Return Once More (The Historians #1)

“Are you sure?”

Analeigh’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes. I remember her showing me drawings, babbling on about crap I couldn’t understand, and honestly, I didn’t really want to know why she needed to invent such a thing.”

We fell silent, both looking at the tiny piece of tech that had allowed my brother—and me—to change the past. Sarah had never said a word, but surely Jonah had asked her to stay quiet.

“Anyway, after today, I think it’s clear they are changing things, and I don’t see how that Bible verse could have been removed from every version by accident. Someone went back and changed the original text.”

She nodded. “I agree. And I don’t think Oz would do this alone, without an assignment or direction. He’s … well, he’s always been quiet. Different. But he’s not a liar, Kaia. Or a bad person.”

“I really don’t care what Oz thinks or doesn’t think right now.”

“Right. Sorry. Bigger fish.” Her wide eyes met mine. “Starting with, are you really going to kill Caesarion?”

“I either have to do it or get someone else to do it. And I don’t see how the latter is possible.” Nausea bubbled, but I swallowed it. “This is my mess and if I don’t fix it, I wipe out my family. My grandfather.”

That statement sunk in and her shoulders slumped. Maybe if my grandfather hadn’t been there, someone else would have stepped in to initiate the idea of colonizing Genesis—someone must have because the Projector only showed the loss of twenty or so families from the System, not all of us being sucked into oblivion.

It might have been possible for me to go back and save Caesarion’s executioner from the robbery, but messing with more people and events and time lines seemed like a recipe for disaster.

“How are you going to do it?”

“Oz said he can grab me a sonic waver. It will be fast.” I meant to sound confident, but it came out in a wet whisper.

“It won’t be without some repercussions. How are the ancients going to explain liquefied organs?”

“The freaking Bible just changed. I think organ soup is the least of our worries.” The weak joke did nothing to dull my pain and we sat in silence for several moments, until I recalled the other reason it wasn’t going to be as shocking as my best friend thought. “Also, there are people who have seen Historians already. Caesarion’s guards called me a dark one, and they were scared.”

“Dark one?”

“They have stories about people dressed in black who appear out of thin air, kill without weapons.” I moved to the bed while that sank in, wanting to feel her warmth, the consistency of her presence in my life.

“Oz has killed people?” Now Analeigh looked as though she was going to puke.

“I don’t know if it was Oz, but someone has—and it must have happened more than once. I can’t imagine that kind of pervasive rumor stemming from a single incident.”

Analeigh reached out and grabbed my hand, smashing it between her palms.

I needed proof of what was going on, or better yet, which Elders we could trust. They couldn’t all be bad, and the ones who weren’t would realize the dangers the Projector posed.

After all, these were the people who made me believe we were better off now, and that our jobs as Historians ensured we would stay that way.

We might be able to get answers, especially if we could convince Oz to help, but the Elders were already monitoring the Archives that could lead an apprentice to stumble upon their little experiment. I found that out when they busted me for following the development of gun production.

“I’m going to sneak out tonight before lockdown. I have to get this Caesarion thing over with as soon as possible.” In spite of all my false strength, the words caught in my throat. Analeigh reached out and squeezed my hand, not saying anything, just being there. I swallowed, siphoning her strength. “I’ll be back before breakfast.”

“What can I do? In the meantime?” Her gaze was determined behind her glasses. “We need to compile evidence. Something the Elder Council would have to listen to, even if it’s against Zeke.”

“I started collecting information on Oz and his travels. It’s hidden in my private file that Sarah set up. I can share it with yours, but you have to be careful. Figure out how to search from a different angle. They’ll know if you start looking directly, the way they caught me following the gun files.”

She pursed her lips, fingers absentmindedly unwinding her long braid. “They can’t track every tangent sprouting off the Bible. I can start there, hopefully find evidence of that alteration.”

“Yeah. Maybe check passages that could affect the other major contributors—commercialism, environmental degradation, sectarianism,” I recited from memory. Those were the big five, and of course they were largely interconnected. There were another dozen or so minor causes, all subheadings under those five. Hatred. Hunger. Widening class division. War. Civil Rights.

“Okay. Right. Out of those, the environmental causes are probably the easiest to research and have the widest range of contributors. Maybe I can find something they tried to change there. If they want to fix Earth Before, they’re going to need to fix the actual planet, not just the people who lived on it.”

“That’s good thinking. Okay.” I leaned in and gave her a quick hug. “Don’t get caught, Analeigh. They’re not going to believe we both accidentally wandered into the wrong archives in the same week. Even if we didn’t know they were flagged.”

“With your massive fake crush on Oz, I can’t believe Zeke isn’t watching your every move already.”

Trisha Leigh's books