***
When I get down to the reception hall, I find the gift table, and a little bit of panic stutters through my heart. It’s stacked high with presents. I take a step forward, determined to search every single one if I have to, but a hand closes around my arm, tugging me backward.
“That is my dress. And Diane doesn’t have an assistant named April. So who are you, really?”
I turn, ready to make up whatever lie I have to, but behind her, I see the clock ticking slowly. I’ve wasted half an hour already. Any minute now, the bride and groom would be saying their vows and then, they’d be here.
“Look,” I say, pulling my arm free, “there’s a bomb in one of these boxes. And I need to find it.”
She looks at me, her blue eyes cold as ice. “Security!”
I grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall. “Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m here to help the bride and groom. Now, Doug Cartwright has rigged one of those boxes to explode as a prank, but something is going to go really, really wrong with that. You can help me find the gift it’s hidden in, or I can knock you out and shove you in a closet. Your choice.”
She can’t talk so she just nods vigorously.
I let go, and she gasps for a second. “That sounds like something Doug would do. Idiot.”
Heading over to the massive stack, I start rummaging. “It has to have his name on it, right?”
She looks at me as I toss boxes aside. “And you are sure there’s a problem with it—that it’ll hurt someone?”
“I am.”
“It’s not in there. They had bomb dogs in here earlier sniffing for explosives. He was going to bring it down after the ceremony. It’s in his room.”
I stare at her. Her face has gone pale, making her look even more waif-thin somehow.
She shrugs. “I heard them talking about it. It sounded funny.”
I put the gift in my hands back on the table. “Can you take me to his room?”
She nods and motions for me to follow her.
The groom’s floor is completely trashed. Tables and chairs overturned in the hallway, room service trays all over the floor. Toilet paper hangs from every possible surface like garland. She leads me to a door and opens her tiny clutch purse, pulling out a key card. I can’t help raising my eyebrow at her.
“What?” she says defensively. “It’s a wedding. Besides, he just needed someone to talk to. He just lost his offer from FSU, and he doesn’t think anyone else is going to pick him up after blowing the playoff game like he did.”
I look her over. “How old are you? Fifteen?”
“Sixteen.”
“And he’s what now, eighteen?”
“Nineteen.”
I look at her, but I say nothing. Two years doesn’t seem like that big a difference, but something inside me feels almost protective of her. Silly, really. She isn’t that much younger than I am. Maybe it’s because she looks so frail and wispy.
I shrug. “Whatever.”
She unlocks the door, and we go in. This room makes the hallway look downright spotless. What is it about rich kids destroying hotel rooms?
“He completely rock-starred this room, um… what’s your name, anyway?” I ask, feeling stupid as she wades through the mess behind me.
“Isabelle Dumont. Izzy for short.”
“So, where do you think this thing is hidden?” I ask, rummaging through the closet.
She jerks her head toward the bathroom. “Tub, I think.”
I step forward, and the door to the room bursts open. Doug, all six foot three, two hundred twenty pounds of him, is suddenly face to face with me. “What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Then, seeing my partner in crime, his expression softens just a little. “Izzy? What the hell?”
I snap my fingers in his face. “The exploding gift, where is it?”
His face hardens. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
I cut him off with a knee to the groin. He doubles over in pain. “Don’t make me ask again, Doug. The gift. Give it to me, now.”
I should expect what happens next, but I don’t. His head still down, Doug runs at me, knocking me off my feet and taking me to the ground. Behind me, I hear Izzy scream.
I manage to get my leg up and between us, and I kick him off me, into the wall. The framed painting falls and crashes into his head.
“Doug, how do I disarm the device?” I grab his face in my hand. There’s a cut on his forehead. It’s small but bleeding like a river. “Doug, tell me.”
He cusses and smacks my hand away. Behind me, Izzy is holding the box, her eyes full of tears. “Please,” she begs.
He mumbles something rude. I grab his face harder, until he’s looking me right in the eye. “Doug Cartwright, you think your career is over now, but I’m here to tell you, in six weeks, you are going to get picked up by UCLA. In four years, you are going to go as the number-one draft pick to one of the greatest football franchises of all time.” How many times did I have to listen to Ethan go on and on about this kid either botching or single-handedly saving a game? Too many to count. But now, I was glad I’d half-paid attention. “You will be one of the greatest quarterbacks in the history of the game. Do not screw that up by being a tool today, do you hear me? I’m opening this box right now. You can either help me do it without hurting anyone, or I swear to you, I will blow us all sky high, get it?”
He closes one eye, smiles, and flips me off. Sighing, I drop him as he passes out. Taking the box from Izzy, I head for the bathroom. Setting it in the tub, I carefully pull off the bow and slowly lift the lid.
The lid blows off the box, and a flash of light blinds me. My ears are ringing. For a second, I can’t breathe. Then my vision slowly returns. There’s still a ringing in my ears, but I can hear Izzy behind me.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. It was just a flash bang. Not fun, but not lethal either.
Shaking my head, I use the sink to get to my feet. “That wasn’t it. They are still in trouble.”
I race past her and down the hall to the elevator.
The reception is outside. We make it to the hallway just before the final pink ballerina walks through the doors into the garden area, where grey clouds have all but blotted out the sunshine.
“Izzy! There you are. I was so worried! Where were you?” the bride demands, her relief quickly replaced by irritation as Izzy scoots out from behind me and takes her place in the lineup. I lean in close. “Izzy, there is still something going to happen here. They aren’t safe. I didn’t stop anything.”
She ignores me and marches forward on cue. I reach out, but she’s gone. A large security guard grabs me from behind, holding me back as the music changes and the bride steps out. As soon as she’s gone, Diane pulls the headset out of her ear and turns her bitter glare at me.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demands.
What can I say? I struggle, but it’s no use. A loud flash of light and a clap of thunder split the air. The guard drops me, and I fall to my feet for only a second before rushing out the door. The bride is lying on the ground, her white dress singed black and melted. The groom has fallen next to her. His eyes are open, lifeless. His short hair has melted to his scalp; his face is red and blistering. Some of the guests are cowering; others are screaming and running. Many are groping blindly and crying. On the ground, a few feet from the bride, Izzy has been blown back against the wall. Her dress is singed, her eyes closed. I move over to her and reach down, feeling for a pulse. Then I catch it, slow and uneven under my fingers.
The maid of honor goes missing, Flynn had said.
Scooping her up, I back through the doors into the main lobby, where people are panicking. No one tries to stop me as I walk her across the street to the park where Flynn waits.
He carefully takes her from me and sets her in the grass at my feet, checking her vitals.
“Is she
okay?” I manage, still coughing out the words.
“She’ll be fine. You did it, Ember. Well done.”
I want to be happy, but all I feel is guilty. Dirty. “You didn’t tell me they were struck by lightning! How exactly was I supposed to prevent that?”
He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “You weren’t.”
“But you told me to—”
“I told you to save who you could. And you did. You saved her.”
“But the others…” I want to cry. It isn’t fair. A wedding is supposed to be the best day of your life, not the last.
Flynn looks up and takes my hand. Pushing up my sleeve, he exposes my scars. “We can’t save everyone, Ember. Even when we want to. Even when we try to. You understand this?”
“What about her?”
Flynn looks down. “She’s coming with me. She’s going to be one of us.”
“But I thought she…” I stop myself before the words are even fully formed in my mouth. Of course she goes missing. She’s one of us.
He must see the realization worm its way into my brain because he drops my arm.
“She’ll have scars, too. Like mine,” I say quietly, looking at the angry red burns up her bare arm. “Will I know her, back at the Institute?”
He shakes his head. “She won’t remember you, Ember. Or any of this. Her life as it was ends here, and her new life will begin on the other side.”
That doesn’t really answer my question. I rack my brain, but I can’t remember ever seeing her in the Institute.
He stands up, pulling her limp body into his arms. “You still have to make the return trip, Ember. And it’s not like when we rift as a group, it’s… harder.”
“Harder how?”
“That is something you will have to discover for yourself, I’m afraid. But I can say this—no matter what you see or hear, keep focused on the Tether. Just try to block everything else out.”
I think about the lure I felt inside the stream. And I’m so tired. Maybe too tired to make it. But I take as deep a breath as I can manage and pull away, standing on my own.
“You should go back to the exact spot you entered from,” he advises, readjusting the girl so she’s over his shoulder.
“How will I find it?” I glance back to the general area I’d come from.
“You’ll find it.” He winks at me, and I can’t help feeling like I’ve done something terrible. I could have gotten them both out, I’m sure of it. I could have saved them both.
I let the groom die.
“Thanks.” I try to force a smile, but it’s raw around the edges.
He reaches over and touches my cheek with just the tips of his fingers. It is like five little points of electricity tingling in my skin. “Ember, you are a very special girl. A princess among commoners. I doubt there’s anything you can’t do when you put your mind to it. I wish you believed in yourself half as much as I believe in you.”
Not sure what to say to that, I just nod, trying to keep a brave face when inside, I’m completely frazzled.
I take two steps toward the tree where I’d arrived before I see it—a thin, nearly invisible ripple suspended in midair. As I get closer, I can feel the Tether tugging on my arm like a magnet being pulled to steel. I inhale sharply and look over my shoulder to the bench where Flynn had been sitting. It’s empty. I am on my own.
Reaching out, I touch the ripple and my hand slips through. It isn’t a ripple at all. It is a small tear in time, the point I’d come through. It will mostly heal when I go back, but it will leave a weak spot, a scar.
I step through the tear and find myself thrown back into the stream, only this time, something’s wrong.
It’s a smell, something like sour milk, only it’s all over me, coating my skin. I fight back the vomit forcing its way into my mouth. The Tether pulls at my arm like a fishing line trying to reel me in. I struggle to relax, to allow it to pull me, when every instinct in my body is thrashing with the need to escape. Only the pull of the tech and my sheer will prevent me from bailing out of the stream. It isn’t the peaceful flow I felt on my first trip. No, the stream is murky now, like a wound left open and untreated. It’s festered. Is that my fault? I can’t help but wonder as I gasp for breath. The air is being squeezed from my lungs, and I can’t breathe except in painful huffs. A familiar feeling beside me makes me force my eyes open. Blinking past the water spilling over my lashes, I focus over my shoulder, and then I slam to a stop.
It feels like I’ve hit a brick wall. The shock is sudden and makes every muscle in my body tense painfully. I want to cry out, but I manage to muffle my scream by biting into my bottom lip instead. When I can open my eyes again, I see I’m back in the rift chamber, lying facedown on the floor. Pressing my head to the floor, I enjoy the cool hardness of it. I actually have the urge to kiss the ground. Carefully, I wedge my arms underneath me and push up, my muscles screaming in protest as I manage to get to my knees. I want to stand, if only because I know that everyone is watching me from above, judging me, trying to tell if I’ve been permanently damaged by my time in the stream. I only wish I wasn’t so shaky, that I wasn’t kneeling on the floor like an idiot.
“Ember, how do you feel?” Mistress Catherine’s voice cracks through the ancient speakers.
There’s only one way I can think to salvage this. I rack my brain—what would Ethan say?
I look up at the glass where I know they are all watching me, waiting to see if my brain has turned to jelly. Squinting, I cock my head to the side and smile, mustering all the false bravado I can access.
“Can I do that again?”