Page 57 of The Book of Lost Hours

I T COULDN ’ T LAST . M OIRA knew this, and yet she took her months of happiness with Ernest for granted.

For a time, everything seemed perfect. They were together.

They were in love. He wanted to introduce her to Amelia.

And yet all the while, Moira could feel something lurking just out of sight. A storm waiting to break.

After Vasily Stepanov, Moira was tapped more often to deal with the timekeepers Jack brought in for questioning.

There was a kind of movement brewing. A sudden influx of timekeepers the world over who made it their business to interfere, all in the name of Lisavet Levy.

Fighting for someone they had never even met, not realizing that she herself had stopped fighting that battle long ago.

Not recognizing her when she ripped their conviction away by erasing their memories of it altogether.

In the past, the idea of rebellion might have thrilled her.

But now she had her own version of the past to protect. Her own secrets.

Ernest didn’t know about any of that. The department kept it from him, not wanting him anywhere near talk of Lisavet Levy.

It wasn’t easy. He came close to the truth so often it was as though he were drawn to it by some invisible force.

So things continued. The months passed, and Moira was beginning to hope, cautiously, that maybe this time she would get to keep him.

Ernest had begun talking about the upcoming summer.

They had made plans for her to meet Amelia the Tuesday after school let out.

To spend a week with her, the three of them together.

But then things inevitably changed.

“Did you hear that another timekeeper went missing?” Ernest asked one morning.

She was sitting at the breakfast table, drinking coffee. Ernest was cooking them eggs, the windows flung open to let in the warm spring air.

“Which one?” she asked.

“A man from France this time. I saw him not too long ago and then all of a sudden he was gone.”

Jacques Blanchard, Moira knew. She had been there when they brought him in. Had rifled through his memories herself, carefully searching for anything the man might know about Lisavet Levy’s still living daughter before handing the rest over to Jack.

“Did you ask Jack about it?” she said, evading his question.

“I’m asking you.”

“Why would I know?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re ‘Jack’s girl’ and he tells you everything.” He laid a kiss on her cheek to let her know he was kidding and set a plate of eggs down in front of her.

“He doesn’t tell me everything ,” Moira said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, no. But you do keep his calendar. Has he had any strange appointments lately?”

“Strange appointments like what?”

“You know. ‘Interrogate Frenchman. Nine o’clock.’ Something like that.”

“Is there a reason you’re asking this?”

Ernest shrugged. “I’m worried, that’s all. It’s been happening more and more lately.”

“If you’re so worried, just ask Jack. You’re his second-in-command, he can’t keep you in the dark if you ask him outright.”

Ernest snorted at that. “Does Jack know I’m his second-in-command? ’Cause I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten.”

“Then remind him,” Moira said, kissing his knuckles.

It was the wrong thing to say. She had hoped Ernest would just inquire and move on.

She knew that Jack would never tell him what was really happening.

It would jeopardize everything and put them at risk of Ernest uncovering the truth about her.

Her name, their history, her past. The man who had once been willing to throw away his entire life for her, who had almost turned his back on the department and committed the equivalent of treason, could not know what she had once been to him. Or what she had become.

She had hoped it would blow over, but instead it blew up in her face.

She heard the shouting as soon as she came into the office on Monday. Ernest and Jack were in Jack’s office, having it out loud and clear. Shelley pulled her aside the second she saw her.

“Trust me, you do not want them to know you’re here right now.”

“What? Why?”

There was more shouting coming from the office. This time Moira was quite certain she heard her own name enter the mix.

“What are they arguing about?” she asked.

“Well. At first they were talking about something normal, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying until they started screaming about you. Well, about Mr. Dillinger’s promotion technically. But you came up.”

“What promotion?”

Shelley gave her a surprised look. “Haven’t you heard? Mr. Dillinger has been promoted. Head of the entire CIA. It’s quite something really.”

Moira frowned. “And… what does that have to do with me?”

Shelley looked as if she didn’t want to say. “Because. There’s a satellite office opening in New York and apparently he plans on transferring you there.”

Moira felt herself go pale. To New York? Could he even do that?

“I assumed you already knew,” Shelley said, giving her an apologetic look.

“No… I hadn’t heard.”

A loud crack sounded from the office. Jack punching either a wall or the desk.

“Somebody should stop them before it gets violent,” Moira said.

“Do you think it will get violent?” Shelley asked, looking like a bystander watching a spectator sport.

Moira gave her an incredulous look just as the door to Jack’s office opened. Ernest exited, still fuming, raking his hands through his hair. He froze when he saw her standing there. Moira gave Shelley a shove and the girl slunk away to spectate from afar.

“Moira,” Ernest said, coming up to her.

“Is everything all right?”

“I need to talk to you,” Ernest said, eyes shining in a half-angry, half-frantic way. “Can we…”

“Donnelly.” Jack’s voice punctuated the air. He was standing in the doorway to his office, his fists clenched at his sides.

Ernest glared at Jack over his shoulder. “Just a second, Jack.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Duquesne,” Jack growled.

“I’ll be right there,” Moira said.

“Donnelly. Now, or you’re fired.” He said it with such frightening gravity that Moira almost believed him.

She extricated her hand from Ernest’s grasp. “We can talk later,” she said.

“Moira…”

“Tonight,” she said more firmly. “I’ll come by tonight. Okay? Just go cool off.”

Ernest reluctantly stepped back, shooting one final harrowing glare at Jack. He stormed off down the hall and into the elevator, leaving his coat and briefcase behind.

Moira followed Jack into his office and shut the door.

He began pacing as she took in the state of the room.

A stack of papers had been swept onto the floor.

Several pens had been flung across the room, and sure enough there was a hole the size of Jack’s fist about a foot to the right of the safe.

His knuckles were still bleeding. She watched him carefully, weighing her next move.

“Is everything…”

She let out a squeal of alarm as Jack suddenly turned and gripped her head in both hands. She froze, wide eyes meeting his furious ones.

“ You …” he said in a low, growling voice. He tilted her face back and forth, examining it as if it were a block of wood he was preparing to carve. “What is it about you that brings out the worst in him? He’s always so quick to defend you. Always willing to throw away his whole career… for you.”

“J-Jack,” Moira stammered.

He thrust her away from him, scoffing. “You must be one hell of a lay,” he said in disgust. “Tell me, what do you do to him to make him act so—” He broke off, kicking the pile of papers.

Moira said nothing. Keeping her distance as one would from a feral tiger.

“I need you to clean this up for me,” he said.

Moira swallowed. She knelt down to begin picking up the papers.

“Not those,” Jack snarled. “ Him. ”

“H-him?”

“Yes. Him. I’ve been allowing you to see him for over a year now, and now I need you to use it to our advantage.”

Their advantage? How was it any advantage to her at all?

As if reading her thoughts, Jack jerked her up by her arm, his eyes flashing. “He’s asking questions about Lisavet Levy,” he said in a low voice.

Moira’s mouth went dry. “Jack, I didn’t tell him anything. I promise, I…”

“I know you didn’t. Do you really think you’d still be here if I thought you had?

” He let go of her and stepped away, beginning to pace once again.

“He doesn’t know much. Just that she was a girl trapped in the time space who disappeared one day.

Allegedly because of us. But that’s enough to make him curious, which means it’s too much.

I need you to remove it. And take the memory of this morning out of his head, too, while you’re at it. ”

She swallowed shakily. A sickening sense of déjà vu knotted in her stomach. Ernest, once again putting himself at risk because of her, only this time it wasn’t just him who would suffer. How could he be so reckless when he had Amelia to think about? She resigned herself to what she had to do.

“Is that all you fought about?” she asked.

Jack scoffed at her. “No, that wasn’t even half of it.”

“It was… about your promotion?”

Jack leaned back against his desk, folding his arms. “Who told you?”

“Shelley did.”

He relaxed slightly, some of his anger giving way to smugness. “Yes, that was a good portion of it. Lots of shouting about not wanting to inherit my mess. Arrogant bastard already assumes my job is his once I’m gone.”

Moira bit her lip, hesitating. “Jack, I… I don’t want to go to New York.”

He looked up at her sharply. “That’s too damn bad. You’re my girl, remember? I need you there to be my eyes and ears in the new office.”

Moira wanted to argue, but didn’t, not wanting to anger him again when it seemed he was finally calming down.

“Clean up this mess when you go over to Ernest’s apartment tonight, all right? And let him know about New York while you’re at it.”