Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(64)

His death wouldn't—shouldn't—happen for centuries. Too many things could change in successive timelines, and that could prove disastrous.

Lendill Schaff, too—if he shared the same fate.

Val and I had been concentrating our resources on hunting Norian, to the exclusion of everything else. Yes, the intent to release drones in major cities to kill the innocent had been hidden by Sirenali involvement, but I chastised myself for shutting everything else out. In other words, I felt guilty as hell about it.

Yes, I knew the insurgency had Sirenali at their disposal, so the planning of this mass killing would have gone unnoted.

I suspected, however, that the insurgency hadn't considered this method of destroying lives. They were more in the Let's blow everything up at the same time camp.

While they were happy to take the responsibility assigned to them for this carefully planned genocide, I doubted they'd had a hand in it.

Meanwhile, governments across the globe were once again planning meetings—teleconferences actually, since they were still wary after the last mass world leader destruction in D.C.—to discuss what to do about the insurgents who'd killed so many people already and likely had more targets in their sights.

In my mind, World War Three had a strong foothold already, and that was likely due to outside influence.

Fuck Earth. The Lyristolyi had written that on the ceiling of the abandoned Nevada facility, after they'd scraped every grain of the drug out of it. "The Lyristolyi did this," I said, setting the cup of cold coffee I still held on the table. Katya, whose eyes were dry, now, watched as my hand shook when I released my grip on the paper cup.

"Dearest, you have been unresponsive for several moments," Val said softly beside me.

"The Lyristolyi have Norian and Lendill—if they haven't killed them already. I want to see the drones used in the attacks," I added.

"Dearest, they cannot die; their deaths will destroy the timeline," Val said. His voice now sounded far away, drowned out by the sudden noise in my ears. Visions were coming—of everything that could be affected. A new term—God Wars—echoed in my mind. This was the past. Something important could unravel in the future. A victory could become a disastrous defeat.

All could be lost. The panic overwhelmed me, until Val took matters in hand and placed me in a healing sleep.

*

Ilya

I'd spent the night in a guarded bedroom, with no communication devices available—those had been taken early on. I'd attempted to send mindspeech to Corinne, with no reply.

That frightened me. Valegar? I sent.

I am here, he replied immediately.

Corinne?

She had a severe panic attack, he said. I was forced to place her in a healing sleep. Things, as you likely know, are not going well at the moment. I realize you may not understand what I am about to tell you, but the timeline into the future is crumbling.

Where are you? Are Katya and Sergei safe?

I have brought Corinne, your daughter and her husband back to the villa, he said. Corinne is still sleeping. Katya and Sergei are huddled with their friends and discussing the sarin gas attacks with Bekzi and Dr. Shaw. Gerrett, James and Nathan are preparing lunch for the others.

I've heard very little about the attacks, I admitted. They are keeping us away from outside communication.

They are fools, Val said. Lying fools, intent on performing at the direction of one whose reason cannot be relied upon.

I agree completely, my friend, I said. They have lied to us from the beginning, and I worry that tonight the attack may commence.

Tread carefully, then, Val said. Do not risk your life. I understand you feel responsible for getting Jennifer and Brett away if things go badly, and that is why you remain where you are. You must protect yourself, too. You are important, in ways you cannot begin to fathom.

I took a moment to process his words. I had no ready reply for them, after all. Take care of Corinne, I said. If I'd spoken aloud, my voice would have been thick with emotion.

I intend to do so, he acknowledged. When she wakes, we will continue our search for Keef. If his timeline ends here and now, things will not go well in the future.

Does this mean the odds are against us? I asked.

The odds are certainly against us. I worry that desperate measures will be considered, merely to salvage what we can.

Will you ask Corinne to contact me when she wakes?

I will.

Thank you.

*

Personal Notes—Dr. Richard Farrell

If Corinne had left any useful drug behind, I'd have retrieved it. The original attack had been postponed, at least—after Sarin was dumped on major European cities, resulting in countless deaths.

Yet Granville wanted to send Jen into that hellhole with a Phillips clone. Yes, I often called her Maye in my mind, and a part of me understood how wrong that was. It no longer mattered what her name was—she was everything to me and merely a pawn marked for death by the idiot occupying the White House.

Granville had separated us, too—I no longer had access. Jealousy ate at me—was she sleeping with that bastard, Brett? Her phone and other methods of communication were turned off—likely at Granville's direction.

Yes, he was at the bottom of all my concerns. I no longer cared that he was President. If anything happened to her, I couldn't predict my actions afterward.