Edge of Eternity: A Time Travel Novel

Book 2: Quantum Convergence Series

by David Darling

Genres: Visionary & Metaphysical; Alternative History sci-fi; Time Travel

Synopsis

From the #1 bestselling author of the Noah Hunter series, and Grim Measures, comes the sequel to Edge of Time. Where a former FBI agent and time traveler Brad Sheppard is once again thrust into the quantum realm so there will be a future worth returning to.

Former FBI agent and time traveler Brad Sheppard witnesses an impossible murder in the Late Middle Ages, but upon returning to the present, his family has vanished. History has been rewritten.

With nothing left to lose, Brad tears through the quantum realm and the centuries, desperate to restore his wife and daughter. But he must do so without obliterating two thousand years of history, as every tick of the clock threatens to alter reality.

However, in this race against time, change comes with a cost that may be too much for one man to bear.

 

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Release date: April 30, 2024

Publisher: David Darling Books

Print pages: 460

Sample

PROLOGUE

Ulster Plantation, County Cavan

Northern Ireland 1847

Eamon O’Neil dug the pitchfork into the ground and dropped his seventy-two-pound weight on the handle. At first, nothing happened, then the soil slowly gave way, and another section of potatoes rose to the surface.

“Well, boy?” his father’s weary voice interrupted his thoughts.

Eamon's gaze drifted to the darkening sky, a shiver coursing through him despite the mild weather. His mind flickered with fleeting images—laughter around a full dinner table, his mother's comforting embrace—lost moments that felt vivid and distant and had to be thrust away to face reality.

Eamon’s clothing hung loose on his small frame, and he was half the weight he should have been for a twelve-year-old. Gaunt would have been an understatement. Eamon’s father stood two rows away, leaning on a shovel, and was in the same condition. They were starving to death. Eamon knew it was only a matter of time until he joined his mother and brothers in the ground. What food they had wouldn’t last much longer. His older brother had eaten the blight-ridden potatoes, and within half a day, Banner had horrible stomach cramps, vomited twice, and then died. Eamon considered his brother the lucky one.

“They’re the same,” he whispered.

Eamon stood a few inches over five feet and had short dark hair and prominent cheekbones. He leaned on the pitchfork to rest as even minimal tasks were trying. The lack of food was taking its toll.

The crops were covered with fungus and dark spots, the same result as the primary field and the southern acreage. They used to harvest three hundred baskets a day, and now, they were lucky to fill five. Most of the food they did manage to salvage was taken away for sale by the landowner while they ate the rationed oats and corn. The Ulster Plantation used to be one of the most productive farms in Northern Ireland, with potatoes being the main crop. The last three years had resulted in more people dying than Eamon had ever seen. He had two new friends, Hunger and Death, who were his constant companions. So far, Death had yet to play with him, but there was little doubt it would be soon.

“The English take too much from our plates, or we would have a chance.” His father spat on the ground. “I’m sorry, my wee man.”

“I could go fishin’ again.”

Four days ago, he had caught two trout at the lough and smuggled them home hidden in his shirt. As food became scarce, many had died for less reason than fish, and he was careful. They were smoked and rationed between all that remained from a cottage of eight. Eamon mixed his in with the boiled oats over two days—it helped but wasn’t enough.

Eamon held a hand above his eyes and watched the dark clouds approach on the horizon. His father did the same. “Aye. Go ahead. It’ll be pourin’ in a few hours. Be back before she starts.”

The twelve-year-old grinned, stored his pitchfork in the shed, 

and grabbed a pole and a folded waxed cloth. He had collected grubs and a few worms earlier in case there was time. Annagh Lough was a small body of water twenty minutes' walk east of the field. While the lough had been fished heavily in the last few years, there was still a chance. No matter the size of the catch, it would help. Before leaving, he slipped on a larger jacket. The early September weather had cooled, and there was no lack of clothing. His brother no longer felt the cold.

After decades of travel, the hard-packed path from the cottage was from the carts, and Eamon followed it to the main road. The trail to the lough was on the other side, but he stopped and rested the end of the pole on the ground.

A man stood on the opposite side of the road, watching his approach—waiting.

The stranger had a thick red beard, short hair the same color, and looked strong enough to lift a pony himself. The clothing set Eamon back, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. The brown coat was long, almost to the man’s knees, and had the sheen of leather. A white collared buttoned shirt looked brand new, and so did the trousers. The shoes were unlike anything he’d seen: bright white with a stitched pattern on the sides.

“Ser? Are you lost?”

The man shook his head and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, laddie.”

Confused, Eamon took a step back—more apprehensive than fear—and asked, “Do I know you?”

“Not yet. But we goes a ways back, Banner.”

The accent was close to Eamon’s memory of his mother when she was mad—definitely Scottish. “Sorry, sir. Banner was my brother, but the Lord called him home a few weeks ago.”

Shock, confusion, and sorrow warred on the man’s face and nearly broke the young man’s heart. His voice cracked, “Can I ask you a few questions, lad?”

Eamon slowly nodded. The stranger appeared to be not right in the head. How could he know my brother but never meet him?

“Wot’s the year?”

“The year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, ser.” Definitely daft. How could you not know the year?

“And the date?”

“It’s the third of September.”

Lines deepened on the man’s brow as he frowned. From inside the long leather coat, he pulled out a book. The wrappings were also made of leather with a strap to hold them closed. The sheets were white and matched his shoes. A thick finger flipped through the first few pages, and he mumbled quietly.

“Wot’s your name, son?”

“Eamon.” He knew something was wrong but didn’t know what was happening. Why would the man be expecting his brother?

“O’Neil?”

Eamon nodded.

The book snapped closed, and the stranger placed it inside the jacket. “Something has changed, and I don’t know what.”

“Sorry, ser.”

The man chuckled. “Nothing to do you with, laddie.”

Eamon glanced to the skies. The wind had picked up, and the dark clouds were blowing in fast. “Guess I’m not going fishing.”

The man looked up and agreed. “No, it isn’t safe. Take care, lad.”

Eamon wearily turned around and began to head back to the cottage when the man called out.

“Wait. I can’t let you go.”

The man crossed the road and joined him. The bearded man knelt while placing a hand on Eamon’s shoulder. “Son, I can’t let you keep livin’ like this. Your brother would want me to do something.”

Eamon took a deep breath, and his voice warbled in fear. “A ... a ... are you Death, ser? Have you come for me?”

The bearded man’s eyes watered as he shook his head. “Quite the opposite. I’m here to

save you.”

Eamon swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t know what to say.

“What if I were to offer you a new life, laddie? You will never have to worry about food or hard work. Most importantly, we will do important things and make those who killed your family and kin pay. Wot do you say?”

“No.”

The man’s hand dropped from his shoulder, and his eyes widened. “No?”

“No.” Eamon was firm. “I can’t leave my father. We only have each other. I’d rather you kill me than leave him alone.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

The wind was biting, and despite the extra layer, Eamon had a chill.

A tear welled, flowed down the stranger’s cheeks, and was lost in the thick beard. “Aye, lad. Things have changed, so why not add another cog to the wheel? Your father must approve, and you’re both welcome to join me. Let’s go talk with him.”

The bearded man and Eamon trod down the path. “What’s your father’s name, son?”

“Pádraig O’Neil, ser.” After a moment, Eamon asked, “May I ask your name?”

“You can call me Hamish. No more calling me sir. We’re workin’ men.” A calloused hand patted his shoulder. “I’m going to take care of you and your father. You’ll be seein’ the world’s best doctors and a nutritionist to get you healthy again. If you’re half the man Banner was, things will work out fine.”

Eamon thought the man spent too much time outside without a hat, but anything was better than waiting to die. A glimmer of hope shone on the Irish youth for the first time in his hard life, but one question kept rolling around in his mind.

What’s a nutritionist?

 

CHAPTER 1

Brad Sheppard tapped the two remaining upside-down cups on the table with the wand and flourished with his left hand. Twelve girls and boys crowded around the kitchen table, wide-eyed as he tilted the first cup over.

“That one.” Olivia, his daughter, pointed to the next one on the right.

She was the spitting image of her mother. Long blond hair and delicate features came to life with a smile.

“Are you sure?” Brad winked and tipped the last cup over.

The five-year-old girl pouted when it proved empty.

“You must keep your eye on the ball. It could end up anywhere.”

Brad halted time with a thought, and he couldn’t hold back the grin as he was the only one moving. The children had paused in mid-gesture, frozen like statues. Peter, a six-year-old, had jumped to get a better view. He remained floating three inches above the ground as if levitating. Brad removed the ball from the cup and leaned over to tuck it in his daughter’s pocket.

Brad resumed his previous position and allowed time to continue its course. He gestured again with the wand and pointed at the pocket of her jean shorts. With a squeal, Olivia produced the red ball in her hand and showed it to her friends. Her dimples deepened, and she flashed her father a grin. The other kids cheered and wanted more.

Using his abilities to halt time to perform a magic trick should be a misuse of the meteor’s power, but the look in his daughter’s eyes had been worth it. Besides, no one else would ever know—almost everyone.

“That’s enough magic for now. Go outside and play. I’ll start making the burgers and hotdogs for lunch.”

Brad’s gold ring clanked on the cups as he placed them back in the cupboard. As she whispered in his ear, his wife’s arms encircled him from behind.

“How many magicians can stop time?”

“Maybe more than we think.” He turned around and kissed Virginia on the forehead. “Maybe that’s how real magic is performed. Not sure.”

Brad winked before stepping outside the cabin to start the barbecue. To call the five-thousand-square-foot home a cabin was a stretch for most people, but the name had stuck. The property occupied thousands of acres in Wyoming’s mid-east and was mostly forested, with several ponds and creeks. The largest pond could be a small lake, spreading over twelve acres. Brad enjoyed his privacy, and surrounding his home with miles of uninhabited wilderness was a solid step. The cabin was a timber frame that could easily sleep twenty people. Six bedrooms and a great room filled most of the building, with the kitchen occupying one-third of the main floor. Even with a twenty-foot ceiling in the main room, warmth and coziness prevailed. The great pillar stood in the center of the building, supporting the roof. The cedar log was hundreds of years old and had a thirty-foot circumference. Access to the second floor was from the staircase wrapped around the great log. The stone fireplace in the large room

 was built with materials found on the property, and once lit, it turned into the heart of the home. Brad’s favorite possession was above the fireplace—a thirty-nine-pound brown trout replica of the fish he landed two years ago. Charlie (the fish), named by his daughter, had taken over ninety minutes to bring in and had been the best fight of his life. The property and cabin had been expensive, but accumulating funds was rather simple when you could travel through time.

Brad and Virginia were two of the wealthiest people in the world, but you wouldn’t know it from their casual appearance. How many billionaires lost eyebrows while lighting an old barbecue? Brad jumped and ran a hand over his face. The hair was still intact after the small fireball, and the burgers sizzled soon after hitting the grill.

Physically, he resembled a thirty-eight-year-old man in his prime but was closer to sixty in subjective time. After he had bonded to the meteor, Brad stopped aging—one of the side effects of being able to time travel. While he was no longer an FBI agent, he wore short dark hair combed to the side, and his six-foot frame was muscular despite the irregular workouts. After giving his daughter a rash on her cheek, Brad shaved daily.

The later afternoon could only be described as controlled chaos as the sugar from the birthday cake kicked in. Twelve minions of destruction tore through the cabin in an epic game of hide and seek to leave the adults to collapse on the furniture outside. A few parents had stayed to help, and despite the outdoor games on the lawn, they found themselves alone.

The mundane married life was one Brad didn’t think would happen, and he reveled in every minute—even the hectic birthday parties. For decades, he worked with Clement Wallace, a farmer from the 1700s, to prevent a black hole from destroying the planet. Even though both men could travel through time, halting the catastrophe was harder than either could comprehend. The universe itself seemed to fight them and keep the past intact. While they succeeded, Brad still had a rudimentary understanding of time and the universe. He left all the

heavy thinking to his wife, Virginia. She was the driving force behind stopping the black hole. Her years of research into quantum theory and mechanics paid off.

The five adults were talking, and Brad looked out over his backyard and tried not to be distracted when a large ripple spread in the middle of the pond. The fish were active. Under the advice of an aquatic management company, he introduced walleye into three of his ponds last year. The trout had no natural enemies and were becoming overpopulated. He tried to thin them out, but he was only one man. It was a great challenge, though.

Brad felt a chill run down his spine, and goosebumps appeared on his arms. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He tuned out the conversations and stood at the edge of the grass. The treetops swayed in the breeze, and the water’s surface rippled. Only a few clouds hung in the clear blue sky, with a lone hawk circling in the distance. The mid-August weather was humid after yesterday’s rainfall, and the collared short-sleeve shirt clung to his back. Brad was about to dismiss the feeling as indigestion when a flash of warmth spread out from his gold ring up along his arm.

The band on his third finger was custom-made and differed from others. In the center was a red stone chip from a meteor. On one side, the gem was nondescript, but on the other, a razor-sharp fragment protruded and dug into the back of his finger. The piece of meteor broke the surface of his skin and settled into the flesh. The merger of flesh and stone was the reason Brad could travel through time and even halt it momentarily to perform magic tricks. He had bonded to the meteor to save the world, something he wouldn’t hesitate to do again if given a choice. Virginia theorized the meteor wasn’t a rock but a piece of dark matter—not subject to the laws of the universe.

“Brad?”

A faint pulse of heat from his ring echoed the first, and he slipped a hand inside his

jeans. Through trial and error, Brad had figured that since the meteor wasn’t subject to the universe’s laws, he could change its shape. He kept it the size of a walnut and with him. The stone was the most valuable item on the planet and couldn’t be left unattended. However, there were places he could place it where no one else could find it, like in an alternate reality.

Brad looked back at Virginia and shrugged. She had joined him and rested a hand on his shoulder. She could always tell when something was up. “Nothing. Just a weird feeling.”

Virginia was about to reply when the kids came tearing out of the cabin and scattered across the lawn. “Dad, can we go skip rocks?”

“Sorry, birthday girl. Everyone’s leaving soon, but I think we can go tomorrow. Okay?”

“Promise?” Olivia batted her eyes.

She was learning quickly how much he was wrapped around her finger. Brad laughed. “Yes. Now go play, and I’ll get the loot bags ready.”

She blew him a kiss, and Brad’s heart melted. The last five years had flown by, and his daughter was entering the first grade in September. Virginia had chosen the private school, which met her high standards. They had the money and wanted Olivia to have the best education money could buy, but they didn’t want to move. Friends and growing up in the same home were priceless.

“I’ll give you a hand.” Ava’s mother helped clean up, and shortly, everyone was saying goodbye at the front door. Olivia had been coached, and she handed out the loot bags and thanked each of her friends for coming. Brad took several pictures of the moment with his phone. Added to the others, he must have had a few hundred shots of the day.

Brad collapsed on the couch, and Virginia laid down with her head in his lap. The day’s excitement was over, and they had tucked an exhausted five-year-old into bed. Olivia was sleeping before they came downstairs.

They both ignored the mess in the kitchen, vowing to tackle it in the morning. For dinner, they had ordered cheese pizzas, Olivia’s favorite, and

had another cake for dessert. When you are five, there can’t be enough candles and times to blow them out.

“Are you going to make it?” Virginia chuckled when he started breathing deeply.

Brad was tired, but he smiled as he brushed her hair back behind the ears, mindful of her glasses. “I’m good. Glad this only happens once a year, though.”

He scanned the coffee table full of gifts and cards. They needed to downsize the number of toys Olivia had in her bedroom. Three-quarters of her bed was covered in stuffed animals, but she insisted on sleeping with them all. However, most of them ended up on the floor in the morning anyway.

“What’s that?” Virginia pointed to an envelope between a family picture and Olivia’s latest drawing on the mantle. The setting sun streamed through the tall windows, and the envelope writing was hard to read.

“Probably her wish list for next year’s birthday party.” Brad was about to get up to see, but his phone chimed. The security service had a warning of a possible intruder in Sector C. He showed Virginia the screen, pressed the lock, and armed the cabin system.

While he enjoyed his privacy, Brad valued his family more. He took every precaution to protect them where possible. Having billions of dollars brought its own concerns. One precaution was two constant patrols that ranged not only near the cabin but also the three thousand acres. A security camp was built nearby, and over the last few years, they had mostly redirected hikers and ATV drivers off the property.

“Do they have video?” Virginia swung her feet to the floor and sat upright, reaching for the tablet. The entire system could be monitored through the device, including the remote cameras set up throughout the acreage. They had motion sensors originally, but the wildlife kept setting off the alarms.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Brad stretched and rubbed her back. Anyone looking to break into the home would not only be up against some of the best technology in the world but also against eight former special forces operatives working in the security industry. He could manipulate time and capture anyone alone if that wasn’t enough.

“How about a glass of wine before bed?”

Virginia nodded but continued to scroll through the various feeds. Brad went to the kitchen and poured, trying not to worry about his earlier feelings. He hoped it was a lost hiker or an elk, but his gut instinct, honed over many years as an FBI agent, said otherwise.

 

CHAPTER 2

Sunday mornings were filled with watching cartoons or playing. Olivia usually wakes up early and crawls into bed with Brad and Virginia. Sometimes, she would fall back asleep, but not today.

“Let’s go have breakfast, sweetheart. Your mom can go back to dreamland.”

Brad had an added ability to go without sleep if required, and he was the one to get up usually. The additional draw upon the stone was negligible; previously, he had gone for years without rest. Dressed in a T-shirt and tartan flannel pajama pants, Brad snuck out of the bedroom and went downstairs.

Once Olivia was set up with her cereal and tablet, he checked the security status. There was no further sign of trespassers on the property, and the initial sighting may have been wildlife. Brad turned off the alarm system and brought a coffee outside to watch the sunrise. The pond was smooth as glass and reflected the trees and sky like a polished mirror. A blue heron waded along the shoreline in search of breakfast, and a chorus of birdcalls sounded from the woods. He couldn’t fathom how he used to live in the city and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Remembering the envelope, Brad stepped inside and removed it from the mantle. The paper was thick and textured, as if home-made. Carefully, he set his coffee mug down as a tremor made his hands shake. Wide-eyed, he held his breath and ran a finger over the name across the front. Brad Holman was written in calligraphy, and the ink had bled into the paper. That was a name very few would know. It had been erased from the modern world. Technical savvy elite members of the FBI had scrubbed his name from every computer system and social media outlet eight years ago. Brad had also ensured there was no trace or tie-in to Brad Sheppard. While he had worked with several teams at the bureau over the years, they never encountered him again.

The gut feeling returned to make his stomach churn, and he opened the envelope to read. The paper was aged and nearly cracked when unfolded:

Mr. Holman,

You are particularly equipped to handle a problem at the Dublin Parliament on December 1, 1494.

Brad felt the page and quality of the paper. The letter and ink were old and smelled peculiarly of flowers or a subtle perfume—possibly homemade. Normally, no one should have been able to leave the letter inside the cabin without being detected, but yesterday, many were coming and going as they dropped off their kids for the party. He would have labeled the letter as a joke, but using his real name set off alarm bells.

The signature resembled a doctor’s scrawl, and he couldn’t make it out. Was that an S or an L?

After confirming Olivia was fine watching a Paw Patrol cartoon, Brad slipped into the quantum realm and traveled back in time. Everything had a golden hue as he watched his past self and Olivia walk backward up the stairs, and the morning sun disappeared. Keeping his eyes on the mantle and envelope, he jumped back to when Virginia first noticed it, then kept going. Throughout the day, no one approached the area except when one of Olivia’s friends looked inside the fireplace. The guests had arrived by eleven o’clock in the morning, and the envelope wasn’t there.

Like fine-tuning a ham radio, Brad jumped forward and back through time to find the exact instant the envelope appeared. However, after seeing the moment, he was more confused. Within a split second at six a.m., the envelope appeared. No one dropped it off or placed it on the mantle.

When dealing with time travel, Brad learned that nothing was impossible. Once he had made a bar of solid gold appear in the path of a moving vehicle. If anyone had witnessed his efforts, it would have appeared as if real magic had occurred. As to how the letter appeared, he had little doubt.

After returning to the present, he grabbed his coffee and sat on the couch. As far as he knew, he was the only one who could time travel. His old friend Clement had died centuries ago and had forsaken his abilities to live out his life naturally. After countless hours of discussion with Virginia, they agreed not to visit the farmer. The balance and sequence of events that saved the world from the black hole were delicate, to say the least. Any alterations, however minor, could have devastating effects. Are there other time travelers? If not, I must have sent myself this letter.

Brad shook his head over the conundrum as Rider solved the world’s problems with talking dogs. He had learned rushing into a situation without studying it from all angles could have dire repercussions. He had all the time in the world with the meteorite and ring.

Virginia’s fingers flew over the tablet, spinning it around on the kitchen table to show Brad. “That time period was a horrible one for Ireland. A contingent of men arrived in Dublin to announce that the Irish parliament was under the rule of law from the English. That was the official downturn of the country losing its independence to England’s rule after introducing Poyning's Law. ...