Free The Timeseer's Gambit (The Faraday Files Book 2) by Kate McIntyre

mouth. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, singsong. “It’s been a long time for me, of course, but as I recall, a girl and boy that age can be
quite
friends.”
    “It wasn’t like that,” Chris insisted. He flushed. It wasn’t… exactly like that, anyway. He could remember Georgie pulling him into the servant’s staircase, giggling. He’d followed because that had been what he was good at, following. He remembered her tiny, soft hands on his shoulders, her breath on his face as she’d pulled him close.
“Christopher
,” she’d whispered and he’d realized what was happening and pulled away, shocked. He’d fled the stairs like they were haunted, and Georgie had glared at him for a week after. “I was a late bloomer,” he continued awkwardly, realizing that Olivia hadn’t stopped staring as the heat had risen in his face. He’d regretted not taking advantage of Georgie’s curiosity not long after, but the opportunity had been gone. “And then after the Castle, Rosie and I weren’t good enough for the Edisons.”
    “Then there
were
some remaining Edisons,” Olivia extrapolated. “Ones with clout?”
    Chris searched his memory. So much of what had happened directly after the Castle was a blur to him. But he could pick out some details. “Her mother,” he said. “Theresa Edison.” He remembered her being imperious and domineering. Julia had tried her best to keep Missus Edison entertained, but the woman had thought poorly of his mother. “She was deathly ill the night of the Castle. She wasn’t a spiritbinder, but the Edisons had money, and children. Three, but Georgie was the oldest. My age. Missus Edison assumed that her children would be ‘binders, and the family would bounce back easily.”
    “But Georgiana wasn’t a spiritbinder. In fact, she was a priestess,” Olivia mused. “Interesting. I wonder what Theresa Edison thought of her firstborn child failing categorization, being useless, talentless, sent off to the Three and Three to make something of her life… could that be enough to make an image-conscious traditionalist lose her mind?”
    “Missus Edison wasn’t a spiritbinder,” Chris reminded her.
    Olivia waved him off. “Don’t be smart. I’m just musing. It’s a start.” She popped the rest of her biscuit into her mouth and had the good sense to chew and swallow it fully before turning a toothy grin onto Chris. “My first serial,” she reminded him. “Goodness, you can’t imagine how excited I am!”
    He took it at face value. They were long past the point where being offended and shocked by Olivia’s bloodthirsty behaviour did either of them any good at all. He chewed his sandwich while Olivia went on.
    “It’s different, you know. Very strange! Normally, there’s this constant clock, ticking the seconds. Every tick is one step closer to all the evidence going cold. This is different. It’s already cold, and this isn’t something that’s
happened
, it’s something that’s
happening
.” She hummed. “But there
is
a clock, still.” She mused. “A clock ticking down to when it happens again…”
    Chris hadn’t thought of that. His sandwich turned to ash in his mouth. “Will it?” he asked.
    “Oh, yes,” Olivia said, grinning. “Oh, yes, it most certainly will.” She looked at his half-finished lunch, visibly compared it with her own plate, and then stood up. Her chair scraped. “Well, let’s go,” she said.
    Chris gave her a look. “I’m not finished.”
    “It’s hardly
my
fault that you went on strike.” Olivia sniffed.
    Chris sighed. Well, fine. He wasn’t especially hungry, anyway. “Do you think they’re ready by now?” he asked, pushing back his chair and standing.
    Olivia moved beside him, looping her arm with his. He barely thought about how familiar it felt. “If not,” she said, “we can always take the opportunity to look around a little more.” She started off at a walk, pulling him after her. “And