by Lanie Bross
Still, the ground kicked underneath her. She tried to stand up and stumbled. It was like trying to catch a wave; the pavement rolled and a loud crack split the air. Behind her, an enormous column split and toppled. Air whooshed past her and Jasmine felt the impact of the column against the earth from ten feet away. The air was filled with a low growl, and Jasmine instinctively went into a crouch and covered her head, as she’d learned to do during earthquakes as a young kid.
This was a bad one, one of the worst she’d ever experienced. The world turned to chaos, bucking like an angry bull, snapping trees in half and sending them crashing into cars. Across the street, windows popped and exploded along a row of well-maintained houses.
Jasmine heard screams erupting all around her. People ran in every direction; car tires screeched and horns blew, adding to the confusion. A longer, harder tremor shook the earth and more columns split and fell, bursting apart as they fell onto each other.
Somewhere a car alarm started to blare.
When at last the tremors settled, and no more aftershocks kicked up through the ground, Jasmine sat up. The rotunda was in ruins. It looked exactly as it had the day she met Ford.
Ford. She had to find Ford.
“Excuse me,” Jasmine called out to the jogger who had been shouting at her before—probably warning her to take cover. He was unharmed, except for a scrape on his cheek. “What—what day is it?”
He was middle-aged, a little paunchy. He kind of reminded her of her dad, except for the jogging-gear part. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” He came to her side, knelt next to her.
“I’m fine,” Jasmine said, and stood up as if to prove it. “I promise. It’s … it’s Saturday, right?”
The jogger nodded, squinting. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jasmine waved him off. “I promise. I guess I just got shaken up.” She let out a laugh and walked quickly away from him, weaving through debris, before he could ask her any more questions.
So. Her intuition was correct. It was Saturday now, the day of the earthquake. That meant she had two days before she would meet Ford at the rotunda. Would he be there again? Would he recognize her this time? Would she make it two full days without time hopscotching around? Somehow, she doubted it.
Ingrid had confirmed what Jasmine had begun to suspect in Pyralis, that she was part Executor. Which meant Luc was, too. And now that she knew the truth, did that make her and Ford enemies? Wasn’t that what he’d said the first time she confronted him? We both know we’re on different sides. He had killed one Executor already, and had probably killed others before.
But she couldn’t lose Ford. He was her only ally. No one else understood. She had to make sure that in two days she would meet Ford and know that he could help her.
She needed to leave herself a clue. But where? Fort Point? Should she leave herself a clue where they had spent the night together? But that wouldn’t work, because how would she know to go there?
Another rumble shook the ground. Shit. She stood with her feet planted firmly apart and waited for it to pass. Think, Jasmine. Where would you look?
Then, in a flash, she understood. Here, at the rotunda. The note in the secret room.
Jas stumbled through the mess of concrete and branches. The air was filled with choking white dust and screaming sirens and panicked voices. She carefully picked her way to the hollow column that hid the secret stairway.
Dim light streamed down the steps. The shadows lengthened as she got near the bottom; it was so full of dust here, it was almost impossible to breathe. She slid her hand along the cool brick until a break in the wall indicated that the main room was right there. As she stepped into the room, she saw that part of the ceiling had collapsed. A bit of sunlight filtered through, casting a crazy array of shifting shadows.
Chills washed over her skin, and she rubbed her arms. The Executors had found her here twice. It wasn’t a good idea to hang around. The girl had said more would come in her place until the task had been completed. Until Jasmine was dead.
A low rumble started under her feet and grew in intensity until the dishes in the cabinet on the wall fell and smashed into pieces. Jas darted to the doorway and braced her hands against the sides. Another large chunk of the ceiling fell and sent a blast of dust straight at her. She turned her face, felt the pressure of dust and plaster on her back.
She needed to do what she had to do and get out, before the whole frigging place caved in and she was buried alive. When the shaking subsided, she moved as quickly as she could into the small side room. In the nightstand, she found an envelope and a pen.
Find Ford. Ask him about Miranda.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough.
She reached the top of the stairs just as a terrible noise began deep under the earth and seemed to claw its way to the surface. Everything shook, a harder aftershock than any of the previous ones. Jasmine hurtled through the doorway just as what remained of it collapsed behind her. Before she could react, a flash of light filled her vision and now-familiar agony ripped through her head. She stumbled and fell to her knees.
Why does this keep happening to me?
When her vision finally cleared, she saw that the sun was just now breaking over the horizon again. It was dawn once again, as if she were in a badly edited film. But the ground was still, and police tape crisscrossed the whole area like a giant yellow spiderweb. Teams of volunteers moved silently around the area, bagging and shifting debris.
“Jas!”
Jasmine turned, and her heart squeezed and then opened. Ford. He was here, really here, skirting the piles of rubble, his face twisted with concern. He was here and he knew her. Without intending to move, she crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around him. He pulled her close, holding her so tightly her feet lifted off the ground.
“I’ve gone crazy looking for you.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes and cupped her face with his hands. “You’re okay, right? I thought something had happened to you.” When she nodded, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running through the whole city. “I’m—I’m sorry for leaving. You were asleep and … I just freaked out. I got halfway across the city before I realized what an idiot I was being. But by the time I made it back to the bridge, you were gone.”
Jasmine flipped back through her memories of the past few days. It must be Tuesday morning; the morning after Ford had vanished while she was asleep in his secret hideout. That meant the Executors hadn’t tracked her to the shelter yet. Ford hadn’t killed one of them. She hadn’t yet been brought to Pyralis. She thought of the tip of the girl’s knife breaking the skin on her chest and shivered.
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Her voice hiccupped and she tried to take a breath. She didn’t know exactly what she was apologizing for, but she knew she had gotten Ford mixed up with something very bad. And she was not like him. She didn’t know what she was anymore. “I—I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Or—I do know. There is Executor in my blood. My grandfather was an Executor. You’ve known that all along, haven’t you?” Ford nodded.
Jasmine swallowed. “That’s why—that’s why you said we were on different sides, isn’t it?”
He made a sound, sort of a groan deep in his throat. His free hand rose and curled around the back of her neck. He pulled her closer, slow enough that she had time to stop him, but she didn’t. “I don’t care what I said,” he whispered. His voice was low and hoarse and it sent butterflies dancing along her skin. His lips were so close to hers she could feel his breath skim across them. Suddenly, everything around them disappeared from her mind and it was only the two of them.
She slid her hand slowly up and stopped just over the frantic heartbeat in his chest. Heat radiated between them; the air felt charged. His thumb brushed her earlobe as he drew her even closer, and every cell in her body came alive, fo
cusing on that one spot.
He closed the last breath of space between them and his lips brushed hers. It was like being struck by lightning. Jasmine wrapped both her arms around him, pulling him as close as possible.
Ford held her tightly and deepened the kiss, and a new hunger rose inside her. In her mind she could see millions of stars spinning out of control, suns exploding, comets with fiery tails hurtling through galaxies. She ached to be one of them, wild and free and out of control.
Ford finally pulled back with a gasp and rested his forehead on hers. His breathing was harsh and loud. When he opened his eyes, Jasmine swore she could see the same cosmic chaos swirling around in them.
“I won’t leave you again, I promise. And I won’t let anyone hurt you. As long as I’m able, I will keep you safe. Okay?” Ford kissed her again, softly this time.
A lingering warmth replaced the fire in her blood. Nothing in her life had ever felt this perfect before. She wanted to stay right there, in that moment, in Ford’s arms.
“Remember how I told you last night about the time shifts?” Jasmine asked, and Ford nodded. “It’s getting worse. More frequent. Bigger, too. I went back forty years. I met my grandmother.…” Ford’s eyes widened. Jasmine rushed on, “I’m scared, Ford. I’m worried I’ll get lost. Or stuck. Do you think this has to do with the Unseen Ones?” The Executor had said that the Unseen Ones managed everything in the universe. They must be responsible.
But Ford frowned. “That’s not how it works. The Unseen Ones control the fates of all the creatures in the universe. But even they can’t control the flow of time.”
Jasmine wasn’t convinced. What other explanation was there? Unless … unless it was some kind of weird effect because she’d used the Flower of Life, or whatever the Executor had called it. You can feel it inside, can’t you? the girl had said. The way you’ve changed.
But Jasmine didn’t want to believe it. Did that mean she would keep bouncing through time forever, like some cosmic pinball?
“Do you know where to find them?” Jasmine asked. “The Unseen Ones,” she prompted, when Ford looked at her blankly.
“I only know of them.” He looked away, squinted. “The Unseen Ones are everywhere and nowhere.”
“That sounds like a riddle,” Jasmine said, getting impatient.
“Sorry.” He reached out and touched her face again; then his expression hardened. “If I knew where to find the Unseen Ones—if I could get to them—I would. I swore after they destroyed an innocent life, that I would take revenge.” Bitterness laced his words. He looked angry. Wild.
“Someone you knew?” asked Jasmine quietly. She knew the answer already, had seen it in the pain and loss in his eyes.
He didn’t look at her. “A girl. A human girl who didn’t deserve to die simply because they decided it. They sent an Executor.…”
Jasmine couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t anything you have to be sorry for. It was a long time ago.”
She could tell from his tone of voice: He had loved the girl. She felt a brief flare of jealousy, and then immediately felt guilty, and then angry with herself. What kind of person was she, to be jealous of someone who was dead? Especially at the hands of someone just like her.
He had kissed her, saved her life, and yet there was a part of him that someone else had known. It made her feel … strangely alone. She had the sudden overwhelming urge to turn and run away as fast as she could. “I’m sorry,” she said again, at a loss for what else to say.
“Jas.” Ford breathed her name into her ear and she froze. He slid his hand up her neck to tangle in her hair and pulled her close. “It was a long time ago. Now, it’s just you, I promise.”
He pulled back just enough to press his lips against the frantic pulse in her neck. Then he moved higher, along her jaw, her chin. “I don’t know what any of this means. But I know one thing: I won’t let you go.”
Finally, his lips were against hers again. They kissed until they were both breathless. This kiss was different from any of the other kisses she’d had, which were wet and sloppy and uncomfortable. Kissing him was like falling, or floating. It was right.
She couldn’t be without him again. At any moment she might get pushed into another day or another year. He might stay lost to her in time forever.
“We need to figure out how to stop this,” she said. “All of it.”
“There might be someone who can help us.” There was hesitation in Ford’s eyes, and she could tell he didn’t like what he was about to suggest. “Miranda might know.”
The name gave her an uneasy feeling. She’d been so worried about dodging the Executors and rocketing back and forth through time she’d forgotten all about her original intuition that Miranda was at the heart of this whole mess. That Miranda might even know where Luc was. “Who is she?”
“Another Radical, like me,” he said slowly. “She knows about the tunnels of time and hates the Unseen Ones even more than I do.” He chewed on his lower lip, lost in thought. “Or she might not. Miranda has her own agenda. She’s unpredictable, even for a Radical.”
“We have to try,” Jasmine said, even though there was a leaden weight in her stomach. “How do we find her?”
“Through the Crossroad.” His eyes were like a summer storm, turbulent and wild.
The Crossroad. The Executor had brought her through the Crossroad—or would bring her through the Crossroad tonight, in some version of the future. Her stomach flipped at the thought of navigating the spinning vortex of color again. She had felt like she might drown.
But with Ford, it couldn’t be that bad. At least, she hoped so. And she would be brave for him. “All right,” she said. She felt as if the words were lodged in her throat, strangling her.
Ford laced his fingers through hers. Then he brought her hand to his lips, kissing each fingertip gently. “Remember what I promised you,” he said. “I won’t leave you again.”
They had taken only a few steps when a now familiar voice filled the air.
“Ford,” the girl Executor called out.
Ford stiffened and pulled Jasmine behind him.
“Don’t come any closer.” Ford’s voice was low, and sparks danced along the edges of his fingers. “What the hell do you want?”
The girl, to Jasmine’s surprise, held up her hands. “I’m not here to fight you. I’ve come with a message from the Unseen Ones. An offer of peace, if you will.”
Jasmine could feel Ford’s fury. The sparks grew brighter. “They convinced the Tribunal to lock me up in Kinesthesia. Why the hell would they offer me a deal?”
“They’re prepared to grant you full immunity and your freedom,” the girl said as she met Jasmine’s gaze.
“A pardon.”
“The Unseen Ones don’t negotiate.”
“They want this matter resolved civilly—and quickly.”
Jas took a step back, away from Ford, who had gone still.
“Give us the girl, and we’ll give you your freedom.”
Jasmine watched Ford with a sinking feeling. He hadn’t moved. What if he took their offer? Freedom was a potent motivator, maybe even more so than revenge. She couldn’t fight them all.
“One human for endless existence, Ford,” the girl said. “You could burn as brightly as you want. Isn’t that what you want the most?”
He stood unmoving, and his silence told Jasmine all she needed to know. She turned and ran for the street.
The suns’ heat burned down on Miranda. Every inhale felt like fire burning her lungs. She squinted against the brightness.
Rhys had spent out his life in this barren world. Now she would die here. Would that have made her former lover happy? She thought of him, stuck in his dark world, all alone except for the Figments he helped. It was all because of her, because he risked it all to save her. They were born of the same chaos and should’ve spent eternity together.
He would say that the universe obeyed the h
eart, but she knew better.
The universe obeyed the Unseen Ones. Because of them, she had lost everything.
But she would have the last laugh. The fire that had started in the Crossroad had followed her into this world. The eternal flame, she knew, would keep burning until everything was consumed. Already the fire licked away at the red sand, and spiraling stems of smoke curled upward, clouding the suns in a thick gray haze. The world melted around the flames, like a piece of paper fed into a fire, falling into the swirling darkness below. Into unknown parts of the universe.
How long would it take to destroy the entire Land of the Two Suns?
And after that … the rest of the universe?
For you, Rhys, she thought, glancing toward the cliffs where she knew he had lived.
A movement above caught her eyes, and for one fleeting moment, she thought it might be Rhys, that somehow he hadn’t died. Her heart leapt inside her chest and she tried to call out to him, but the dryness of her throat prevented any sound from escaping.
The figure shifted and melted out of sight, but not before Miranda saw that it was simply a Figment who had been standing on the edge of the cliff. Had it been watching her?
She pushed herself slowly to her feet. The horizon dipped and dove crazily, and she staggered to the left, barely staying on her feet. She started toward the cliffs, one agonizing step at a time. At the base of the cliffs, she had to stop and rest her hand against the sharp rock so as not to fall. She looked up, following the lines of the rocks, and felt a moment of despair. It was too far. She was too weak. She collapsed to her knees, breathing hard.
I’m sorry, Rhys. It was fitting that she be alone. She deserved it.
She wished she could tell him that despite everything, she did still love him.
Miranda felt the smallest hint of wind. But no. The touch was too persistent to be natural. She opened her eyes and saw dark fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugging her gently forward. Two Figments were beckoning her forward. Her Figments—her shadows. She recognized them immediately because they were her shadows.