Chapter 7

Ezekiel's office is just past mine, and as we go by the door to my office, a voice calls out.

"Morgan?"

Jasper and I both stop short as a head pops into the hallway.

"Clarissa?" I say.

Shit. In other versions of this day, I'd have called her to talk about the presentation. I assumed she left the office when I did, but has she been working late this whole time? It's a good thing she doesn't remember, because that is seriously unfair.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Yeah, how to explain that.

"We're looking for Ezekiel. The data breach," I say. "I was worried."

"Who's this?" she points at Jasper, though the quirk of her lips says she knows exactly who he is and is reading way too much into the fact he's here with me.

Right. "This is... this is Jasper. You know. My date. The one you set me up with."

"You're Jasper?" She screeches like an excited macaw and rushes forward to hug him. Despite her wide array of animal noises, in my mind, Clarissa really does look most like a bird. Her dark hair curls in tight coils that always tend to stick out at odd angles, no matter how hard she tries to style it. And today's choice of a fluffy lavender sweater gives the impression of a tropical bird drying out after a rainstorm.

As she coos and squeezes Jasper tight, he gives me a surprised glance over her shoulder, but all I can do is shrug. She says, "It's so great to meet you. Alyssa's told me so much about you."

"Yeah, likewise." His gaze turns pleading. No doubt silently asking me not to start going on about his career path. I roll my eyes. No way am I bringing that up here. What if we actually succeed in escaping the time loop this time? The rest of my workdays would be filled with "Hey, Morgan! Remember that time you dated a criminal?" No thank you. Let them all believe he's still a med student with a heart of gold.

Clarissa—oblivious to all this—claps her hands excitedly. She squeals with the delight of a chimpanzee being handed a perfect banana, then collects herself as she puts a hand over her mouth. But it's impossible to ignore the sheer joy in her eyes, even though Jasper looks startled by her primate impression.

She says, "And the date must be going well if Morgan's bringing you to the lab. Getting him to go at all was like pulling teeth."

"It wasn't that bad," I say.

She nudges Jasper like two friends sharing an inside joke. "Morgan doesn't love anything as much as he loves his work."

Jesus, Clarissa, don't sugarcoat it. Not that I'm trying to make a good first impression on Jasper or anything. Hell, apparently, I've made sixty-three terrible first impressions. My chance was over before I even realized I had it. It sucks too. I was actually a little excited to meet him. Before I knew about the henching thing, anyway. But with the Ziro Machine launch coming up, it felt like I was coming to the end of something. And maybe that meant it was time to start something—maybe with someone—new too. Clarissa makes it sound like I'm an antisocial hermit, though. She could be a much better wingwoman and talk me up a bit.

"We're on our way to see Ezekiel," I say, taking Jasper's hand. I ignore the warm press of it against my palm and the calm feeling that washes over me at the contact. I'm expediting an awkward situation. Nothing more than that.

But Clarissa still doesn't take the hint. She coos and gives him a knowing look. "On your way to meet Dad already?"

Before Jasper can answer I say, "The data breach."

"Oh yeah," she says seriously. "He's been shouting on the phone for a while."

"Yeah," he says, surprising me with his quickness. "My specialty is cybersecurity. We got talking, and Morgan thought I could help."

Clarissa frowns. "I thought you were a doctor?"

Where Jasper has been lingering out of some sense of politeness, now his grip on my hand firms up, and he matches my pace as we head toward Ezekiel's office.

"It's kind of a hobby," he says.

"Medicine is a hobby?" she asks, bewildered.

I wince because Clarissa is going to have so many questions when I arrive at the lab tomorrow, and I don't have time for that right now. Though I guess if I do make it to the lab tomorrow, you could really say I have all the time in the world. But my track record on that front has not been awesome lately, so better to not get my hopes up.

Give me awkward dating debriefs or give me death.

When I push open the door to his office, Ezekiel's on the phone. His eyes widen when he sees me, and he promptly tells the person on the other end he'll call them back.

"What are you doing here?" he says.

"I, uh..." This isn't good. I didn't think this through. Ezekiel and I don't have many secrets. But he's an intelligent rational man of science, so how am I supposed to look him in the eye and tell him the very irrational thing that's happening?

"We're here about the data breach," Jasper says, walking confidently across the room, leaving me to trail after him.

"Who are you?" Then Ezekiel's gaze goes back to me. "How did you know about the data breach?"

Right. Because on this version of today, I didn't go home to find out this particular bit of information. But also, I didn't go home to have Indigo pulverize my insides, so I think I've come out ahead.

"Clarissa called me," I lie.

"I've got some experience in cybersecurity," Jasper says at the same time. "Have you managed to lock them out yet?"

Ezekiel still looks confused—and rightfully so—but he says, "We keep thinking we've closed the system, and then they find another way in. It's like Whack-A-Mole."

Jasper comes around the desk to look over Ezekiel's shoulder, and I swallow hard.

"We were on a date," I say, cobbling syllables together slowly. But I speak so softly and they're both so intent on Ezekiel's computer that neither of them hears me.

"So they got in. Did they get out? Did they take anything?" Jasper asks. Wait, when he said it was a hobby, did he mean hacking? Or is that part of what he does for Walter Wolfe? He's never said. Not specifically. I assumed henching meant driving the getaway car and terrorizing witnesses so they won't testify. But digital henching has to be a thing too.

"No, not that we can tell. But if we can't keep them out, it's only a matter of time." Ezekiel gazes at me pleadingly. "We're so close to launch, we can't have someone taking this from us."

Since we started the project, we've had a number of government agencies and tech companies offer to buy us, partner with us, or flat out take us over. They're threatened by what we can do and by how much Ezekiel doesn't care about making more money than he already has.

"Tell your IT team to run a search for a funhouse worm," Jasper says. My pulse is thumping again, but we're back to fear. Maybe this is it. The why of the time loop. They've sent Jasper to steal the Ziro Machine. They duped Clarissa and suckered me into believing this handsome man had any interest in me so they could get inside the facility and take everything we've worked for.

"Funhouse?" Ezekiel asks Jasper, who is still frowning at the screen.

"It's like a hall of mirrors. Odds are good there aren't as many points of entry as you think. They're reflecting off each other, so it looks like more than it is. Really hard to tell which worms are genuine."

"Stop looking at that!" I finally blurt.

Ezekiel and Jasper both look up from the computer in surprise.

"What?" Ezekiel says.

Shit. Now what do I say? I just lead the Trojan horse through the gates?

"I... I realized he doesn't have security clearance."

Ezekiel's confusion deepens, and Jasper tilts his head like a confused German shepherd. His green hat flops to the same side.

"But you brought him here?" Ezekiel says slowly.

"We should go," I say, pushing back from my chair. It's like me fleeing Wench all over again. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Clarissa called and I panicked."

"Morgan," Jasper says, causing me to stop short as I back away from Ezekiel's desk. "Trust me. Let me help."

Trust him? Trust him? Why did I even bring Jasper here? Never mind the lapse in judgement. This scenario is impossible. Beyond comprehension. I should be at home reviewing slides. I should be double-checking the suit I plan to wear for our presentation doesn't have a stain on the lapel. I should be asleep without worrying that a supervillain is about to sublimate my guts. Instead, the safest option has become bringing a fucking henchman for Walter Wolfe right into my home territory.

"Morgan," Jasper says again.

I take a deep breath. All of me feels cold. My fingers twitch, and I have to plaster my palms to my sides. I can feel the chill against my thighs, even through the material. I hold Jasper's gaze. If my mother were here, she'd pin him down and demand to know what his intentions are. All I can do is silently beg him not to betray me the same way he did back in the hall with Clarissa.

But you know what? Fuck it. A kind of numb calm slips over me. What's the worst that can happen? He ruins the work I have dedicated myself to every day for the last two years and sells us out to his boss, who will then no doubt use it to hold the world hostage under threat of some kind of mega bomb. Ezekiel and I will shoulder the blame for building it in the first place, and we'll have to flee to a rapidly sinking island. That doesn't sound so bad. Better than sixty-three consecutive deaths.

Except it won't happen, because the second my worst fears come true, I'll fling myself off the top of Ziro Tower so we have to start all over again. If Jasper betrays me, I'll be sure to stab him as soon as he walks in the door at Wench, and then I'll get on with my life. I shudder at the thought of dying intentionally. So far my deaths—at least the ones I remember—have always been more or less accidental. But they don't have to be. I'm in charge. As grim as it is, I hold all the cards here.

I relax and nod at Jasper. He goes back to work with Ezekiel. They call down to the IT department and Ezekiel passes the phone to Jasper, who starts rattling off strings of questions and commands I don't understand in the slightest. His competence in this situation doesn't help my anxiety... and my attraction. I want so badly to brand him a criminal. Maybe a loser. But he knows what he's doing here and it's unsettling. Also a little sexy—okay, a lot sexy. Competence has always been my catnip. But if I can't trust him, I can't be attracted to him. There's no gray area that would allow that.

Eventually, Ezekiel comes to stand beside me as Jasper taps away at the keyboard.

"Who exactly is this guy?" he asks.

I glance up at him. "It's a long story."

Finally, Jasper leans back in the chair, arms over his head, looking for all the world like he's the CEO of Ziro Labs instead of Ezekiel, and says, "Done."

"Done?" Ezekiel rushes back to him.

"They're closed out, anyway. You'll have to wait for your team to confirm what information they got, but at the very least they won't get back in tonight."

Ezekiel breathes a huge sigh of relief, shaking Jasper's hand vigorously. "Thank you. Thank you so much... er... I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

Jasper tips an imaginary brim on his hat. "Jasper Jackson, at your service."

"If you need henching..." I mutter under my breath. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Walter Wolfe to burst through the door and say the machine is his now, or for Jasper to cackle and say he can't believe we fell into his trap. But none of it happens.

"What did you say?" Ezekiel asks me.

"Nothing," I answer quickly, but I don't miss the way Jasper throws a wink in my direction.

Ezekiel, of course, is oblivious. He doesn't concern himself with anything so mundane as his stepson flirting with a mysteriously charming and proficient computer genius who arrived uninvited in his office. Instead, he says, "I don't know if Morgan told you what we're trying to do here, but there are people who don't want to see us succeed. As long as there's oil, there's money to be made from it. If any of them can get their hands on our patents and figure out how to turn a profit on it?—"

"Ezekiel," I say, because I know how passionate he can get when he starts talking about the Ziro Machine. "Jasper doesn't need the whole mission statement."

"He deserves something." Ezekiel's grin is broad. Standing together, he and Jasper couldn't be more different. Ezekiel in his suit looks like the kind of man who stands at the head of boardrooms and promises investors the world for a mere drop of their blood. Jasper, in his toque and flannel, looks like the kind of guy who asks if you need assistance picking out a Christmas tree. But he stands next to Ezekiel like an equal, and I still can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something about him.

"Actually," I say, "we need help."

"That sounds serious. Does it require a drink?" He goes to the bar cart he keeps near the window. I always tease him about how we're supposed to be an altruistic nonprofit, not a swanky law firm, but he insists hospitality is doubly important since we can't offer investors and shareholders an exponential return on their money.

"Does it ever," I say with a sigh.

"That's not good." He laughs as he pours whisky into three tumblers, passing me one and Jasper another. I spent so many nights like this back in the early days of the Ziro project. Ezekiel and I would sit here sipping on whisky and talking about what would happen if our plans were successful. It was exciting. Invigorating, following the months and months of silent sadness at Ziro Hall after Mother died. Now, though, there's no excitement. I'm so tired. I sink onto the leather sofa while Ezekiel takes the club chair across from me. Jasper pauses for an instant before he settles next to me, sitting at the edge of the cushion. I glance at him, hoping he'll speak first, but he tips his glass to me in a silent cheers. At the final second, so there's no confusion, he says, "I'll let you handle this one," then takes a drink.

Oh boy. I toss my whisky back, swallowing the fumes. I exhale slowly, running my palms over my thighs. Jasper nudges his knee with mine, and Ezekiel laughs softly to himself.

"Come on. Spit it out," he says.

Finally, I rip off the metaphorical Band-Aid and say, "We're stuck in a time loop where I keep dying over and over, and we don't know how to get out."

The office gets quiet. Ezekiel's face is blank, like maybe I didn't say anything after all. Jasper's knuckles brush mine and I go to swat him away because we're not holding hands in front of my stepfather, but instead he takes my glass and goes to the bar cart, where he refills both our drinks before returning to his spot next to me. We both sip a little more slowly this time. Mostly.

Ezekiel sets his drink down and rubs his eyes before saying, "It's possible you've been working too hard."

"No. No." I lean forward. "I'm not making this up."

"Morgan." His brow is creased with worry, which only sparks my anxiety because if he doesn't believe me, I don't know what I'll do.

"We need help." My voice rasps with desperation.

"What am I supposed to do? A time loop?" He sounds genuinely confused, and my heart feels like it cracks in two. He's supposed to help us. I wasn't expecting him to hop to it, but we've worked side by side for years. We trust each other, and I thought he'd trust me on this. Jasper's hand settles on the small of my back. I don't push him away this time. If I can't count on Ezekiel as an ally, Jasper's my last option.

"I know it sounds impossible," I say.

Ezekiel loosens his tie. "We've been busy, and there's still a lot to do, but you can't travel through time. You can't..." His voice fades as he stares out the window and frowns.

"I don't know why it's happening. It just is, and we're stuck, and..." My throat tightens, and I'm unprepared for the tears that form in the corners of my eyes. "And I don't want to die anymore."

Wow. There's the essential truth of it, isn't there? Never mind my brave words about holding all the cards. Dying three times is enough. Jasper pulls me a little closer, and I let him, but I keep my gaze locked on Ezekiel. He drags a finger around the rim of his glass, face pinched in thought.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks.

"About two months." My voice is soft.

His is not. "Two months!" The words echo off the walls, making me flinch.

"It's complicated," Jasper says, and relief washes over me that he jumps in. "They aren't like real days. Sometimes it's only an hour or two. But we've repeated it more than sixty times now."

Ezekiel watches me silently for a minute longer before he drags his gaze to Jasper. "And who are you again?"

If he goes with the "Jasper Jackson, at your service" thing one more time, I'll punch him, but instead Jasper sits up straight and says, "Morgan and I are on a blind date. It's our first date. Sir." He takes the last part on with a respectful dip of his chin that has my whole face going fiery. This isn't one of those sexy period dramas you see on streaming services now. He's not here to ask permission to court me and whisk me away to his country estate. He's a med school dropout turned henchman, and we're stuck together.

It gets worse when Ezekiel's eyes widen and he leans back in his chair. "Oh. Oh, that's, uh..." His lips quirk as he glances at me. "That's great, Morgan. Great that you're... uh... meeting new people."

Oh my god. I bury my face in my hands, feeling about fifteen years old. Ezekiel and I are close, but ours has never been the kind of relationship where we talk about my love life. Or his, for that matter. Mother didn't marry him until I was nearly done with high school, so Ezekiel and I bonded over college applications. And since it's been only the two of us, things have been entirely about the research. He never asks how I'm doing or if I'm meeting friends after work. And I've been fine with that, because apparently if he did, suddenly dying on the spot doesn't seem so bad after all.

"I know it's a lot," Jasper says as I wallow. "And we can't explain it. But Morgan said that you were the smartest person he knows and that if anyone can help us, it's you."

Ezekiel laughs softly. "That's very flattering, but my specialty is energy transfer, not time travel. I know about condensing mass and transferring energy forms from one state to another. I don't know what would be causing you to skip through time."

"But you have to know someone," I say, finally rejoining the land of the unembarrassed. "You know everyone. Someone who studies this?" Ezekiel has worked for think tanks, sat on panels. He's contributed to papers and generally hung around with some of the most educated people on the planet.

"Morgan," he says carefully, scratching at the back of his neck. His gaze is full of compassion, but his voice is the one people use when they have to break bad news. "You and I both know there are things that science can't explain. What you're going through—" He holds up a hand when I protest. "Yes, I believe it's happening. But I don't even know where to start with something like this."

Disappointment crashes into me like a grand piano falling off a building. We're on our own.

"There's something else," I say, because if I've told him this much, we might as well tell him everything.

"Besides you being stuck in this day for the last two months?" Ezekiel asks with a raised eyebrow. He lifts his whisky from the table again.

"You can't go back to the house tonight," I say.

"Oh no?" he says before he takes a drink.

Fear tightens my throat, but I need him to be safe. At least I can jump-start time and protect him properly. "Indigo. He's back."

You have to know Ezekiel to see his reaction. He's a master at the poker face. But his hand shakes slightly, and he holds the whisky in his mouth for a fraction of a second too long. When he swallows, his voice is a rasp as he says, "Indigo?"

"He was at the house... I mean, he'll be at the house. Later. You ... I..." I squeeze my eyes tight and try to piece together the best way to explain this. "You asked how I knew about the data breach. It's because a few days ago... which is today, but not this version of today... instead of coming here, I went home. You were on your way out, coming back here to deal with the breach. I stayed home, fell asleep, and later a noise woke me up. It was—" I swallow. Sometime while I've been speaking, Jasper removed his hand, and now I miss it. "Indigo was in your office, and when he saw me, he..." I wave a hand as the remembered pain sweeps over me.

"Are you okay?" Ezekiel asks. He moves toward me, looking concerned, but I'm leaning against Jasper, so there's not much for him to do.

"I'm fine," I say, laughing weakly. "Just not an experience I care to repeat."

"Were you there too?" Ezekiel's gaze goes to Jasper, who shakes his head.

"No."

"Why not?" His voice trembles with barely controlled anger. It's a sign of how much Indigo's reappearance is shaking him. Ezekiel is poised in every situation. But we're talking about the monster who killed his wife. You can't expect him to hold it together.

"You can't go home," I say again quickly because Jasper doesn't need to defend himself. It's not his fault that I didn't believe him sooner. "Indigo will be there, and if something happened to you, I'd?—"

Ezekiel looks between us. His eyes are worried, but whatever he sees pass from Jasper to me must be the reassurance he needs because he says, "I'll stay here. Won't be the first night I've slept at the office." He gives me a reassuring smile, and part of me wonders if maybe this has happened before. Maybe the reason he didn't come home the night Indigo was there was because somehow, another version of me had been able to warn him. If the day keeps repeating over and over, are there sixty different versions of me running around the city? Wouldn't that be wild? But no, that can't be right, because there's only ever one of me and one of Jasper when everything restarts at Wench.

"Thank you," I say.

"Why don't you stay here too?" Ezekiel says. "Both of you. That way I know you're safe."

I glance up at Jasper. It's tempting. My body is tired, though I don't know if it's from the stress of the situation or from the full day of work I put in "today"—whenever that was.

"We can't stay," I say.

"You can't?"

"We can't?" Jasper says, looking surprised.

"No. We need to find out what's going on. And I think..." I turn to Jasper. "What are the ways I have died? Sometimes I got hit by the bus, right?"

"Right."

"What bus?" Ezekiel asks, making me wince. He's had a lot of surprises tonight, and now he gets to relive my deaths.

"And sometimes I went home where Indigo showed up, right?"

"Probably," Jasper says.

"Were there any other nights? Any other things I did?"

He shrugs. "A few times you called the cops. We spent a lot of time talking to them and filling out reports."

"What did you tell them you do for a living?" I ask.

"It wouldn't have mattered." He smiles down at me, and I can't help my answering smile. Sitting this close to him is the calmest I've felt since this all started. Probably the whisky. Jasper says, "Even if they'd arrested me, I'd only be back at the date a few hours later."

"What do you do for a living? Why would they have arrested you?" Ezekiel asks. He's watching us with growing anxiety, no doubt trying to piece together answers from our shorthand. But I don't answer, and neither does Jasper. Someday I'll have to tell him about my date with the henchman, but right now, my priority is survival. If it has to be with Jasper, that's what I'll do.

"A couple times, I tried to follow you," Jasper says. "When you'd leave, I'd call a cab and get it to follow you after you left Wench."

"And what did I do?"

"Most of the time you went home. The rest of the time you came here."

"And every time I died, right?" At my question, Ezekiel inhales sharply. Welcome to the club. It's a lot to wrap your head around, and when you do, the truth is pretty bleak.

Jasper isn't nearly as upset. All he says is, "As far as I know."

I turn back to Ezekiel, who is looking pale. "So I can't stay here," I say. "Because no matter what I do, I die, and whether it's a freak explosion in the lab or if Indigo is the cause here too, I can't put you at risk. So you'll be safer if you're not with me."

Ezekiel sighs, and I wish I could stay because at least here things feel normal. I've basically lived here for the last few months, and even before that I spent more time here at the lab than I did at home. But I can't put Ezekiel at risk.

He says, "You'll look out for him, right?" I realize he's speaking to Jasper.

And Jasper says, "I'll do my best."

We rise, the whisky leaving me feeling warm and a little floaty, which is nice. I hug Ezekiel, something I haven't done nearly enough since Mom died. He holds me a second longer than I expect, which tells me how worried he is.

As Jasper and I head to the door, Ezekiel says, "Walter Wolfe."

My blood freezes. Does he know who Jasper is after all?

"What about him?" I say, trying to stay casual.

Ezekiel scratches his chin. "It's probably nothing, but a few months ago, I was at a function, and Walter Wolfe was there." His gaze is somewhere up and to the left like he's remembering the evening. It's not uncommon for Wolfe to show up at these things. You see him in the paper sometimes making a donation to one organization or another. Helps him with plausible deniability that he's only a humble businessman trying to help his community.

"You spoke to him?" I ask. I can't imagine it, but the inevitable chitchat at those kinds of parties are exactly why I'm happy to let Ezekiel go to them while I stay at the lab.

He nods. "We got talking, and he told me that he thought our work was nobly intentioned but that it wouldn't even make the headlines because he was on the verge of finding a machine that would turn back time." Ezekiel drops his gaze to mine. "I didn't take him seriously, of course, but what if he meant it for real?"

I snort because even with everything, what he's suggesting is absurd. "You think Walter Wolfe built a time machine?"

He ducks his head, clearly understanding how ridiculous he sounds, but he says, "It would be quite the business opportunity. Think about what you could charge people to go back to the moment before a financial transaction went south, or"—his eyes soften—"before you lost a loved one."

Ouch. I know that feeling.

"But a time machine?" I question. "That's never been Wolfe's thing, has it?" Villains tend to fall into two categories. The first is the old-school guns and drugs kind, which is what I assumed Walter Wolfe was into. The other is more of the mind control, world subjugation, and travelling at the speed of light type of bad guy. I've never seen any indication that Wolfe has any interest or capabilities on that front, even when I worked at SPAM.

Ezekiel's phone rings on his desk. When he goes to answer it, Jasper catches my hand, tugging me close.

"We have to go," he says, speaking softly.

"Just a minute." But I can't very well walk out of Ezekiel's office without saying goodbye. Social graces are not my strong suit, but even I know to do that much.

Jasper has no such compunctions, apparently.

"No, I mean, we have to go because I think I know where the time machine is."

I inhale sharply. Ezekiel's on the phone with IT, getting an update on the data breach. He's got his back to us. Still, I turn a little closer into Jasper. He smells good. Does he always smell like this? Like freshly sawn pine. Maybe I will start calling him Lumber Jasper after all.

"Where?" I ask, balling my hands into nervous fists.

His lips are practically against my ear when he says, "Pretty sure I've seen the plans for a time machine in Walter Wolfe's office."