Kiss Across Chaos Read online

  That meant they were back in the past. If Jesse had properly understood the stories she’d heard everyone spin in the last few years, linear jumps were the more dangerous and certainly more emotionally fraught type of jump, because they tended to land you back in high tension moments of your own past.

  This was getting far trickier than Jesse thought Taylor had intended it to be. “I just promised your mom I would look in on Aran and make sure he’s still breathing,” she told Marit and Alannah. “Maybe we should tell her about this and let her deal with it.” Taylor was a well-practiced jumper, after all.

  Marit rolled her eyes. “She’ll pull in Far and he’ll pull in Athair and then this will all leap to the top end of the Richter scale.”

  “When all he might be doing is bedding some woman on a deserted island in Bora Bora and he’ll kill us for calling in the troops,” Alannah added.

  Jesse’s heart thudded hard. Her middle crimped. “He’s got a boyfriend, already.”

  Alannah snorted. “Like that would stop him.”

  Marit just grinned.

  Jesse worked hard to hide her surprise and the nugget of dismay building in her chest. “Can you find him?” she asked Marit.

  “Give her a minute,” Alannah murmured, while Marit stared at the floor in front of her feet, her arms wrapped around her middle. Marit would find even this furnace-warmed apartment cold, coming from summer sunlight in Australia.

  Marit lifted her head. “Got him.” She grimaced. “You might be sort of right, Alannah. He’s in New Orleans, in 2003. Bourbon Street.”

  “If he’s not actively screwing someone, he’s working up to it, then,” Alannah concluded.

  Jesse tried to shrug off the unhappiness building in her middle and making her heart labor. She could self-assess later and figure out what the hell was wrong with her and why she was reacting like this. Instead, she pushed away from the sink. “I should at least look at him, even from a distance, so I can truthfully reassure your mom that he’s okay.”

  “He won’t thank you for it.” Marit’s tone was infinitely wise.

  “Then it’s better I do it than one of you guys. He already doesn’t like me.” She shrugged.

  They gave her startled looks. Then they glanced at each other. A silent communication passed between them.

  “Best if we both go with her,” Marit added, as if that was the end of a conversation.

  Alannah nodded. “At least it’s Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras—it doesn’t matter what we’re wearing. We’ll all fit in.” She held out her arms. “I’ll jump, you steer,” she told Marit.

  Jesse stepped into the circle of Alannah’s arm. “Has he ever dropped off the grid like this in the past? Taken someone somewhere isolated and just…checked out?”

  “Never,” Marit said grimly. “I’ve always known where these two are.” She wrapped her arm around Jesse’s waist, the other around Alannah’s. “I know where he is now, too, so ease off, Captain Hall.”

  “One,” Alannah said. “Two…three!”

  They jumped.

  The noise was overwhelming, even from inside the little alleyway they’d jumped to. Jesse couldn’t call it music, even though live music underlaid the roar of thousands of voices, horns, clapping and cheering. More than one piece of music, too. Trumpets blared and drums beat.

  Jesse put her fingers to her ears. “My god!” She had to shout it.

  “How did you know it was Mardi Gras, ‘lannah?” Marit asked her little sister, lifting her voice.

  “Like he’d come here at any other time of the year!” Alannah shouted back. The volume out on the street was creeping upwards. Silhouettes of people crossing and lingering at the mouth of their alleyway played in front of powerful lights—floodlights, Jesse guessed.

  Beyond the silhouettes was the parade itself, moving passed the alley at turtle speed, full of glitter and glitz. Masks. Harlequins. Floats. Bright primary colors. And everywhere, people jigging and rocking in time to drums beating frenetically.

  “We’ll have to work to stay together,” she told the other two. “Marit, can you get a better sense of where Aran is, from here?”

  Marit looked down at her feet, concentrating. “Lots of bodies here,” she said softly. “All I can say for now is that he’s somewhere to the right, when we step out of the alley.”

  Jesse nodded. “Marit, you’re on point. You look for him and head in his direction when you get a better sense of where he is. We’ll stick to your back. There’ll be pickpockets and drunks wanting to dance or more. Alannah, all you have to do is not get waylaid. Stick with Marit and me, okay?” With her twenty-first century L.A. party clothes, Alannah would draw attention. So would her height and her high cheekbones.

  Marit would draw a different sort of attention. She looked fit and healthy and fresh.

  This was going to be…interesting.

  “When you’re ready, Marit,” Jesse said, mentally rolling up her sleeves. She wished she had her Glock, just for a tiny fraction of a second, but that was the old instincts bellowing at her.

  One could get by without a gun, if they had to. Who had told her that?

  Marit headed down the alley, with the two of them following her. At the end, they had to squirm and ease their way through a crush of bodies. With the parade passing right in front of them, everyone who had been dancing and drinking on the street had been pushed back to the sides.

  Marit turned and worked her way onto the verandah of the building that had formed one side of the alley. There were just as many people on here, too, pushing back against the clapboard and straining to see over heads.

  Jesse kept Marit’s bare shoulders and the thick red curls rolling down her back in her sights, while tracking Alannah’s movements beside her. When Alannah fell back, she gripped her arm and hauled her forward.

  At the same time, Jesse’s instincts strained outward, looking for unnatural or wrong motions, searching all the friendlies for the unfriendly face. Looking for danger.

  There was too much movement here. Too much noise. Despite their casual clothing, they all looked out of place because they weren’t carrying drinks or wearing beads or a mask.

  Or smiling.

  Plus, they were back in time. It was only a couple of decades, but it was still not their time. All the stories Jesse had heard over the years about disasters that arrived without warning, of how fast things could go wrong, pressed in on her like a heavy cloud.

  “Put your phone away, Alannah!” she shouted, when Alannah peered at her phone and shook it, with a vexed expression. Twenty years ago, cellphones had not been common. She reached over and plucked the phone out her hands and shoved it into Alannah’s pocket.

  Alannah looked guilty. “Sorry!”

  They pushed on, heading for the end of the verandah. Marit veered right before they reached it, heading for the interior of the building.

  The front façade of the building was brick. At this end of the building, three wide doorways had their French doors pulled back and folded out of the way. There was more light and movement inside, but not nearly as much as out here. The stench of alcohol and pot and sweat was strong. Jesse couldn’t figure out if it was coming from inside, or from the people around them.

  Both, probably.

  Marit struggled to push through the jammed people who had clearly moved out of the building to watch the parade go by. She stumbled through them into the room beyond, which was devoid of people.

  Jesse drove through the same space, bringing Alannah with her. They wiggled through the last of the crowd on the verandah and stepped into the room. Jesse drew in a deep breath, not relaxing, not yet, but pleased to be where she had elbow room.

  She moved up behind Marit, who scanned the room.

  It was a bar, with round tables and old French café style chairs, and a pocket-sized stage at the far end, with music stands and microphones. No musicians right now. They couldn’t compete with the thunderous noise on the street.

  The bar
was to the left, starting in the corner and running down the side of the room.

  Most of the tables were empty, the customers out on the verandah, but not all of them.

  Marit pointed. The table she pointed at was in the corner. Two men sat—although only one was doing a good job of actually sitting. The other propped himself up on both elbows, his head sinking lower even as they watched.

  It was Aran.

  “Shit, we came all this way for a binge session?” Alannah said, sounding disgusted. She had to raise her voice for them to hear her.

  Jesse caught Marit’s shoulder and spoke loudly. “We’ve seen him. He’s alive—”

  “If you want to call it that,” Marit said back.

  “Let him pickle his brain,” Jesse said urgently. “Let’s go before he sees us.”

  The upright one of the pair at the table noticed the three of them staring and got to his feet.

  “Damn,” Jesse breathed. Then she properly focused on the man’s face and the olive features and curly hair. “I know him. That’s—”

  “Cael!” Marit said, when he was close enough to hear them. “What are you doing back here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, except I think I know the answer to that.” He turned to look at Aran. “I’m here because I own this bar,” he added.

  Jesse gaped at him. “Here in the…here and now?” she amended, for none of them could lower their voices and still be heard.

  “I inherited it,” Cael added, and his face shadowed. “I come back and check in every few days. I was as surprised as you guys when Aran showed up yesterday.” He shook his head. “I’ve never given your people details about this place, although I maybe implied that I had it. He must have picked up on that and found it on the timescape.”

  “He’s been sitting there drinking for two days?” Jesse said.

  Cael glanced at her. His smile was grim. “Something’s eating at him. Drinking isn’t letting him get any clarity on it, either, although he didn’t believe me when I said it wouldn’t help.” He shrugged. “He needs to go home, sober up and face whatever it is.” He considered the three of them. “Can you manage him, between you? Or should I ask Kieran to come and help you?”

  “Kieran is the giant, right?” Alannah said.

  Cael grinned. “He’s quite human,” he assured them.

  Marit shook her head. “We can handle Aran ourselves,” she decided. “Jesse will knock him out if he’s reluctant to come.”

  Jesse suspected it would be more difficult than Marit made it sound to overcome Aran even as drunk as he was, but she nodded anyway. “Is there a room we can use to leave from?” she asked Cael.

  He pointed to a discreet door not far from where Aran was slumped. “Manager’s office. No one is there right now. I’ll help you get him into the office.” He moved over to the table and patted Aran’s shoulder, not lightly. “Come on, up you come.” He got an arm under Aran’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Aran was taller, but he was slumping so badly it didn’t matter.

  Jesse suspected Cael had handled more than one sloppy drunk before. He made it look easy. He moved over to the office door, bringing Aran with him, even though Aran was making feeble movements with his feet, trying to get them back under him. He wasn’t quite unconscious yet. He was wearing one of his day job suits, which looked odd in this time, but not so strange that it drew the wrong sort of attention.

  Alannah opened the office door and Cael moved Aran inside and propped him on the front edge of an old wooden desk and held him upright.

  When Alannah shut the door behind them, the noise dropped enough that Jesse could hear herself think.

  Cael patted Aran’s face. “Open your eyes,” he said, his tone demanding, but not unkind. “You’re going to have to stand on your feet, man. Long enough for these lovely ladies to get you home. C’mon, now, wake up…”

  Aran’s black eyes, with the stupidly long lashes, fluttered open. His gaze shifted from Cael to the three of them. “Sis…” he breathed. “Jesse. Shit…not far enough.”

  The hurt squeezed Jesse’s chest and made her temples ache. She hid her reaction by snapping to attention. “Marit, grab his arm. Alannah, slide under the side Cael has, and take his weight. I’m stronger than either of you. I’ll keep him on his feet. You’ll have to take both of us as deadweight—I can’t jump with him leaning against me.”

  They moved as she had directed.

  “Let me steer again,” Marit told Alannah. “I know where we can take him.” She glanced at Jesse. “Brace yourself. I’m going to slide him off the desk and use his fall as momentum for the jump. All you have to do is catch him.”

  Jesse nodded. In this matter, Marit was the expert. She glanced at Cael. “Thank you for watching out for him. Please give my regards to Nayara.”

  Cael nodded. “Send word if you need any more help. You know how.”

  Long term letter drop. Jesse had heard the others talk about it. She nodded. “I have it from here.” She bit off the sir that tried to emerge. Cael gave out leader vibes.

  Marit resettled her grip on Aran. His head was sinking once more. “Ready? One…two…”

  Jesse got her arms up and around Aran and felt his weight tip toward her.

  “Three!” Marit finished.

  Chapter Six

  Neither sister was interested in watching over Aran while he recovered from his self-induced helpless state, so Jesse volunteered to keep an eye on him and make sure he only suffered the normal amount while he sobered.

  Marit had jumped them to the beach where she had been picking mullet fish, arriving only a few minutes after she had left. Her bucket and crowbar that she had been using to pry them from the reef were still sitting in the sand.

  A hand-made pergola of rough timbers with inexpertly thatched gum tree foliage for a roof was the only sign of human presence on the beach, despite the heat.

  “This beach can’t be reached by car or on foot,” Marit explained, pointing at the escarpment a hundred meters inland. “At least, no one has found a way down from the top yet. So I have this place all to myself.”

  That explained the amateur construction of the pergola. There was a folding bed beneath it, and a folding chair. They dumped Aran on the bed and Alannah stood looking down at him with her arms crossed. “Idiot,” she said, sounding vexed.

  “Ditto,” Marit breathed. “Well, he’ll be out for hours now. Toss the stuff in the bucket back into the water, Jesse. He’ll probably need the bucket before he’s sober.”

  “Fantastic,” Alannah breathed. She glanced at the water and the headland at the end of the bay. “Where is this, Marit?”

  “Cape Naturaliste.” Marit checked her phone. “Gotta go. I’ve got work in two hours. Jesse, call me if you need anything.” With a small movement of her knees, she lifted herself up into a jump and disappeared.

  Jesse could write anywhere, even without a laptop, but Alannah removed the need to ask for a pen and a notepad by jumping back to the house, packing up Jesse’s writing gear and bringing it back to the beach where Marit had brought them. “When you go back, I’ll take you back to the moment after we left there,” she told Jesse as she handed over the backpack. “Then you won’t be deserting the house at all.”

  “Thanks,” Jesse said gratefully, for it had been weighing on her mind. “And you should get back to your party, shouldn’t you?”

  “That thing,” Alannah said dryly. She glanced at Aran, who had not moved a muscle since they dumped him on the bed. “I’ve lost all desire for another drink,” she added, with a small grin. “When he’s sober, make him feel guilty for messing up our days, huh?”

  She jumped away, leaving Jesse with nothing but the soft sound of the wind, the rhythmic swish and hiss of the waves, and a warmth that made her strip off the cardigan and her shoes. The dry rasp of beach sand lingered in her nostrils.

  She rolled up her jeans and retrieved the bucket, emptied it and rinsed it out, then parked it next to the bed.r />
  He phone had reconnected with the network and showed local time and date. At this time, Jesse and Alannah were still standing in Aran’s empty kitchen, trying to figure out where he was.

  Jesse sent Taylor a text to tell her Aran was fine—dealing with a minor issue—but fine and he’d call her in a day or two.

  Taylor answered instantly. Thank YOU!!! Talk soon.

  After that, there was nothing to do but watch the waves or write and wonder why Aran thought diving into a bottle was a good idea.

  Jesse had seen plenty of soldiers go through deep binges and recoveries and knew it could take a good couple of days for Aran to sober up to the point where he could go back to his life. She had nowhere to go herself and could afford to be patient.

  Besides, she was working. Even battery life wasn’t an issue. She had bought a solar recharger years ago. It lived in a pocket of her backpack. She planted it in the sand just beyond the shade of the pergola. The Australian sun was steady and strong, there were no computer networks within reach of her laptop, so no Internet to distract her. She could write as long as her attention held.

  Marit arrived an hour later with a small Esky in her arms, that she planted in the sand next to Jesse. She wore a smart business suit in a lightweight polished cotton, and sunglasses. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. “Food, and some aspirin in the back corner for doofus, there.” She swung the backpack on her shoulder down to sit next to the Esky. The backpack gurgled. “Water. You’ll both need it. Oh, and…” She reached into the pack and pulled out a thermos. “Coffee.”

  “My hero!” Jesse said with deep feeling.

  “There’s other bits and pieces in the pack,” Marit added. “Text if you need anything. I see he hasn’t moved.”

  “I’m not sure he’s even sleeping,” Jesse admitted.

  “Alcohol poisoning?” Marit asked, her tone alarmed.

  “No, I’ve seen that. He’s not that far gone. Just comprehensively drunk. He’ll live to regret it.”