Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) by Jennette Marie Powell Page A

old money, with its expensive-looking, burgundy and forest green striped wallpaper, dark wood chair railing, and elegant landscape paintings in ornate frames. “He told me to stop by.”
    Her face slackened. “Oh, crap. Chad’s away until— hey, you’re the guy who was in the papers a few weeks ago, aren’t you?” Her blue eyes gleamed behind her glasses.
    Tony’s mouth tightened. “Yes.”
    “I knew it. I knew from that line on your neck.” She leaned forward, squinting. “Did they really cut off your head?”
    Tony took a step back. “I— I don’t—”
    “You don’t remember? That happens a lot. Well, I know Cha— Mr. Everly does want to see you.” She rose, tossing her book onto the desk. “Crappy book. They didn’t have a clue what it was like back then.”
    Tony drew his head back slightly. Did she?
    “Tell you what, you can wait in the conference room, and I’ll see if I can get hold of him.”
    She led Tony up the stairs, down a long corridor, past a restroom, then by a bigger room that reminded him of a hospital ward. Although he saw no medical equipment, four sheet-covered cots flanked the wall in a tidy row. His pace slowed. He hung back to get another glimpse. Did they conduct research on human subjects here? “What’s that room for?”
    “That’s our recovery room. Every Society House has one—”
    “Recovery?” Muscles knotted in his stomach. “From what?”
    “From time travel.” She led him to another door at the end of the hall, across from an odd little alcove with an old, rotary-dial phone on a waist-high shelf.
    Realizing he must look like a moron, he shut his mouth.
    She tipped her head down and peered at him over her glasses. “Don’t you get, like, totally wiped out when you go to the past or come back?”
    That was a good way to describe the fatigue that had fallen over him as soon as he’d gone back two years, when he’d noticed Dora’s suddenly-different clothes. Mexico had been worse, although he’d attributed that to his injuries. “I guess so.”
    “So when you go back in time, or come back to the present, do it here and we’ll take care of you. Handy, huh?” She opened the door opposite the alcove.
    “You mean this is something... other people can do?”
    She gave him a patronizing expression, like she was explaining something to a small child. “Well, yeah.”
    Tony followed her into the room. She motioned to the round, wooden table in its center and four accompanying, straight-backed chairs. “Have a seat.”
    “So, uh...” So many questions. “When I go to the past, how do I come back—” Tony began.
    “Unnnngh!” A groan came from the hallway.
    “Oh crap.” The woman jumped for the door, but not fast enough to keep the moan’s source from Tony’s view.
    “Unngh! Uhhhh!” The man lurched around the doorframe, his vacant eyes unfocused, his mouth slack. Wispy, gray hair covered his almost-bald head. “Huhhhhhh-uhhh!” A string of spittle slipped from the corner of his mouth.
    Tony recoiled. Good God, what kind of research did they do?
    Taylor grabbed the man’s gnarled hand. “Come on Fred, let’s get you back to your room. It’s almost time for Jerry Springer. ” She dragged him away. More groans, higher-pitched. “I’ll be back,” she called to Tony, pulling the door shut. The moans grew more insistent as they faded.
    Pressure built in Tony’s chest. Was that what happened to their research subjects? He folded his hands at his waist, gripping the left tightly with the right. Maybe he should leave. He could sneak out while that girl was taking care of Fred—whoever he was.
    No. He’d come for answers, and he was going to get them. The suspicion that the girl was up to something was only him not wanting to admit that there was something to this time travel stuff. If she tried to pull anything funny, he could force his way past her if he had to.
    He studied his surroundings. It wasn’t much of a conference room, lacking the