Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            She stifled a shudder. After tense seconds, she sheathed her blade. “I’ll accompany you. For now.”

            “The shop’s no’ far.” He clasped her arm and led her from the alley into the street. “Just a few blocks.”

            As they brushed through the crowd, she expected more attention; he was a towering, muscular male with clawed pants and no shirt. Blood striped his chest and face. But most of the bystanders continued their carousing or their private idolatry.

            A young man in oversized trousers vomited on a nearby corner, and his companions laughed. He laughed too, and viscous liquid spurted from his nose.

            This is not my time! She glared up at Munro. “I swear to you that I will find my way back to the past.”

            “Even if the gateway remained, you canna return for good. Only one version of a being can exist in any time. Your previous self is still there, just as my previous self is. That’s why I began to fade.”

            “How is that possible? If I remain in the past, then what am I?” She gestured to herself. “A shade?”

            His shook his head. “Warlocks steal from other eras. People. Artifacts. For some reason, whenever things are brought to the present, a perfect replica gets created. Even living ones. You’re a replica.”

            “Am I . . . real?” She hated how weak her voice sounded.

            “You are. You’re real, the same Kereny.” He led them away from the bustling Rue Bourbon toward a quieter street.

            “How do you know this? How many times have you time-traveled?”

            “Just once, but I’ve researched the subject extensively.”

            She pinched her temples. “I was replicated—either by some foul warlocks or a repulsive god who craves nymph sacrifices. Do I even have a soul?”

            “O’ course you do! Again, you are the same. But this version can never go back.”

            “Then what will happen to the original version?”

            “You’re still there. Since the past canna be changed, your timeline would revert to whatever it had been. Once I stopped trespassing in the past, you would remember nothing of me or what happened because of my interference.”

            Revert. Ren had looked through that gateway in Quondam and had seen the wolf and herself moving backward. Ormlo had told her, “You never left.” So according to two Loreans, she hadn’t disappeared from the past.

            Yet I’m here now.

            Munro added, “Some suppose you would have felt déjà vu, and then your life would have continued on seamlessly.”

            Déjà vu. She hid her surprise a fraction of a second too late.

            “You felt it. Around your wedding ceremony, I wager. That’s when the warlocks took you before.”

            “They abducted me?” Now Ormlo’s words made sense! I’m a replica.

            Munro had said she was real, but what if he had it wrong? Ren might be some kind of soulless golem. No matter what, she was a woman outside of time.

            “Aye, they did. I . . . met you. Another version of you.”

            Based on his reaction to her at her wedding, she could guess what had happened to that version. “I want you to recount every last thing about your experience with the warlocks and my previous self. If I sense a lie, I’ll skin your hide, wolf.”

            He raised his brows at that. “Fine.” Scanning the streets and rooftops for threats, he began to talk.

            About the warlocks forcing Ariza to lead Munro and his men into a trap.

            About biting another Ren, a replica who’d been stolen from her wedding and hexed to die.

            About waiting in vain for her to resurrect, until Ormlo had commanded Munro to discard her body in acid.

            About journeying back to the past for still another Ren.

            He finished with, “I ken how daunting a new time must feel, but I will help you adjust.”