Chapter Forty-three
The two of them had landed about ten minutes ago in a field just outside Chicago. Helena had recognized it at once. It was Helena’s field, in her back yard, in the smaller suburb of Davenport, Illinois. The land had been owned by her family for generations, and when her parents died, she inherited it.
They’d had enough time to get off the ground, dust themselves off, and recognize the field before they’d begun talking about the blast that had thrown them there. Helena knew what had happened. She wasn’t even Queen yet and she knew. She was such a powerful player on their chessboard, the chaos of two worlds colliding could not erase the knowledge from her mind.
“The funny thing is,” she told him now as she pulled away from him and moved to the large shining metal object that had somehow made it back from Lucky’s bar and now waited for her in the front row of the field. “I remember aspects of both of my existences. And then there are things that I can’t remember at all. It’s like my two lives... just became one.”
William watched her in silence. She was so beautiful. Her hair shimmered where it fell in waves around her, and when she ran a hand through it, the few pieces of grass it had picked up were brushed out like magic. Her form-fitting clothing was dusty and torn from their tumble, but it only made her appear more like the battle-worn archangel she reminded him of.
He watched the strange almost sadness pass over her exquisite features and wanted to hold her. But while his gaze chained her to him, following every tiny move she made, he gave her the space he knew she needed right now. Her worlds had come crashing together in the course of seconds, and she was aware of it. This was not a simple matter.
For his part, William remembered everything. He remembered his life as William Balthazar Solan – his long, long life. And he remembered his life as Will Slate, one-half of the Slate Cousins, the rather infamous wardens. Time had melded together Helena’s existences. But his were as always separate and un-erasable. No matter what world he was in or what form he took, he was and always would be the Time King. His history would forever remain written.
“I only remember my parents as a warden. I remember that entire childhood. And yet somehow I possess the knowledge that Ethan was the same person in both worlds,” she laughed softly and shook her head, dropping it in introspection. “My werewolf best friend.” She fell silent. Then, “It’s so bizarre,” she said softly.
“Time has given you a gift,” he told her just as softly. “It has made certain that you retain the awareness of both lives. But made it easier for you by sewing them seamlessly together. It should be impossible,” he smiled a small smile. “But Time has managed it. No doubt out of love... and hope.”
She looked up at him.
Time was a strange entity, and it worked in mysterious ways. But there was no mystery in this. Time wanted her just as badly as he did.
The safe dimension he and Helena had been secured in by Time was shattered, blown wide open. What was more, the pieces of that world had collided with the dimension he’d left behind. And now the two were one.
The people of both dimensions would experience the collision like a dream or déjà vu. It would happen quickly, and then it would be gone. Some people and some creatures would become combinations of their two incarnations. They might have one parent from each world. They might possess half the characteristics of one of their lives and half of the other. Or it might be seventy-thirty. Or ninety-nine and one.
In other cases, one incarnation would utterly cancel out the other. But in every aspect, everything both sentient and inanimate in both worlds would bind together to form an entirely new dimension.
Almost no one in this new world would realize this had happened. For them, there would be no tossing about, no hard landings, no lightning storms or earthquakes. It was a blink and nothing more. They were fragile and short-lived, and thus blessedly immune to the knowledge of what had occurred.
But for the rest of them? For those who comprehended the intricacies of multiversal goings-on? They were so very few and far between and so surrounded by the protection of their magic, the chaos of entropy couldn’t reach them in time to erase their memories. Hence those memories remained as indelible as their histories. They were the Nomads, the Travelers, the Kings – and the Queens.
“You know…” said Helena suddenly, turning away from him to focus on the metal object they stood beside. “Like anyone, my memories from my early childhood are foggy at best.” She stopped and smiled to herself again, but this smile was bigger. She was clearly recalling something that was not foggy at all.
William’s ears pricked. She was about to tell him something about herself, and he very much wanted to hear it. She would always have his undying attention, every last ounce of it.
“But there’s something that sticks out in my mind,” she told him. “It’s part of the reason I am who I am, actually.” She stopped and looked up, pinning him with a meaningful look. “Not what I am,” she clarified. “Just who.”
Then she returned her attention to the metal object. It was a car.
It was the car. It was “Angel,” the ’67 Shelby in shimmering black and emerald green, perfect and beautiful. And now that William was whole again, he appreciated it in more ways than one because it was not only Helena’s car. It was a replica of his own.
Time had returned it to its proper owner. It was another gift. Time had an agenda.
William felt his resolve harden as his attention focused and his senses absorbed everything about Helena Dawn. As far as having an agenda was concerned, Time wasn’t the only one.