Prologue
The Timekeeper
Basilique Royale de Saint-Denis, France
1741
I wake to a void of darkness and the tip of a cold, sharp dagger jabbing into my bound wrists.
“Get up,” a voice shouts. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner I’m gone.” With a single flick of the blade, the rope that binds my hands falls away.
I grunt, flex my fingers, as a pair of rough hands forces me to my feet. The sudden movement causes a jolt of nausea to lurch through me so violently, I double over in agony and empty my belly.
“Good God!” my captor cries. Ripping the blindfold from my face, he smacks me hard across the back of my head. “Now look what you’ve done!”
A searing pain shoots through my skull, but at least the fog of sedation is beginning to lift. Swaying unsteadily, I focus on the vomit covering my captor’s polished black boots.
New boots, not yet broken in. The boots of either the young, the vain, or the wildly inexperienced. When I meet my captor’s gaze, I realize I’m looking at a match for all three. The blue eyes that stare back belong to a boy no more than fourteen.
Back home, he’d be considered a child, sheltered by parents and governed by laws meant to keep him safe from exactly the sort of people he undoubtedly works for.
But here…
I glance around, trying to distinguish where I am. Though there’s no question as to why I was taken.
Two boys had grabbed me off the street and stuck a needle into my arm. Just before I blacked out, I saw one of them bore the mark, or at least the beginnings of the symbol, but still, he offered no help. And though only one boy stands before me now, that doesn’t mean the other isn’t off lurking somewhere.
“What year is it?” I ask, the spike of dread in my unused voice echoing through the ancient, cavernous space.Something feels off. Something’s not right about this place.
“1741,” the boy spits.
So it is true.A slow chill creeps down my spine, my breath grows shallow and weak. I heard this was possible—traveling backward through time. And now that I’ve done it, it seems a shame I won’t live long enough to tell anyone.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “You’re being used. Sent on a coward’s mission. You—”
“Silence!” The boy flashes his dagger, clearly eager to use it. Though he won’t be willing to use it just yet. Not until he gets what he came for.
After that, escape is unlikely.
Though I’ve spent a lifetime training for this very moment, I’m still surprised to find that just beyond the regret lies a quiet acceptance of the doom that awaits me.Is this how my ancestors felt when confronted with a Timekeeper’s fate?
I watch the boy unfurl a roll of old parchment and point to a faded sketch of a skeleton holding a vertebra.
My god.I inhale a quick breath, instantly recognizing the map as the one that once belonged to Columbus. Though the symbol was added a full century after the explorer had used it to cross the Atlantic.How in the hell did he get ahold of that?
“The Death card,” the boy says, those blue eyes glinting as he seizes my shoulder and drives me toward a single crypt against the far wall.
Of course—we’re in the Royal Necropolis. Wherethe French royals were buried for centuries.The boy, and whoever employed him, has misinterpreted the tarot and played right into the Order of the Timekeepers’ hands.The treasure is safe. And, for now, at least, it’ll remain that way.
“The Antikythera Mechanism is nearly complete. Only one piece to go.” The boy’s grin is smug, but the claim is a lie. The Antikythera will never be complete. The Timekeepers date back to the great Mystery Schools of Egypt—we understand the true workings of time and have dedicated our lives to protecting the very pieces this boy wants.
“You’ve solved all the clues,” I say, “so don’t let me stop you from winning this game.”
It’s a challenge the boy can’t meet. The missing pieces are enchanted so that only the worthy can retrieve them. This boy clearly doesn’t fit the criteria.
“Grunt work’s on you.” The boy glares. “Or I can always bring the girl back to finish the job…”
A sudden coldness seizes my core. I’ve gone to great lengths to keep her a secret. Hell, theother Timekeepers don’t even know about my daughter.So how does he?