Infinityglass (Hourglass 3)

The pounding of my feet on the pavement, the clanking of free weights landing in the rack, the swooshing sound of the elliptical—all of them made my mental calculations and deductions clearer. Connections flowed as freely as sweat, and the million-piece puzzle I had to solve became manageable.

My phone rang as I was leaving the apartment to go down to the gym.

“Dune! What’s up?” It was Michael, returning my call. I didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“There’s some weird stuff happening here, and I wanted to see if you were experiencing it in Ivy Springs, too.” I opted for the stairs instead of the elevator. “Have you guys noticed changes with the rips since I left?”

“They’re more complex. Bigger.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “I feel like the tear in time used to bleed like a paper cut, and now we’re at full hemorrhage. What about there?”

“Same. But …” I paused, tried to figure out how to phrase my next question. “Have any of the rips tried to take over?”

“Take over how?” He sounded as grave as I felt.

“People. Possession.”

He proceeded to say more curse words in fifteen seconds than I’d heard him say in the past five years. “What the hell happened?”

“It was Hallie. I’ve never seen anything like it or read anything about it. Her face, her voice took on different characteristics. The rip … moved in.” I stopped walking and lowered my voice. “She relived a murder.”

“You need to tell Liam.”

“Not yet. Give me a couple of days. It could’ve been a fluke thing or an Infinityglass-specific thing, and I want to know for sure.” I started back down the stairs. “Let’s see if it happens to anyone else first.”

“I defer to your wisdom,” Michael said. “But you know I’m a phone call away.”

“Ditto, brother.”

I hung up and pushed open the door to the gym to find Poe climbing off the treadmill. There was a towel hanging over the security camera.

“How’s the rehab going?” I asked.

“Slow.” He pulled another towel off the stand beside the water dispenser and wiped his face. “Want to spot me?”

I laughed. “You want to pop your stitches?”

“I’ll spot you instead.” Poe pointed to the weight stack as I got into position on the bench. “Four hundred?”

“Three.” Silently, I hoped that much wouldn’t kill me.

He loaded three forty-five pound weights on each side. Three-fifteen, including the bar. I was going to end up with a hernia.

“When I choke to death on this bar and you have to spot me, how is that going to help your liver heal?” I asked.

“It won’t. So don’t drop the weight.”

The first five were easy. The next four were brutal. Poe almost had to spot me on ten, and by the time I lowered the bar, my arms felt like stretched-out gummy bears.

“I need to talk to you about Hallie,” I said, sitting up.

“Upstairs. I need a fix.” He grabbed the towel covering the camera as he teleported out, and I took the normal route to the apartment, using the elevator this time. I found him in the kitchen digging a giant box of Popsicles out of the freezer. “You want?”

“I’m good,” I said, leaning back against the counter as he took out four and put the rest away. “Hungry?”

“I’m trying to come off the pain meds. I feed my sugar addiction instead. What’s up?”

Now that I’d broached the subject, I hesitated. I knew there had been something between Hallie and him once, but I also sensed that the friendship that replaced it was stronger.

“It was a simple question.” Poe pulled a Popsicle from a wrapper. Grape. He bit off the end. “Don’t blow a brain gasket.”