Dark Stars Danielle Rollins (pdf ebook reader TXT) 📖

bedroom. Nice furniture, ornate, like the ceiling, and brand-new, even though it was all old-fashioned-looking. Persian rugs on the floor—new, like the furniture—and there was intricate wallpaper covering the walls. So, he was in the past. Fairly far in the past, from the look of those carpets and rugs. Ornate went out of fashion in the fifties.

With a groan, he turned his head to the other side—

And found a woman dressed all in black sitting beside him, staring.

“Oh,” he breathed. His voice was a claw raking at his throat. It made him start to cough.

“You’re awake,” the woman said, one eyebrow lifting. She had a strange air about her, this woman. It bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She seemed . . .

Tricky. He would have to tread lightly.

“I am,” Ash managed to choke out, his voice thin. Very slowly, he eased himself into a sitting position, propping himself back against some pillows. Clearing his throat, he added, “Is that . . . surprising?”

The woman tilted her head, considering his question. “It seemed unlikely, for a while, that you would wake at all. If I were a betting woman, I would have put my money on a slow and painful death. It seems I was wrong.”

She said all of this as though she were commenting on the weather and not Ash’s mortality. Ash swallowed.

“Lucky for me, I suppose,” he choked out.

The woman lifted an eyebrow, as though to say, is it? But, out loud, all she said was, “I’m not often wrong.”

Yeah, Ash thought. I could have figured that out for myself.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Seattle,” the woman told him, voice crisp. She lifted a hand, examining her cuticles for a moment before adding, “Although, if my daughter is telling me the truth, you’d probably rather know the date than the city, is that correct?”

“Daughter?” Ash said. All at once, everything made sense. “You’re Dorothy’s mother?”

That, at least, explained why she was so terrifying. Dorothy had implied that her mother was . . . intense.

“I am.” The woman blinked, slowly. “And you are Jonathan Asher. The pilot she brought back from the future.”

She said this with a tightness to her voice, making it clear what she thought about the idea of bringing someone back from the future. But Ash noticed that there was a glint to her eye. She was testing him.

“She told you about that?” he asked.

“She told me a farfetched little story, yes.” Again, that glint. She was trying to decide whether she bought it. “In any case, she would have me believe that you don’t care a whit where we are. You’re more interested in when.”

“That would be nice to know ma’am.”

The woman nodded. She folded her hands in her lap and sat back in her seat. “The date is June 10, 1913. My daughter was supposed to be married last week.”

“Right,” Ash murmured, feeling guilty for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. “She told me about that.”

“Did she?” The woman sniffed. “We can discuss your role in that whole affair in a moment. For now, I was hoping you could tell me what it is you’re after, exactly. Money?” She flashed a smile that was utterly devoid of warmth. “Because I don’t have any. Every penny we had came from my daughter’s former fiancé, Charles. For reasons that should be obvious, he’s not exactly keen to fund our lifestyle any longer.”

“I don’t have much use for money where I’m from, ma’am,” Ash said.

“Enough with the ma’ams.” The woman shook her head, irritated. “You can call me Loretta.”

Ash tried his best to nod despite the waves of pain crashing around his skull. “It’s nice to meet you ma—Loretta.”

Loretta narrowed her eyes. “Where do you come from, exactly?” she asked.

“Dorothy didn’t tell you?”

“We didn’t get that far.”

“I’m from here, Seattle,” Ash explained. “Only the year is 2077.”

“2077?” Loretta smiled. “Do women ever get the vote?”

“They do.”

“Small mercies.” She examined her fingernails and then stretched her hand out straight across her lap. “Well then. If you aren’t after money, what are you after? Love?”

She said the word love as though it were a silly little joke they were in on together. For a moment, Ash felt as though his voice were caught in his throat.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am,” he said slowly. He was careful to look Loretta straight in the eye. He knew she would be searching for something in his expression, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. Even in these odd circumstances, it seemed important to make a good impression on Dorothy’s mother. “If Dorothy will have me, of course.”

Loretta lifted her chin, her mouth forming a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but Ash felt a flicker of triumph, like he’d won some battle he didn’t even realize he’d been engaged in. It was possible, he thought, that this woman might have a tiny bit of respect for him.

“Speaking of Dorothy,” Ash added, sitting up a little straighter. “Is she . . . here?”

“Oh, no.” And now Loretta smiled fully, her mouth full of sharp, white teeth. “It appears that my daughter has just left.”

27Dorothy

MARCH 17, 1980

The moon hung full and silver in the night sky, its pale light doing little to break up the shadows of the woods.

Dorothy was huddled behind a gnarled tree, the wind pulling at her hair. Through the dim light, she could just make out the hunched shape of Ash ahead, head bent as he cut a jerky hole into the barbed-wire-topped security gate. Beyond the gate, a great metal tunnel protruded from the side of the mountain, and armed soldiers waited at attention: the entrance to Fort Hunter.

Dorothy held her breath, waiting. She remembered this part from the first time they’d snuck onto the base. How she and the others had hidden behind a tree while Ash pretended to break in, in clear view of the security cameras.

Any moment now—

There. Dorothy caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned as a soldier appeared in the trees. He crept