Read Online Time's Mirror: A CHRONOS Files Novella (The CHRONOS Files) by Rysa Walker - Free Book Online Page B

hallway, but I instinctively take a step back into the lift. After my little adventure earlier at the Juvapod infodesk, I can’t help but wonder how welcome I’ll really be.
    “I’m sorry. I’m just…maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
    He shakes his head, grinning as he grabs my arm. “Oh, no. I’d hate for the first impression you leave on your new colleagues to be me carrying you into Greenwich Hall. Because I will.”
    I narrow my eyes, but don’t move.
    “Come on, Pru. Campbell is expecting you. You have to meet him at some point. And…it would be a waste to go hide in your room, when you look this gorgeous.”
    Okay, that wins me over.
    “Fine.” I take the arm he’s holding out. “But don’t wander off. I don’t know these people and some of them…”
    I don’t finish the sentence, and he shoots me a questioning look. I was going to say some of them would be happier if he’d left me in the rubble of the CHRONOS building, but I just give him a nervous smile.
    “Nothing. Let’s do this.”
    We walk down the short flight of stairs and into the room itself. The aroma of bacon—which always smells good even if I don’t eat it—hits my nose as we turn the corner. Tate snags two glasses from a tray and hands one to me. It looks like champagne. I don’t object, since I have no idea what the alcohol laws are in this time. Or maybe it doesn’t even have alcohol anymore? I take a sip and discover that the bubbles are nice. It might actually be good if I could add a packet of Sweet’n Low.
    Tate seems a little distracted, craning his neck around like he’s looking for someone. After a moment or two, he relaxes.
    “Come on. Let’s go meet Campbell.”
    We make our way through the room toward a back corner, where an older man sits in a high-backed chair. Like Tate, he’s head and shoulders above everyone else. As we get closer, I see why. The chair is on a raised platform.
    The man reminds me of a cartoon we saw in history class last year. Some New York City politician named Tweed. Big nose, big belly, more hair on the bottom half of his head than on the top. A cigar is chomped between his teeth, and he looks out over the room like it’s his kingdom. One of the lighted orbs floating around the room dips down to intercept a curl of smoke rising above the man’s head. The overweight black dog stretched out at his feet, gnawing on a large bone, doesn’t look particularly friendly.
    “Is that Morgen Campbell up on the throne?”
    Tate chuckles. “As much as you probably don’t want to hear it, that’s exactly what Saul called it.”
    “Seems pretty obvious to me. Is his dog nice?”
    “Not especially. But I’ve never known Cyrus to bite, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
    I still keep a wary eye on the creature as we approach the Royal Lord of the OC. His gaze flickers in our direction when we’re still a few yards away, but he waits until we’re right in front of him to actually look at us.
    “Ah, Poulsen. And this must be the infamous Ms. Shaw.” My expression must shift a bit at the name, because he adds, “Or do you go by Rand?”
    “Neither. Prudence Pierce. You can just call me Pru.”
    He nods and gives me a more thorough appraisal, taking in the dress. “Even if you choose to abandon their names, I must say you’re a delightful combination of your parental DNA. I do wish Saul were here to see you. It would be interesting to see whether paternal instinct would keep him from drooling down your cleavage.”
    Okay, this guy is a creep. I have absolutely no idea how to respond to his comment, so I just glance up at Tate.
    “Ignore him, Pru. Morgen just likes to see if he can get a rise out newbies.”
    “On the contrary. I simply like to assess the mental prowess of the people around me. In Ms. Rand—I beg your pardon, in Pru’s case, she looks like an adult. Very much like an adult, in fact. Still, I suspect there’s a scared little girl hiding inside. It’s nice to