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“I walked out,” I admitted. “I only saw the one woman who wore the mercury horns. She left the room once, took her horns off, and tried to pretend she was somebody else.” For the second time, I walked the chief through the moment I’d woken up in the mansion to being startled into my first transformation. “I had no idea there was anyone other than that crazy person there.”
“Time skipping,” Chief Hawthorne murmured. “You hopped a split second forward or backwards, so you were not quite in the same space and time as those around you. That’s an ability of chrome dragons. That would let you get out in the fashion you’re describing. Cameras can pick up someone who is time skipping; they appear like blurs on any type of photography. They have security footage at the mansion, so we can review to see if that’s what it is. The biggest risk is when you stop time skipping; if you emerge in the same space with someone else, it doesn’t tend to end well for anybody.”
That matched my experience at Shrine Hill, although it’d begun before I’d reached the site. “What does it look like for someone witnessing someone doing this time skipping?”
“Something about the magic makes people forget about the person who is time skipping.” Chief Hawthorne tapped at his screen. “I’ve made a note to get you an appointment with the clan leader of the local chrome dragons. With your lineage, I’m absolutely unsurprised that ability came to life. You get your metallic abilities from a splinter group of dragons that left Dragon Heights several hundred years ago. One of the daughters of the clan, who had a bit of everything, married into your father’s clan—his great grandmother to be specific. The bloodline is diluted, but it’s not so diluted that you can’t manifest the powers of your lineage.”
Did everyone know everything about my family? “Is that common knowledge?”
“No, not at all. Your parents talked to me about your lineage so we can help make sure you get the appropriate training. They want you to grow as a hatchling without them influencing you. In this case, it’s my job to research the possible abilities you have access to and may have used escaping from your kidnapping. Chrome dragons have limited abilities; if they aren’t time skippers, they’re able to make any metal shine to its full potential. They can also manipulate chromium, which is useful enough—and treat chromium toxicity. No other dragon color can do anything like their time skipping ability. While invisibility is possible through your father’s timeline, invisibility doesn’t bar people from perceiving you—or you from perceiving them. There aren’t any other abilities I can think of that match what you’re describing.”
“I didn’t break any laws, did I?”
“No. Dragon-kin can be anonymous like you are, and you’re being registered as a dragon. Of course, your exposure to Shrine Hill and pressure from your parents is taking the fall for your status as a hatchling. But you can still maintain your status and test in. As a hatchling, you don’t need to, but testing will prove your worth. You’re fine. You’ll have to go through mandatory education, but the education is catered to your confirmed abilities. Your ability to pop open any jar does not need training, for example.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“If you’re up for a drive, I’d like to take you to the mansion so you can walk us through where you were and how you escaped. And if you time skip again, I can call in a chrome dragon to help you control your talent. Hopefully, going in a safe fashion will prevent any problems.”
Hopefully. I leaned over and snagged my backpack, which contained my camera and laptop, along with my wallet. “Maybe we’ll find my phone, too.”
“With some luck, we will—and the forensics team will be there, so they can check it for prints and other evidence before we give it back.”
* * *
Thursday, April 30, 2167
The Fringe
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
Chief Hawthorne and the three captains responsible for managing the Fringe took me to the mercury mansion. We entered through the front doors, following a path of plastic to deeper within. The plastic walkway spared us from having to put on scrubs and booties, but my skin crawled at our lack of gear.
My captain would have tanned my hide had I entered a crime scene without the appropriate gear.
The forensics team members glared at us, and the chief came to a halt, engaged one of the older men in a staring contest, and waited.
“We found more bodies.”
Ew. The time would account for their unhappiness; putrefaction had no mercy for the living, and once a body ripened beyond a certain point, forensics work became messy at best. In Miami, I’d had the misfortune of dealing with a few cold cases with heavily decomposed bodies. I’d put some serious thought into attending therapy over it.
A man had decided to butcher his ex-lovers; if he couldn’t have the women, no one could—and he’d made the decision to rob them of dignity after death.
I’d dedicated six months of my life making certain that piece of filth had his day in court and enjoyed a long visit in a maximum security prison.
The chief grunted, his expression one of displeasure. “Any place specific we shouldn’t go?”
“Third door on the right once you’re in; the bodies were hidden behind a false wall. It should be blocked with plastic. We’re testing samples. We’ve gotten the obvious sources of mercury cleared out, but you have to wear hazmat suits if you want to go into the new room.”
“Find any phones?”
“We found one downstairs. Ask Dr. Wilheimer; he’s already examined it and has it put aside.”
Chief Hawthorne nodded before we resumed our journey to the basement. The situation had improved in some ways. Most of the bodies were gone, and the bodies that weren’t gone were bagged and waiting for someone to remove them. The further down the hall we got, the lower the temp became.
“You’re refrigerating the basement?”
“There are some bodies we can’t move yet, so a team of oranges are turning them into freezers temporarily,” the chief explained. “All right, Kinsley. Walk me through where you went in here.”