"So you're a costume curator?" he asked, for what was probably the fifth time. She couldn't blame him. She was a lot of things, and costume curator was only one of her many roles.

"Yes," she said, "that's part of my job. I do a lot." Her official title was Immersive Learning Coordinator and Fashion Historian. Her job during museum hours involved teaching school kids about the past by running camps where students got to experience a similar lifestyle to their ancestors from previous centuries. This involved putting together historically accurate wardrobes for the kids, hiring actors to interact with the groups as historical figures, researching and recreating daily activities that were common for elementary school-aged children in the time period, and obviously making sure that modern standards of safety were not compromised in the process. After closing, she worked with surviving historical garments and mannequins, preserving originals and recreating replicas of pieces that were too fragile to display publicly. At Christmastime, she volunteered at the annual Dickens Festival as an actress and caroler. Sometimes she worked as a costume designer in period productions at the local community theatre. Every few years, she even performed in the plays when she found the time to dedicate a couple months to rehearsals and performances. Usually, even that wasn't enough to satisfy her artistic desires. She was certain that if given ten more hours every day, she would fill them immediately with the hundreds of hobbies she'd always wanted to try but never had the time to pursue. It often felt like one lifetime wasn't nearly enough for her.

Of course, she wasn't about to explain everything about herself to this man who had just kidnapped her and teleported her into what he called a "time hollow" and what, save for some benches, looked like a regular old cave with damp walls and grimy floors.

"What's your name?" she finally asked him.

He hesitated. "Uh…in the twenty-first century I go by JB. Let's stick with that."

Okay?

"I'm a time agent," he continued seriously. "I'm in charge of protecting time and history. In a way, our jobs are kind of similar." He smiled at her, as though somehow that statement would make him seem more trustworthy. "I've brought you here because the time agency assigned me a mission. That mission involves you."

She didn't see how she could be of any use to a time agency from the future, no matter what her job was. Her experience was based on research, yes, but a lot about history was still unknown, unrecorded. If JB was in fact a time agent, wouldn't he already have all the historical knowledge he needed?

JB paced around the cave now, swaying awkwardly in those clothes that definitely didn't look natural on him. She wondered what kinds of clothes people wore in the future—if that was really where he was from. It would definitely explain a few things, if so. Maybe it wasn't so unbelievable, the idea of time travel.

"Why do you need my help?" she finally said. "I don't know anything about time travel." If he was a murderer, she'd keep him talking to buy herself time. If he was telling the truth, she wanted all the details.

JB stopped pacing and met her eyes. Was that desperation she saw in them? "Believe me, you know more than you realize. Right now, the agency needs someone like you, more than ever. Something is messed up, very badly. Normally we have the ability to turn invisible, see tracers, contact other agents for help…but time criminals have ruined so much. Our elucidators are unpredictable, and we have no way of navigating in the past like time natives when none of the usual tools are at our disposal."

She must have looked as confused as she felt, because JB sighed and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sorry. I'm sure none of that makes any sense. Let me start over." He looked at the ceiling for a moment, as though trying to figure out how best to word his next phrase. Finally, he let go of her shoulders and spoke again. "Imagine if everyone's cell phone stopped working all of a sudden. And the internet ceased to exist, and you had to just rely on the knowledge you had in your head. No GPS, no calculator, no search engines, no fast communication. You'd have to depend on people who could do complex math problems by hand, people who knew how to read an actual map."

"I'm terrible with math and directions," she said, though she was pretty sure that wasn't the point.

JB frowned and threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's just an analogy. Anyway, right now, time agents like me have lost a lot of resources that we usually use in time travel. We do know our history pretty well, but we've never had to navigate the past without the help of elucidators—basically really advanced smartphones that are also time-travel devices," he added just as she opened her mouth to ask what on earth an elucidator was. "Normally, elucidators can make us invisible and show us how history is supposed to play out. That way we don't have to worry about blending in with our surroundings to avoid causing any bad ripple effects. But now that's all gone. We can still do lots of stuff with our elucidators, but time is so damaged that we have to be prepared in case they shut off entirely at any given time. We need help from someone who actually knows how to fit in with people from history. Someone like you. You know how the average person from the eighteenth century would dress, how they would interact with others, what their typical routine would be, right?"

She crossed her arms, skeptical. "That would really depend on the region, social class, decade…"

He grinned at her. "See? You're already nailing this. If I brought you with me on some of my missions, you could make sure we pass as time natives and don't draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

She didn't like how he was looking at her, with that hopeful grin, like he was certain she was the answer. It was the kind of look that made her throat tighten. This was too much pressure. Time agents from the future depending on her to save history? There was no way she was qualified for such a huge responsibility. She swallowed hard and focused on the cracks that snaked across the cave floor, rolled her fingertips against her temples to silence the pounding in her skull. It was a small comfort to know JB might just be crazy, but the longer she listened to him, the more real everything felt. She jumped when the time agent waved a hand in front of her face to bring her focus back to him, his brow furrowed.

"You still with me, Samantha?" he asked. "You look distressed." Then he grimaced, shaking his head. "Of course you're distressed. I just barged into your perfectly normal life and started talking about time travel." He actually sounded apologetic.

"I just need to think," she said, though it was difficult to process anything when all she had were questions.

"Fair enough," he said. "That's what time hollows are for. Time stops entirely in a time hollow, so take however long you need." He glanced again at his phone—or elucidator, she guessed—then pressed a few buttons until a screen as big as the kind in a movie theater flashed into existence in front of them. She gasped, dazzled by the sight before her. The screen showed an eighteenth century bedroom, but the details were incredibly precise, more than any HD image she'd ever seen. It looked more like a portal to her own personal Heaven. Golden vine carvings drizzled down cotton candy blue walls. The canopy bed's pink and green pillows looked as tasty as macarons in a French bakery. An open armoire exhibited colorful silk gowns with cascading trains and lace trim.

"Sorry to startle you," said JB, still pressing buttons on his elucidator. "Just want to give you a visual of a few things."

But she was barely listening, too entranced by the masterpiece on the screen. "Whose room is this?" she breathed.

"It belonged to Isabelle Baron, a noblewoman in 1570s France."

"1570s?" she snapped, more harshly than intended. "There's no way this is from earlier than 1710!" She yanked her eyes away from the screen to face JB, whose lips curved up in a sly grin.

"It was a trick question and you answered correctly," he said, looking way too eager. "There was no such woman as Isabelle Baron. Though there could be if you took that name as your alias on our trip to July 1766. These—" he gestured at the screen— "could be your complimentary accommodations for the duration of our stay."

Her heart leapt into her throat and she had to swallow the taste of yearning before it grew too sweet.

"I think you'll be great at this," JB continued. "And you may not even need to do much work at all if my elucidator can still provide us with accurate information on the go. If all goes well, all you have to do is stay close by and enjoy the experience of a lifetime. Trust me, time agents don't go seeking out companions from the twenty-first century very often. Think about how incredible this will be for your curator job!" This was beginning to sound more like a sales pitch than a request for help, but she couldn't deny how intriguing it sounded. Hadn't she always felt out of place? It wasn't just the fact that she was adopted and—though she'd loved her adoptive parents—never seemed to quite fit in with them even when they were alive. Once, she'd had Tony by her side, but he was gone. It hurt too much to even think about Tony…

She didn't fit in anywhere, really. Even at the museum, Sam always stayed the latest, working on projects long past closing time, admiring the talents of dressmakers long dead; handling each delicate fiber with care, padding and re-shaping mannequins to achieve the proper silhouette for each time period, selecting period appropriate accessories to display with each garment…these were the tasks that soothed her, made her feel like she belonged somewhere, even if that place no longer existed. She thrived in the company of ghosts.

"Samantha?" JB snapped his fingers. He was now leaning in, clearly waiting to hear some response.

"Yes," she heard herself say. Despite the danger, despite her fear, despite the insanity of it all, something from deep in her soul craved this journey.

"I'll help you."