Infinityglass (Hourglass 3)

“I just transmutated.”

When I didn’t react, she huffed in frustration.

“Regenerated, shape-shifted, whatever. Point being, I changed my appearance, and you didn’t freak.” Now she leaned forward. “One more chance. Who. Are. You?”

The music stopped. There was one long beat of complete silence, and the dance music became a lively piano riff.

Behind Hallie, the aged wood of the walls lightened. Lafitte’s used gas lamps instead of electric, but now the scent of grease candles filled the air. The smoke from the wicks grew thicker, heavy in the air.

The building’s structure remained, but the furnishings became more rustic and newer at the same time. Subtle changes—lack of wear and tear on the floors and walls, the clothes people wore. The features of those living in the past blended with those in the present, and neither appeared to notice the other.

I felt as if I’d been on a merry-go-round for too long. I stood perfectly still while the world rushed by, and it left me unsettled.

“It doesn’t know what to pick,” Hallie murmured under her breath. “Past, present, never future. Eeny, meeny, miney, moe.”

Men in loose white shirts with open collars sat along the bar, drinking and laughing. Seconds later, they were college girls with fruity drinks. Then they were both at the same time.

Hallie’s attention jumped from the rips to me, mistrust immediately marring her features.

“You see them.”

“See who?”

The accusation remained unsaid, but it hung there between us like frozen winter breath.

“Truth. Now.” She leaned forward again, gripping the edge of the table. “Why are you here, and what do you know?”

Chapter 6

Hallie

He’d gone all college professor–like, with his fingers steepled together. “Bear with me for a second, and give me a chance to help you understand.”

“Understand what?” The piano riff faded, replaced by a low, thrumming bass as things inside the bar returned to normal. “I can barely hear you over Jay-Z. Outside.” I slid off my stool and grabbed my bag.

He took my elbow, and when the crowd got thicker as we approached the side door, he moved his hand to the small of my back. We stepped out into the cold. I shivered before he maneuvered me to stand beside one of the industrial-sized warming lamps.

Thoughtful. Considerate. Tricky.

The bass still thumped through the closed shutters of Lafitte’s, but we were the only people in the courtyard. November wasn’t the best time for outdoors, even as far south as New Orleans.

“All right,” I said. “I’m ready. Shock and awe away.”

“You aren’t taking me seriously.”

“That’s kind of the way I roll, chief.”

“Stop it. This is important.”

His urgency startled me. I flinched when he put his hands on my shoulders. They were big and warm, and covered a lot of bare surface area.

“I’m sorry.” He started to move his hands, but I grabbed his wrists.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “It’s too cold.”

I liked the warmth and the feel of his skin against mine. He slipped his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it around me.

That’s when I noticed he wasn’t packing heat.