Deuce

By Janine Caldwell

DEUCE is the epic conclusion to The Vortex Series where we learn the fates of tennis star, Cassie Moore, and time-traveling musician, Trent Astor.

At the end of Double Fault, we discover that everything will change for seventeen-year-old Cassie after she disappears into thin air. Together, she and Trent must figure out why she's jumping time and if she will be sent on further missions to the past, all while keeping this larger-than-life secret hidden from Cassie's family and friends.

However, all this secrecy causes Cassie's parents to suspect Trent is a bad influence on their daughter. They do everything in their power to keep them apart, making Cassie’s new circumstances nearly impossible to manage.

Meanwhile, it seems Trent and his sister, Lorelai, will never be safe from the greedy world and its hunger for Trent's power. A new force threatens to destroy the anonymity Trent has fought his entire life for unless he can stop this new opposition first. But every choice has a consequence, and Trent must face the most difficult choice of his life.

Set in contemporary Northern California, the Vortex Series is a teen romance for those who enjoy a mashup of science fiction, fantasy, a little music, and sports. This story is told from dual perspectives, giving the reader an intimate view into both Cassie and Trent’s worlds. First love and family relationships--how they interconnect and drive our personalities--is the heart and soul of this YA time travel novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janine Caldwell
• Release date: Jan 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311512895

Janine Caldwell

Janine Caldwell was raised in the San Francisco Bay Area town of Clayton. Four days after graduation, she rocketed straight to college at California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo earning a degree in English.Janine now lives in Anthem, AZ with her husband, two sons and one very cute dog. When she's not writing, she's practicing yoga, playing tennis, banging on the drums, or reading. As a lifelong literature fanatic, she knew it was a matter of time before she'd be obsessed with writing her own work. With relatives like the Brothers Grimm and Anita Loos (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes), she hopes fantasy writing is in her DNA.Books published by Janine include Visited, a YA coming-of-age fantasy and The Vortex Series: Rematch, Double Fault, and Deuce. Listen to her recent radio interview to learn more about her work. http://www.breakradioshow.com/archives/04292014-empowering-women/

Book preview

1. READY OR NOT

CASSIE

A cyclone, a black hole, and an earthquake of epic proportion. Add to that my shock, and, well, I’ve pretty much summed up the hell I unwillingly experienced. There I am one moment, ecstatically kissing my boyfriend, imagining all is right again in my world, and the next I’m whirling in the dark, gasping for air, while an invisible giant hand squeezes the bejeezus out of me.

They’re not daydreams, they’re flashes! Those were the last chilling words Trent screamed at me and . . . Poof! Gone in a blink is the boy I love. Ripped from my hands before I could ask him why his eyes were flashing with terror in the middle of our sweet reunion. My body, previously rooted outside my tennis club’s locker room, was hijacked and thrown into a horrific virtual roller coaster. Death, I thought surely, was the only possible outcome.

Is that torture a sampling of traveling through time? Because, as insane as the idea is, I think that’s precisely what happened. I jumped time.

But how could that be? I’m not a time traveler. That burden falls on Trent. Has his supernatural power suddenly become contagious, like mono? That would be just my luck. Or maybe he somehow accidentally transported me along with him. It’s never been done before, but I guess there’s a first for everything. Although it does defy everything we know about his powers.

Afraid to open my eyes, I grope around me, hopeful that Trent’s body is near and waiting to be discovered. Unfortunately, I only come up with handful of dirt, fingering objects that resemble sharp, dry needles.

Trent? I croak. Are you here?

Silence.

I swallow a bitter taste in my mouth—a cocktail of fear mixed with panic. My mind races through questions as fast as my heartbeat. Where am I? Am I alone? What exactly has happened to me?

Ready to at least face wherever it is I am, I attempt to crack open my eyes. They begin to water immediately, blurring from dizziness. The world rocks around me. Moaning, I reach for my head and tuck into a ball, willing the spinning to stop. I can’t think. All I can do is breathe. The deeper I fill my lungs, I learn, the better the recovery. The cool, heavy air smells like pine and damp woods, which is both soothing and terrifying.

Slowly, with careful movements, I manage to shift around onto my hands and knees. I think it’s progress, but before I can choke it back, I vomit. When that wave of nausea ends, another comes charging through me. I vomit again and again, ejecting my insides like someone being exorcised. My muscles from feet to neck are clenched tight, aching with the slightest movement.

After one last exhausting cough, my stomach calms down. The dizziness ends as well. I chance opening my eyes, and this time I’m able to keep them open, a sense of being more steady and grounded to the earth resonating through me. Sinking back onto my heels, I take in the scenery. I’m awestruck by the view of a grand forest. It’s very green and heavily wooded. Diagonal beams of light filter through an array of giant spruce, redwood, and pine trees, warming my face and highlighting the layer of mulch I polluted with my filth.

I’m stunned, petrified that I really did travel to some other place. My gaze roams around me, still clinging to the hope of finding Trent, but as far as I can tell, I’m all alone. My throat tightens at the thought—alone in a mature, wild forest. God only knows what year it is or for what purpose I’ve been sent here.

I hang my head in my hands. Wow, am I sincerely debating what year it is? I have so lost it. Never in my wildest imagination could I foresee something this insane happening to me. But as I take another gander at my current setting, I can’t deny I’m no longer home in Pleasanton, California.

Although there’s nothing left in my stomach, it doesn’t stop me from a surge of nausea at the harsh reality of my situation. All I want to do is huddle back into a ball until I can wake up from this nightmare. A sob escapes my mouth, echoing into the vast forest before it’s swallowed up by thick layers of bark. Tears threaten to fall until I sniff and force them to retreat.

No! This blubbering has to stop. There’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. Wallowing in self-pity will not get me home any faster. That’s right. Get up and do something, Cassie. Don’t wait for someone else to rescue you, because this time it looks like you’re on your own.

I take a moment to regroup, coaxing strength to arise in me. I consider everything I’ve learned about time traveling. If my instincts are correct and I can make sense of all this, I have to start accepting the facts. Somehow I’ve miraculously become a time traveler like Trent. A flyer through time. How this happened is a question to debate later. But understanding this much means I’m probably the only one who can get myself home. Me. To play this game and win, a mission has to be met before I’ll be given a ticket back to the present. It’s the only way.

Freshly determined, I straighten my spine, eager to figure out this puzzle. In the next moment, an arctic breeze cuts through my skin, and I’m promptly reminded of what I’m wearing, or not wearing, as the case may be, for an adventure gallivanting through Sherwood Forest. My yellow tennis dress looks practically neon compared to the surrounding russet and emerald hues. It’s of little warmth and even less protection from lethal branches. By the angle of the sun and the increasing shadows, I can tell it’ll be dark soon, too. The notion causes me to involuntarily shudder.

Using the aid of a nearby boulder, I claw my way to my feet. It’s an improvement from crawling on all fours, but I have Bambi legs, wobbly and feeble. With stiff fingers, I rub my bare arms and bump into Trent’s leather cuff, too big for my wrist. I forgot I had slid it on at the tennis match to show Trent that I remembered him. It seems suiting I would have it in my possession at the moment and certainly comforting to have a piece of him with me. The necklace he bought me for Christmas, regretfully, is tucked safely away in my locker back at the club.

A tad more inspired by the bracelet, I trek through the forest at a pace my Grandma Bertie in her last days could’ve kept up with. Of course, I have no idea where I’m going. It’s trunks, leafy bushes, and speckled boulders as far as the eye can see. I’ve yet to find any sign of other people, which makes trying to save someone a real conundrum. And besides the occasional squawk followed by a fluttering of wings high up in the trees, there’s no sign of animals, either. I should probably be grateful for that, but the eerie silence is creeping me out. The isolation pricks at my nerves. I have zero supplies unless you count the extra hairband I have in my pocket, which I don’t. No food or water, no shelter. I can’t think about what I’ll do if I have to stay the night out here.

As I roam, teeth chattering at the dropping temperature, I contemplate what Trent would do on one of his missions. Probably not wig out like me. I’m sure he’s above that by now, having years of completed missions under his belt, but, hey, this is my virgin jump, so I think I’ll give myself a break.

Hmm . . . let me see. I suppose Trent would think back to his flashes. Yes, that’s it! He explained once these spontaneous, uncontrollable flashes are visions conjured from . . . well, I don’t know where they come from. From a supernatural force he can’t fully explain. A spiritual dimension of guides championing his missions, perhaps. These images play through his mind to give him clues of the victims he’s been summoned to save. As I told Trent, I thought I was only vividly daydreaming these last few weeks. Apparently not.

Before I begin to pick through my brain for images that might help me figure out what I’m doing here, a lone wolf howls a hundred or so yards away. A second wolf howls until a chorus of haunting wails sends an icy chill through my bones.

Come on! Seriously? Did it have to be wolves? It couldn’t have been a horde of gentle bunnies or a herd of harmless, grass-eating deer?

I’m about to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction of the howling when a human scream pierces through the forest. With that scream reverberating through my mind, time stands still. Suddenly, I become hyperaware of my surroundings, as if I can hear the blood surging through my veins, sense the microscopic particles floating on my fingers, see the forest breathing in and out. Soon a flash of a panicked child in harm’s way burns through my brain, clear as water and impossible to forget.

Got it. It’s no longer a question. As warm adrenaline courses through my veins, I’m reminded I’ve seen this kid before in what I thought were meaningless daydreams. An instinct planted somewhere deep in my core assures me I’ve been sent here for him.

With no more time to ponder, I gallop, weaving through the thick brush. I am strength. I am power. Leaping over boulders, I swipe at any branch blocking my path as if I’ve been raised in the forest and know how to command my way through it. It’s easy to ignore the thrashing on my naked skin, distracted by the thousands of sharp tingles invading my nerve endings. It’s an odd sensation—like I have a fever, though moments ago I was shivering from the cold.

When I reach a small clearing, I find a young boy, a raccoon hat on top of his head. My heart stops. He’s sitting on the ground with at least five sandy gray wolves snapping and circling him. He not only appears to be in horrible pain, but beyond terrified by these beasts inching closer. I can understand why. These wolves are not your fluffy Hollywood specimens, but real savages—scrappy, ravenous-looking. Backed up against a tree, the boy continues to pull at his bloody leg with desperation, but he can’t seem to free himself. It’s caught in something. A metal animal trap of some sort. In the meantime, his only weapon is a long branch he periodically strikes in the air, but it has little effect of scaring the wolves away.

As I hunch down behind a patch of shrubbery, my heart caught in my throat, I rack my brain for what I’m supposed to do next. This is so beyond my expertise. I’m a high school tennis player, for Pete’s sake, not Davy Crockett. Think, Cassie! What would Trent do?

I scan my surroundings, searching for anything that might help distract the wolves from wanting to gobble up this poor kid, but there’s nothing! Only rocks, spiky foliage, and a few dead, sap-spattered pinecones. I’m debating whether I should take off my tennis shoes to chuck at the beasts when I hear the boy scream in a way that makes my stomach lurch. It sounds like a wolf has moved in near enough to nip at him. If I don’t hurry up and do something, they may all attack him at once. There’ll be nothing to stop their eating frenzy at that point.

Wait a minute. Rocks!

Without hesitation, I seize a few jagged rocks the size of my palm that my eyes previously swept past. I spring out from behind the shrubbery with my ammo, ready for battle. A primitive roar spews from a deep-rooted part of my spirit, drawing a couple wolves away from the boy. With superhuman strength, I launch the handful of rocks at them until I nail one between the eyes. It yelps and stumbles before shaking its head in a daze. This gets the rest of the pack’s attention. They reassemble, growling as they tentatively move away from the boy and face my direction.

Oh, crap. This can’t be good.

The wolves advance as one unit, creeping toward me, stalking me with their raised tails and hackles. Their orange irises are fixed directly on mine, appearing as feral as their unruly coats. Their razor-edged teeth are bared, columns of foamy drool spilling out of the corners of their black gums.

A fit of trembling wreaks my body, my mouth as dry as the dusty forest floor. Way to go, genius. What’s your next brilliant step? Sure, you prevented the boy from being attacked, but by way of offering your own flesh for them to feed on. Nice. Some time traveler you are. One mission and you’re already finished!

I’ve lived through a few nail biters—being held at gunpoint by a lunatic scientist and plummeting to my most certain death in a hot-air balloon mishap, for example—but at the moment, feasted on by wolves is ranking up there as the most horrifying. The pack has moved in dangerously close, growling at me from deep within their chests. They’re pushing me back out of the clearing, cornering me against the same dense patch of shrubbery I was hiding behind. In another second, my plan is to turn around and sprint like an Olympian track star, but I’m already doubtful I can outrun them. They’ve got to be familiar with every nook and hollow in this blasted forest. There’s nowhere I can hide they won’t track my human scent.

As I continue to cautiously step backward, one eye steady on the wolves, my foot catches on a root. I trip and land on my backside with a painful thud. So much for running. My vulnerable position excites the wolves. They look moments from pouncing, leaning back in their haunches, licking their chops at their easy prey. A scream escapes from my lungs.

I’m sorry, Trent. I really did try. I love you.

2. THE COVER-UP

TRENT

Move, you idiot! You have to move! I’ve been ordering myself to do something other than blink at the empty space where Cassie was sitting moments ago, but I still can’t get my limbs to work. I’m in shock. My girl, the love of my life—so beautiful, so amazingly good—is gone. Plucked out of the air by an unstoppable force I’m all too familiar with. It’s unthinkable, but it’s happened.

Cassie jumped time.

There you are. My sister pops her head into the locker room entrance hall where I’ve been frozen. She’s got her usual impatient scowl carved into her expression as she approaches me.

Lorelai. Thank God—

You know, I’m aware you just got back from saving Cassie’s life once again, but enough with the reunion already. Everyone’s waiting. Her doubles match was supposed to start ten minutes ago. Where is she anyway? The bathroom?

I’m on her in a beat. Why do you ask? Did Cassie’s parents send you to check on her? Are they coming, too? I’m anticipating the worst. The Moores aren’t my biggest fan.

Whoa! Easy there, Tiger. Her parents didn’t send me. I offered to go find out what the holdup is. They do look annoyed, though, FYI. Especially when the two of you took off for a ‘bathroom break’ no one bought for a second. Real smooth there, Romeo. As she’s rolling her eyes, a group of junior high-aged girls clad in pink and white tennis outfits barrel toward the women’s locker room.

Um, excuse us! They appear irritated we’re blocking their way, acting like they personally own the place.

Oh, no. Please, excuse us, I reply sarcastically, sneering at them for interrupting us. They cringe, acting startled by my rude comeback. They tiptoe around me after that, looking much younger than before, while Lorelai yanks me outside with a look of disbelief across her face.

What was that? You’re being a total creep.

I know. Sorry. Dragging my hand through my hair, working hard not to explode, my gaze darts around us to ensure it’s clear to talk openly. The Pleasanton Tennis Club is a small facility tucked close to the hills and surrounded by oak trees. And, from what I could see, any lingering spectators were either watching matches at the handful of courts or had already left.

All right. It looks safe.

Trent, what is going on?

We’re in trouble, Lor.

What do you mean? You just got back. How could you already be in trouble?

Cassie’s disappeared. I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes, still having trouble believing the circumstances.

Disappeared? You mean she took off? She punches me in the arm before I can answer her. What did you say to her? Did you screw up again?

Ouch! Watch those chunky rings, I reply, rubbing my arm. And I didn’t say or do anything to her. What I mean by disappeared is that she jumped, I whisper. The familiar term I’ve used dozens of times sounds like a cuss word to my ears. I saw her do it. Minutes ago. Right where you found me standing.

No! She gasps, looking bewildered. She covers her mouth with her hand, seemingly not wanting to believe it. That’s-that’s impossible. Are you absolutely sure?

I wish I wasn’t. In fact, I’d rather this whole thing be a psychotic break in my brain than have it be true.

Oh, Trent. I-I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. How in the world did this happen? Her deep-set dark eyes, shaped so much like my own, soften and fill with compassion.

I haven’t had much time to think about it. I’m halfway still in shock. And if I didn’t watch it go down with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it happened. I reach back to rub my neck and the knots in my shoulder, my head already throbbing with a tension headache.

Well, what’s your best guess?

My guess is that this all has to do with our little side trip to Sedona.

You mean when we chased down Fox? Why do you think that?

Right before Cassie vanished, she told me she’s been getting daydreams and dizzy spells ever since our trip. That last night at Perc Up! when The Grenades played, she had a dizzy spell afterwards. At the time we didn’t know what it meant. We chalked it up to a swell of emotions, but now it makes sense. Dizziness precedes flashes. The signs were all there, only I didn’t recognize them. I didn’t know enough to look for them.

'K. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’m not following you.

The vortex, Lorelai. Think about it. The hot-air balloon Fox forced Cassie and me to ride with him landed on almost the exact spot in Sedona where Mom and Dad’s Jeep crashed. It seems like forever ago when Dr. Fox kidnapped Cassie. He threatened to hurt her if I didn’t lead him to the ultimate vortex responsible for unleashing my supernatural power. The expedition didn’t work out so well for him. And clearly not for Cassie, either.

But why her? We were all in the canyon that day—Nate, Brandon, Michael. Are we all going to start jumping time now? She looks wigged out by the idea and I don’t blame her. She’s had a front row seat to my time traveling journies that have nearly cost me my life more than once.

No, that’s not gonna happen, I assure her.

How do you know?

Because you guys weren’t there when Fox died in the balloon wreck on top of that vortex. You all came later, after he was long dead.

A few moments pass before understanding dawns in her expression. Ohhhhh, but you and Cassie were there for his untimely demise.

Uh-huh. Like how I was there when Mom and Dad died in our Jeep crash.

She winces, her eyes darkening at the painful reminder. Right. So you think it’s not only being physically present at the ultimate vortex that grants someone unwanted, pain-in-the-butt supernatural power, she lists with distaste, but a life has to be sacrificed there at the same time?

That’s my theory. It’s the only logic that can make sense of this whole thing.

And because you’re already a jumper, the power couldn’t transfer to you, she concludes.

Exactly. Regardless of how it happened, though, we have to cover for Cassie now.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no! She grabs fists of her long dark hair and tugs so hard the wave straightens out while mumbling something about a sick joke. She backs away from me, her mouth set in a tight line.

I’m floored that she’s acting resistant. Is she really going to refuse helping me? How can she abandon Cassie like this?

I fold my arms across my chest. Lorelai, we’re running out of time. What exactly is the problem here?

Oh, gee. Nothing really, she answers, her tone thick with false pleasantry. Only now it appears I’ve got two of you to deal with.

My neck flinches back, my temper flaring before I can stuff it back down. Are you serious? Think of what Cassie’s going through! She’s probably scared out of her mind, dressed in only a skimpy tennis outfit that could easily get her attacked, or, at the very least, embarrassingly exposed, and you’re annoyed about the situation? So sorry to put you out, Sis.

Well, this is rich. I realize her life hasn’t been rosy, put on the spot to make up excuses for why I’ve suddenly disappeared, but as a jumper with six years of experience, I know, without a doubt, our job is a thousand times harder than hers.

She pales and her eyes snap to mine, indicating her surprise. She isn’t used to me lashing out at her or taking a side other than hers. After a few moments of staring her down, though, willing her to grasp the dangerous predicament Cassie’s in, she begins to look regretful for complaining. She inhales a deep breath before massaging her temples.

Okay. That was crappy of me to say. I apologize. It’s just . . .

What?

It’s just I really thought we were going to have some peace for once, a chance to live normally for more than two seconds. Ethan Fox is dead, and no one else is after us for the first time since this mess began. And as soon as you finally got a handle on controlling your jumps, we have to start all over with Cassie. More secrets, Trent. More lies. I hate it.

Hearing the torment in her voice and seeing how worn-out she looks, a part of me knows she has every right to object. It probably is total BS to drag her into this world again after I’ve put her through hell and back already. I don’t know, maybe I should leave her out of it. I suppose I could deal with covering for Cassie on my own. She’s had an obligation to me all these years as my sister, but she doesn’t owe Cassie anything. She’s got