by Ryan Dalton
With the watch out of her hand, she felt the hot surge of power slowly diminishing. But she had enough left.
He’ll never stop. Valentine paused at the doorframe, which had splintered from the impact of Lucius’s body. Grabbing a thick length of wood, she wrenched it free and stomped toward her foe. Unless I stop him.
She stomped down on his shoulder with a booted heel. Clenching his jaw, Lucius snaked a hand inside his jacket.
“DDDOOONNN’TTT DDDOOO TTTHHHIIISSS, VVVAAALLLEEENNNTTTIIINNNEEE,” he commanded. “III’VVVEEE AAALLLWWWAAAYYYSSS BBBEEEEEENNN YYYOOOUUURRR FFFRRRIIIEEENNNDDD. YYYOOOUUU MMMUUUSSSTTT—”
Lifting her foot, Valentine reached down and grabbed him by the jacket. With a yank, she brought him closer and swung. His head rocked to the side as the makeshift club splintered against his temple. He stared at her bewildered.
“HHHOOOWWW DDDIIIDDD YYYOOOUUU—?”
She brought the club down again, silencing him with a crack to the ear. “Stop it!”
More chunks of her weapon broke away until all that remained was a sharp wooden stake, the narrow end pointed straight at his heart. Lucius held up his hands in surrender, then reached inside his jacket again.
“It appears you have hidden talents, Valentine. Just like your brother.”
She had no clue what that meant, and in this moment she didn’t care. I can finish this right here. The stake felt right in her hand, with the tip pressed against his chest. Her muscles tensed and she willed herself to push harder. But she couldn’t move.
Just do it! End it! She tried and failed again. Her hand shook, the stake’s tip wavering. A desperate sob escaped her lips. I can’t . . . I can’t . . .
“You see?” Lucius said. “At this moment, thousands of lives depend on you. Think of all the people you could save by killing me right now. But you won’t do it.” He shook his head. “Even you don’t think they’re worth it.”
Valentine pulled Lucius closer, glaring. He tensed, keeping an eye on the point of the spike. It seemed his self-assuredness had been more smoke screen than truth. He’s not sure what I’ll do. Trembling, she battled within herself. But neither am I. Her thoughts a whirlwind, she drew the weapon back and willed herself to strike.
Glass shattered somewhere overhead. Valentine flinched as glistening shards rained down around them. She and Lucius regarded the sky in puzzlement.
Three figures crashed to the ground at their left. Valentine heard a sickening crack and nearly forgot her own battle. Ulrich had fallen flat on his back against the stones, with Winter and Fred bracing themselves on top of his body.
Winter’s elbows buckled and she rolled to the side, unconscious. Valentine saw that Fred’s forearm casts had broken completely away. Then she looked closer and her heart jumped into her throat.
“Fred!” she called.
Sunlight glimmered along the edge of a long, thick shard of glass. It protruded from Ulrich’s chest, then lanced upward to pierce through Fred’s right shoulder. The two of them lay connected by the deadly sliver.
Fred’s chest heaved as he gasped for air. He pushed up, attempting to lift himself off the bloody shard. Ulrich’s hand shot up and gripped the back of his neck.
“You are . . . nothing!” Ulrich spluttered, blood painting his teeth. Tightening his grip, he pulled down on Fred’s neck and forced the glass back through his shoulder.
Fred cried out and pushed harder against the stones. Valentine yearned to run and help her friend. But if I let go of Lucius, this is all for nothing!
“Come on, man,” Fred gasped. “It’s over!”
“Y-you might as vell . . . die here,” Ulrich spat, his chest heaving. “I have seen future—seen history books. Your—” He hacked and retched. “Your names are not in them. Nothing you do vill . . . e-ever be remembered.”
Fred collected himself and gave a defiant grin. “Guess that means we can do whatever we want.”
Tensing, he struck his fist against the shard. The glass smashed into a thousand pieces, showering Ulrich’s face and chest.
Fred drew up to his knees and glared grim victory at his enemy. Ulrich coughed and shuddered and struck at Fred with his last bit of strength, his breaths growing shorter and shorter. Then they stopped, and Ulrich was silent.
Fred exhaled and his eyes rolled back. He crumpled to the stones next to Winter.
Valentine could scarcely process what she had witnessed. Oh . . . my . . . God. They beat him. She blinked. Winter and Fred beat Ulrich!
Her attention returned to Lucius. He stared at Ulrich’s body, mouth agape, his lower lip trembling and tears welling in his eyes.
“Ulrich,” he muttered softly. “I . . .”
He seemed confused, as if he couldn’t remember what to do. Valentine fought down a pang of sympathy, reminding herself what these men really were. They’re evil. Can’t let myself—
Lucius’s eyes snapped back to her, brimming with unbridled hatred. He shifted under her grip, and Valentine spotted what she’d been too distracted to notice. Somehow his hand had crept back inside his jacket.
Thunder cracked and the sky arced with lightning. Cruel satisfaction darkened Lucius’s visage, and suddenly she knew what his counterattack would be.
In a panic, she released her captive and fled toward the kitchen doors. Three strides later, the ground shook and her teeth rattled. The air flashed and sizzled as a bolt struck the stones between her and Lucius.
A shockwave slammed into Valentine and she collapsed in a daze, the world around her muffled and blurred. Over the ringing in her ears, she barely caught the sound of footsteps on broken stones.
Valentine rolled onto her back. Lucius loomed overhead, regarding her with cold eyes and a bitter twist to his lips.
“All right,” he said to her. “New plan.”
His foot connected with her chin.
Chapter 27
Thunder boomed and the house rumbled around Malcolm. Got to get moving! Val’s going to need my help with Lucius. As he came to his hands and knees, a foot connected with his flank, flipping him onto his back. He clutched at his side, laboring to breathe.
Lucius towered overhead with a frenzied look in his eye, his face bearing the marks of a fight. She made him angry. Then he saw Valentine slung over Lucius’s shoulder. Desperately he lunged for his sister, but a heavy foot pinned him to the floor.
“You got what you wanted! Let her go!”
“Oh, I think not,” Lucius spat. “Your plan is lost, your friends are broken, and still my purpose moves forward. Oppose me and the consequences will be on your head.” His voice grew to a shout. “Believe me when I say that you cannot imagine the horrors I will visit upon this girl if I see your face again!”
With that, he disappeared inside a sphere of energy, leaving Malcolm to wallow in defeat. No. He pushed up from the floor. We’re not done yet!
Fred eased stiffly onto a lounge chair by the pool and released the breath he’d been holding. Oma Grace rechecked the bandage on his shoulder, making sure it wouldn’t rip against the glass.
“Gotta tell you,” Fred said, “I ain’t a real big fan o’ glass lately.”
“How do you feel?” Malcolm asked.
Fred managed a weak grin. “Shoulda seen the other guy.”
Any other day, Malcolm would’ve laughed. Instead, he stared down at the object in his hand with growing fear. Valentine’s accelerator ring. He’d discovered it on the patio, in a circle of broken stones. She has no protection.
“You sure he was dead?” Clive asked.
“Wasn’t breathing when I woke up.” Winter hugged herself. “Lucius took him away, I guess. I don’t know why he left us.”
“Because he thinks we’re finished,” Oma Grace said.
Malcolm understood why. Fred was stabbed. Winter sustained two sprained wrists and a concussion. Oma Grace al
so suffered a concussion and a broken collarbone. Lucius had fractured Clive’s left arm and his left foot.
By some miracle, Malcolm and Walter escaped major injury. As a group, though, they couldn’t have presented a sadder picture. Malcolm wracked his brain for a new strategy, anything to give them a fighting chance. There had to be a way!
“Miranda never made it,” Oma Grace continued. “We never found John either. I fear they may have found them first.” She shook her head in despair. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Heavy silence pressed down on Malcolm’s companions. As they took stock of their condition, the glimmers of hope began to die.
Oblivious, Malcolm’s mind worked overtime. I’m missing something key. Something that doesn’t add up. What did he really come here for? Wait a minute—he told me! He stared down at the ring. That’s it! In his arrogance, Lucius had revealed more than he’d intended.
“Guys,” he began.
“I wanna pound that dude into dust,” Fred said. “But look at us.”
Winter nodded agreement.
Malcolm held up the ring. “Why did he leave this—?”
“Even with the rings, Grace an’ I wouldn’t last two minutes now,” Clive interrupted. “Can’t fix broken bones in a day.”
“I will get to Valentine, no matter what,” Oma Grace insisted. “I won’t let her face the end alone.”
Walter regarded her with uncharacteristic softness. “I’ll look after the rest of them, Grace,” he assured her. She thanked him with a fond smile.
Malcolm stared at her. “Hold on. What are you saying?”
She regarded him with teary eyes. “We gave it everything, my boy, and we lost.” She gave a desperate huff. “We have nothing left to challenge him with! The least I can do is be with my granddaughter in the final hour. He may allow me that.”
Clive studied the ground. “Grace said he thinks we’re finished. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we oughta think about gettin’ the rest o’ you outta town.”
Malcolm blinked in disbelief. “So, that’s it? He won? We’re just going to run while he kills thirty thousand people, including my sister?”
His insides cracked, and he felt steam rising up. Fear of losing Valentine collided with bitter fury, and his blood began to boil. “Walter, you’re just going to let this happen?”
“Malcolm,” Walter said wearily. “He’s got us from every angle. It’s checkmate.”
“It’s checkmate because YOU’VE GIVEN UP!”
They recoiled from his verbal assault. He didn’t care. A part of his heart burst open—the part that had lain buried since last autumn. It suddenly dawned on him how he’d spent the previous year—wallowing in loss, letting others control the course of his life. He’d let them because it had been easier than feeling something.
Those days were over.
Malcolm shoved Valentine’s ring under Walter’s nose. “Look at this! He took the watch from me, but left this behind.” He pointed at Oma Grace. “And Ulrich told you we were all part of Lucius’s plan. Don’t you see?”
He met a sea of blank faces.
“He’s had us figured out from the start! But attacking before now would’ve just given us time to plan a counterstrike. So instead, he distracted us. He let us use some old gadgets. He let me have the watch, knowing I’d stay occupied but never fully master it. All the while, time ticked by and our window to prepare got smaller. And then the day came—this day, when he’s planning to jump. Attacking us now means we have no time to recover.” He held up a finger. “But he gave us one fatal clue.”
Again, Malcolm faced slack-jawed expressions.
“Why would he leave the rings behind? Why take the watch and nothing else? Because it’s the only one that matters! He must need the watch for his final jump.”
“What are you saying, Mal?” Oma Grace prodded.
“Knowing what he needs tells us where he’s weak. If we get inside and find how he’s using the watch, we may have a chance to disrupt it.”
He peered into a void of bleakness. It seemed Lucius had also achieved something unintended. He’d broken their spirits. It didn’t matter—Malcolm was in charge now, and he would get their lives back.
“We still can’t fight,” Winter moaned.
“You and Fred are going to a hospital.” Malcolm turned to Clive and Oma Grace. “You take them. They need a driver, and you both need a doctor anyway. Don’t go to our hospital.”
“Why not?” Clive asked.
“Because if we fail, I want you out of the blast radius. Take them to another town, maybe Winnick or Abilene. Tell the hospital you got hurt during the blasts and were afraid to stay in town. They’ll buy it.”
Oma Grace and Clive exchanged glances with Fred and Winter. Slowly they nodded to each other, coming to silent agreement.
“Okay.” Clive gave Malcolm a reappraising look. “You be careful, son.”
Malcolm nodded, then turned to Walter. By the look in the old soldier’s eye, he knew what came next. “Just you and me against the future, huh?”
Malcolm nodded grimly. “I’ll need your help for what I have planned.”
Walter looked amused. “So, you actually have a plan?”
“For the first part, at least. We’re getting my sister out. Then, well, we’ll see if I’m right about all this.”
“Can’t just walk inside, now that the watch is gone,” Clive pointed out. “Craters are under guard. How you gonna get in there?”
“Got that figured out, but I’ll need a key to your shop.”
Clive dug in his pocket and handed over a jangling key ring. “You’ve more’n earned my trust.”
Choking back sobs, Oma Grace slid past Clive and wrapped Malcolm in a tight embrace. He returned the hug just as hard. Is this the last time I’ll get to do this? He pulled her in tighter.
“You come back to me, boy,” she breathed. “Hear me? And bring that foolish sister of yours. I want to see you both smiling again.”
He nearly broke right then. Tears burned at the back of his eyes, and he felt his chest heave with thick emotion. He stomped on it. Not now. I need to be strong for them.
He grasped her good shoulder and held her at arm’s length. “I’ll get her out. I promise.”
Her hand clutched his, and he looked down to see that she’d given him her anklet. Her one advantage, and she was giving it to him. After touching his cheek one last time, she wiped away tears and moved to help Winter. Clive supported Fred, and the two pairs hobbled toward the stairs.
“Wait!” Fred beckoned stiffly to Malcolm and wiggled his fingers. “Here, take it.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Fred, no. You need the ring more.”
“Psh. Thing’s probably just keepin’ me awake, an’ I’d rather be out cold. You’ll need any advantage you can get.” He wiggled his fingers again. “Come on, man.”
Malcolm reluctantly grasped the ring. With a twist, the black metal segments snapped open and slid from Fred’s finger. He readied himself to catch Fred, but he showed no signs of passing out.
Maybe these things leave a residual effect. It fades away slowly.
Fred grasped Malcolm behind the neck and pulled him closer. “You make him feel it!” he hissed. “When he knows he’s gonna lose, make it hurt. Understand?”
Malcolm met Fred’s hard stare with one of his own. He set his jaw and held up Fred’s ring. “I’ll tell him the first punch is from you.”
Satisfied, Fred nodded and turned back toward the doors.
“Hey,” Winter said, and held out her hand.
“You sure?”
Winter’s exhausted expression morphed into her trademark you’re a moron stare. “Take this thing so I can go get some painkillers.”
Malcolm stepped up and her accelerator ring fell into his palm, clinking against the other
s. Winter’s hand lingered near his, and he noticed she was studying him.
“You look different.”
He paused. “I feel different.”
Winter smacked his arm. “Good. Tell that loser it’s from me when you kick him in the—”
“All right, my dear, it’s time we were off.” Oma Grace rolled her eyes and half-dragged Winter toward the staircase.
Moments later they were alone, and the quiet almost echoed in Fred’s mansion. Malcolm still pictured it packed with his partying classmates. Now it looked more like a war zone.
“The man worked us over good, didn’t he?” Walter said.
Malcolm gave a dark chuckle. “That’s for sure.”
“So, how are we going to finish it?”
“By outsmarting him.”
Walter cocked an eyebrow. “We’re going to outthink the time-traveling genius?” He grimaced. “I’d rather just punch him.”
Malcolm slid Valentine’s ring on, relishing the warm relief. The aches faded and his muscles pulled taut and ready. Even the sunlight shone brighter.
“We’ll outsmart him because he thinks we’re stupid. Since we’re only stupid compared to him, that works in our favor. As for punching . . .”
He flicked his wrist and the two remaining rings sailed toward Walter. The soldier snatched them from the air.
Malcolm grinned. “I’m planning on that, too.”
Walter put them on, and his eyes lit up with the rush of power.
Malcolm hefted Clive’s keys. “Let’s get to the shop. I don’t think we have much time.”
“What does Clive have that we need?”
“The key to Lucius’s house.”
The chain dug into Valentine’s wrists, tethering her to a thick metal ring bolted to the floor. She leaned against the west wall of Lucius’s house, hands behind her back. If she sat up, she could just manage to peek out the window.
Why did he bother to tie me up? This place had an acute lack of doors, and the only real exit was occupied by a red energy vortex. It spun like a tornado, stretching from the top level all the way to the tunnels below the house.