from what Arthur might do should he discover I’m gone—never mind the very real possibility that, after this stunt, Braxton will have good reason to never trust me again—I don’t think I’m being overdramatic when I say that if this Trip doesn’t go as I hope, then the state of the world—hell, the state of time itself—may never recover.

“Welcome to nineteen ninety-eight,” Elodie says, the sound of her voice snapping me out of my reverie. “A time when Google is still in its infancy, Sex and the City premiers on cable TV, and cell phones are basically the size of bricks.”

She gestures toward a guy in a suit shouting into a phone that’s nearly the size of his forearm. I guess I don’t respond quickly enough, because she places her hand on my shoulder, and says, “Hey there, you okay?”

Inhaling deeply, I nod. “I’m just…” I pause, collecting my thoughts. “Just trying to get my bearings.” I take a quick look around, my gaze skipping along a collection of skyscrapers so tall they seem to merge with the clouds. “The city is so much bigger in person. It’s a bit overwhelming,” I say.

“There’s a bar up ahead.” Elodie points toward a red awning where a bunch of people are lingering. “What do you say we start there?”

I turn to her in disbelief. A bar? Is she serious? “I didn’t come here for a pub crawl, El.” I shake my head, start to head down the crowded avenue, acting like I know exactly where I’m going, when we both know I don’t.

Still, what is she even doing here when she knew from the start I’d planned to Trip on my own?

All I know is one minute I was standing on the launchpad, fully convinced she was about to blast me into the past without the necessary clicker I’d need to find my way back. Then, before I can so much as blink, she’s right there beside me, eyes gleaming, lips stretched into a teeth-flashing grin as though it was all just some big, grand adventure.

As though Braxton wasn’t looking on, wearing an expression of shock and betrayal so deep, the image still haunts me.

“C’mon.” She trots up alongside me. “It looks decent enough.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I silently fume. It’s a classic Elodie move, always so eager to turn every mundane task into a party. Usually, it’s harmless enough, maybe even admirable. But in this instance, it’s a definite pass.

“This isn’t like ditching school, El.” I huff out a breath, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “This is serious. Probably the most serious thing I’ve ever done. I need to find my dad and, since I don’t exactly need you for that, then fine. Cheers! Salut! Bottoms up! Have your drink. Whatever. All I’m asking is that you leave me to do what I need to.”

Elodie’s fingers circle my wrist, stopping me cold. Lashes fluttering, blue eyes widening, she says, “Are you done?” She quirks a brow, but otherwise waits like we have all the time in the world.

I roll my eyes, try to free myself from her grip, but Elodie is stronger than she looks, and she locks me in place.

“Why are you always so determined to think the worst of me?” she asks. “Less than two hours ago you promised to put the past behind us and wipe the slate clean.”

I stare down at my feet, knowing she’s right. And yet, ever since she pulled that stunt on the launchpad, it’s like we’re right back where we started—with Elodie working an agenda known only to her, and me frantically trying to second-guess the true motivation behind her every move.

“Look, El,” I say, my voice competing with the New York City soundtrack of honking, shouting, and blaring police sirens. “Two days isn’t as long as you think, and—”

“Just do me a favor and kindly read the date, please.” Elodie plucks a copy of The New York Times from the kiosk beside us and waves the newspaper before me.

Is she for real? With a determined jerk of my arm, I yank myself free. “Elodie, I don’t—”

“Pretty sure I said please. ” She jiggles the paper impatiently.

I blow out a frustrated breath and squint at the small print. “Wednesday, June 3, 998.” I shrug. “Okay, so, you got the year right. Well done. Now can I please just—”

“June third.” Elodie returns the newspaper to the stand and makes a theatrical display of tilting her head and tapping her chin. “Hmmm…I wonder why that date is so familiar?” She trains her gaze directly on mine, having already grasped what I’m just now remembering.

June third is my dad’s birthday!

“How did you—” I start, but the words quickly fade. “Of course.” I tilt my head to the side and study her face. “You read my file.” My gaze holds hers. “Which means that first day, when you approached me at school, you already knew everything about me.”

She shrugs like it’s no big thing.

But it is a big thing. It gave her a massive advantage over me. Elodie had studied me, my interests, my family history. She knew exactly how to approach me, how to befriend me, how to manipulate me…and the worst part is, the same could be said of Braxton.

But like Braxton, does Elodie know the full history of my ancestral lineage?

Does she know that I’m a Timekeeper—the first female Timekeeper ever—and that my destiny is to stop Arthur from achieving his dream of controlling time and remaking the world?

And if so, does she also know that Braxton’s a Timekeeper, too?

And, more importantly, does she realize the entire purpose of this Trip isn’t just so I can reconnect with the dad who disappeared when I was eight, but so that I can convince him that I’m his future daughter—the one he won’t actually father for another seven years with a woman who, at this point, he hasn’t actually met—in hopes that he’ll teach me the tricks of the Timekeepers’ trade?

And if she is clued into all that, then what does it mean that she’s insisted on tagging along?

I study Elodie’s beautiful face, searching her expression for some sort of clue as to what she might be thinking beneath her flawless facade. But Elodie’s a master at disguising her true feelings, so I don’t get very far.

“Okay,” I finally say. “It’s his birthday. Not sure how that helps, but—”

Elodie smirks. “Do the math, Nat. I’ll wait.”

Quickly, I run the numbers in my head. “Oh. Okay, yeah,” I mumble. “I get it. Today’s his twenty-first birthday.”

The grin she grants me is decidedly smug. “And how exactly do you think a young, single, future accountant might choose to celebrate such a milestone?”

I glance between her and the bar she’s now heading toward. “But there’s got to be, like, hundreds of bars in this city,” I say, as the two of us weave our way through a throng of rush hour commuters. “So, how can we possibly know this is the one?”

I shoot Elodie a sideways glance, reluctant to give up my original plan to head to Columbia University, where my dad is currently an undergrad, then scour the campus until I find him. Which, I realize, is probably about as unlikely a success as hopping from bar to bar in search of a green-eyed, shaggy-haired Timekeeper, celebrating his twenty-first trip around the sun by drinking his first legal beer.

As for Elodie, she remains undeterred. She just leans closer and whispers in my ear, “Now’s the part where I really need you to have a little faith for a change. After all, I did get you this far, no?”

I watch as she slides the serpent charm across the gold chain that hangs from her neck, and despite the heat and humidity of a New York City summer day, my skin is suddenly swarming with chills.

“El—” I start, but my voice quickly falters, forcing me to clear my throat and try again. “El, did—did you use magick? I mean, in addition to Arthur’s technology?”

Elodie shoots me a sidelong glance. “What I used is intent , ” she says. “So, now’s our chance to see if it worked.”

I watch as she tilts her chin high, tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder, and strides inside the bar, much like she did the day she took me to Arcana, the underground club that turned out just to be another of Arthur’s holograms.

The club that started the whole chain of events that eventually led me to Gray Wolf.

I pause before the threshold, unsure what to do. But, since we’re already here, I repeat what I did back then: I bury my doubt and trail right behind her, all the while whispering to myself, “I really hope I don’t live to regret this.”