The Time Collector Page 23

  “No.” He heard her soft exhale. “But he left behind Descartes’s ring. It holds the key.” Roan tried to contain his excitement and explained, “Descartes discovered an equation that unifies geometry. He was also the master of the compass, the man who enabled the world to find any point in space on a map. These ooparts are connecting to each other to form a labyrinth. We’re meant to walk the path to the center.”

  He heard her gasp in understanding. The most powerful point in nature was always the center. “Where is it?”

  “Naica, Mexico. Hold on.” He plugged that name into the search engine on his phone to see if the internet could shed any light on its significance. A long list of articles appeared, and they stunned him into silence for a moment. Giant Crystal Cave Found in Naica, Mexico.

  Calm descended over him as he looked at pictures of an underground cavern filled with crystals towering more than thirty feet. “Sun? That’s it. The Crystal Cave in Naica, Mexico, has the largest crystals in the world.”

  Crop circles had been the guideposts to deciphering the map. Now Roan understood where it all led: to an ancient crystal vault buried within the Earth.

  “I can meet you there,” Sun insisted. “We should go together. I’ll take the first flight out.”

  “All right. I’ll work on getting us access inside.” Roan had no idea how to do that or what they’d find once they got there, but he knew in his heart he had to go.

  The ooparts had laid down a labyrinth for him to walk.

  32. THE BEADS

  WHEN MELICENT FOUND the Trove gift bags tucked away in Roan’s living room, for a split second her old life in L.A. came flooding back.

  So much had happened since the day she’d watched Roan, a stranger at the time, walk out of the shop door with her snow globes, and now here she was standing before them in his home. For a moment it did feel like time travel.

  She put her hands on each box to see what she could sense—and could tell Roan had gotten out just the one globe he’d already touched. His imprint was all over it.

  She had yet to touch anything of his. First she’d wanted to explore the house and find the perfect object. Roan’s place was like a maze, filled with more rooms than she’d expected.

  “Who has a planetarium in their living room?” Parker asked in amazement, checking out Roan’s computerized system.

  Who indeed? Melicent picked up the antique decorative telescope in the corner of the room and discovered that it had belonged to Edwin Hubble. The impressions of Hubble flew through her mind: the astronomer had been a strong athlete—loved basketball, the high jump, and boxing. He’d served in both world wars and liked to adopt a British accent, a pipe, and a cape to appear more accomplished. He was also one of the greatest astronomers of all time, the first to discover that the universe existed beyond the Milky Way. Roan had found this telescope at an estate sale in Oxford while visiting his mother—Hubble had been a Rhodes Scholar at the University of Oxford—and Roan’s home planetarium was an homage to the man who had shown the world the cosmos.

  The telescope inspired her, just as the rest of the house inspired her. Seeing Roan’s Time Room made her not only want to embrace her ability, but master it. She wanted to travel through the centuries and taste the years. One day, she wanted to be able to hold a child’s hand and help her get home. She wanted to find lost heirlooms and touch peace pipes without being afraid. She wanted to learn how to hold anything and see the light.

  * * *

  By that evening the urge to touch something of Roan’s and peer into his life had taken hold of her. From her previous research on psychometry she’d read that, to obtain the strongest imprint, it was ideal for the object to be either a piece of jewelry, a person’s keys, a lock of hair, or a wallet—something someone would have had on their body for long periods of time. The more personal the object, the more magnetized it would be by the individual.

  When Melicent found the Mardi Gras beads in the little wooden box on Roan’s dresser, she knew right away that she had found the object she wanted to read. The necklace had sentimental written all over it.

  For a moment she hesitated, feeling as if she were about to open Roan’s diary or read his mail without his permission. Then she reminded herself she did have permission.

  She sat down on the center of his bed and crossed her legs into a meditating position. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands into a Bhramara mudra like Roan had taught her to increase her concentration. She held the finger stance for a long time. When she was ready, she picked up the beads and Roan’s past opened inside her mind like a flower.

  NEW ORLEANS

  1989

  ROAN HAD NEVER TRIED TO CATCH anything before. Every year at the parade, beads, stuffed animals, swords, and doubloon coins would sail over his head. This year, Roan raised his hand and caught a pair of beads right as Dolly Parton went by on her float.

  He could have sworn she winked at him.

  The necklace had been flying right at him, glinting in the sun like rainbows. The translucent beads were made of heavy plastic that felt more like glass. The man on the float who had thrown the necklace had been drunk and was going through a nasty divorce, but Roan tried to ignore that imprint. Maybe he would give the necklace to his mother—or on second thought, maybe not.

  His parents had been fighting a lot lately and they’d almost not gone out today, but his father had pointed out it was tradition. Roan’s family went to Endymion every year, New Orleans’ brashest and friendliest Mardi Gras parade, named after the Greek god of eternal youth and fertility. Endymion had the biggest floats, the brightest floats, and the best marching bands that went through Mid-City all the way down Canal Street to downtown.

  Roan’s parents had good friends who owned a house on Orleans Street where they would always host a huge potluck party before the parade with chili, potato salad, and fried chicken. There was liquor for the adults and outside along the streets vendors sold cotton candy, wigs, sunglasses, and caramel corn from carts for the children.

  “Hey, you’re that weird kid.”

  Roan turned to find three boys gathered around him. He recognized the boys from his school. They were in seventh grade, one year ahead.

  The tallest of the bunch jabbed him in the shoulder. “Yeah, my little brother told us all about you. You’re like a freak. What’s wrong with you?”

  The boy who’d jabbed him was Billy Crump, the older brother of Tommy Crump, the official bully in Roan’s class.

  Roan looked down the street to the corner where his parents were. They knew he’d made his way down the block through the crowd to get caramel corn from the street vendor.

  Roan let out a pained sigh. The first time he’d talked his parents into letting him venture out on his own and now he was going to return looking beaten.

  What a crappy Mardi Gras.

  Roan could just imagine the reception at his parents’ friends’ house. His mother would become hysterical and his father would demand to speak to all the boys’ parents that night, driving to each of their houses to have a serious talk on the porch while their children shot nasty looks at Roan and his bloody nose. Roan would be the laughingstock of the school by Monday.

  Roan put his hand back in the pocket with the beads and stared at the boys. He was only eleven, but he’d taken to keeping his hands in his pockets all the time. Roan tried to skate through the situation, just like he usually did whenever he had to interact with other kids, by not saying a word.

  Billy Crump took his silence as a personal insult. “Get him.”

  Before Roan could react, all three of the boys grabbed him and hauled him off to the park’s grassy area away from the crowd. They threw him on the ground and began to punch and kick him all over.

  Roan curled up defensively in a ball, his arms coming up to protect his head on reflex. They were going at him full force—hit, whack, kick.

  The pain went on forever, though it’d only been a few seconds until he heard a girl scream.


  “Get off of him!” The girl grabbed one of the boys from behind and punched him full-on in the face.

  Another boy received a hard kick to the chest. Tommy’s brother stopped hitting Roan and turned around to find his friends were down.

  Roan lay on the grass, riddled with pain but also frozen in disbelief at this unexpected turn of events.

  Holly Beauchêne was standing over him like an avenging angel. Roan didn’t know her at all, had never said a word to her before. She was in the seventh grade with Billy and lived in one of the great mansions on St. Charles Avenue. Her dad was even friends with the mayor. Roan had no idea why she was standing up for him.

  Tommy’s brother said, “Get lost, Holly. This is between me and the freak.”

  “You’re an idiot, Billy.” Then she kicked him, too. Billy hit the ground next to his friends, who were nursing their wounds. Holly looked down at them. “My daddy taught me how to kick any boy’s ass. Now y’all better get out of here before I really get mad.”

  Billy’s friends got up and ran. Billy hesitated a second longer. Then he saw the measured look in Holly’s eyes and cut his losses. No one messed with Holly Beauchêne.

  When the three were gone, Holly turned to Roan. “You okay? You look a real mess.” She helped him stand. “Billy’s a jerk.” Holly snapped open her purse and pulled out a dainty handkerchief. The white lace linen was the kind of girly item Roan would have expected to find in Holly Beauchêne’s purse before today.

  “I’ll get it all bloody,” he protested.

  She shrugged. “I have plenty more.”

  When Roan held her handkerchief a myriad of thoughts and emotions sifted through him. Unhappiness existed inside Holly’s perfect world. Her parents fought all the time while she tried to block out their anger and bitter words. She was the only child of a loveless marriage, between two of the oldest old-money families in the South, who had the kind of wedding that was written up in the society page and had cost a fortune. But after the glamour faded, the husband and wife realized they didn’t care for each other that much anymore. Holly was her parents’ one saving grace, their Southern Belle princess, only she didn’t want the title. Instead she escaped into books and her imagination. Holly’s favorite things were her home, a historic playground and the place that fostered her daydreams, and her cats, Bruce and Lee, her best friends.

  “Why are you smiling?” Holly asked.

  Roan shrugged. He couldn’t well tell her he thought the names of her cats were funny. “The way you handled Billy. Thanks.”

  “Here, stand still.” She dabbed at his bloody nose and the cut on his cheek, which had started to swell. “You’re going to have a black eye,” she said, matter-of-fact.

  “Great. My parents are going to freak.”

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  “I’ve watched you at school, you know,” she surprised him by saying. “You’re different. You seem…” Holly trailed off, looking unsure.

  “Weird? Strange?” Roan tried to help her out.

  “Special,” she settled on. “Why do you always keep your hands in your pockets?”

  Roan hesitated, surprised that she’d noticed. He’d never been asked to explain himself before to anyone besides his parents, and certainly not to another kid. But Holly was different. Roan felt an innate trust in her—not to mention she had basically saved his life. His parents had drilled it into his head that he should never talk about his ability, but for the first time he wanted to confide in someone.

  He wanted a friend.

  So he told her, more than he’d ever told anyone. And the worst day of Roan’s young life suddenly turned out to be the best.

  They sat on the grass eating caramel corn and talking as the marching bands went past, their horns blaring a glorious New Orleans hello. The trumpets and tubas created a wall of sound that pushed through the parade line.

  From afar, Roan watched the St. Augustine Band play a synchronized masterpiece. The musicians wore white gloves and looked invincible in their uniforms as they marched.

  Roan thought, Maybe gloves are what I need.

  Holly listened to every word he said without interruption. She didn’t appear to be shocked by his secret. In fact, she asked Roan if he could come to her house the next day and tell her some of the stories behind her favorite antiques. He said sure.

  When Roan came back to Orleans Street with a bloody nose and a black eye his parents had a meltdown, and they threatened to pull him from school altogether. But Roan insisted he could handle the bullies. And he did. With Holly’s friendship, no one dared to taunt or tease him. Because of Holly Beauchêne, Roan had been given a free pass, allowing him to get through school unscathed. Holly became his best friend and the keeper of his secret, and Roan kept those Mardi Gras beads as a reminder of that fateful day, and of how sometimes a guardian angel came in the guise of a friend.

  * * *

  Melicent let go of the beads. Never had she experienced a memory so vivid, so powerful before. For a split moment she’d been with Roan and Holly on the grass, her heart heavy and uplifted all at once.

  She’d peered into the recesses of a beautiful friendship and witnessed its beginnings. Melicent had seen the real Holly behind the outer face she presented to the world.

  Melicent didn’t know the rest of their story, but she didn’t need to. All of her insecurity and questions about Holly had been erased by one memory. Melicent loved that little girl who’d taken on Billy Crump and shielded Roan from everyone else. Holly had seen his gift, recognized his fragility, and become his protector. No wonder Holly had taken Robert West’s place at the helm of West, Inc. after he died. No one else could.

  33. THE CLOCK TOWER

  ROAN HAD GIVEN HOLLY AN ALL but impossible assignment: get him and Sun inside the Crystal Cave. The problem was the cave was located a thousand feet below the Earth’s surface and was not open to the public.

  Cueva de los Cristales was controlled by Peñoles Mining Company along with their Naica mine operation. The Naica mines had been in business since 1910 and had Mexico’s most productive mining for lead and silver. The company kept the Crystal Cave separate from the mine, and the area was restricted to a team of scientists.

  Holly had been keeping him apprised all day. After several strategic calls, starting with the head of the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City, who they had worked with on the return of a Mayan sculpture, she had managed to get the head of Peñoles on the phone.

  Roan answered his cell right away when he saw it was her. “How did it go?”

  “It’s going to cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “For a million dollars you can have a private tour, no questions asked.”

  “Good,” Roan said without hesitation. “Wire the money.”

  “Good? Have you lost your mind? What on earth is down there that’s worth a million dollars? It’s not like you can bring anything back.”

  For Roan, reaching the cave transcended any dollar amount. Every antique he’d ever found, every treasure he’d unearthed and sold was enabling him to make this journey. “It’s going to lead to me to answers about Stuart … about me, our ability. Everything. There’s no price tag for that.”

  Holly was silent for a moment, then she said, “I’ll text you when it’s done and give you a contact at the site.”

  “Thank you. Really.” He couldn’t have done this without her.

  “Thank me by getting to the bottom of all this with Stuart.” The stress was evident in her voice. “Where are you right now?”

  “Stuck in the back of a cab on my way to the airport.”

  He’d used that time to research more on Naica. The city of Chihuahua was the closest place to fly into. He called his charter company and booked a Gulfstream with a private bedroom to fly him direct. Flying from Bengaluru to Chihuahua on the fastest jet with a king-size bed had also cost a small fortune, but he desperately needed uninterrupted sleep. At this
point he was so exhausted he was slurring his words, and he needed all his strength for whatever awaited him in Mexico.

  When Sun had insisted on meeting him there, Roan hadn’t said no. He might need her help. He’d never touched ancient crystals before.

  By design, crystals were powerful mediums of nature, the integral force behind watches and computers, making the modern world sing. They also held the most precise imprints, second to flowers, like a pure recording. But unlike flowers, which died within days or weeks, crystals remained for millennia.

  Roan wasn’t sure what would happen when he touched a crystal that held imprints spanning half a million years. He wasn’t sure he could survive it. All he knew was that the ooparts’ labyrinth lead to the Crystal Cave, and Melicent would never be safe until he found out why.

  He emailed Sun the name of the motel where they would meet in Saucillo, which was a small town south of Chihuahua close to the mine. Roan had been the one in charge of getting them into the cave, and Holly had not let him down.

  Before Holly hung up, she surprised him by saying, “I think you should call Melicent.”

  Roan didn’t say anything at first. “How is she?”

  “Upset, from what I can tell, though she’s trying to hide it. I would be too. Not the smoothest move running off like that. Don’t pull a Gianna on her.”

  He could feel Holly shaking her head at him. She had helped him weather all of his previous failed relationships. “Believe me, I’m not.” His feelings for Melicent were totally different from anyone in the past. But he couldn’t reveal that he’d left Melicent because the trip was too dangerous, or Holly never would have helped him. “I’ll be back soon and work everything out.”

  He was almost to the airport when his phone rang again. He didn’t recognize the number and answered, thinking it was his contact for the cave.