Future Lost

8

“You think he asked Aether for help making it safe?” One of the Future-Adams had done that—gone to Aether for help in developing and distributing the cure, but it hadn’t gone well for him. I thought his younger self would have learned his lesson, but apparently not.

“I’m not sure. But if you can’t find him, then it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re the reason why.”

I stand up, shoving my stool back, my adrenaline already kicking in. “Where was the meeting?”

“At their headquarters in downtown LA.”

“Thanks.” I spin on my heel and head for the door.

“Wait. Are you going there?” Ken asks. “Right now?”

I stop at the door and glance at him over my shoulder. “You got a better idea?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just…be careful.”

As I walk to the car, I’m so mad at Adam that I can barely see straight, but I’m scared too. If he’s in danger, I have to help him. If he’s not, he’s going to be in danger soon—from me.

Adam’s betrayal has cut me right to the core. He’s the only person I’ve let get close to me, the person I trusted above all others, but he’s been keeping secrets from me again. Big secrets. Dangerous secrets.

I’m going to get answers. And there’s only one place to find them.

I’ve never been to the Aether Corporation building in downtown LA—at least, not in the present. I visited it twice in the future with Adam and Chris. The first time, we were guests of Future-Adam. The second time, we broke in to steal something.

I walk into the lobby, noticing all the ways it’s different from the version I visited before. That’s one thing my eidetic memory is good for: remembering tiny details. The floor is different—pale-gray marble floors instead of dark slate. The walls are a different shade of beige, and the potted plants in the corner have white flowers instead of blue. Everything else is the same: wall-to-wall windows, revolving doors, and a row of elevators in the back. I’m not sure where to go, so I walk up to the desk at the front.

“Can I help you?” a security guard asks. Her hair is tied back in a severe bun, making her forehead tight.

“I need to speak to Vincent Sharp.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but he won’t be surprised to know I’m here.”

Her scowl only deepens. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Tell him Elena Martinez is here to see him, and if I don’t get answers, I’m going to the police.”

She picks up a phone and speaks quietly to someone on the other line, her eyes never leaving my face. I can’t make out her words, but I lean forward on the desk and refuse to look away. If Adam is mixed up with Aether, I’m not leaving here until someone tells me what is going on and where he is.

The woman hangs up the phone. “I need to see your ID.”

I dig around in my bag until I find my wallet, then pluck out my driver’s license and hand it to her. She scrutinizes it for way longer than is necessary, jots something down on a clipboard, and then hands me a plastic security card with the Aether logo across it. It’s attached to a lanyard that I slip around my neck.

“Keep that with you at all times.” She gestures toward the elevator. “Fifty-first floor.”

“Got it.”

I swipe my card and brush past the other security guards, who stand by the elevator with their arms crossed behind them and their eyes always watching. The elevator’s empty and silent, except for an instrumental version of some song from the eighties that plays in the background. I lean against the back wall as we travel up, up, up to the very top floor of the building, high enough I have to pop my ears. The door opens to a large room with a pretty woman sitting behind a glass desk. Plush leather couches line the walls under tasteful but immediately forgettable modern art. I step forward.

The woman stands and smiles at me. Her lipstick’s bright red, her blond hair’s perfectly styled, and she wears a white blouse and a black skirt. “Elena Martinez? Please follow me.”

She knocks softly on the door behind her, then opens it for me. Her smile stays plastered on as I walk into Vincent Sharp’s office.

It’s huge. Big enough to fit my entire apartment in it. Way larger than any one person would realistically need for an office. Most of it is empty space, but there’s also a large seating area with a TV, a long bar with mirrored walls behind it, and a shining silver desk.

Vincent sits behind the desk, facing away from me, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below him. Los Angeles stretches out on three sides of the room, the view clear and impressive and never-ending. The ocean on the left, the mountains in the middle, and the endless city reaching for the horizon on the right. It’s easy to forget how large the city is until you’re standing above it, looking down at all the tiny cars below.

Vincent’s chair swivels around. He’s a good-looking man in his early fifties, with thick auburn hair, a strong jaw, and intelligent eyes. The kind of person who exudes confidence and power, but also manages to come across as charming, although his eyes have dimmed ever since his own son shot him.

I’ve only seen Vincent once since I killed Jeremy and blew up the accelerator. Adam and I visited him in the hospital after he’d recovered, and he agreed that the slate between us had been cleared because we saved his life. Vincent swore to leave us alone from then on, and in return, Adam and I would keep Project Chronos a secret.