“They were killed.”
“Hunted down,” I said.
“And someone’s after you too?” she guessed.
I told her about the priest and what I knew of him.
Juana’s eyes grew so large I could see the moon reflected in the whites of her eyes. “But . . .”
“It’s him. I’m sure of it.”
I spent the next two hours answering Juana’s questions about both my Miss Hatfield and the former holders of the name. Alma walked slowly behind us. It was amazing that she was keeping up so well despite her age. It was as if she enjoyed the company.
Juana asked a little bit about Mr. Beauford and why he had bought her portrait, but she didn’t ask about what the future was like.
“Don’t you want to know?” I said. I’d have been curious if I hadn’t known how history went. “I could tell you about Florida in the future. New inventions. How the fashions change.”
Juana smiled, but she declined. “I don’t want to know.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m not supposed to,” she said simply. “There are certain things I’m not supposed to know until they happen to me.”
“But you’re also not supposed to be immortal and never die,” I pointed out.
“Yes,” Juana said. “That’s unnatural too.”
Unnatural. There was that word again.
“You think you’re some atrocity, don’t you? A scar on the earth.” I knew the feeling, because I felt it often. “You can’t live thinking that way.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Juana sounded so matter of fact that I did a double take.
“I don’t intend to live this way,” she repeated. “That’s why I’m seeking out the lake again. I don’t need to turn myself immortal. I received that curse the first time. I’m going back to reverse it.”
I had never thought of going to the Fountain of Youth to reverse immortality.
“And you think it’ll work?”
“It’s the only chance I have. I couldn’t spend my life—my existence—alone in Spain, wondering.” Juana smiled bravely into the dark. “I’m looking forward to curing the discomfort and pain that comes with immortality too.”
I couldn’t tell Juana why I was going to the lake. She would hate the idea of me inflicting this upon Henley.
Luckily, she didn’t ask.
The ground beneath our feet started to give a little where we walked.
There was a rustle of leaves when we stopped.
I paused to check the ground with my hand. Wet dirt.
“We must be close to the lake now.”
Alma pushed against my hand, and I gave her a pat.
“The forest hasn’t changed since I was here last,” Juana said.
“When you were here with Ponce de León?”
“When I made the mistake of drinking from the lake,” she said.
I knew she wouldn’t have picked immortality if she’d had the choice—Juana and I were alike in that—but it was still strange to hear immortality being referred to as a mistake. It was a horrible fate. Maybe it was something forced upon you. But a mistake you accidentally made? That made it sound too simple.
“There,” Juana said. “I can see it.”
She pushed apart the branches of the trees in front of us and ran ahead. The ground sloped down toward the lake, and Juana skidded as she ran.
I ran after her, and Alma limped after me.
“This is it. I remember it.” Juana was knee deep in the lake.
She flopped, chest first, into the water, immersing herself. When she came up, her dark hair streamed down her face. She pushed her hair back and started gulping down handfuls of the water.
Poor thing.
Juana wanted the lake to undo what it had done to her, but of course it couldn’t. She wanted so hard to believe, but there was no reason to believe the Fountain of Youth could work both ways. I think Juana knew that too.
I waded in after her and took her in my arms. She was sopping wet, and she clung to my arms as her clothes clung to her skin.
“Do you see anything? Is there anything different about me?” She was hysterical, and I didn’t know if it was her emotions or the curse of immortality speaking.
Juana’s cheeks were wet, and I felt the moisture on my own cheeks as I held her. Tears or water from the lake? I didn’t know.
I think Juana understood the truth, as she couldn’t stop crying. Her body wouldn’t stop trembling, even though I tried to hold her still.
“Shh . . . We’ll think of something,” I said. “You could come with me and Henley. You could start a new life like Miss Hatfield and I did.” That was the best I could offer her.
Juana calmed down and walked back to the shore of the lake. Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to withdraw her legs from the water, so she sat on the shore with her feet still in; it was as if she still couldn’t fully go back and give up on her hope of the lake restoring her.
Satisfied that Juana was as all right as she could be, I got back to my own task. I unscrewed the cap from the flask I carried and carefully filled it with water from the lake.
I didn’t need much. Henley would only need a sip, so I filled the flask halfway. Too much would only weigh me down.
There was a splashing sound close by.
I looked up, toward the sound, but didn’t see anything.
Something else caught my eye. It was a dart of movement from across the lake.
Alma was on the other side, bounding through the water. She was drinking the water every few steps.
“No . . .” Even as I was saying it, I knew it was too late.
The dog probably hadn’t had fresh water in days. She was lapping it up now gleefully.
I glanced at Juana to see if she had noticed. She was still sitting by the bank. She had her arms crossed over her knees and her head bowed.
I decided to leave her alone and handle Alma on my own.
As I moved around the lake to get to the other side, I wondered if the Fountain of Youth worked the same on dogs as it did with humans. There was no real reason to believe it wouldn’t.
“Oh, Alma, what did you do?” I guided her out of the lake.
Alma looked positively bubbly as she scampered in circles around me with her tongue hanging out. Well, the Fountain of Youth certainly looked like it had cured the effect old age was having on her. I wondered what Henley would say when I returned with an immortal dog.
I heard splashing again. I glanced toward Alma, thinking she had climbed into the water once more. It wasn’t her. She was on dry land.
I looked toward the other side of the lake for Juana.
She was upright, her feet still in the shallow depths of the lake. She was standing at a strange angle, and then I knew why.
There was a hand around her neck, holding her up. There was a second pair of legs in the water behind hers. My eyes met the eyes of the priest.
“Father Gabriel,” I whispered.
And he slit her throat.
I watched her eyes go wide—maybe from the pain, maybe at the amount of blood pouring from her neck. He stood there, holding her up, watching the blood spew for a moment. With one hand, he opened a black pouch and poured something into the lake. When he let her go, Juana’s body toppled forward, pitching headfirst into the lake. As soon as her body touched the water, she disintegrated.
A scream came out. Mine.
I started to run.
My feet hit the ground. I willed them to go faster. I didn’t have time to look back, but I knew he was after me.
He knew I had realized he was the killer. He had followed us here. But for what? To pour whatever had been in that black pouch into the lake. What was it? Poison of some kind? Arsenic? Something to eradicate the source of immortality?
He had killed Juana because he knew that she was immortal. And how had he known? Because of me. I was the reason she was dead.
I crashed through the trees, waving
my arms to get the branches out of my way. I thought I was heading the way we’d come. I had to get to the clock. I needed to put distance and time between me and the killer. That was the only way I was going to survive.
I took a chance and looked back. I had to have been running for almost twenty minutes. No sign. He was still probably on to me, but I had momentarily lost him.
Trusting my gut, I rerouted and headed in the direction I thought the camp was. Once I was close, I could find the clock and put more time between me and the killer.
Juana had died the same way Miss Hatfield had. They hadn’t deserved to die, especially not Juana. How could I have been so stupid? Juana could have lived if I had figured out the killer’s identity just a few hours earlier. Her blood was on my hands.
I ran through the woods for what felt like an eternity. My legs were slick with blood from scraping bark, and my muscles should have been sore from the running, but I couldn’t feel anything. Was it adrenaline or was it numbness at what had just happened?
When I reached the edge of the camp, I found the bent tree, counted fifty-four steps backward, and dug up the clock as quickly as I could. I didn’t know how he was doing it, but the killer couldn’t be that far behind me.
There was a bark and something hurtled toward me.
“Alma, no!”
I turned the hands of the clock and held my breath.
TWENTY-ONE
I WAS RUNNING down the road before the scenery around me had settled into 2016.
It wouldn’t be long before the killer worked out I had gone back to this time period. I had to get to Henley and warn him.
I had the clock tucked under one arm and the flask under the other. It was a miracle I hadn’t lost track of either.
There was a bark and I stumbled, looking back at the road. Alma was bounding after me. A part of her must have been touching me when I used the clock. I guessed I had a dog now.
I ran into the hotel lobby.
“I’m sorry, miss. No dogs—”
I couldn’t be bothered with that just then.
I looked out of the window, hoping to tell whether Henley was at the pool or in the room. Yes, I saw him.
“Henley!” I burst outside, Alma yapping and following close behind.
The women tanning in bikinis lowered their sunglasses. Their children froze in the pool, before some of them started to cry. I wondered if they were staring at the dog running past the No Pets sign or my bloodied body. Maybe it was the strange outfit I was still just about wearing.
Henley was also similarly gaping at us. The only difference was that he got over his surprise quickly. He was used to it.
“What happened?” He stood up.
He tried to hold my arms, but I couldn’t stand still enough to let him.
“You need to breathe and tell me what happened,” he said.
“The killer. Juana’s dead. He’s—”
Behind me, Alma was yapping so loudly I could barely hear myself.
I turned around. And screamed.
He was there.
Of course he knew I’d go to see Henley.
The next thing I knew I felt his hands on me, then all of a sudden I was underwater.
I blinked. Everything was tinted blue. Everything was quiet and still under the water. I couldn’t hear Alma barking. I couldn’t hear the children crying. I couldn’t hear myself screaming.
I pushed my head up and gasped for breath as I broke the surface.
Henley and the priest had their arms locked around each other in a struggle. Neither of them looked to be winning. I pushed myself to the side of the pool and clambered out. The killer’s attention was entirely on Henley.
I grabbed the priest by his shoulders, trying to pry him off Henley, but the killer got an arm loose and swung at Henley.
Henley stumbled back, hitting the poolside deck.
The priest turned to me, and I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed the clock and turned the hands.
When I staggered back, I hit wooden bowls that toppled off a log. The floor was dirt, but they still made a sound.
The men came to the front of their tents. A shooting pain went through my back.
I looked at my shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of sticky-looking blood before the priest came at me again.
He had found me quicker than last time. He must have grabbed hold of my arm when I time traveled.
He had a knife in his right hand. It took all the strength I had to hold him in a headlock. He wore something around his neck that was swinging against my stomach. He was too strong for me.
The knife was still slick with blood. Was it mine? Or was it Juana’s? Or Henley’s?
I tried to shove him off again, but he only angled his knife closer to my neck.
The men were running toward us from their tents, presumably to help me . . . but maybe they were going to help the priest instead.
Seeing the men approaching, the priest reached down for something.
All of a sudden, the men melted away. The forest, the dirt ground—it was all gone. We were traveling in time again.
We were back by the pool, where we had been standing only a few minutes before. We were merely a couple of feet from the water, and I tried to plant my feet so I couldn’t be pushed in again.
My shoulder was radiating pain, but I had my eyes glued on the knife.
The men with their poolside drinks and the women with their oversized sunglasses must have been in shock after seeing us appear out of thin air, but I didn’t have time to look at them.
“Henley!”
I gathered my strength and twisted my entire body to one side, momentarily unbalancing the priest. I took the brief chance to escape from his grasp and run.
But I only managed a few steps before something caught hold of my ankles and I felt my body lurching toward the ground. My chest hit the cement. I tasted blood in my mouth. But for one small instant, I felt fierce relief. I hadn’t dropped the clock.
I angled my arm to reach the clock’s hands. I didn’t think he noticed.
I drew a breath and kicked him. Hard.
He did what I wanted and let go. I turned the hands.
There was dirt underneath my hands. Was it 1532 again?
No matter. The priest seemingly hadn’t gotten there . . . yet.
I drew myself up and spat out the blood that had pooled in my mouth. I stood up tall, waiting for him to appear, while I gasped for breath.
When he did arrive, he took me by surprise.
The priest launched himself and tackled me from behind. I hit the ground for the second time that day, but I managed to twist just enough that he took the brunt of the fall. I rolled over to gain some leverage and struck his head with my open hand.
The priest got in a few blows of his own. Mostly to my stomach, but also a kick that buckled my knee.
He twisted, rolling away just enough that we weren’t touching.
I took the chance to turn the clock again.
I landed in a bush. Actually, technically, it was another one of the potted miniature palm trees by the pool.
It was enough to the side and out of the way that none of the other guests at the pool noticed my arrival, even though they were disturbed by the events of the previous few minutes. Behind me was the wall of the main building of the resort. I pressed my back against it and lay in wait for the killer. Any minute now, he would appear. And I would be ready this time.
I held my breath, waiting, but there was nothing that I could hear through the commotion of the crowd.
Lying in wait and being able to catch my breath didn’t relieve me. It only made me concerned that I had missed something.
Peeking out between the leaves of the plant, I scanned the people by the pool. Given they had just seen two blood-soaked strangers materialize out of nothing and fight each other, they looked like they were in a panic. Many of them had left the pool, but those who stayed were frantically calling the police and the manager
.
I spotted the metal flask by the pool deck. It was half under one of the lawn chairs, and a woman was right above it, spreading tanning oil on her back.
The fact that the metal flask was there meant that I had talked to Henley by the pool today . . . or yesterday, while the actual attack had happened . . . tomorrow? It was all very confusing.
Something cold and wet touched the side of my leg.
I looked down, expecting to swat away a bug, but it was Alma.
“You stuck it out all this time?” I scratched her under her chin.
Alma panted, rolling her tongue out. My fingers must have found her favorite spot.
“Where’s Henley?” I asked her.
I scanned the pool area, but he didn’t seem to be there. He must have been back at the room.
I was about to collect Alma and head there, but I saw a little boy heading toward us. His eyes locked with mine, and he took in the blood dripping from my shoulder and the scrapes running the length of my legs.
I held my breath. I knew I looked like something out of a child’s worst nightmare. I was waiting for him to scream.
But instead, he just continued walking toward me.
“You have lots of ouchies,” he said seriously.
“Yes, I do,” I said, not having anything else to say.
“Whenever I show Mama my ouchies, she tells me to scratch my forehead because it’ll make me forget about them.”
He was so solemn that I felt the only appropriate response to that was to nod gravely back.
“That’s good advice from your mama. Very wise,” I said.
“Can I pet your doggie?”
I had a sudden idea.
“If you help me, you most certainly can.” I pointed out the metal flask underneath the lawn chair. “Would you mind getting that for me? It’s something I lost, and I’d really like it back.”
By then, police were swarming the area. They were pushing people back and talking to a few witnesses. But it was such an uncontrolled commotion that the boy easily went into the mob unnoticed.
I watched as he toddled to the lawn chair, picked up the flask, and returned, without attracting any attention at all.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him.
The Day Before Forever Page 29