Beware - The beginning of Book 3 may contain SPOILERS for Books 1 & 2.

Warning: This text is still under construction and may contain inconsistencies and too much fluff.

Glimmer in Time: The Time Knot

(DRAFT)

The second sequel to "Glimmer In Time: Hidden History”
Also in the series - "Glimmer In Time: The Forgotten Future"

Prolog - The Story Begins
Chapter 1 - The First Day Of The Rest Of Her Life
Chapter 2 – She’s Been Here Before
Chapter 3 - Abandoned

Chapter 4 – Coming Home

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Prolog: The Story Begins

One fateful day the Nephilim did grace the fields of green. And she was there, King James’ wife, the noble Peony. And they will stay for many years and rule this world, those fiends, until the day when she returns, King James’ Peony.

Porter-King family prophesy regarding matriarch, Peony Isabella Porter (nee Winters)

7^th July, 2018 AD – The remains of Sydney, Australia

Three men. No one else dared. One man took the lead. Strands of grey streaked his shaggy hair and two-day-old stumble. Rags that had once been clothes - probably a fine, expensive Italian suit judging by the lapels and stripes – barely covered his sweat-stained, yellowing shirt; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Once shiny leather shoes were scuffed, ripped and torn by the rubble that lay all around them. He pushed aside some corrugated iron, imagining the roof it had once been before this destruction.

The man’s followers looked the same: the one on his left had light brown hair; the other had only superficial burns where once his lush brown locks had been.

“Remind me why we are doing this again,” said the burnt man.

“Henry, this is the only way. If we don’t do this, the Nephilim will wipe out all mankind.”

“James?”

“Jono, I wondered when you were going to find your mouth,” James snarled. “What do you want?”

“Bro, I don’t know if this is right. Henry’s got a point, the Nephilim caused all this. Nothing is going to bring it back.”

James rounded on the other two. “That’s where you are both wrong. If we just bide our time, the Nephilim will move on, they always do. They told me. Then we can rebuild.”

Without waiting for either to follow, James strode forward kicking bricks and building rubble from his path. How many times had he had this conversation with them? He was right, he knew he was. Why couldn’t anyone else see it? A jagged edge of guttering sliced a hole down the side of his left shoe and carved flesh from his sole. He couldn’t show pain. It would be weakness and right now he needed to be strong, to show he was strong, to show Henry, to show his brother, Jonathan, and show the Nephilim. If he was going to put himself forward he could not let a cut on his foot ruin it now.

Two of the time invaders stood at the top of the rise, next to the only remaining building left standing for as far as the eye could see.

No doubt surveying their handiwork, James thought. But they will listen to me; they have before, they have to now.

Two sets of noises behind James meant all three men were picking their way up the hill towards the giant men.

How ironic, James continued, discussing the matter with himself. The only building left is the one in which I met my darling, Peony. Why is it the school buildings always survive? They’re like cockroaches.

As if reading his thoughts a dozen of the brown creatures scuttled away.

The taller of the two bronzed giants looked down at James as he came to a halt next to the remains of a brick chimney. James’ head began to spin. His heart fluttered. He could barely open his dry mouth.

“James Oliver Porter, why do you come to the mighty Nephilim during this time of retribution?” Emperor-King Cronus boomed. “Our business is finished with humans. Tell me why I should not smite you where you stand?”

“I have come to make a proposal, mighty Cronus; something that will help you bring this city back under your control,” James said, trying his best to look dignified while maintaining his balance and ignoring the wetness spreading from the pain in his left shoe.

“The Nephilim have ruled this world without the help of humans before,” Cronus bellowed, “and we will do so again.”

“And do you know of the rebellion that is brewing in the hidden parts of the city? Do you know where to look to find the men who would plot to bring you down and destroy you? You look upon this land as your own, but how can you be proud of what you see? It lies in ruin. If the mighty Nephilim of the gods are to rule in this city, you will need it restored-“

Cronus scoffed.

“Or tidied,” James quickly corrected. “Will you do the manual labour that is required?”

Cronus looked to Zeus, standing in contemplative silence.

James pointed to the two men behind him. “We know of this rebellion and we can stop it. At the same time we can turn those men and whip them back into shape. We can convince them to work for you.”

Cronus and Zeus exchanged looks and stepped away to talk. James, Henry and Jonathan shared nervous expressions. This wasn’t going to work. How could it? James wanted to turn and run, but he had started what he had started and now, for better or worse, he would have to carry it through – no matter how long it took.

“We require more time to consider your proposal, James Oliver Porter.” Cronus waved his hand. ”Leave now and return with your followers at sun down tomorrow. We shall let you know then what we have decided.”

James Porter stumbled back into the remains of the house that had once been a haven for him and his new family. Charred, fallen bricks and tiles were piled around the foundations forming makeshift walls. He ducked under the tin sheeting roof weighed down by large pieces of sandstone and pushed the dirt-streaked cotton sheet aside that acted as a door.

“I went to the supermarket area today,” Peony called from behind another sheet that separated the eating area from the living area. “I managed to find a couple of cans of corn that had not exploded, yet. They should do for tonight.”

James joined his wife on the other side of the sheet. She was busy opening the tins with a rusty can opener. Two children with charcoal smudges on cheery faces ran to wrap eager arms around his legs. He ruffled the blond hair of his five-year-old son, Jonathan, and lifted one-year-old Isabella into his arms. He winced. The pain in his foot.

“Well done, love. You always managed to find us something.”

“If you would just-“ Peony turned. “What have you done?”

“Nothing. I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, you have. I can tell by the look on your face,” Peony accused, taking Isabella from James’ arms. She sat the wriggling toddler in a plastic highchair held together with bits of wire. “And you’re wearing that suit. The one you used to wear when you worked for… them.”

Jonathan squealed with delight and clambered onto a wooden chair at the table with four different legs and a large hole burnt through the middle.

Peony placed a plastic bowl full of cold corn in front of Isabella and Jonathan and then thumped half a crockery plate of the same yellow mush in front of her husband.

“You’ve done it, haven’t you?”

James lifted the hollowed out stick for a spoon from the table.

“Done what?” James started eating. He gagged with the first mouthful. The can might not have exploded, yet, but the corn was close to being rancid. Not that they had a choice these days. It was eat what you could find and be thankful if it did not die from food poisoning.

“Made a deal with the devil. You have, haven’t you?” Peony searched James’ face. “I knew it!”

“How did you...?” He let the spoon drop onto the plate. “I made a deal with the Nephilim, if that’s what you mean. But I did it to secure our future, Pen; the future of mankind. The Nephilim would gladly see us all dead. They hate us. So yeah, I made a deal with the devil. Better that, than die.”

He shoved the spoon back into his food and shoveled it into his mouth. Peony just nodded.

“You always do this,” James yelled. “It’s as though you know what’s going to happen. You’ve been speaking to your creepy friend, Cassandra, again. I told you, she’s trouble. But how the hell does she do it? It’s like she knows what’s going to happen?”

“Some things must happen so that others may come to pass,” Peony sighed and took Isabella from her chair. The bubbly little girl had managed to decorate her golden curls with corn kernels.

“And what the hell does that mean?” James threw the plate to the ground where it smashed and splattered corn up two of the mismatched table legs. “Well, your brother supports me and so does Henry.”

“My brother? Jonathan? He would. He’s such a follower and you’ve always been like a big brother to him. And Henry Godfrey is just a simpering idiot. He’d do anything you told him to.”

Isabella began painting Peony’s hair with corn.

“Look, I’m trying to secure the future of this city and the human race and make sure my family is safe.” Limping, James backed out of the eating area and stormed to the front door. “One day you will thank me.”

James woke and stretched, sure that a nerve was pinched between something in his back. Henry Godfrey’s dugout in a ruined house cellar made the perfect bachelor pad for his best mate, nice and cosy with no opening for the afternoon sun to disturb their sleep. Henry only had one single bed mattress, so James had opted for the hard, dirt ground. But in these times, even that was luxury if you had shelter over your head.

But the pain in his head outdid anything else his body had to offer, even though the wound on his foot was bound to become infected. Why had he spent all night drinking that home-mode hooch? And where on Earth had Henry found it?

“We are not doing that again,” James moaned, clutching his head.

“Can’t, mate,” Henry laughed chucking the empty bottle at James. “That was the last of it. The residents of this house departed without leaving me anymore.”

James caught the bottle and marvelled, as usual, at how well Henry was able to bounce back after a big night. At university they had regularly managed to polish off a slab and yet the next day, Henry was as bright as if he had been drinking lemon squash all night.

“Have a look outside and work out how much time we have before going to see the big fellas, won’t you?” James instructed. He squinted as bright light flooded in after Henry pulled back the woollen rug covering that protected them kept the outside elements outside.

“I’d say we have a good few hours. Time enough to-“

“I should get home,” James sighed. “Pen and I didn’t part on good terms last night.”

“Why go home now, man? Go home victorious after the Nephilim agree to your proposal.”

James vacillated. He wanted to go home and apologise and tell Pen they were going to flee the city and hide forever from the Nephilim. But then again, he wanted to stay and go back to the Nephilim: people depended on him. It was his duty to go back to the Nephilim.

“You’re right, Henry. Let’s get ready to see the Nephilim. Pen will be proud of me if I can go home telling her we have saved everyone.”

Jonathan raced up the hill to stand beside his brother-in-law. “Sorry I was late. Pen was ‘round mine, bending my ear about this. But I told her I had to come.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro,” James smiled, although he was sure it looked more like a grimace. If his heart fluttered anymore it would fly right out his mouth.

Where were the Nephilim? The sun was teetering on the edge of the horizon and they were always very punctual. They had declared they would begin their destruction of the Earth at 17:20.11 on 11th November, 2017 and they had, to the very second. It was hard to believe almost eight months had passed. Nothing was left and so many people had died.

And so many more if this ploy didn’t work.

The last flash of orange meant the sun had gone to bed for the evening and the two Nephilim strode out of the old school building.

“James Oliver Porter, you have returned,” Cronus nodded. “Then we will we give you our verdict. We find your proposal… acceptable. You will work under the supervision of the Nephilim. My son, Zeus, will oversee your activities as Basileus-Satrap.” Cronus indicated the Nephilim by his side. “Never again will we allow filthy humans to overrun our world. James Oliver Porter, I will make you King of this region and your supporters can be your Seconds.”

Cronus pointed a finger at the two other men. They flinched.

“Prepare this place and I will judge if we will allow other regions around the world to follow your example.” Cronus turned to his son. “Zeus, the Nephilim of the gods do not trust anyone. Watch him closely and do not allow him any more power than we I have already given him.”

James tried to feign shock. “Mighty Emperor-King Cronus, I would never betray you or Basileus-Satrap Zeus. I work only to serve the Nephilim.”

“Yes, you do,” Cronus growled and bent down to be nose to nose with James. “And make sure you always remember that.”

1. The First Day Of The Rest Of Her Life

11:32 am, Friday, 4th November, 2005 - Sydney, Australia

"And... pens down." The head supervisor ceased peering over her glasses at the clock on the wall and rearranged the grey bun perched on her head. The two other Higher School Certificate examiners took up posts at regular intervals around the room.

“Make one pile for collection,” the woman called, taking the papers from the closest student to use as an example. “Slip the answer sheet inside the question paper and set it on the right-hand side of your desk.”

Papers shuffled, chairs scraped.

“No one is leaving until the last paper has been collected,” screamed the old woman.

Cassandra collected up her pens and pencils as a timid man slipped her papers from the desk. They shared a smile. During the exam she had pulled her hair from its binding and now it flowed over her shoulders. Cassandra it back into a pony-tail that made her look more like a brown zebra with a giraffe neck and waited for the signal to depart.

As soon as that woman said they could leave, school was over… forever. That was her last HSC exam. Her best friend, Peony, a shorter, blonder, rounder and less burdened version of herself, grinned across the room. They had made it.

“You may leave. Congratulations.” The old woman finally smiled, hugging their exam papers in a more than protective manner.

Cassandra made a beeline for her bag. So did Peony.

“What did you write for question three?” asked someone nearby.

The usual blow by blow exam post-mortem had begun; something Cassandra was never keen to be a part of.

Rebecca Shepherd, Cassandra’s one time nemesis, kicked her bag. “I failed that one for sure.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. Rebecca had made her life hell all the way into Year Ten but in the last year they had moved past whatever it was that had started the problems. Now they were on pretty good terms, although Cassandra could not say they were actually friends, more good acquaintances with a mutual respect.

“You never fail, Rebecca. You’re always in the top ten in class. Stop worrying and go celebrate like us. It’s all over. We’ve finished school!”

Rebecca snatched up her bag and the arm strap broke. The backpack hung upside down from her outstretched hand. Rebecca snorted but a smile spread across her face. Then she laughed.

“Lucky. Doesn’t look like my bag wanted to do another day in this place. Thanks, Cass.” Rebecca nodded at Cassandra. “And sorry.”

Rebecca joined up with her gaggle of followers and they walked off chatting and giggling. Ah, everything was normal.

Peony and Cassandra’s first stop was the bathroom. They shed the last vestiges of school and Cassandra slipped on jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. Peony, however, slipped on a rather elegant pink dress and proceeded to paint her face.

“What’s with the make-up? You’re making me feel overdressed. It’s just lunch and a movie, you know.”

Peony paused in the middle of swiping mascara on her lashes.

“Hey, I have to go see Mr. Maxwell,” Cassandra ploughed on, dashing to the bathroom door. “He has something for me. I’ll be right back. Meet you at the front gate.”

“OK,” Peony muttered, pausing. “See you soon.”

Cassandra took a seat in the school secretary’s office; Mr Maxwell, the school Principal was “busy with a recalcitrant Year Nine student” as the secretary put it. Mr Andrew Maxwell had arrived at the school at the beginning of Cassandra’s Year Ten and was approaching the end of his third year of service. He had been her English teacher then and seen something in her that had taken a trip back in time to realise.

Poor man, Cassandra chuckled to herself. When confronted with the reality of time travel he had refused to believe it and yet, Cassandra knew, he was going to be one of the major players in the rebellion against the Nephilim two hundred years from now. It was weird knowing someone else’s future. Should she tell him what he was going to do? Or should she allow him to find out on his own?

Cassandra stared at the opposite wall. A set of major art works from a previous Year Twelve student hung in a row each depicting a possible frieze from the side of a Grecian urn. There they were, the Nephilim, in plain sight and yet figures of human myth and mystery.

“And when that doesn’t work…” Mr Maxwell’s beaming triangular face, framed with bouncing brown curls appeared through his office door. He ushered out a pair of concerned parents and a girl in uniform who would not lift her eyes from the green carpet. “…we’ll try something else.” Spotting Cassandra, he raised his eyebrows and a finger.

The couple and their daughter departed through the outer door and Mr Maxwell waved Cassandra into his office. She waited in the chair before the Principal’s desk.

But Mr Maxwell did not follow. Cassandra sat. She looked at her watch and Snoopy’s hands and tennis racquet showed that lunch was fast approaching. Peony would be wondering what had happened to her.

Ten long minutes went by before Mr Maxwell bounced back through the door loaded down with a large metal box. He set it on some papers lying on his desk.

“Last exam today, hey? School all done. Wonderful, wonderful. I remember when I finished school. When that last exam was over I was out that gate never to return, but I could bore you with my stories. You are here for a reason. I’m supposing that you are rather keen to pick this up.”

Cassandra’s heart raced. This day had been on her mind for almost three years. It had taken every effort to put it aside to study for final exams. Mr Maxwell unlocked the clasp and flipped the box lid open. He pulled out a pile of khaki clothing and dumped it on the desk before Cassandra.

Her arms felt weak. This was it. This was the moment. She had seen it in her head so many times and now it was here.

Without a word and without taking his eyes from the bundle between them, Mr Maxwell sat in his chair.

Cassandra’s trembling fingers reached forward and folded back a flap of green camouflage, then another and one more. And there it lay, the object that was going to change her entire future: a small pewter wine goblet. The cup was somewhat battered and the silver had dulled but it was unmistakable, this was the Time Device she had stolen from the Nephilim. Now it was hers. Now she was going to use it to travel into the future to see her friends again. She was going to use it to travel into the past to uncover the history of the Nephilim. She was going to use it to taunt her younger self… well, not taunt, guide. No, taunt. There was really no other way to describe what she was going to do.

Cassandra touched the metal surface. It was nothing special, just metal, but it was hers, all hers.

“That is the Time Machine?” Mr Maxwell said, reaching into the box to remove a large yellow envelope along with a note written on small square of pink paper.

The yellow envelope. The one she had brought back from the future. It held a message from The Lady Who Knows All for Mr Maxwell. And the pink note, written on Mr Maxwell’s seemingly endless supply of notepads, he had written himself to himself. Both notes were destined for delivery to the Mr Maxwell of three years ago.

“You know what to do with these, I assume?” Mr Maxwell’s trembling hand passed the messages across the table. “And you are properly attired for the occasion.”

Cassandra looked down at her shirt and jeans. They had just been the clothes lying closest to her bed when she awoke this morning. She hadn’t even given it a thought when she shoved them into her school backpack before racing out the door for her last exam. But Mr Maxwell was right; these were the identical clothes worn by that mysterious girl those three years ago; the girl who had waylaid Mr Maxwell on his way to their first English class.

“Please be gentle with me back then. This is all very weird and I still don’t really understand it all.”

Taking the two communiqués Cassandra felt as though she was accepting the life laid out before her. This was it. This was where the past, the present and future collided, inextricably linked forevermore. Time seemed to tie itself into a giant knot, one that could not ever be undone.

“And what will you do after you have given me those?”

Cassandra stared at the cup lying nestled in her old Centaur clothing. The possibilities that opened before her were overwhelming. What would she do? What should she do? The Lady hadn’t told her what order she was supposed to do things? Did she go to the past first to research the Nephilim or did she go to the future to found the Centaurs? Did she go to University first and then travel? Then again, more immediately, Peony was waiting for her so they could have lunch and see a movie.

“Sir, I don’t really know.”

From her backpack, Cassandra pulled a well-used shoulder bag - the hand-made one the Storyteller had given her in the future all those years ago – and dropped into it the letter, the note and the re-wrapped Device.

Mr Maxwell stood and offered his hand. “It has been an honour to teach you, Cassandra, and an honour having you in my school. You turned into a valuable member of this school community and I am sure you will do well in life, no matter what it holds. I do hope our paths will cross again.”

Cassandra shook his hand. “They will.”

Out in the school quadrangle, Cassandra retrieved the Time Device. She turned it over and over. How did she make it work? She had never seen The Lady make the silly cup work, though she had seen it in her dreams night after night; those same dreams where Oli planted a kiss on her...

She shook the image from her head. Stupid! Oli was just Oli and he couldn’t possibly have any feelings... he was probably sixteen and married by now.

Maybe there was something in the letter to Mr Maxwell that might reveal how to operate the Time Device. Cassandra set the pewter cup on the ground and rifled through her shoulder bag in search of the yellow envelope. But there as movement at the corner of her eye that made her freeze. The Time Device was rising into the air on a cushion of glimmering gold.

She scanned the quadrangle. Was anyone watching? She hid her school bag in a bush.

When the cup reached its fullest height, Cassandra stepped into the shower of golden sparks and paused. Would the time portal take her to the correct place? Her skin tingled as sparks danced through her flesh to emerge bright red and flutter to the concrete. If it didn’t, she could always turn around and come home.

It was so beautiful and led her thoughts back to the day she had first seen it; the day her new life had really begun. If this portal took her to that moment almost three years ago, she was going to be on the flipside of that encounter. How bizarre. She smiled. Oh the fun she could have messing with her own mind. Two more steps and everything flashed red.

2. She’s Been Here Before

1:15 pm, 1st February, 2003

Had she travelled in time? Everything looked the same, but then again, nothing had changed much at the school in the last three years. But nothing was different. Even the lengthy of the shadows and the position of the sun was the same.

She checked the bush. He bag was gone. So she was somewhere in time, but where? And if she was here to see Mr Maxwell, she was too early. She had spoken with Mr Maxwell in the last lesson of the day, after lunch.

Cassandra retrieved the cup from the air. The shower dissipated; the last sparks fluttering into oblivion.

The bell sounded and there was only a few seconds delay before students poured out of the buildings, heading for the lunch areas. No one gave her a second look.

Cassandra followed. Was this the first day of school three years ago? Cassandra hung in the background watching, searching for herself. And there she was, sitting alone as usual and reading a book. The younger Cassandra pulled out a circle of paper and began writing notes in her diary. That’s right, the code-wheel, the diary, Rebecca Shepherd!

Right on cue, Rebecca’s fountain of fiery red hair rounded the corner and her gang of twittering sycophants approached. Cassandra sighed. How much these girls had changed since then. Half of them had been school prefects in Year Twelve and consequently no longer wore their socks at half-mast, nor their belts around their butts, but on their waists, where they belonged.

“The Brain is reading, as usual.” Rebecca’s torment resulted in a round of giggling from the gang. “What are you reading, Brain?”

It was just as Cassandra remembered but as though she were watching a film of her own life. A shudder ran down her spine. She could stop this right now and yet, she wanted to see how it would play out; how it would look from this other angle.

“Some things must happen so that others come to pass,” Cassandra muttered, reminding herself of The Lady’s mantra. There was truth in that. The diary incident would later give Mr Maxwell the opportunity to speak with her.

Words were exchanged, the code-wheel took flight over the fence and finally Rebecca walked away with Cassandra’s diary tucked under her arm.

If she had been in that situation today, Cassandra knew she would have stood up and taken back her possessions and told Rebecca where to shove it. But she was a different person now. Three years older but also not as timid.

Rebecca led her gang away from the grassed area. Her younger self just sat there looking forlorn. Cassandra moved to console herself but stopped.

“No, I have to find the diary.”

She looked around. Rebecca and her gang had stopped under a tree and were flipping open the diary’s front cover.

“What on Earth is this?” Rebecca hissed in disgust. “I can’t understand anything.”

She turned another page and the girls all sniggered, pointing at the pages.

“And who are you, may I ask?” Mr Patricks, the male art teacher who enjoyed a rather over-flamboyant style of colourful clothing blocked the girls from Cassandra’s view. “Are you here on business or will I need to ask you to leave?”

With hands on hips and a disapproving scowl he could have been a clothing model on a French catwalk.

“Uh, I’m an ex-student. I just dropped in to say hi to some of my friends.” Cassandra hoped her half-truth was enough to satisfy.

Mr Patricks searched her face. A look halfway between recognition and confusion formed his own features. “Well, alright, then. But lunch will be over soon and then you will have to leave.”

He squinted once more then spied some Year Eight boys pouring orange juice over a Year Seven boy’s head. With a final look at her, Mr Patricks stalked off shouting instructions. “Gordon, stop that now!”

Cassandra turned back. Of course, Rebecca was gone.

She checked the area. Where had they gone? Cassandra dashed into the quadrangle. No one there. Then onto the main school oval. Some Year Seven boys were kicking a ball around and there was Rebecca and her fireball hair. She wandered through the middle of their game and skyed the ball all the way to the other end of the oval.

But Cassandra was not interested in the argument that followed. Her eyes went to Rebecca’s hands and then each set of hands belonging to the gang. None of them held the diary. What had they done with it?

Searching left and right, Cassandra ran to every bin and rummaged to the bottom. Nothing.

She retraced the gang’s steps all the way back to where Mr Patricks had held detained her. Not one bin held the diary.

She returned to the oval, peering into nooks and crannies along the way. Perhaps they had stowed it behind or in something. Still nothing.

The end of lunch bell rang and students held their ground until the playground teachers began herding them off to class.

Panic took hold. She had to find the diary and make it back to the quadrangle to meet Mr Maxwell before he showed up to class. She had to find that diary because she had given it to Mr. Maxwell so she could take the diary with her into the future.

Her palms were wet and she wanted to throw up. Cassandra looked to the sky and took a deep breath.

Calm. Think. Where could it be?

It was hopeless. Tap, tap, tap. Looking up, Cassandra watched a pair of pigeons pecking at the administration building’s gutter. Both birds skittered and took off with a flutter.

“It flies well.” Wasn’t that what Rebecca had said when she flicked the Code-Wheel over the fence? What if she had done the same with the diary? The roof! Cassandra trundled a rubbish bin over to the building. She clambered on top and steadied the bin to stand. The bin groaned and cracked. The plastic wheelie bin was sure to topple or cave in under her weight. Her eyes finally gazed over the rim of the gutter. Left and right. And there it was. Her diary lay open on the corrugated iron only a metre away. Cassandra reached. Another centimetre or so. She stood on tiptoe and the bin began to wobble. Cassandra nearly slipped. She slapped the roof with a crash. The diary slid towards her. Cassandra steadied the bin again and stretched one more time. Her middle finger caught the edge of the hard cover. She flicked the diary with one finger. The diary crept closer until Cassandra could secure thumb and forefinger around its pages and pull it in. She straightened and jumped to the asphalt. The bin crashed against the wall and fell to the ground. Its rotting contents spilled across the driveway.

She checked her watch. Mr Maxwell would be on his way to class soon. She made for the quadrangle but stopped. She returned to the overturned bin and fished around until she found the remnants of a pen with ink, rustled the diary’s pages until she found the first blank page and scrawled a hasty note:

Dear Cassandra,

I'm sorry I didn't get this back to you sooner. It took me a little longer to find than I anticipated. Perhaps this has taught you a good lesson; don't let this diary out of your sight. It isn’t “rubbish” and you are going to need it soon.

A Friend.

Cassandra found a cleanish brown paper bag from the mess and slipped the diary inside. This she placed into her shoulder bag beside the yellow envelope and pink note and ran for the quadrangle.

Cassandra squinted against the sun to look into the upper storey window. Her younger self was staring out the window. She looked at her watch and then her attention turned into the room.

Cassandra sprinted down the walkway and into the north-eastern corner of the quadrangle. She was barely there when Mr Maxwell bounded towards her. He was carrying a tower of books. Cassandra smiled. From here she knew exactly what had happened.

Stepping out of the shadows, she swallowed her laugh and ended up with the hiccoughs. Mr. Maxwell jumped and dropped the pile. Books fanned out across the pathway. With a huff Mr Maxwell crouched to snatch up the books. Cassandra knelt to help rebuild the tower.

“Mr. Maxwell... hic... I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for you to drop the books but-”

The book in her hand made her pause: The Time Machine, by H.G.Wells. This was the book; the book she was about to read. She hiccoughed again and wished it would go away

With a disapproving look, Mr Maxwell lifted the book pile and went to continue his journey. “I’m already late for class.”

Cassandra reached out and touched his arm. “Sorry, Sir, but this is very important.”

Mr. Maxwell frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Yes, you know me. I’m Cassandra. Cassandra Reid. I’m in your English class.” Cassandra’s eyes flicked up towards the window of the classroom where her younger self sat watching the exchange.

Mr Maxwell scanned her up and down. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. Miss Reid is much younger and should be in class right now, not here in jeans and a t-shirt.”

“That’s the thing,” Cassandra said, trying to choose the right words. “I am in class and I am in school uniform. But I am not that Cassandra. I’m three years older. I travelled through time to see you.”

Mr. Maxwell dropped the books again. He inspected her face once more and recoiled. “It can’t be! Impossible! No, you just look like her. You are Cassandra’s older sister. This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“Cassandra doesn’t have a sister.” It felt strange talking about herself in the third person.

“A cousin?”

“No. I’m not a cousin. I’m Cassandra. This is no joke.”

“But, how?”

“I have my own time machine.” Cassandra pointed to the book with the same title now lying at Mr. Maxwell’s feet. “A real one.”

Mr. Maxwell backed away and Cassandra heard the unmistakeable “Teacher’s coming!” from the class Look Outs.

“Mr Maxwell, you have to believe me. I have proof.”

Cassandra glanced up at the classroom windows. Yes, there she was, her forehead pressed against the window. Cassandra reached up and flicked her long hair and winked. Back then she hated having short hair. But now it was long and thick and going white. Her hair would one day be pure white, just like The Lady or rather as The Lady.

It was bizarre. She was going to be that other person, but then again, here she was being that mysterious girl she had seen three years ago.

The younger Cassandra pulled away from the window for an instant but returned to lock eyes with her older self. Older Cassandra wanted to send her younger self a mental message: “Yes, you know me. It’s you, stupid.”

Mr. Maxwell gathered his books again. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “And what sort of proof could this possibly be? A note from myself from the future explaining to me that I am meeting a Cassandra from the future?”

“Yes.” Cassandra produced the pink paper note, the large yellow envelope and her own diary wrapped in brown paper. Holding them up to the Cassandra at the window above, she winked once more.

Cassandra set the items on top of Mr. Maxwell’s pile. “Sir, if you read the note in the envelope, I believe everything is explained in there. I wrote it. Well, I will write it one day, when I’m older. Oh and the note on the pink paper, you’ll write that tomorrow. And the book in the brown paper: that’s Cassandra’s. She lost it and really needs it back.”

Mr. Maxwell stared open-eyed at the pink notepaper. “That’s my paper,” he gasped and lifted it to read.

Cassandra felt as though she was now intruding and retreated to the corner of the quadrangle and set the Time Device on the ground. The golden curtain grew but Mr Maxwell paid it no attention. With a rip he revealed the contents of the yellow envelope.

Forming a red shower, Cassandra took one last look at Mr Maxwell and what had been her first day of Year Ten and the first day of the rest of her life. So surreal. Now, would she be going home?

3. Abandoned

Friday, 4th November, 2005

The sun jumped back to its lunchtime position. Cassandra raced to the bush and sighed upon finding her school bag. She was back. But she still had no idea how the Time Device worked. How was she supposed to set it to go anywhere she wanted?

Cassandra shoved the shoulder bag into her school bag and ran for the front gate. Peony would have been waiting for ages. Yet, there was no sign of Peony in her pink dress. Where was she? They were supposed to be going for lunch and a movie. Peony wouldn’t go without her, would she?

There was a young man leaning against the brickwork. He checked his watch and lifted his eyes to search inside the school. He looked straight through her.

Cassandra’s heart skipped and began to race. His hair was perhaps a little too dark and maybe a bit long but his face… she knew that face, the features were unmistakeable. She had dreamt of that face for two years.

“Oli, what are you doing here?” Cassandra cried and ran the last thirty metres to the gate.

The boy finally turned his dark brown eyes on her. They were filled with annoyance and confusion. “Who?”

Cassandra stopped short. Oli’s eyes were blue, not brown. But he was the spitting image of Oliver Porter-King, her friend from the future.

“Oh, sorry,” Cassandra apologised shifting her bag. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously.”

He smiled. Cassandra’s heart jumped. It could have been Oli beaming back at her. She wanted to reach out, take that face between her hands and plant a large kiss on those delicious lips. What was she thinking?

“Sorry, James, I couldn’t leave my mobile in the exam room–“ Peony halted and blushed. She looked between Cassandra and the young man who looked too much like Oli. “Cass. You’re here. You two have met, then.”

“Hardly,” he said reaching out to take Peony’s hand and kissing her on the cheek.

Cassandra’s jaw dropped and then she felt sadness rise from her insides. “You have a boyfriend? You never told me. But we had a pact. No boyfriends until we’d finished–“

“School, yeah I know.” Peony shrugged. “But it just happened and, anyway, we have finished school. James, this is Cassandra, the friend I was telling you about. Cassandra, this is James Porter. We met at a family picnic a couple of months ago. He was going out with my cousin until she dumped him a few weeks ago. Then he gave me a call.”

“Your friend just called me, Oli.” James pointed at Cassandra. “No one but my Grandmother calls me that. It’s a horrid middle name.”

Peony stiffened. Cassandra processed the name. James Oliver Porter and looks like Oliver Porter-King. He couldn’t be Oli’s great, great, great, great, great grandfather, could he? That would be some crazy coincidence, but then again, were there such things as coincidences in her complicated life?

“Well, Pen, are we heading off now?” James tugged at Peony’s arm. “Father wants us at his mountain retreat tonight because he has a surprise for us tomorrow.”

“I thought we were going to celebrate finishing our last exam,” Cassandra complained.

Peony looked from Cassandra to James and back again. “Um… this kind of came up at the last minute. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t quite know how. And anyway, it’s not as though we were going away for the next couple of weeks, like everyone else. We can have lunch and see a movie when I get back. I’ll only be gone a few days. Look, I’ll call you later, OK?”

Peony held up the mobile phone still in her hand. James whisked Peony to a red sports car parked in a “No Stopping” zone near the school zebra crossing. He dashed around to the driver’s side. With a final wink, James pointed at Cassandra and dived into his seat. There was a screech of tyres and the red car took off in a cloud of exhaust.

For the last time ever, the public bus trundled Cassandra between school and home. Cassandra’s thoughts were filled with the dust spraying up from behind James’ bright red sports car. Loneliness descended upon her.

Cassandra reached into her bag and absentmindedly wrapped her fingers around the Time Device. Her fingers barely registered the cold metal as she stared out the window.

We were supposed to celebrate the end of school together. How can she do this to me? And we weren’t supposed to have a boyfriend, yet.

The same words repeated over and over in her head. We were supposed to be celebrating together. The bus halted and she stepped out onto the footpath muttering a vague thank you to the bus driver. The doors hissed shut and the bus rumbled down the round.

What am I supposed to do now? I’m not going out for lunch on my own. Boring! What a waste of money.

Cassandra turned into her driveway.

“Excuse me.”

A tall, bordering on gangly, driver in a uniform was dragging a large suitcase. He had stopped only centimetres in front of Cassandra and barely avoiding a collision.

“Oh, sorry.” Cassandra side-stepped, allowing him to swing the suitcase into the open boot of a black limousine parked at the top of their driveway. The case landed with a thud and the whole rear of the car lowered, bouncing twice before the shock absorbers took hold.

“Heavy one, that. You wouldn’t think they were just going away for two weeks,” the driver joked with a broad grin before returning to the house.

Not able to take her eyes from the shiny black duco, Cassandra strolled up to the front door.

“Mum, what’s going on?”

“Jen, what did you do with my favourite peaked cap? You know the blue one I wear all the time.” Cassandra’s father, Paul Reid, bustled past the front door with arms full of clothing. “Oh, hello darling.”

He paused to peck his daughter on the cheek, dropped half his load and continued on into the lounge room. Cassandra scooped up the abandoned objects and followed.

Cassandra’s mother, Jenny Reid, sat on the couch snatching clothing from both her husband and daughter. She folded them around her arm and shoved them into an open suitcase.

“Your hat is in the bag already, on the bottom,” Jenny replied.

“Can you check? I don’t want to go without it.”

“I’m not unpacking all this lot just to look. Go get another one, just in case.” Jenny was sweating and continually ran her hands through her hair. “What have we forgotten?”

She ticked off a silent list on her fingers. Cassandra dumped her own bag onto the floor. Jenny looked up.

“Mum, what is going on? Why are you packing? That guy outside said you were going away for two weeks.”

“Hello, dear. Your father and I thought we might as well use the next two weeks to take a trip. Aren’t you going away with all your friends to live it up on the beach? Well, we felt in need of our own celebration. We did that Higher School Certificate with you, you know. The stress is not easy on us parents.”

Paul returned and threw a floppy white, terry-towelling hat onto the messy pile. “It better be in there somewhere because that is all I could find and I hate that thing.”

“Doesn’t matter. You can buy a new one when we get there, but we’ll miss our flight if we don’t go now.” Jenny looked at her wrist. “Damn it, my watch came off. It’s in one of the bags. I have to find it.”

Paul shut the lid of the overflowing suitcase. “You’re not unpacking all this lot just to look. Go get another one, just in case.”

Jenny huffed off towards the bedroom and Paul gave Cassandra a mischievous wink.

Cassandra helped her father zip the suitcase closed, poking in escaping shirts and pant legs as they went.

“That’s the lot. Time to go,” Jenny announced, bursting back into the room and strapping another watch on her wrist. “This thing is too big.”

“Buy another one when you get there,” Paul laughed and Jenny smiled.

“What? Right now? You’re going right now?”

Cassandra followed her parents to the front door where they handed over the second weighty suitcase to the lanky driver. The driver caught Cassandra’s eye, staring as though he knew her.

Cassandra stared back. His face stirred some deep memory but it would not surface. She shrugged it off.

Jenny clapped her hands. “Whatever we’ve forgotten we can buy when we get there.”

“You already said that. So did Dad,” Cassandra sighed.

“Did we? It was a good idea.”

Her parents were half way to the car when they looked at each other and returned to give Cassandra a group hug.

“Sorry to rush off like this, Cassandra, but it was a spur of the moment thing and the only mystery flight they had left for the next two weeks was this afternoon.” Paul kissed his daughter. “Congratulations on finishing school and I promise we will do something when we all get home.” Paul took his wife’s hand and began to lead her away.

“Dinner is in the fridge,” Jenny called over her shoulder. “Don’t forget to lock up and set the alarm when you go… oh… and empty the bins. The stench after two weeks will be too much to bear. And do the washing up.”

The driver closed the limousine’s door as Jenny continued to give last minute instructions to her daughter through the open window.

“Water the pot plants and make sure the neighbour remembers to collect the mail.”

The driver climbed into the front seat and backed the sleek black car onto the road.

“Cassandra, don’t leave any dirty washing in your room. If you have anything that’s wet, make sure it’s dry before you go. You can use the Yellow Tang, but not the Blue Whale.”

The limousine turned and joined the traffic. Paul and Jenny shouted a final farewell and waved. The tinted window rose and the black car slipped around the corner.

Cassandra sighed. “But, Mum. I’m not going away with everyone else.”

But that was that. Here she was, all alone: abandoned by her best school friend who was off on some holiday with her new, secret boyfriend; abandoned by her parents as they took off on some mystery flight for two weeks. This should be a happy moment being her last ever day of school but she felt empty.

Cassandra wandered back inside and sat in the couch dent left by her mother. A blue peaked cap lay under the coffee table, her father’s favourite.

What was she going to do for two weeks? She could try and join the trip north to the beach with everyone else. Surely Rebecca Shepherd would find a way to include her. She sighed again and pulled her bag closer. The pewter cup rolled out onto the floor. Cassandra stared at it for a few moments.

She could go to the future. But when? Before she knew what she was doing, the Time Device was in her hands. And where? And how did she set the Time Device to go where she wanted to go?

Cassandra sat the cup on the coffee table and raced into the kitchen. She heated the lasagne in the microwave, wolfed it down and flew back into the lounge room. The Device waited patiently. Cassandra raced back into the kitchen, tied up the rubbish bags, dashed them out into the wheelie bin and returned to the lounge room once more. Was there anything else? Her mother’s parting words seemed to fade.

Snatching up the Time Device, the Storyteller’s bag, her wallet and the set of keys with the little, plastic Yellow Tang fish from the kitchen bench, Cassandra skipped down the internal stairs to the garage. She flicked the switch and the pulsing fluorescent lights eventually revealed the two Reid family cars. The Blue Whale, a large, blue eight-seat people mover was parked on the other side of the garage: her mother’s car. The car she had learned to drive on was the closer car; the one her father used to commute to work. It was a small, bright yellow, four-door hatch back the Reids had dubbed the Yellow Tang.

Tossing her bag onto the passenger’s seat, Cassandra revved the Tang. With a press of the garage door opener, the garage door clanked and began to roll upwards. Cassandra backed out of the garage, waited in the driveway until the garage door touched the concrete once more. She set the house alarm and pointed the Tang northwest. She knew exactly where she wanted to go.

4. Coming Home

Cassandra parked the Tang between a red MG convertible and the tourist coach spewing forth Japanese tourists busy snapping the hint of water views through the trees. A loud female tour guide with a strong Australian accent shouted over the excited hubbub.

“And if we are lucky the resident wallaby may be around. Though he tends to drop ticks so perhaps a check of your crevices later, hey.” Her nervous giggle showed she already regretted her last remark.

Cassandra waited for the line of tourists to clear her door and then she followed them to the lookout area. The Japanese stopped for no more than a few minutes before returning to their coach and departing for some other destination.

The lookout was suddenly tranquil. An American family were finishing their picnic at a nearby table and a young German couple were more interested in each other than the shining blue ocean below that stretched out to the green headlands to the north. Between these picturesque locales, crouching in the water like a sphinx, was Fairy Island; the location of her future secret hideaway. When would she build the technological haven that would survive long into the future?

Her fingers slipped into the hand-made bag and brought the Time Device out into the afternoon light. It was hers now, to use as she saw fit. But how did it work? It was obviously pre-set to take her back to that first day of Year 10, that first day that she entered this knot in time.

Cassandra sighed. But she wanted to go into the future, back to see her friends, Ipp and Oli. She needed to know they were safe, that the Centaurs were safe, and find out what had happened after she stole this Time Device from the Nephilim.

Things had come to her in dreams, even how to use the Device. Yet everything soon flitted away when she awoke and tried to recall the details, leaving only a deep dread that something dreadful had come to pass.

Cassandra stared down at the small hump of land she had named Fairy Island. If only she could make it over there, perhaps she could somehow entice The Lady to appear and teach her how to use the Device. She sighed again.

Replacing the pewter cup among the Centaur camouflage clothing, Cassandra looked up to the sky. Fluffy white clouds darted across the sky changing from one picture into another. The sun was warm on her face. Cassandra closed her eyes. Weariness overtook her. The strain of the last couple of weeks - the study, the exams – dropped her into that pleasant state halfway between being awake and asleep.

Ipp’s glowing face filled her vision. Golden hair flowed over her shoulders and half way down her back. Ipp’s smile brightened her whole face; she clapped her hands and jumped up and down. Then Ipp transformed. She was older, her hair shorter and her eyes sullen, darkened. The dream image brought Cassandra back to herself and Ipp’s face disappeared until Cassandra could not even remember what it was she had seen. It was always the way. Why?

She opened her eyes and stared at Fairy Island, trying to will The Lady to make an appearance.

“What are you doing just sitting there?”

Cassandra squealed at the sudden clipped female voice next to her. She spun and wrapped her arms around Ipp.

“What are you doing here?” Cassandra screamed, pulling back to inspect her good friend.

Ipp was no longer thirteen. Under the pyjama-styled brown Centaur clothing her body had obviously matured into the young woman she was becoming. Her hair was short, just past her ears, and her eyes seemed to hide worries and knowledge way beyond those extra few years she had grown.

“I came to get you, silly,” Ipp laughed, pulling Cassandra into another hug.

“How?” Cassandra looked Ipp up and down, hoping to discover a cup shaped bulge.

“The Storyteller sent me using The Lady’s Device. He said you would be here waiting. And here you are.”

“But how do we get back to your time?” Cassandra looked over Ipp’s shoulder and around hoping to see a shimmering time portal waiting for them. Nothing.

“Silly, you own the Time Device, now. You are taking us back.”

All hope flowed out Cassandra’s feet and into the sea. “Then you’re stuck here until The Lady shows up. I don’t know how to use it.”

The smile faded from Ipp’s face and she sighed. “You don’t know how to use it? You don’t remember-“

“Don’t remember? How can I remember when The Lady never showed me?”

Ipp reached inside the Storyteller’s bag and retrieved the pewter cup. She tilted it so they could both see inside the rim. She brushed her fingers over the edge of the base. Red numbers appeared inside the cup.

“How did you do that?” Cassandra asked, poking her finger through the holographic display.

“These little micro-wires,” Ipp pointed. “They control the device. The first set of numbers that come up tell you when you are and then the second numbers tell you when you are going.”

The numbers flashed “-1416 137 05:47.23” and changed to “-1418 226 03:15.00”.

Ipp manipulated the minute protuberances until she was satisfied with the new numbers: -1202 284 06:00.00

Ipp indicated one group of numbers after the other. “It’s the number of years before 3421, the number of days after the Summer Celebration and the local time at the Great Gateway.” Ipp chuckled. “This is funny. It was The Lady who showed me how to use this and now I am showing you.”

“Why funny?” Cassandra blathered then stopped short. Did Ipp know she was The Lady? No one was supposed to know.

As if reading her mind, Ipp smiled. “Only a few of us know that you are The Lady, but you are looking more and more like her. It’s going to be obvious to many more this time. Come on, let’s go home. There is much to show you and tell you, but not here.”

Ipp sat the Device on the concrete and it rose into the air building a glimmering cylinder of gold. Cassandra’s heart thumped as she considered the world beyond the time portal. What would life be like now? What had happened since she was last there?

The American family had packed up and were loading their picnic basket into their car. The German couple had moved into the bush and onto a picnic rug. The local wallaby bounded past. Another coach laden with Japanese tourists was expelling its load in the parking space next to the Yellow Tang and three more cars filled with tourists had just pulled up. It was going to get hectic here again in a moment.

The cup stopping rising. Cassandra froze. She had waited for this moment for so long and now that it was finally here, taking that step into the future was the hardest thing she had ever done. What sort of a world was she returning to?

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Cassandra stepped into the glimmer. A tingle filled her body, a million small jolts of energy rushed through her body. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen two flashes of red and then nothing.

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