Wielding an Hourglass, page 1
ALSO BY HUNTER BLAIN
The Preternatural Chronicles
Deliverance: A Preternatural Chronicles Novella
I’m Glad You’re Dead
Dawn and Quartered
Shadow of a Doubt
Moonlight Equilibrium
Mouth of Madness
What the Hell
Holy Sheoly
Those Wonderful Toys
Crack the Sky
Fall from Grace
Memento Mori
Sol Saga
Dawn’s Light
WIELDING AN
HOURGLASS
THE CHRONOS PARADOX • BOOK 1
HUNTER BLAIN
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from Podium Publishing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Hunter Blain
Cover design by Podium Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-0394-2125-7
Published in 2023 by Podium Publishing, ULC
www.podiumaudio.com
This book is dedicated to those who would scale the highest mountain, scour the deepest ocean, and walk through Hell itself to save a loved one, close friend, or even a beloved pet.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 46½
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
EPILOGUE
PREVIEW: SANDS OF TIME
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Trying to comprehend time travel is hard. Coming up with new methods of it is bullshit.”
—Hunter Blain
PROLOGUE
Daddity!” Alison cheerfully cried out as I stepped into the kitchen, where she was helping her mother prepare the salads for our dinner. Little hands clutched at the air as I approached, and I lifted my beautiful baby girl up above my head.
“Whoooaaa,” I let out, as I rested her on the side of my hip. “You’re getting heavy!”
“The steaks are ready to go on,” Sylvie said with a smile as she moved the freshly washed spinach from the colander to the salad bowl.
“You hear that, Ali?” I said in a breathy, overly excited voice typically used with small children.
“Eeeeewwwww!” she let out while squirming where I held her in place with my right arm. “I don’t want steak!”
“Well then, what do you want?” I asked with a quick tickle of her tummy using my free hand.
“Chickie nuggies!”
“No, honey. You had that for lunch,” Sylvie said as she added the cheese and croutons to the mix.
“Chick-ie nugg-ies. Chick-ie nugg-ies!” Alison chanted over and over, emphasizing her point with little fists that pounded in protest.
“You heard your mother,” I said in my normal voice, keeping a soft tone to it.
To show her dissatisfaction, Ali dramatically sighed and went limp while leaning backward, almost slipping from my grip.
“Be careful!” Sylvie told me with a half smile.
“Uh! She’s the one . . . ” I trailed off while pointing at the theatrical child. “You trying to get me in trouble, Ali? Huh? You trying to get me in trouble?” I playfully asked while vigorously tickling her belly again, which did the trick because she stiffened right back up while batting my hands away.
Tiny giggles escaped her mouth, followed by a play scream and protests of, “No, Daddity! Stop!”
“Besides, you want a special dinner for a special day, don’t you?” I asked as I pulled out a wrapped box that I had kept hidden in my back pocket.
A squeal of excitement nearly ruptured my eardrums as Ali reached for the rectangular box covered—poorly—in pink gift wrap with a stick-on blue bow.
Within seconds, the wrapping was floating to the ground, and Alison was opening the box with little, clumsy fingers.
Inside was a silver necklace with a black marble in the middle, dotted with different colored specs.
Ali gasped, her large eyes seeming to sparkle while staring at the gift.
“What’s this?” she asked in awe.
“The universe, baby.”
“You would give your daughter the universe,” Sylvie spoke with pride in her words.
“Happy birthday, sweetie,” I said, voice spilling over with love, and then leaned my head over and kissed her little nose. Normally, Ali would squirm and fight against kisses to her face, but at that moment, she was transfixed.
“Are you going to put it on?” Sylvie asked just before our eyes met and I saw the happiness contained within.
With little pants of excitement, Ali snatched the necklace from the box and quickly slung it over her neck without even having to unclasp the chain first.
“She’ll grow into it,” Sylvie assured me with a wink, apparently noticing how I was looking at the length of the necklace, realizing my oversight.
“But what about Mommy? It’s her birthday too!” Alison exclaimed, and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride in my heart at seeing how selfless my sweet girl was.
I feigned a gasp and pulled out an identical box from my other back pocket.
“It is?” I playfully teased before holding the gift out to my gorgeous wife who had given me a perfect child.
“We said no gifts this year!” Sylvie protested, but with a smile that she couldn’t hide.
She took the box, unwrapped it, then moved to throw away both her wrapping paper and Alison’s, which had been strewn on the floor.
“Mommy! Hurry!”
“Yeah, Mommy! Hurry!” I mimicked, though I was actually eager for her to open it.
“Okay, okay!” Sylvie placated as she opened the white box to reveal a platinum necklace with an angel pendant at the center holding a raw, uncut diamond.
“Oh my God,” Sylvie said with an inhale as she placed one hand over her heart. “It’s beautiful.”
“You like it?”
“It looks just like the one my mother used to have.”
“It is the one your mother used to have,” I said with a wide smile. “I had the lady at Tiffany’s add the diamond.”
“I . . . I thought she’d lost it!” Sylvie exclaimed as she unclasped the chain and put it around her neck. I was about to set Ali down to help her, but she easily got it on by herself.
“Remember when I went to help them with the Wi-Fi boxes to extend the signal?”
“Yeah?”
“I found it in the attic while running an Ethernet cable. And when I showed it to her, she said she wanted you to have it.”
“Oh, Andrew,” my wife said as she rushed over and wrapped her arms around us.
“Where’s your present, Daddity?” Alison asked. “It’s your birthday too! ’Member? ASA-Day!”
“You are my ASA-Day present, baby,” I replied as I kissed the side of her head, then did the same to Sylvie. “You both are.”
My wife leaned closer before whispering, “I’ll give you your gift later tonight,” and then playfully bit my ear.
“Oh, um . . . uh, heh. Oh my . . . ” I stammered, feeling the weather get a little warm all of a sudden.
“What does, um, A-S-A mean again?” Alison asked, slowly enunciating the letters.
“It’s our names, silly girl,” I replied as I gave her hair a quick tussle.
“Daddity! Sto-hop!” She giggled. After I did, she thought for a moment, then said, “But-but-but your name is Daddity! And Mommy is Mommy!”
Sylvie and I looked at one another as we both stifled a laugh at how absolutely adorable our baby girl was being.
I feigned a gasp, then said, “You’re right! It should be ADM-Day, huh?”
“More like AMD,” Sylvie countered over her shoulder, moving the letters into a better order, probably stemming from who was in charge of the house, starting with Ali.
“Steaks, please,” Sylvie let out in a sin gsong as she moved across the kitchen to place the cooking sheet into the preheated oven with fresh, homemade garlic butter slathered across a split loaf of French bread.
“Yes, ma’am!” I replied, squatting to set Ali down.
“Nooooo!” she whined before locking her arms around my neck.
“Whoa! When did you get to be so strong?” I asked while gently pulling myself free from her tiny death grip.
“Ali, can you come help Mommy set up the table?” Sylvie distracted her before giving me a wink indicating that I was clear to proceed. One of her hands was resting over the angel pendant, and I knew I had done good.
I winked back while our daughter switched her attention and gave little hops over to where Sylvie was holding three dinner plates and salad bowls.
“Now, be careful, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy!”
I opened the fridge and grabbed the Ziploc bag that contained two-and-a-half steaks soaking in low-sodium soy sauce and our favorite seasoning which only the butcher shop up the way sold. It didn’t even have a label on it, but damn, was it good!
Pulling out the meat, I set them on a small rectangular pan that Sylvie had left out for me and moved toward the backyard where the grill awaited.
Holding the tray, I looked at the half-empty bag of mesquite coals, the long red lighter, and an empty spot where the starter fluid should have been.
“Ah, damn it,” I mumbled, lifting my face to the sky in frustration at my oversight. But as I thought about it, I knew I had just pulled it out of the shed and set it next to the grill. Or maybe I had just been really hungry.
With a long sigh, I stepped back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind me in defeat and drawing the attention of both of my girls.
“That was quick,” Sylvie said with a slightly wry smile, knowing the expression on my face meant I had forgotten something.
“I need to run to the corner store and grab some lighter fluid,” I admitted while setting the pan of meat on the countertop.
“In the fridge, please,” she playfully indicated, and I moved to put the tray into the refrigerator.
“Need anything while I’m there?”
“Candy!” Alison excitedly cried out while jumping up and down.
Sylvie looked at me and shrugged.
“We don’t have any dessert.”
“Candy it is!” I said, feeling more at peace for my oversight considering now we were going to benefit from the mistake by having dessert of the chocolate bar variety.
“Can I go with you, Daddity?”
“No, honey. It’ll only take me ten minutes to run there and back. Fifteen tops.”
“What if you . . . you-you-you um . . . don’t get the one I like?” she protested, using every bit of her developing brain to formulate an argument as to why she needed to go with me.
“I know which one to get,” I replied with a warm grin. “The peanut butter chocolate one.”
“You can help me out here, baby,” Sylvie told our daughter.
“Okay, Mommy,” Ali conceded before holding up her index finger and motioning for me to come to her, mimicking the same thing her mother did on occasion.
I moved toward her, and when she continued to waggle her finger, I leaned down further, allowing her to grab either side of my face.
“Daddity, I need you to listen, okay?”
“Okay, sweetie. What is it?” I inquired with an amused chuckle at how grown-up she was trying to be.
She turned to look at her mother before returning her focus to me and pulling my face even closer while forcing my head to pivot to the side.
Whispering into my ear, she said, “I want two. Okay?”
“Two?!” I mock gasped, turning to look her right in her adorable eyes.
“Yes, two.” She nodded with abandon, as if the wild motion would somehow accentuate her point.
“You got it,” I whispered back while giving her a little wink. “Anything for the center of my universe.” As I spoke, I lightly touched the marble around her neck with my index finger.
“Two?” Sylvie asked with crossed arms and a playfully arched eyebrow.
“How could I argue with that?” I chuckled as I straightened my stance and pointed at the stoic little girl standing her ground.
Sylvie rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms while she returned her attention to the food she was preparing, but her smile gave her away, giving me all the permission I needed.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I told my family as I began making my way toward the garage. “Love you, girls!”
“Love you too!” they repeated in unison, with Alison almost yelling it to be heard.
In my Honda Accord, I turned on the radio and drummed the steering wheel to the music, eager to taste the homemade meal for our special day—our ASA-Day.
At the corner store, I got out of my car, leaving the engine running because the neighborhood was a safe one, and made my way inside with a pep in my step. The lighter fluid was closest to the door on the wall, so I grabbed the only size they had, mumbling at the inflated price as I did.
Next was the candy aisle, where I made sure to grab not one, but two of the chocolate peanut butter candies that Ali liked, as well as a bag of cherry licorice for Sylvie. She hadn’t specifically told me to grab some for her, but I knew my wife. For me, I snagged the first dark chocolate bar that looked good, then whistled as I made my way to the counter.
After paying, I returned to my car with a white bag in hand and plopped down in the driver’s seat.
A few minutes later, I was home.
Shutting the door to the garage behind me, I sauntered toward the kitchen, calling out in a singsong, “I got the dessert!”
A bitter, metallic smell tickled my nostrils, giving me pause for a moment before my feet blurred the rest of the way to where I had last seen my family.
Sitting at the dining table were Alison and Sylvie.
Their heads were lolled back with white dishrags covering their faces. But the squares of cloth weren’t solid white anymore. Crimson stained the centers, spreading outward in a Rorschach that cut at the threads of my sanity like a razor blade of untold agony and sorrow.
“S-Sylvie? A-A-Ali?” I mouthed as darkness gripped my heart and squeezed while anxiety wrapped tendrils around my throat, choking me.
The white plastic bag dropped to the floor, sending the candy sliding away as if to flee the mind-breaking scene.
There they sat, as motionless as two faceless store mannequins.
My vision spun as my legs gave out, and even through the closed doors, my scream could be heard throughout the neighborhood, prompting a cascade of dog barks and howls that spread outward like a shock wave of unimaginable anguish.
CHAPTER 1
Coffins.
Beautiful and terrifying all in the same cold breath.
It’d never occurred to me that coffins for children would simply be smaller versions of those made for adults. I’d just always thought they were a one-size-fits-all scenario. I mean, I’d been to a few funerals in my time, and even those who could barely fit through a door seemed to be stuffed into a normal sized coffin.
But not my daughter’s.
Hers . . . hers was half the size of my wife’s.
Did you know they sold them with cute pink unicorns or baby blue dinosaurs? Because I didn’t . . . I didn’t . . .
“ . . . leaving behind a grieving father and husband, Andrew . . . ” the priest rattled on with his cookie-cutter eulogy. So generic. So vague. So bullshit.
I hated him.
I hated him for all the things he hadn’t done to deserve my wrath. I hated him for being a stronger man and speaking in place of me to these—these pretenders who had come to mourn my family.
The air was rich with the aroma of flowers, creating a permanent association with the smell that would probably haunt me for the rest of my life. If I decided to live, that is.
With a head weighed down with a near lethal dose of prescription drugs, I managed to turn my gaze to my in-laws.
Sylvie’s parents noticed the awkward movement, and both shot blurry eyes toward me.
Her mother gave a single sympathetic nod before turning back to the stage.
Her father, on the other hand, glared at me with an intense, hot loathing that could melt the layer of permafrost in the most frigid ice lands on this planet.
His expression said it all: you let them die. You. Let. Them. Die.
I ripped my gaze away from them and let my head hang low—no longer able to muster the strength to face judgment from the people who had entrusted me to protect their daughter and granddaughter.
