EMBER
I don’t throw up this time, which I consider an improvement, though I’m on my knees and too wobbly to stand just now. My belly is on fire, and I’m weak and sweaty. It’s not pain, per se, but a relentless ache that makes you pray for the forgiving arms of death. Stein is unaffected, which doesn’t seem fair. She begins to stomp off in the direction of the lab.
“Wait. We can’t just go bursting in there,” I say, grabbing her by the back of her shirt.
She doesn’t shrug me off, but instead offers a hand to help me find my feet. Her tone isn’t angry or challenging, just impatient. “Why not?”
“Because if Tesla knows we’re here, then Tesla will know that we were here. In the future. He’ll know he can catch us here. If we alter the timeline here in any way, Tesla from my time will be able to detect it.”
Stein nods, so I continue.
“The computer that is Tesla can detect the slightest changes in history. It’s part of his elaborate matrix. Our best bet is stealth. We get in and out unseen. We blend in.”
“So what’s our next move?” she asks, not entirely without sarcasm.
“Recon. We’ll go pinch some period clothes and scout the building.”
I point above us where strings are tied between the walls of the alley. Freshly laundered clothes hang from wooden clips.
Stein nods and whips a knife from the cuff of her boot. She slices the string where it’s tied to a pulley and lets the end fall. The clothes slide free and we’re left standing in an alley littered with fallen laundry.
Picking out just a few pieces, we fashion a makeshift bag out of a pillowcase and haul our load out into the street. I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. My plan is already moving like clockwork. At this rate, we’ll have the Dox by nightfall. We step out into the dim New York morning, and I freeze.
We aren’t going to need the clothes after all.
“Um, what year is it supposed to be?” Stein asks, putting her top hat back on.
“It should be1898,” I answer slowly.
I step forward onto the corner of Broadway and Houston Street, into the very heart of New York City. A large, hovering police car zips past, nearly taking me out.
“I think somebody got their wires crossed,” Stein offers smugly.
For a second, I think she’s right. Those stupid pills must have dumped us in the wrong place.
The sound of hooves clopping on cobblestone makes us both turn. A large coach pulled by four brown horses trots by. The driver is dressed in leather skins and a cowboy hat. I’m staring after them when Stein elbows me.
She points down the road. Crossing Houston Street is a young woman from what looks like the 1950s, judging by the poodle skirt and saddle shoes, chatting with an older gentleman whose long, button-down coat and top hat put him in the early 1800s.
“What is going on?” I ask.
“I think it’s our fault,” Stein whispers. “It’s the paradox. It’s… leaking time.”
She’s right. It’s as if every moment of time that ever happened in this place is overlapping, the stream touching in places it shouldn’t.
“On the upside, at least we don’t have to change clothes,” Stein says with a smile. She tosses the garments back into the alley.
“The plan is still the same. We recon the building, then go after the Dox.”
“Agreed.”
“The building should be just up there a block or so,” I say, gesturing with my hand.
We move out as casually as possible, passing two robotic street sweepers that remind me of metal trash cans with legs, one lost-looking guy in an old sailor’s uniform, and two men having an Old West shootout in the middle of the street. Finally, we stop across the road from the building.
It’s tall, at least five stories, with a single entrance at the front. Parked outside the large, arched stairway is a small motorcar. Two men are loading trunks onto the back while another stands guard from the doorway. Even from a distance, I can tell it’s a young Flynn. He pulls a pocket watch from his vest and checks the time, saying something to the men before turning to go inside.
I forget to breathe for a second. He can’t be much older than me, tall and handsome in a bowler hat and striped pants. I wait for the familiar pang of longing to hit me, but it never comes. He’s not a friend. He’s an obstacle. Something we must overcome to achieve our mission.
“This is the right time at least—1898—just before Tesla packs up and moves everything to his new lab in Colorado. They must be packing the first of the boxes. The tech will be the last thing to go, since Tesla will want to travel with it,” I tell Stein, who is looking around. “The man by the door is Flynn. He was one of the first Rifters Tesla discovered. They move to Colorado so they can more quietly pursue his abilities. If Flynn is here, the other original Rifters may be here, too.”
“Do you know who the others are or how many of them we can expect?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No. All I know is that right now, they are all close and very devoted to Tesla. The Hollows don’t split off for another few years. Right now, Tesla’s lab takes up the entire top floor. I have no idea what’s on the lower floors, but there’s a private elevator in the back that only Tesla uses.”
“Okay, I think they’ll be milling around for a few more hours, so let’s go up there,” Stein says, pointing to the rooftop of the building next to us. “It’s a few stories taller. Maybe we can get a line of sight into the windows there. See what we’re dealing with.”
The building across the street is empty. There’s a paper notice on the door announcing the dedication for it next week. It’s going to be a luxury hotel. Stein crumples the paper and tosses it into the street. A robot quickly sucks it up just as a dark green 1930s Cadillac blows the corner and crashes into the bot, shredding it to pieces. A man in a hat sticks his head out the car window, producing a tommy gun, and opens fire into a group of people decked out in 1980s ripped leather, lace, and zipped parachute pants. The popping sound is eaten as a hovering fire truck flies down the street with sirens blaring. They all seem completely oblivious to each other, just going their way as if nothing was wrong at all.
“You know, not long before now, this whole area was known as Murderers’ Row. Now they are building a fancy hotel here. In the next hundred years, this building will be everything from a doctor’s office to a Subway restaurant,” I say while I get to work using my small lockpick.
“Allow me,” Stein says, gently putting a hand on my shoulder.
Without another word of warning, she spins and lets out a ferocious kick that knocks the door off its hinges and drops it flat into the building with a puff of plaster dust.
“That’s how we Hollows do it,” she says, stepping into the main room.
The plaster walls are still bare, no paint or decorations, and the lamps are in crates along the floor. The banister up the grand staircase isn’t even close to being assembled. It would take even the most dedicated group weeks to finish everything. Of course, with time hemorrhaging all over the place, things like deadlines might be redundant.
I follow Stein up the stairs to the roof access door. By the time we make it to the top, I’m panting and my calves burn. We’re seven stories up. The stairs are short and steep, making every step ache. We burst into the open air. I take a deep breath, watching as Stein steps dangerously close to the edge and puts her hands on her hips. Watching her, I totally get why Lex is so crazy about her. She’s kind of amazing. He deserves someone amazing. I just never imagined things working out this way.
“You know he loves you, right?” I say into the wind.
“I know. He did rip time apart to save me.”
“So why are you giving him the cold shoulder?”
She twists her black hair into a bun and sticks a pin in it to hold it off her face.
“It’s just hard to reconcile. The Lex I knew, my Lex, died in that rift.”
I understand. He was my brother, too.
“He really is the same person, you know.”
“I know that here,” she says, pointing to her head. “But it’s here that it gets muddled.” She moves her hand to her heart. “I almost feel like I’m… betraying his memory.”
I have to laugh. Not because I think it’s funny, but it’s such a silly position we have found ourselves in.
She laughs, too. “I know. It’s crazy.” Then she pauses. “Also, I’m sorry about before. For trying to kill you and all.”
I crack a grin. “Bygones. Besides, I would have beaten you to a pulp if you hadn’t run off like that.”
Now it’s her turn to grin. “You would have tried.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “This whole thing is crazy. But I do think that, if you love him, this him, then you have to let go of the past and hold on to right now. If we’ve learned anything from this, it’s that the future isn’t written in stone. Especially for us.”
Stein and I watch Tesla’s lab across the street. I can see most of the top floor through the windows. It’s pretty open, not a lot of walls or separation inside. Flynn is carefully boxing up books. I count three other people: the two guys from the street, and one woman who’s wearing an elaborate red dress. The front is sort of plain and high-necked, but a large bustle hangs from her lower back. The sleeves are long, ending in black lace cuffs. Her dark hair is coiffed at the top of her head, creating a hat-like bun. I don’t recognize her immediately, but when she turns to the side, the silhouette is unmistakable.
“Mistress Catherine,” I mumble to myself. Like Flynn, she’s young, sixteen at the most. Her face is smooth and unblemished. I’ve often sat in class and wondered what she looked like when she was whole. Now that I see it, I realize she’s stunningly beautiful. She gracefully kneels next to Flynn, putting a hand on his shoulder for balance. It’s hard to believe that only hours before, I stood over her grave.
Stein comes over to the ledge and squats down.
“Can’t bend at the waist in that corset, can you?” I mumble.
“What’s that?” Stein asks.
“Oh.” I nod to the building. “Mistress Catherine, the Head Mistress at the Institute, is over there, too.”
“Didn’t we just—”
I cut her off. “Yeah. We did.”
After a minute, Stein confirms what I’d witnessed. “Looks like four inside total.”
“All right,” I say. “This time, we use the lockpick. Your break down the door method won’t be the best way to go unnoticed. And don’t forget—don’t just grab the Dox. We need to find the instructions and copy them down.”
“Why don’t we just take the original notes?” Stein asks, still watching the lab. “I mean, things are already going to hell in a handbasket. How much worse could things get?”
“Because they need to be able to recreate the design, otherwise the Dox we stole will never exist in our time. It could make the paradox even worse. At this point, caution is the better part of valor,” I explain as I double-check that the lockpick is still tucked into the small case strapped to my belt.
“Okay, I think I’m ready. As soon as the coast is clear, we’ll head over.”
Stein hands me a Contra. “In case we get separated, we meet back at the Tower.”
Just the sight of it makes my stomach roll, but I take it anyway, stuffing it in my vest pocket. Night is falling. From this place, I can see the entire dome of the sky above us. In this time, where lamps are still dim and the gross light of civilization has not yet become blinding, I can see the stars.
“It’s time,” she says, pointing to at the entrance of the building. Four people exit and drive away.
We slink down to the street, completely focused on the task at hand. The street is crawling with men on horseback, cars from various times, and hordes of tourists with cameras snapping photos.