Thief of Time

By CJ Lyons

A teenage girl’s humanity is at stake as the series praised as “The Wizard of Oz meets Star Wars” from the New York Times–bestselling author continues (Hugh Howey).

Despite overwhelming odds, Annie has done it! She’s stolen the Delphi Key from the most powerful man in Unity, Comptroller Franco Albanese.

But she lost the young dataminer who brought her to this strange new world. N-8 has been captured by Franco and taken to his Palace at Fort Knox.

Together with her newfound allies—the cute but cocky street thief Killian, who just happens to be Franco’s estranged son, making Annie mistrust him despite the fact that she’s desperately attracted to him, mechanical genius Kymee Revv who hides her beauty behind Kuboki makeup and sarcasm, and Revv’s father, Pierre Lafitte—Annie has retreated to the isolated desert oasis known as Mirage, a community built below the Mojave solar reservation and protected from Franco and his Chief Enforcer, Blake.

As she tries to decipher the mysteries hidden in the Key and decide her next move, Annie learns that there’s a larger conspiracy surrounding Delphi—one that goes back over a decade and involves Revv’s lost mother, her father, and Franco himself.

If Annie can’t trust the people who have saved her life, who can she trust? And if she must choose between saving N-8 and the lives of the other dataminers and saving the world, how can she decide to sacrifice the boy who is so very like her own brother back home?

Sacrificing her humanity might give Annie the strength she needs to save the world—or it could destroy it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781946578105

Book preview

Chapter 1

Every work of art is an uncommitted crime.

~Theodor Adorno

Kymee Revv was six years old when she learned the name of the man who would destroy her life.

She was playing behind the sofa while her parents relaxed after work. Except they weren’t relaxing, not tonight. Instead, their voices were low, tense—not arguing with each other, but definitely upset, so Kymee kept quiet and listened hard, making sure they weren’t angry with her.

Franco is going through with it, her father said.

He can’t. They’re only three. Besides, the new Meta transfer is untested.

I don’t think you realize how bad things are.

Of course I do. Over ninety-three thousand already dead. What were the Indians thinking, messing with nuclear weapons? Her mother’s tone made Kymee cringe—it was the voice her mother used when Kymee was very, very bad. She was glad she wasn’t an Indian. Even though she wasn’t really sure what an Indian was. Were they talking about the Native Americans she read about in her history books? Teacher said not to call them Indians. But Kymee’s mother was much smarter than Teacher, even if Teacher was a bot.

They said it was an accident. That they weren’t testing weapons but a way to create energy without using fossil fuel. Implied that Unity isn’t the only nation capable of preventing another Crisis.

Nonsense. They’re considering going on the offensive, solidifying their holdings in Kashmir.

Not anymore. Kymee’s father sounded sad. Now they’re just trying to survive. Whatever their reasons, we’re losing time. Franco is panicking. Can you blame him for trying to save at least one son?

But to separate the twins, much less risk—

There’s no reasoning with him. Her father had that tone he used when he played chess with Kymee and was about to lose. Not upset at all about losing to Kymee. More like excited that she’d created a new gambit to outmaneuver him, and he couldn’t wait for the game to be over so they could dissect her moves together, test them under other conditions.

Chess wasn’t the only thing Kymee was good at. She could take apart and put back together—usually in a new and improved configuration—anything she could reach, even if she did make a mess while doing so. She also understood numbers but not the way Teacher wanted her to, so tonight she was practicing her basic sums. Again.

Twins meant two and if they were three years old—she raised both hands, three fingers extended on each—then they made six, she joined her hands together, and six was how old Kymee was, so two twins together made one of her.

She frowned, staring at her fingers. That wasn’t the answer Teacher would want, she was certain—but she was also certain that it was true in ways beyond Teacher’s arithmetic.

Still, it’s wrong, her mother continued. Your new process has only produced one functional datacore—what right does Franco have to use it to save his own child? If things are that desperate, why aren’t you fighting to protect our own beautiful girl? She’s exponentially more intelligent than any Albanese—she’ll save the world some day.

If there’s still a world left to save. Even hidden behind the couch, Kymee knew her father was frowning and hanging his head. Sometimes he just got so sad. Not her mother—she was never sad; instead it was anger that fueled her. Unfortunately, a lot of that anger had to do with Kymee. Not because Kymee was a bad girl, just because she was.

It wasn’t that Kymee was too small to fit the world around her, her mother would tell her. It’s that the rest of the world was too small for a girl with a mind and a heart as big as Kymee’s.

Kymee’s still young enough. Or maybe you could steal the old prototype? The one Charles used? Retrofit it with your new design?

Marina, no! It’s already taken one life; we can’t risk it.

You’ll sit here and let Franco save one of his sons but do nothing to save your own daughter? Kymee’s mother’s voice cracked like a whip, scaring her. She crouched even lower, almost crawling beneath the couch but taking care not to make a sound—she didn’t want them to know she was listening.

Why would Indians want to hurt Kymee? Much less Kill or Con?

We need to do something, Pierre, her mother urged. Before it’s too late.

We still have time. Her father’s fake cheerful tone. Same one he used on Kymee’s first—and last—day of play group when he’d said, After they get to know you, no one will notice how small you are.

Her father was really, really smart—the Comptroller himself depended on him—but sometimes he was absolutely clueless. The kids always noticed and never forgot how different Kymee was. Good thing her mother had taught her how to punch back.

Really? Have you been able to finally stabilize the meta-transfer matrix? Metas—that was what her father did. Kymee wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it was Very Important.

Actually, yes. As long as we have adequate time to map the datacore. We’ve come a long way since Franco’s father.

Her mother made a hrumphring noise. Still doesn’t make it a good idea. Experimenting on his own son. You know what he has me doing? Working on a way to use your meta-transfer program across timelines.

Ever since you realized Delphi was interacting with the multiverses, he’s been obsessed with finding the right catalyst to change its predictions.

It’s not that black and white. Just because it predicts a Crisis in eight point one months doesn’t mean it’s literally the end of the world. Having it search for answers across timelines is one thing, but transferring someone’s meta-consciousness? That’s tantamount to kidnapping.

Still… Her father paused. His voice changed, became thoughtful. What if he’s right? What if the answer is out there and we could bring it here, save everyone?

Except that ‘it’ is a person—and would need to be a child. Comptroller or not, Franco needs to stop this nonsense.

With that, one and one clicked, and Kymee understood: the Comptroller was not some larger than life man who ruled Unity. She’d always imagined him as a giant—like her, not fitting quite right in this world, rising above everyone around him.

Now she saw. The Comptroller wasn’t some mythic being, he was Killian and Conlin’s father. He was Franco Albanese.

She’d seen him once in the distance when they’d been playing on the parade grounds at the palace. A man a little taller than her mother but not as smart; a man a little smarter than her father but not as tall. How could he be the Comptroller, the man who controlled the world? How could he be Kill and Con’s father when they called his name and he barely even looked in their direction?

Yet her parents believed the Comptroller had the power to save them. Just like his father had during the first Crisis.

None of it made sense. Kymee frowned, determined to unravel the twisted puzzle that was Comptroller-Franco-Kill-and-Con’s-father-Albanese. The man with too many names who didn’t add up.

I’ll set Franco straight myself. Her mother stood, brushing her hands together as if she’d finished cleaning. Her father took her hand, and together, they walked into the dining room.

Kymee, her mother called. Come give me a hug and tell me all about your day!

Kymee ran from behind the sofa and down the hall, her short legs making her gait wobble as she launched herself into her mother’s arms.

There’s my beautiful girl. Her mother hugged her tight. What secrets of the universe did you learn today?

That was the last time Kymee remembered her family laughing together. Before her mother was arrested for treason. Before Franco Albanese had her executed.

Before her father took Kymee and they ran for their lives.

Now, here she was, still running, fourteen long years later.

Chapter 2

Annie sat quietly in the back seat as Lafitte drove them out of Vegas and into the desert. In the dark with no mountains or obvious horizon to separate heaven from earth, Annie floated in a field of stars. They looked like the stars back home, but it only made her miss her family even more.

The image of those small bodies on the conveyer belt haunted her—as did N-8’s screams. Exactly the same as Nate’s shrieks this morning. Could it only have been this morning? It felt a lifetime away.

She’d lost Nate. Again. Failed. Again.

The hummingbird vibrated in the hollow of her palm as Annie worked to rein in her feelings. It was getting easier, but she wasn’t altogether certain that was a good thing.

What do we do now? Killian asked, slumping in his seat. Gone was the cocky, smiling boy who’d saved Annie’s life with his fire-eating. Where do we go? Do we have a plan?

His questions echoed through the dark car. They were alone on the road—not even a road, more like a trail meandering through the hard-packed desert desolation.

We need to make a decision, Lafitte said, surprising Annie. So far he’d seemed more like a benign dictator than Mr. Democracy. Do we risk going to Mirage?

What’s Mirage? Annie asked.

Our settlement, Killian answered. He sounded eager—as if he thought she was speaking to him.