Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(85)

He’s hiding the real reason. “Klein’s trying to keep TPB from shutting down the company, putting you in jail.”

Morrisey looked dismayed. “Yes, that would be one reason.”

For a daring moment, she imagined smuggling him to 1888 with her. Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea. Even though Morrisey understood the inner workings of time travel better than any Rover, he was a neophyte when it came to the actual realities of life in another era. He was safer here, no matter what TPB did to him.

“You realize how dangerous this trip will be,” he warned. “It is more like a war than anything and we still don’t know all the combatants. You may have to kill to stay alive.”

“I know.” In the past that would have bothered her, but not now. “Have you ever…done that?”

“No,” her companion replied.

“Ever wanted to?”

At long last, Morrisey nodded.

“Who?”

“Myself,” he replied. “After Mei’s death, life no longer seemed important.”



“Mei?” Then she remembered the photograph on his credenza of the exotically beautiful Asian woman. She’d seen it every day as she’d headed to the practice room, but never had the nerve to ask who it was.

Morrisey’s voice grew distant. “She was my lover. She was pregnant when she went Off-Grid. Mei died in childbirth. So did the baby.”

Cynda felt his guilt enveloping her like a brittle Highland mist. To say she was sorry would be meaningless in the face of such a loss. “What kept you from killing yourself?”

“Harter. He made sure I had something to keep me occupied.”

“Breaking the fourth dimension?”

“It seemed an impossible task, and it kept me from brooding.”

“Not so impossible, apparently.” She had to ask. “Did you ever wonder if you could go back and change things?”

“That’s why I started working on the project in the first place. It wasn’t until after Harter made the first few trips that we began to realize that there might be limitations. Then we lost a Rover…” his voice trailed off.

She’d probably learned all this in the Time Immersion Academy, but right now she couldn’t remember the details.

“Harter was devastated. He tried over and over to prevent the death, but nothing worked. Once there’s been a mortality within the time stream, something precludes correcting that loss. I have never been able to determine what that is.”

Mei and Chris are gone forever.

He looked up at her. “When I finally realized that, it was like losing Mei all over again.”

Cynda turned back toward the butterfly where it rested on a leaf. Now she understood his passion for all things Asian—the artwork, the tatami mats, the sushi and Tai Chi. Theo Morrisey was honoring his dead lover every second of his life.

He rose from the bench in a fluid motion. “If you must leave, all I ask is that you make sure you’re doing so for the right reasons.” His footsteps retreated.

What did that mean? She had no clue. Of all the mysteries she’d worked through, T.E. Morrisey was the most difficult to untangle.



“I’ve been here too long,” she muttered.

“I second that.”

The voice was familiar. She glanced around the solarium, trying to find the source.

“Up here,” it called. A ball of blue wandered out on a branch, many legs moving in concert. She edged to within a foot of the creature. It was about the size of a shrew, and had eight distinctive appendages.

“Nice color,” she observed, thinking hard. “You’re not real, are you?”

“I’m real to you,” it answered.

She’d seen this thing before. Memories bubbled up unbidden—a monstrous version taunting her and then a smaller one issuing a warning not to go down an alley.

“A warning you ignored,” the arachnid observed coolly. “Bought you a knife in the chest.”

That memory surfaced as well, evoking a deep shiver. “If my brain’s been rebooted, how can you be here?”

“You didn’t think that would fix everything, did you?”

“Apparently not.” Then she smiled. “It’s really you.” He was smaller, but just as sarcastic. “You’ve been gone for a long time.”

“So have you,” he replied wistfully. “How soon are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning should be just about right.”

“Good. These hummingbirds are driving me mad.”





Chapter 27




Just last night, she’d finished her drawing, adding the colored grains of sand that brought the dragon to life. In the sunlight, it almost seemed alive.

Cynda heard the door to Morrisey’s private suite open and close, then his tatami sandals on the walkway. How she had grown to love that sound. This hour had become their time to meditate together, or just speak quietly about whatever was on their minds. Some mornings they did not speak at all, the conversation unfolding on a different level.

In deference to the warmer weather, Morrisey was in his green silk robe, the one with the embroidered phoenix on the back. Lithe, he covered the distance with smooth motions and joined her under the pagoda.