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  "Why don't you tell me about my mother first."

  "Your mother? Rebecca? What about her?" Cameron smiled nervously.

  "Did you kill her?"

  "What? Who gave you that idea?"

  Addison leaned forward, his voice intense. "Did. You. Kill. Her."

  They locked eyes. "Addison, I loved Rebecca. She was a wonderful mother, wife, my friend, and one our best Inkers. Her death was terrible. A tragedy. To this day, I mourn her loss."

  Addison wished he could read minds, somehow suss out the truth. Cameron seemed sincere. Very sincere. He sat in a chair across from Cameron, who had a pained expression.

  " Sorry. Had to ask."

  "It's okay. I understand."

  They held a silence, taking stock of each other, until Addison spoke. "Dad left me something—his pen. And I know about the League."

  "And I take it, since the continuum has shifted, you've used your father's pen."

  "You mean, have I inked anyone? Yeah, several times."

  Cameron leaned back, his fingertips of both hands touching. "Start from the beginning."

  Addison rose, pacing behind the side chairs. "Everything was going fine, I guess."

  "Who did you ink?"

  "The first was from a client of my father's. I found a name in the file."

  "And who was this client?"

  "Maya Sepulveda."

  Cameron tapped a finger on his desk a few times in thought. "So is this name in the file the only inking you've done?"

  "No… You see, Nikki started to train us."

  "Nikki?"

  Addison paused, holding onto the back on one of the side chairs. "Yeah. Surely you know Nikki." Cameron cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "Right, I shifted the continuum. You don't know Nikki because she isn't an Inker anymore. Or she doesn't exist."

  Cameron leaned forward with both hands on his desk. "How do you think you shifted the continuum?"

  "I didn't mean to." He shrugged, and paced again. "I went on a mission with my inking partner and when we got back Nikki existed, but she didn't know anything about the League. We tried to fix things and well, it got worse. As in a world war."

  Cameron leaned back with a deep sigh. "You may have had a hand in it, but I imagine there are some other forces at play here."

  Addison stopped in place, turning to Cameron. "Look, I just told you I'm responsible for starting World War III. Shouldn't you be pissed or something?"

  Cameron rose from the desk, taking slow steps to a wall of glass with a view overlooking Elliott Bay. Large hovertankers moved down the channel. Addison waited, hoping his uncle had some magic solution to the mess he had created. He expected his father's old friend to get hysterical at any moment, but Cameron kept his focus on something out the window.

  "I would be very cautious around this woman you mentioned, Maya. She probably gave you a file knowing you'd use it." Cameron turned, his eyes drilling into Addison. "So you've come here hoping I can help you?"

  "Will you?"

  "You don't change things back, Addison. It's done."

  Addison brushed back his hair with one hand, defeat creeping up on him. "No, there's got to be a way."

  "What, you think I'm some sort of magician? Some actions can't be taken back."

  "You don't understand. I've got to fix this. I've lost everything and millions are dying out there because of this shift in the continuum." Addison's insides, tied into knots, twisted and turned. He wanted to escape. He wanted to be relieved of this burden. "I don't know what to do." He looked away from his uncle, a panic building inside, rising in his chest. "I don't know what to do."

  Cameron stepped over to him, placing a hand on either shoulder, cocking his head to make eye contact. "It's okay, Addison. I'm here. You're not alone in this." He exhaled slowly. "We'll figure this out. Together."

  "But how?"

  Cameron stepped back to the window, hands clasped behind his back. They shared the silence of a long minute until he spoke again. "I don't know. But the first step must be to secure all five pens. Until we do, the League and the world are at risk."

  "You know about the pen, Memento?"

  Cameron turned, his eyes meeting Addison's. "No. What about Memento?"

  "Nikki, the Inker who exists in a different continuum, gave it to her. To Jules."

  "Alison McCullough's daughter, she's your inking partner? I didn't know she had joined the League."

  "Yeah. But she was murdered present-side and her pen was stolen. Jules managed to ink away, but now she's trapped in the consciousness of a sixteenth century Inca princess or…"

  "Yes?"

  "Without a way to die back, she's trapped in Peru."

  Cameron grimaced. "I'm very sorry."

  "And her killer's after me. In a previous time continuum, the one where Jules is murdered, someone ransacked my house, clearly looking for my pen. Maybe you're right about Maya. In this continuum, she was at my door again asking about the pen."

  "But you still have it, I trust?"

  Addison offered a faint smile, knowing he had outsmarted her on this one occasion. "Yeah. I still have it."

  "Somewhere safe?"

  "Yes. It's in my…" Cameron seemed trustworthy, but Addison found it hard to trust anyone right now. "It's somewhere safe."

  Cameron walked to the front of his desk. "I can account for Animus and Incogitata and you have Renascentia. If Memento is gone, we've got two pens missing."

  "Isn't it just one missing pen? Jules' mom has Specula."

  Cameron shook his head. "I'm afraid the other missing pen is Specula, and I have a hunch your friend Maya may have it."

  "I don't think so. She said she was a 'hidden asset' put in play by my father."

  "Did she, now?” Cameron sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. "I've had some suspicions about Maya for several years now. I think she met your father innocently enough, but somewhere along the way she learned of the pen. That kind of power changes people. Imagine Maya with all five. Total control of the time continuum. She would be able to go back to any life, making adjustments to create the present and future she envisions. Far too much power for one person to hold. Your father and I had our differences, but once he suspected Maya's motives, he turned to me as the failsafe. I'm afraid his fears were realized when she murdered him."

  Addison stepped over to the motorcycle, really an engine with two wheels and no brakes, his back to Cameron. "Don't you think the more likely scenario here is that Kairos has been acquiring the pens?"

  "Kairos? No, that's not possible."

  He turned to meet Cameron's gaze. "I've met him."

  "You may think you have. Probably someone, maybe even Maya, pretending to be Kairos. But Kairos is not the culprit."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "Kairos is gone. Destroyed. Years ago. No, I think Maya may be the source of our troubles now."

  He wanted to believe Cameron, to have someone on his side. But he had seen too much, been through too much, lost too much, to blindly follow his lead. "You know, Maya doesn't have nice things to say about you either."

  "So, you find yourself caught between us, uncertain who to trust."

  "Something like that."

  "Addison, your father was no fool. The only way someone could take him out is if he let his own guard down. And I think we can agree a woman like Maya has the ability to distract."

  Addison stepped to the window, the view encompassing downtown Seattle, Puget Sound and the snow covered Olympic Mountains peaking above low-lying clouds. "You think Maya has Memento and Specula?"

  Cameron moved from the desk to Addison's side by the window. "In May the Coast Guard found Alison's boat, the Alchemy, adrift off the coast of Kona, Hawaii."

  "And what about Jules' mom?"

  "Her body washed up on a beach south of Kona a week later."

  "What happened?"

  "When a rescue party boarded they found bloody drag marks on the deck and Alison missing. One of our teams sco
ured the boat and Alison's rental condo, home, office and vehicles looking for her pen, but to no avail. The news blogs called it a drug deal gone bad."

  "Maya?"

  "That's my assumption. Somehow, she boarded the boat, acquired the pen, and killed Alison to cover her tracks."

  Addison met Cameron's gaze. "So, what do we do? Maybe I should ink Dad?"

  Cameron shrugged, turning to walk back to his desk. "I understand the logic. Thomas might have some information useful to us, but if his judgment in the past is clouded about Maya, I'm not sure how he could help."

  "So what do you have in mind?"

  "I think we set a trap for her."

  "Okay, I'm listening."

  "We know she's after you. We'll let her make another try for Renascentia."

  "What? So I'm going to be the bait?"

  "No, no. Addison, you're the hunter, she's the prey. You're going to lure her into your trap. She wants your pen, so wait for her call. When she does contact you, and I know she will, agree to the meeting, and then call me."

  "I don't know. What if she takes a week to call? What if she never calls? I've got to fix what I've done before my consciousness becomes dominated by the Addison in this continuum."

  "I understand how you feel, but you must have patience. Once we have captured her, we can recover the pens. It won't, of course, bring your father back, but with all five pens, we might have a chance of rectifying the shifts in the time continuum. No promises, but I'd say it's the best shot we have of getting your friend back and stopping this catastrophic war." He reached into a drawer, pulling out a handgun. "This is for you. Have you used a gun before?"

  Images of firefights against Inca soldiers flooded his mind. Dead men sprawled awkwardly on dry desert ground. "I've done some shooting."

  "Good. This gun cannot be traced, neither can the ammunition."

  "You want me to kill her?"

  "No, Addison. I'm giving you this gun for your protection. While the temptation to kill the woman who I think murdered your father will be great, I'm more concerned about you not having a way of defending yourself if she attacks you."

  Addison stepped up to Cameron, taking the gun, a snub-nosed .38, from his outstretched hand. He released the cylinder, checking the loaded chamber. After flipping the cylinder back into position, he switched the safety on. Holding the revolver felt natural.

  "Thanks. Hopefully I won't have to use this."

  "Yes. But if you're threatened, don't hesitate to use force or you may not live to talk about the encounter. You don't get a second chance present-side. No die backs, only death."

  Addison left Cameron, gun tucked away out of sight in his waist band. The security guard gave Addison a knowing nod on the way out. He pulled his AutoPod out of the garage, the urge to drive directly to Maya's condo eating at him. Cameron wanted him to use some finesse. Lure her out. Maya and Cameron both talked a good game, but he still didn't know who to trust. He turned at the next light. He had to talk with his father, to find the truth, to find some answers, but ultimately to find a path home, back to the world as it should be before he twisted the time continuum in on itself.

  He had to ink Thomas Shaw.

  Dead Sexy

  Jules was waiting for him on the porch when he pulled up to the house. He still couldn't believe she lived. Jules. Her dead eyes staring at him through plastic, haunted him. Sure, a version of Jules lived here in this continuum, but he left his inking partner alone in Peru, a blade to her throat. He didn't want to lose her again, but keeping one alive meant losing the other. The previous continuum is my present. The real present. Should he tell her to leave, one less variable in this chaos? Both his father and Jules died with a pen in their hands, their bodies vulnerable to a killer. Maybe having Jules 2.0 around could be used to his advantage. She wasn't the partner who had trained with him, but he needed someone he could trust and she was probably the closest he'd get to a true friend in this world he had created. He walked up to her, unsure of what to say.

  She slipped a hand into his back pocket, squeezing his butt with a mischievous smile. When her affectionate kiss to his lips wasn't reciprocated, she pulled back, concern in her eyes. "What's going on, Addison? What's this shy act you're putting on today? I know getting married's a big deal—"

  He took a step back. "It's not that, Jules. Look. I'm going to tell you some things that will sound, well, bizarre. I haven't told you about this until now because, I guess, our relationship wasn't ready and I didn't understand what was happening anyway." God, I sound like a crazy.

  She pressed a hand to his chest. "Thank, God. I thought something terrible had happened." She gave him an impish smile. "So, does this have something to do with certain proclivities you might enjoy? Not that I'd have a problem. I think I'm pretty open-minded, especially after we tied each other up last time. Of course, I suppose it depends. Are we talking about something really freaky, you know, like way out there somewhere?" She rested her hands on his shoulders, rising on her toes for a kiss. Addison moved her arms away.

  "Jules, just listen."

  She cocked her head, squinting. "You're a serial killer?"

  "What?"

  "Just a guess."

  "Jules, will you stop fooling around?"

  She deadpanned a tough cop expression right out of a crime show. "Well, are you?"

  "No, I'm not a serial killer."

  "Good, 'cause if you were, I'm not sure how I'd handle it. Every time you told me you were busy, I'd know what you were up to, which would be kind of sick, if you know what I mean."

  Addison held out his hands, as if attempting to slow a speeding driver in the neighborhood. "Jules. Stop. Listen to me. It's nothing like that. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

  "Yeah. Sure, Addison. I trust you."

  "Good, because what's going on here is nothing you could possibly imagine. You're just going to have to trust me."

  Her brow furrowed, the easy banter silenced. They stepped through the doorway, and to the living room sofa. He told Jules everything. Renascentia, inking Emmett, Fort Myers, Alexandria, Peru. He told her about Nikki, their training and how Seattle and the world had changed. He left his Jules out, only saying he had a partner who had gone missing.

  "So you're telling me, because of you, we're living in an alternate time continuum?"

  "Yeah. I guess that's right."

  She stood up, stepping over to a window, opening the blinds, her back to him. "Wouldn't we all notice everything's different?"

  "No. There's only one continuum, sort of like a stream of water. There's only one stream of water, but it can be redirected."

  She turned her head, not making eye contact. "What about us, Addison? Are we real?"

  "Of course we're real."

  "No, I mean, in that other reality, you and I are together?"

  I don't want to lie, but I need her help. "Yeah, we have a relationship, but we're not quite as close to each other as we are here."

  She let out a muffled laugh, shaking her head. "Do you love her?"

  "Jules, you're one in the same, only in different time continua."

  "So you love me in both realities?"

  She turned back to him, eyes searching him, like she had the cold winter night she died beside him.

  "Yes. I love you here and there."

  She smiled. "Am I as dead sexy in the other reality?"

  He forced a smile. "Yeah. Dead sexy."

  Her lips parted into a smile with hint of sadness, and she turned back to the window. "So you've altered the time continuum and you're trying to figure out how to fix it."

  "That's pretty much it. I'm going to ink my father. I think he can help me find a way through this."

  She stepped back over to the sofa, sitting beside him. "Addison, I can hear in your voice that you believe everything you're saying."

  "Because I'm speaking the truth."

  She took his hand in her own. "I know. It's just that…well, Addison…you suffered a pr
etty traumatic head injury in Mexico. I want to believe you—"

  "Jules."

  "I do believe you believe what you're saying. But Addison, look at this from my perspective. Out of nowhere you tell me you're from another time continuum, you have no knowledge of the war you almost died fighting in, and you have a plan to enter the consciousness of your dead father."

  "I know, Jules. I sound crazy, but if you love me as much as you say you do, I need you to believe me."

  She stood up again, pacing. "I want to, Addison. But—"

  "What?"

  Her voice quavered. "You're scaring me."

  "I won't hurt you."

  "I know you won't hurt me." She turned facing him, tears in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm losing you. You're slipping away into some crazy fantasy your mind has concocted to cope with what happened in Mexico."

  "Mexico was then. I'm talking about now."

  "No, you're not." She flashed with anger. "You're talking about altered time continua. You don't remember Mexico, do you?"

  Jules glared at him, daring him to lie. Addison stood up, taking her hand. He couldn't let the Addison she knew in too much or he'd lose his Jules and Nikki in a fog of time shifts. "Let's make a deal. You suspend your disbelief for the next twenty-four hours, and if you still think I'm crazy this time tomorrow, you can personally take me to the nuthouse."

  She continued glaring, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  "Jules, please. Twenty-four hours."

  She looked away, then met his eyes with her own. "I'm going to agree to this deal of yours, but Addison Shaw, this time tomorrow we're going to the doctor. And so help me God, if you try to back out I'll channel this other Jules from a different time zone and kick the crap out of you."

  He stepped toward her, wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you."

  She pushed him gently away. "So, go talk to your father."

  Jules had managed to switch gears on him. "How are you getting on board so easily? Not that I want you to stop, but you seemed pretty set against it."

  She rested a hand on his cheek. "You asked me to trust you. This is me trusting you. You've got twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes."

  Addison moved toward the hall. "Come to the study with me. I'll ink Dad there."