“Son—”
“Ava came here to hide her ability,” Kaleb argued with his father. “That was shady enough. But you’re actually going to defend her when she used it to blow you up?”
“She’s a fire starter?” I asked, a picture of a tiny Drew Barrymore in my mind. Somehow the young blonde with the endearing lisp didn’t mesh with Ava and her glamorous beauty. Kaleb had referenced the wrong Stephen King story for her nickname.
“Ava’s gift is layered,” Liam answered. “We think she can move things, push objects through time.”
“You think? You mean you don’t know?” I asked.
“Like Kaleb said, Ava came to the Hourglass to make her ability disappear. I never argued, only tried to make her life easier than it was at home. It seems Landers had a different idea. And a stronger influence.”
“Where do we think Ava is now?” I asked.
Another shower of leaves fell from the tree as Kaleb made a sound of frustration and pain.
Landers had an accomplice, money, and a list of people with abilities.
“He told me he wanted to protect me. Protect my innocence. I almost bought it.” Recoiling at the memory of the way he’d looked at me that day, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the image of his face. “I wonder if Ava did.”
“He’s a persuasive man,” Liam said.
“He was stalking me. Now he and Ava are missing, and Michael is dead.”
They wouldn’t get away with it. I would do whatever it took to stop them. I’d let revenge keep me alive, and once that revenge was exacted … well, I’d reassess. My tenuous hold on sanity was slipping, and I doubted even Kaleb could help me once it did. I had to be alone, to think.
I left them all outside and climbed the stairs to Michael’s room. A few seconds later, Cat stuck her head around the doorframe.
“Emerson, I—”
I held up one trembling finger, motioning for her to be quiet.
“Don’t do this.” She frowned, deep creases forming on her forehead. “You can’t cut yourself off—it’s not healthy.”
“You have no idea.” I laughed bitterly.
“Tell me what you’re feeling. Talk to me.” She looked so worried, almost like a mother concerned for her child. “Please.”
The “please” got to me.
“I’m never going to see him again. There were so many things I didn’t say, and after my parents … I swore I’d never leave anything unsaid. But I did. Now he’s gone.”
Could we have had the same kind of lifetime connection Grace and Liam did? I’d never know. I’d wonder about the possibility for as long as I lived.
Cat moved toward me slowly with her hand outstretched, as if she was approaching the scene of an accident.
She kind of was.
“Don’t touch me.” I scrambled farther back on the bed, out of her reach, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth. “Did you know there are seven stages of grief?”
I said the words so conversationally that I must have sounded manic. Cat stepped back and silently lowered herself into the desk chair.
“I learned all about it in counseling. Seven stages. And guess what? Four of them suck. Where’s the balance? Why not eight stages of grief? Give me some kind of benchmark for my suffering; let me know I’m halfway there.” A dry laugh escaped, and I paused to regain control. I needed to be in control.
I focused on a cobweb in the corner by the ceiling, a tiny remnant of forgotten life stirring in a wayward breeze. “But there are just seven. I should be able to talk myself through the first few—shock and denial, pain and guilt. I already have experience, so it’ll be easier, right? I can tell myself all the right things, remind myself of the coping mechanisms.”
Resisting the urge to stand and tear the fragile cobweb to the ground, I hugged my knees more tightly to my chest. “I … got stuck in those stages when I lost my parents. For months. I almost disappeared.”
Cat’s frown had only deepened since she sat down. It didn’t go with the rest of her face.
“When I came to him from the future, why didn’t I tell him to get out of the building before it exploded?” I couldn’t understand why I’d keep knowledge like that to myself now or ever. “How could I let him die that way? How could he choose to die that way?”
“You couldn’t have said anything—there are rules, especially if you remain connected to the Hourglass in the future.” She was trying to comfort me, but her explanation only made me angry.
“Who makes these rules?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She stood, speaking matter-offactly. “I expect after today they’ll be paying a visit.”
I stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“What if I told you,” Cat said, leaning over to look deep into my eyes, “that you could change things?”
I looked back, afraid to believe but desperate to do so.
“The fact is that I’m already in enough trouble.” She paused, pressing her lips together, and I could almost see the gears clanking in her brain. “If Landers is missing … and we can gain access to the Hourglass … there’s a bridge there. I could put you through.”
“Put me through?”
“So you could change things?” The question was leading.
Save Michael. She was talking about saving Michael. I sat up on my knees. “Yes. Oh yes, please—”
“Wait.” She held up one finger. “It’s not that simple. Once the powers that be show up, you could be stripped of the choice to ever use your ability again.”
“I don’t care.” There was no rule I wouldn’t break or consequence I wouldn’t accept if I could bring Michael back. I scooted to the edge of the bed. Hope rose like the sun in my chest, warm, full of possibility. “When can I go?”
She checked her watch as she stood up. “Give me thirty minutes. I have a feeling Liam and everyone else will be going to your place to see if they can find any sign of Landers. I’ll tell them you want to stay here, and that I’m going to stay with you. And Emerson?”
“Yes?”
“You can’t tell anyone. Liam never breaks the rules. I’m actually shocked he came back with you. What we’re about to do is dangerous and very, very wrong.” Her mouth was set in a harsh line. “Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
Chapter 50
The cicadas sang cheerfully as we drove through the dusky twilight on the way to the Hourglass. It made what I was about to do feel even more surreal, as if I should be catching lightning bugs in a jar and playing flashlight tag instead of resurrecting the dead.
Cat maneuvered her car up the long drive skillfully, keeping a close eye on the rearview mirror. Satisfied that no one had followed us, she pulled over, parking close to a willow tree. The low-hanging branches partially obscured the car.
“We’re going to go straight to Liam’s old office inside the house. Follow me, and act like you’re supposed to be here, no matter who we see or what they say.”
“Got it.”
“When I open the bridge, you need to focus on when you and Michael went into the lab together. And you have to be careful not to be seen by anyone—I mean anyone, Emerson. No matter how tempted you are to call out to Michael, you can’t do it until after you and Liam have left the lab. You’ll have seconds before the explosion.”
I looked down at my clothing and hoped it would be enough to persuade him it was a “different” me. We’d cleaned up the warm coat I wore to travel back to save Liam as best as we could, and I’d added a bright green scarf. I had my hair long and loose instead of pulled back in a ponytail. I’d also tucked Kaleb’s silver circle into my pocket as a good-luck charm.
“You have to convince him to cooperate. If he refuses, if something happens to you …”
She didn’t have to complete the sentence. If anything happened to me, no one would be coming back to save us.
“You keep saying ?
??if.’ It’s not doing a lot for my confidence.”
She grasped my forearm and squeezed. “You need to understand what kind of risk you’re taking. Do you?”
I nodded.
I followed her to the house, trying not to look terrified. Cat didn’t knock or use a key, just opened the front door and walked in. I caught a quick impression of open spaces and warm colors as she pulled me into a dark room.
She gestured through the doorway. “The hallway leads you to a sitting room. In that room is a set of French doors that exit onto the patio. The patio has a stone wall that you can use as a shield. Once you hit the grass you’ll have to make a run for it to avoid being seen.”
“What do I do if—”
The question was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Cat grabbed me, pushing me down behind the desk. Muffled voices filled the air, and then disappeared.
“If you’re going to go, the time is now.” She lifted her hands and the sphere appeared. Her face glowed in its eerie light. “Are you ready?”
I stood and stepped into the veil.
Chapter 51
The long tube of light was illuminated in the same soft shades of water and silver as the night before. It felt different without Michael by my side, less thrilling, more terrifying. I twisted the ring and concentrated on the date of Liam’s death, holding the scene of Michael and me crossing the grass to the lab in my mind. Thoughts of the things we’d said, the things we hadn’t said, kept trying to intrude. I forced myself to focus. I could almost imagine Michael’s voice in my ear, encouraging me to do the same.
Soon I could hear the unfiltered sounds and see the shimmer that signified the end of my journey. When everything went quiet again, I stayed inside the bridge, scoping out the room, making sure I was alone. All I could see was a faint hint of light shining from an illuminated bookshelf.
It appeared to hold a collection of hourglasses, from the most archaic designs to the most futuristic. I hadn’t noticed them when I’d been standing in the room with Cat.
I stepped through the veil and tiptoed to the doorway of Liam’s office, peeking my head out just like I had fifteen minutes ago, but in a completely different time. The house felt as empty as it had then. It was now cloaked in a darkness so deep I cursed myself for having not brought a flashlight. I tiptoed toward the French doors that led out to the patio and pushed down carefully on the curved door handles.
Locked.
And then, behind me, the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
Panic clawed its way up my chest. I stopped the scream bubbling in my throat and looked over my shoulder.
I was alone.
Turning my attention back to the doors, I felt for a push button. There was only a deadbolt—the kind that had to be unlocked with a key.
“Okay, think, think, think.” I searched for a hook on the wall or a side table, hoping I’d miraculously find what I was looking for. No luck. A memory tugged at me, and I lifted my eyes, catching a glimpse of something sitting on top of the doorframe.
A key.
Exactly where my parents used to store the bathroom key in case I locked myself in when I was little. I stretched as high as I could and cursed under my breath. Too short. I didn’t dare jump—if I missed more than once, made too much racket, I might not have time to get outside.
Grateful my vision had adjusted to the dim light, I looked around the room. A plush velvet ottoman sat in front of an armchair fifteen feet away from me. I hurried over to it, praying it was on wheels. Finally, success.
Rolling the ottoman over to the door, I climbed up precariously and knocked the key to the ground. It pinged when it hit the hardwood floor. Not bothering to return either of the items to their proper places, I slipped the key into the lock.
The cold air outside made my eyes water. Lights were on in the lab, and no one occupied the frozen expanse of yard. I crossed my fingers, snuck down the patio steps, and took off running.
I reached the tree line that bordered the woods fairly quickly. I wished I could see something, someone to let me know I’d come out of the bridge in the right time period.
Wish granted.
I scrambled for quick refuge, sliding inside the abandoned building with the rotting floor that Michael had once told me to avoid. Even though the door barely hung from the hinges, I pushed it closed with a soft scuffing sound—the smell of molding leaves and gasoline permeating my nostrils. The floor looked to be in good enough shape. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter.
I had no other alternatives at the moment.
Landers and Ava were already in the woods, walking straight toward me.
I opened the door half an inch, leaving just enough space so I could see outside.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. But I forgive you. Do your job well, and maybe I’ll reward you.”
“Whatever you say, whatever you want.”
If possible, the conversation was even more desperate the second time around. At least now I knew that Michael and Liam were in the lab, and that I was merely a few feet away, hiding behind a tree, listening to the same conversation.
That was weird.
I leaned as close to the door as I dared, peering through the crack with one eye.
Jack stood, starkly handsome against the winter landscape, carrying the cool assurance that he was justified in what he was about to allow. It made me hate him even more.
“How long do you think we have before they come looking for us?” Something about Ava’s voice was different now, maybe because they were closer to me this time. Or maybe because she sounded scared.
“They won’t come looking. There will be no evidence this was caused by a time-related ability.” He threw off her worry as if it were meaningless—he was right to do so. According to Kaleb, no traditional authority even knew anything like the Hourglass existed. “Stop being so concerned with the repercussions. You act like policing me is your job.”
I tried to catch a glimpse of Ava’s face as they walked past the building and into the woods, but all I saw was the flash of a long necklace and a blue coat. Then they were gone.
A rectangle of golden light formed on the frozen grass.
Michael—alive, whole, breathing—leaving the lab to retrieve John Doe from his car.
I watched him hurry to the side of the house, keeping him in my sight line until he disappeared.
This was the worst part, knowing what was about to happen and being forced to wait. I tried to use the time wisely, testing the floor gingerly with my foot. Michael and I needed a quick shelter after I pulled him from the building to avoid the blast.
The wooden planks were stronger around the perimeter of the room, and as I scanned it to find the best place for us to hide, the unthinkable happened.
The logs that made up the interior walls morphed from blank, decrepit slats to ripples filled with life. In the light from a kerosene lantern, the images came faster and faster, a crazy quilt appearing on a rack beside a woodburning stove, a young girl—her dark skin shining like ebony—singing to a carved wooden doll, a young mother rocking a baby in the corner.
“No, no, no.” I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again. The images were still there, now with more details filled in. The room had completely transformed. I thought about Liam’s words, that ripples were bleeding through the fabric of time. I’d gone from seeing individual people to a jazz trio to a horse-drawn carriage, and now the inside of a whole cabin with occupants intact. How far could the color run—how wide would the ripples spread?
I looked out the window, now hung with homespun curtains. Outside, other tiny cabins formed a kind of semicircle around an open area.
There was no lab in sight.
Do I pop the little girl or her mother and the newborn?
Because one of them had to go. Everything needed to disappear, and quick. I needed to see the present time out of the window, not an entire scene from the past.
T
he little girl was closest, so she was the winner. Or the loser, depending. I reached out and tapped her gingerly on the shoulder, rather than lunging into her as if my arm was a rapier and she was the target.
The dissolve was different than anything I’d ever experienced.
Instead of an instant pop and poof from the little girl, the fade started at the top of the scene and ran down like rivulets of rain on glass.
Something was very, very wrong, but I didn’t have time to think about it. Like a screen wipe in a movie, the lab reappeared, filling in from the top to the bottom. Michael was walking toward the door—dragging John Doe.
I had maybe a minute. I ran, giving no thought to possible exposure. Jack and Ava were secured somewhere in the woods, preparing to do serious damage, and now Liam, Michael, and I were busy arguing in the doorway to the lab. When I reached the side of the building, I pressed my body against it, squeezing my eyes closed. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to see myself.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Go, Emerson. Take these.”
“Come with me. You promised we’d be safe.”
I sounded desperate. In that moment I realized that somehow I’d known Michael wasn’t going to make it out of that building alive. But that was then.
I wouldn’t let history repeat itself.
“I promised you that you would be safe, and I don’t want you anywhere near this lab. Go with Liam to the car. Please? Time is running out.”
“I’m sure Michael knows what he’s doing. We’re just holding him up.”
“Go. Stay safe. I’ll get to you when I can.”
The second I was positive the pathway to the front door was clear, I stepped away from the side of the building and into the lab.
Michael stood frozen; his shoulders slumped forward, defeated. His fingers gripped the body as if it was a lifeline.
“Michael!”
He looked up, and his eyes widened, filling with fear. Shaking his head violently, he said, “Why are you here? Get out, Em, run!”
“No.” Grabbing Michael’s wrist, I kicked at John Doe as hard as I could, and the body fell to the ground. It landed with a thud, one arm escaping from the plastic it was wrapped in. The sight turned my stomach. “We both run.”