The year is 2091.

The Dominion has taken rule over former America, now known only as The Central. The original fifty states have been reformed into ten Wards, each with its own responsibilities towards The Central's well-being.

Our story takes place deep in the underbelly of The Central, where is stationed the illegal organization known as The Time Turner Society.

The Time Turner Society was established just after America's crumble, when a group of Extras decided to use their powers to aid in the demolition and removal of the Dominion.

The original Society was made up of forty Extras: thirteen telekinetics, six necromancers, nine vampires, ten psychics, and two time turners. The powers and responsibilities of a Turner were not entrusted to just anyone, however; only people born with the blood of the original forty Extras were allowed into the Society.

But not every descendent of the original forty wanted to be a Turner. The life of a Turner was an illegal and dangerous one, and not everyone was cut out for it.

For kids like Evaline, however, joining the Society wasn't a choice.

All is silent.

I watch as the world around me morphs. Blurry image after blurry image rushes past me, until finally the Society's back room comes into focus. The scene shifts, moving both agonizingly slow and impossibly fast, through all the different years of the Society. Finally, with a Pulse so strong it pushes me back onto the floor, I arrive back in the 2091 Society.

"Welcome back, Evaline. How was Brazil?" Iyya, the Turner in charge of my mission, smiles politely. I nod gruffly.

"Mission accomplished." I reply simply. "How long was I gone?"

"It's September thirteenth," she says. Not too bad; only seven months gone this time. Some of our missions are quick; if we have enough information about the target, we're able to get in and get out in less than a week. But, after America fell, the Dominion sealed away all of the remaining records that were worth saving. This makes it incredibly difficult for the Society to get their hands on them. On most missions, you go in virtually blind; you know a name, an event, and a deadline. Sometimes you don't get a picture, or you only get a picture and no name. This makes it even harder to complete the mission by the deadline.

Us higher level Turners don't really have the option to not meet a deadline, though. When we miss a deadline, people die.

I pull the case files out of my backpack and approach Ai's office.

"I suppose it'd kill you to knock," Ai says, not even turning her chair. I toss the files on her desk.

"Yeah. It would." I say. Ai turns around, smiling politely at me.

"You really are one of our best Turners, Evaline. I just wish you were more polite,"

"I am. Just not towards murderers," I spit. Ai just makes her smile even more fake as she reaches forward and picks up the thick Manila folder I had thrown so carelessly on her desktop. She casually thumbs through the papers, reading through a few ever so leisurely. She stops on one and quirks an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You lost a Hound?" she asks, tone accusing. I clench my jaw.

"Yeah. He got himself shot," I lie. It isn't the first time I've covered for a Hound; and it probably won't be the last. Most run-away Hounds choose to stay in the past so they won't have to be slaves anymore.

Marcus was different. I can still remember the day he came to me.

I was sitting on the floor in our small apartment, papers spread out all around me. I was getting close to the target, now; I had more information than the Society could ever have collected on their own. I knew his habits, his quirks. I knew what type of underwear he wore.

The door had opened, but I didn't pay it any mind.

"Evaline?" Marcus called. I raised my hand and flicked open the door.

"In here." Marcus was quiet for a moment.

"I brought some company," he called finally. Frowning, I quickly sent the papers into a pile and wandered out into the front room. Marcus was standing in the small dining area, smiling with and nuzzling the girl he had met at the market three months before.

"This is Mya," he said, beaming up at me. I reached out and shook Mya's hand.

"Mya, this is my friend Evaline."

"It's nice to meet you. Marcus talks about you all the time," Mya said, smiling brilliantly. She had a kind of radiant, simplistic beauty to her - I could see why Marcus was drawn to her.

"All bad things, I'm sure." I teased, smiling crookedly. They both laughed, even though it wasn't very funny.

"Mya knows about our work," Marcus said. My heart stopped beating for a moment, but I kept a neutral, easy-going expression glued to my face. He couldn't have told her. There was no way he would have told her.

"About how it takes us far away." he added pointedly. I mentally calmed. "And she was willing to go long distance, but... I want to stay here, Evaline. With her,"

So I'm not really lying. Marcus was fifteen years old when I left him in the past. A past where murder is common, where disease has not been eradicated, and where he most likely would have died by his sixties or seventies. If he is alive now, it's a miracle, and he's most likely on his death bed.

"It's a shame, really. Marcus was very good. Have you arranged for any funeral services?" Ai looks up from the file, which she closes and hands to her Hound, Vera.

"I just got back," I say defensively. "I'll make arrangements after I sleep off my Haze." Hazes suck. It's almost like jet-lag, only it messes with your head more. Images of the past and the present morph together at random times - example; as I'm looking at Ai, I don't just see her now, but her as a teenager, before she got that ugly scar on her cheek - and it gives you killer headaches. Usually a few pills from the Society's necromancers and a good night's sleep takes care of it, but some people stay sick for days.

"Of course," Ai says. "I should let you rest. I'll review the file and send your and Iyya's payments in the morning."

"And Marcus'," I say.

"Pardon?"

"Marcus'. All Hounds receive payment for their final mission," I try to keep my voice from rising. "Marcus had a family; they need this payment until they can figure out something else." Ai stares at me blankly for a moment, then blinks.

"Okay. Marcus' payment too, then."

"Thank you."


~ ~ ~ ~


I splash cold water on my face and stare down at the stainless steel sink. Marda, the Hound the Society had hired to keep up my apartment while I was away, calls her goodbye from the front room. I don't say anything. I had payed her extra, told her thank you, and dismissed her nearly an hour ago; she was the one who insisted on finishing her final day.

I like Marda, I just don't understand her.

A small basketball, about the size of a dime, hangs down from the long chain at my neck. I stare at it, squeeze it in my fist. Then I slam the bathroom door and throw my cell phone at the window. The window, of course, is Plexiglas, and the phone bounces off of it and hits the floor with a slap. Sighing, I step onto the raised section of floor and pick up the phone. It's not broken; these things are nearly indestructible.

I lean against the window I threw my phone at, one of four that takes up the entire wall of my dining room.

I own a penthouse loft in the big city of Ward One. It's all just one room, really; you enter, and are immediately greeted to the right by a spiral staircase. You step down, and you're in the living room. Keep walking into the living room, and to the right is my secluded office space. To the left is the dining room, bathroom, and kitchen. All of this is on the "second" floor: the perimeter of the living room that's raised about six inches from the living room floor.

You head up the spiral staircase, and you're in my room. Complete with walk-in closet, master bathroom, and a kick-ass stereo system my friend Kilo custom made for me.

The whole place is a modern paradise, but it's home to me. As much as any place can be, I guess, with me only being here for a couple months out of the year.

I shake my head, done staring out at my empty apartment. I would get a dog, but I'm not around enough to enjoy the animal's company. I could try a roommate, but they would have to be a member of the Society, and so they'd be gone just as much as I am. Plus, I'd have to split my room in half.

I pull a water bottle out of the fridge and reach into my jeans pocket for the bottle of pills Rain the necromancer had given me for my Haze. She'd told me adamantly to read the instructions, but she's new and doesn't know how many times I've taken the exact same pills. I know the instructions by heart; two every six to eight hours while Haze persists, do not take with alcohol or any other narcotics, sleep as much as possible for the first twenty-four hours. If I experience any hallucinations after the first twenty-four hours,

I should consult back with the Society's medical staff.

I head upstairs, flicking off the lights as I go. Soon, the only light is coming from the glow-in-the-dark yellow stars above my bed. I swallow three of the little orange pills and fall back against my mattress, trying not to think of Brazil or basketball.

My alarm blinked 4:41.

It was still dark outside, and my room had grown especially cold.

"You want to wake her up now?" I heard Mom's voice from out in the hallway.

"I don't want to, Mrs. Kai." Blayke's hushed voice replied. I sat up in bed, instantly alert. What was Blayke doing here? Especially so late?

"I'm leaving soon. I just have to say goodbye," as soon as he said it, I was back under my blankets. No. No, no, no. He couldn't be leaving. Not now. This wasn't supposed to happen until-

"Ev?" Blayke sat on the edge of my bed. I pushed my door closed and threw my arms around him.

"You can't leave, Blayke." I pleaded, burying my face in his shoulder.

"I have to, Ev." he wrapped his arms around me and layed us both on the bed. I put my leg around his waist, kept my arms locked around his neck, anchored myself to him.

"Evaline," he said softly. "You knew this was coming, baby."

"But not now!" I insisted.

"Ev, please. Don't make this any harder than-"

"Don't. Don't say that. That's what they say before they leave for good. And you promised me you wouldn't leave for good, remember?" I pressed, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I won't ever leave you for good, Ev. I love you," Blayke pulled away from me, brushed my hair away from my face, and kissed me.

I wake up with the electricity still in the air. My alarm clock blinks 8:41, and my room is dark from the black-out shades covering my windows.

"Stats," I say into the emptiness.

"Today is Sunday, September fourteenth, year 2091. It is 34 degrees outside and raining." my A.I.V. tells me. I roll over and stare at the ceiling.

First one minute passes. Then seven.

"Incoming call from; Nethanyel." I jump, startled out of my hazy, half-awakened state.

"Answer," I say. "Hello?"

"You're alive!" Nethanyel's voice fills up my entire bedroom. I smile slightly.

"Yeah, I am. I suppose Nikiah called you?" Nikiah was the supervisor at the Society.

"He had to. It would've been impossible for you to stop by and see me," Nethanyel says pointedly. I roll my eyes, stumbling towards the bathroom.

"I lost a Hound and the Haze was kicking my ass," I call, splashing water on my face.

"The Haze was kicking my ass!" Nethanyel mocks in a whiny, high-pitched tone.

"I don't know why you think I won't kick your ass," I say around my toothbrush. Nethanyel laughs.

"Come by today. Once you make yourself decent," he teases. I spit and rinse my mouth straight from the faucet.

"Alright. See you,"

"Bye, Ev." he hangs up. I clutch the edge of the counter. I'm sure he didn't mean to call me Ev, but he did. And today, of all days, is not a good day to call me Ev.

I pull my plain white tank-top over my head and, so Nethanyel doesn't have a fit, I pull a black sweater on over that. I throw on some jeans and my ratty old sneakers, and I'm out the door. Dannie, the other penthouse girl, is on her way in. I give her a nod in greeting, but that almost never cuts it with Dannie.

"You're back! How was your trip?" she smiles warmly. I force a smile back.

"It was good,"

"That's great. I hear Ward Eight is beautiful this time of year,"

"Yeah. It's gorgeous."

"Are you going out like that?" she looks at me oddly. I narrow my eyes.

"Like what?"

"It's fuh-reezing out there, Evaline! You should take my hat," without waiting for me to reply, Dannie takes her light pink knitted beanie off her head and tugs it down over my hair. I wince, but remind myself not to cause a scene.

"Thanks, Dannie." I manage, and then stalk off down the hall. I don't bother removing the hat once I'm outside; I'm not so cold-hearted that I would toss Dannie's good deed in the trash. Even though I strongly dislike the color pink, and the little white Swvartski crystals all over the damned thing.

But hey, whatever.

I walk the twelve empty blocks down to the homier section of Ward One, where Nethanyel lives. He lives in building eleven-eighty-eight-twelve, and his apartment is A7. This is what I enter on the keypad on the front door of Vilitain-Mayberry, a b&b that hides building eleven-eighty-eight-twelve.

As far as the Dominion knows, building eleven-eighty-eight-twelve does not exist.

"Who dares to seek entrance into my-"

"Open the door, Nethanyel."

"You, Evaline Kai, ruin all my fun. Hurry up," I laugh. Nethanyel is so incredibly weird. But the guy can always put a smile on my face. There's only been one time when he couldn't, and that was a time when he didn't even try.

The door swings inward and I enter the Vilitain-Mayberry. The place reeks of potpourri and cheap soap. Without casting a glance at the woman behind the counter, I pull out my stainless-steel key and push it into the elevator override slot. In less than an instant, the elevator arrives for me.

"Enjoy your stay!" the woman at the counter calls cheerfully as the elevator doors close with me inside. I fold my arms over my chest. Wear a pink hat, everyone suddenly thinks you're in the mood to talk.

Five minutes later, I arrive in the underground sanctuary known as Freight. Freight is one of only four illegal societies within the Dominion. Another one is The Time Turner Society. Freight, however, is a little different; It's more of an underground city than an organization.

I stroll down the packed sidewalks and eventually make it to building eleven-eighty-eight-twelve. I press the buzzer beside the door for room A7, and the door clicks open.

"Long time no see, Miss Kai." Riechart, the doorman, greets me from the counter.

"Had work to do," I reply. He nods. He gets it; he grew up in the Society as a Hound. A's chief Hound, to be exact. I head up one flight of stairs and count five doors down the hallway, and then knock.

"Come in," Nethanyel calls. I slip inside and push the door closed behind me. I hear a string of curses coming from Net's room, and I know he must've lost something.

"Under the bed," I say, leaning on his door frame. "It's always under the bed."

"It's not under the bed." he snaps. I roll my eyes. It's very like him, to refuse help. It's something he has in common with his brother.

"Net,"

"What?"

"It's under the bed." he turns and glares at me for a moment. I just motion towards his bed. He drops down to his stomach and reaches a hand under the bed. After a minute, he gets this look on his face.

"Don't. You. Say. Anything," he snaps. I press my lips together, trying to keep from laughing.

"I'm not saying anything," I hold up my hands innocently. Nethanyel looks at me, and his eyes gleam with something. Something that brings a fresh ache to my chest. Something that makes him look even more like his brother than I can stand. I turn away from him.

"I wish I didn't look like him sometimes," Net blurts. I chew on my lower lip. "Because of the way you look at me those times. You look at me like... I don't know. But I know it makes you upset. And I hate that,"

"It's not your fault, Net." I turn back to him. He doesn't look like Blayke as much anymore. He looks down at the silver box he holds in his hands, the one he pulled from under his bed.

"This was his, I guess." he holds it out to me. "Told me to give it to you today."

"Why today?" I wonder aloud, taking the box from him with shaking hands. It's surprisingly light for a safebox, which is usually stocked with precious gold pieces and gem-detailed family heirlooms. But this one is too light for all that. I wonder what Blayke could have possibly hidden inside, and why he would want Nethanyel to give it to me on this exact day - which, as far as I know, has no significance to either of us.

"'Dunno. All he said was 'make sure she gets it. Date's written on the bottom.'" Nethanyel taps the bottom of the box with his index finger. I nod, but don't bother checking it.

"Did he say anything else? When he was-"

"No." we stand there for a few moments in a tense silence. Then, Net does something he doesn't normally do.

"I miss him, too. And you remind me of him, you know." I look up, frowning, puzzled. "You're so damn stubborn. Just like he was. And whenever you go on a mission, you hold that necklace like it'll keep your soul anchored here, like it could save you from anything. Blayke used to do that, too." he pauses for a moment.

"And the way you act like nothing's bothering you, like you're completely okay even when you're not - you picked that up from him, too." I set the box on Net's dresser and just stare at it for a moment. Then, I do something I don't normally do. I reach out and take Net's hand.

"Doesn't it bug you? Talking about him like he's dead when we don't even know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."


~ ~ ~ ~


Net walks me home, keeping especially close to me. He's protective, even when he doesn't need to be. That's the big brother coming out in him; a quality both him and Blayke share.

Share?

Shared?

I'm not sure anymore.

He walks me all the way to my apartment door, where he gives me a bear-hug so tight he lifts me off the ground. I laugh.

"Goodbye, Net."

"See ya', Evaline. Don't forget our meeting tomorrow," he adds, pretending to sound stern.

"I won't," I tell him. It's impossible to 'forget' about a Society meeting. The Society won't let you forget.

I find myself alone in my apartment again, only this time I don't allow myself to think too much.

"Radio!" I call, pulling my sweater over my head and tossing it and Dannie's hat onto the couch. Music blares from the speakers, effectively distracting me from anything I don't want to think about. I fall into my computer chair and open up several browsers on my touch-pad. It's not the newest model, but I wouldn't upgrade for anything. Net and I - with help from the Society, of course - had made so many modifications to the system on this thing... It was practically perfect. The browsing speed is nearly ten times that of any new model touch-pad, and every one of my files is encrypted under the Memory 8 system, which doesn't even exist as far as the Dominion is concerned.

A small notification box appears on my right screen.

Don't forget about your Hound's funeral arrangements. His family has already been notified. -Ai.

I let out a breath and turn back to my empty browser. Then I turn to the stairway. Down that stairway, thrown carelessly on my couch, is a silver safebox with something inside of it that Blayke felt was important enough to leave me. Neither funeral arrangements nor the safebox seem like very good options, but eventually I will have to take care of both of them.

I type funeral homes into the search box, and start to look at caskets for a body I couldn't bring home.