“How are the twins?”
“Fine. They’re loving the farm, the horses.”
“And how are you?”
“Coping. What about you?” He hurried to turn the conversation away from himself. “Where are you right now?”
I almost blushed. It felt good—normal. And I needed normal. “Your room. I moved in. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I only wish I was there too. You skipped school then?”
“Yes. Meeting with Peter seemed more important.”
“You took someone with you?”
“Claire.”
“Good. I don’t want you going anywhere alone. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Teaching Peter how to travel. Learning everything we can from Radcliffe and Hanif, and figuring out all the details of Alex’s strategy.”
“You’ll call back? Keep me informed?”
“Of course. And I can text you before I travel in Toni’s past.”
“Please do. And be cautious. Toni’s memories can lead to dangerous places. Make sure he keeps it out of Mexico. And Canada, for that matter.”
“Sounds like a story . . .”
“One for another day,” he assured me.
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you, Kate. Call me later, and I’ll tell you again.”
My arms ached to hold him, and I knew he felt the same.
***
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Peter muttered one hour after school.
“Come on. You’ll be great,” Lee argued. “Mom would be so proud—if she knew about all of this. And if she wasn’t out of state right now.”
Toni was shaking his head, standing across from them on the bottom floor of the warehouse. “This is weird. I just . . . think of a memory?”
I nodded. “And then focus on the emotions it inspired. Try to break it down to one, but if you can’t, that’s okay—we should still be able to find it.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Peter admitted.
Hanif patted his arm. “That’s natural, I think.”
It was late afternoon, and we were ready to let Peter have his first experience with traveling. Hanif was coming along for extra practice. Dr. Radcliffe wanted to stay and see what it looked like from this side—the collapse and unconsciousness that always followed a traveling experience. He had his notebook and pen at the ready.
My phone buzzed in my hand. I opened it at once, anxious to see Patrick’s reply to my text.
Be safe. Call me when you wake up. I love you.
I tapped back, I will. Love you.
“Kate, I think I’m ready,” Toni said, breaking into my thoughts.
I sent my message and shut the phone, pushing it into my pocket. “It’s in the States?” I asked again, just to be safe.
Toni rolled his eyes. “No, I’m taking you to meet my Mexican drug buddies in the 1800s. Of course it’s in the States! New York, actually. And while you’re there, do me a favor.”
“Yeah?”
He looked a little sheepish. “Find out who I stole that bracelet from, okay? I always told Patrick that I knew, just to goad him. But I really have no idea.”
I frowned. “You told me you were taking us to a safe memory! Not one where you stole something.”
“Apples and oranges, Kate. Besides, I don’t think I have a memory where I wasn’t stealing something. Candy from babies, kisses from beautiful girls—”
“Hey!” Lee protested.
“Named Lee,” Toni clarified. “Only the ones named Lee, I swear.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Toni. Can you show us the aura, please?”
“Sheesh. Let’s be impatient, never mind that Toni’s doing us a favor . . .”
“I’ll find the bracelet owner, then we’re even. How about that?”
“I’ll go for that.”
His aura was already being dominated by a single color—yellow happiness.
Hanif, Peter, and I gathered around Toni, concentrating on the growing color.
“Try to get at least a name and gender,” Toni told me. “An address would be great. But if it doesn’t come naturally, don’t worry about it . . .”
Toni’s voice faded as I dropped.
I was standing on a crowded street in New York City.
This was nothing like my trips to Ireland where we were out of the way, on the edge of thought. Maybe we were still on the edge of Toni’s memory, but we were in the middle of the sidewalk. We were shoved and jostled, and I grabbed Hanif’s slim wrist before he could be dragged away. Peter was already pressed up against a store front, looking more than a little overwhelmed.
“It worked,” he muttered. “It really worked.”
Hanif and I pushed up next to him. “And it’s that simple,” I said, feigning nonchalance. This was the most disconcerting traveling experience I’d ever had; no time to really adjust to new surroundings, just elbows and faces all around.
“I can feel the pull,” Peter said. “It’s either that, or me getting ready to vomit.”
“That’s the one,” Hanif congratulated him. “It’ll pull you straight back to your own time, when you’re ready.”
I was scanning the sidewalk, taking in the huge buildings and bustling humanity. I couldn’t tell exactly what year it was, but my guess would have been somewhere in the fifties. That made me mentally roll my eyes at Toni. He’d stolen the bracelet a long time ago, unlike he’d told Patrick. The poor person he’d nabbed it from was probably already dead in the present, and Patrick was saving it for nothing. So much for Toni’s story about stealing it especially for Patrick. For crying out loud, Toni wouldn’t even meet Patrick until the late eighties!
Someone stepped on my foot but didn’t apologize, just kept walking. A second later someone knocked into me. I felt Hanif buckle beside me, his small form not able to take my weight. Before I could fall completely someone grabbed my swinging arm. I thought it was Peter, but then I found myself staring into Toni’s beaming face, his silver aura completely familiar.
“Whoa there!” Toni chuckled, hand on my arm. “Sorry about that. New York will be New York, I guess.”
“Yeah.” I stumbled out, shocked to come face-to-face with him so suddenly. “Thank you.”
He steadied me before releasing his grip. “No problem. Watch yourself, all right?”
“Thanks,” I repeated. He nodded and slipped back into the crowd. I lost sight of him almost instantly.
“Should we follow him?” Hanif asked. “To find that person he steals from?”
Peter grunted suddenly. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
We both looked up at him. He pointed to my wrist in answer.
The bracelet was gone.
***
“It’s just so crazy,” I repeated, still disbelieving. “Toni got that bracelet from me, and then he gave it to you. But I got it from you in the first place!”
“I can barely wrap my mind around it,” Patrick agreed, the line cracking subtly.
Toni was shaking his head beside me, speaking loudly so Patrick could hear him through my phone’s speaker. “Yeah, yeah, it’s an interesting conundrum. But what about tomorrow? Do you really think this is such a great idea? To do this so soon?”
I waved him away in irritation, but Patrick had heard. “Kate, maybe he’s right. Maybe you should wait for another week or so. Terence may be able to find some more Seers to help you, and you can get better prepared. Toni can teach you some more fighting techniques.”
“I thought you said I shouldn’t fight—if there was trouble, I should just come back to the present.”
“That’s plan A, certainly. But the more you know, the safer you’ll be.”
“Terence doesn’t seem hopeful about finding more Seers,” I said. “It was everything the Council could do to find the ones they did. We’d be waiting for weeks, and that’s out of the question.”
“The twins are perfectly safe, Kate. You do
n’t have to rush for their sakes.”
But I do. “There’s no reason to wait. We can get all this behind us tomorrow morning.”
I could just make out his sigh. “It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out.”
“Hopefully. Dr. Radcliffe and Alex put a lot of thought into this, and Peter and I have been going over their plans. Things will run smoothly. You’ll see.”
I hurried to distract him. “I am sorry about your bracelet.”
There was a hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s not your fault.”
Toni was rolling his eyes. “If I hadn’t stolen it from you, Patrick would never even get it, remember? So actually you and I were doing him a favor . . .”
I shook my head at him but didn’t respond because Patrick was speaking. “Toni, promise me that you or Lee will call me the second Kate loses consciousness. I want to be informed.”
“Sure, I’ll give you the play-by-play.”
“I’ll be careful, Patrick,” I broke in. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Of course. I just . . . Call me in the morning?”
“Definitely,” I said.
“Ew,” Toni griped. “Don’t turn all lovey-dovey on me.”
“Good night, Toni,” Patrick said firmly.
“Love you,” I said toward the phone.
“And I love you,” he returned.
When I looked over at Toni after closing the phone, I caught his mischievous grin.
“Oh, you love him. How sweet.”
I shook my head. “You’ve stooped to basic teasing? That seems beneath your usual style.”
His eyes flashed brightly. “When it gets a reaction, heck yes I will. You love him.” I set my phone aside and reached for my pillow, punching it to fluff it up.
Toni’s words became annoyingly sing-song. “Kate and Patrick, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i—”
I threw the pillow right into his face, hitting him a little harder than I meant to. He lost his balance and reeled back, slipping off the edge of Patrick’s bed to land painfully on the floor.
“Ouch,” he stated.
“I’d say I’m sorry, but—” I shrugged.
He came to his feet, handing me my pillow with a sour look. “I don’t think I’m wanted here.”
“How astute of you.”
He muttered a rueful good night, closing the door behind him. I punched my pillow a few more times before sliding it into its proper position at the head of the bed. I moved my phone up onto Patrick’s desk, then slipped under my blankets, finally leaning over to flip off the bedside lamp.
I settled down in the darkness, falling asleep in minutes, thoughts drifting into black emptiness . . .
It didn’t feel like I was asleep for long, but when I jerked awake and looked wildly at the clock I saw that four hours had gone by.
I could still feel the dagger in my hand, fresh from my nightmare. Sean’s face was emblazoned on my memory. Patrick’s scream was still ringing in my ears. Trembling hands covered my eyes, forcing them shut as I willed the dream to die.
This dream had been different. The beginning, the middle—they were familiar. The conversation, my grandpa’s murder, seeing the knife in my hand—nothing had surprised me there. It was the end—the horrific final scene—that caused me to shake.
I’d stabbed Sean. Only it wasn’t Sean who died. I’d killed Patrick. Somehow, the blade was able to claim his immortal life. He fell to the ground, eyes wide, mouth gaping. Sean had disappeared, and in my anger I’d killed Patrick.
Still delirious with sleep, and shivering from a combination of fright and sudden awakening, I grasped for my phone. Seconds later it was ringing dully in my ear.
He answered on the third. “Kate? Is something wrong?” His voice was weak with sleep.
I couldn’t answer right away. The guilt and fear clogged my throat.
I didn’t realize I was choking on tears until he drew attention to the fact. “Kate, you’re crying. What’s going on?” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled between my tears. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quickly, voice more firm and alert. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“No. I just—I just had a really, really bad dream.” Distantly, I realized how ridiculous it was to call him like this; he couldn’t do anything. But I’d needed to hear his voice. To know that he was okay. That he was alive. That the dream wasn’t real.
“A dream?” A mix of relief and confusion colored his words. Frustration was present as well. I could understand that emotion—I was frustrated at the distance between us too. “What kind of dream?” he pressed.
I closed my eyes and let one sweaty palm support my forehead. “A nightmare.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was about Sean.”
A short silence. Then he swallowed hard. “What happened?”
A fresh wave of grief hit me, washing over me until I thought I would drown. I cringed against the pain. “He killed him. He killed my grandpa.” I sniffed loudly, my voice turning into a high whimper as the words came pouring out. Distantly, I realized I wasn’t making much sense. “He killed him, and then I killed him. There was this knife in my hand—he told me to bring him back, but I couldn’t. And so I killed him. But it wasn’t him. It was you. I killed you. I’m so sorry!” I sobbed, unable to speak anymore.
His voice was low and comforting in my ear. “Kate, shh, it’s all right. Hey, I’m right here. It was a dream. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to feel guilty about.”
“But this wasn’t the first time,” I hiccupped. If I was aware of how pathetic I sounded, I would have been mortified. “I’ve killed him lots of times. But never you. I’ve heard you scream before, but never this.”
“Kate. Please—it’s all right. I promise, I’m fine. You’re fine.”
He continued to try and calm me for several minutes, breathing words of comfort and love, and eventually my heart stopped pounding. My tears stopped falling and my breathing steadied. My throat felt raw and my head was sore, but I was calming down. I was thinking rationally again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered at last, my throat constricted. “I shouldn’t have called—it was stupid.”
“No. I’m glad you did. You were upset.” I could tell from his voice he was relieved I’d stopped crying, but another emotion dominated his tone now. He was aching, and so was I.
“I miss you,” I murmured into the phone. Words I’d been too strong, too proud, to utter during daylight hours.
He didn’t answer right away. Maybe he couldn’t. “I miss you too,” he said at last.
“Patrick?”
“Yes?”
“I . . . I love you. So much.”
He struggled to speak, his voice cracking thinly. “Kate . . . If something happens tomorrow . . . if—” He blew out his breath, unable to finish. “You should go back to sleep. You need the rest.”
“Okay,” I whispered, too weak to protest.
He waited for me to end the call. I mumbled a last good night, then closed my phone. I lay back down, still clutching the small device in one hand, tucking it up under my chin. I couldn’t make myself let go. Letting go meant losing my connection with him, as thin as it was.
Eighteen
Dr. Radcliffe had run over the plan more times than I wanted to remember. He was sure he’d missed something, yet he talked with the confidence of a man who knew everything. He kept assuring us that nothing could go wrong, but Hanif didn’t seem reassured—and watching Hanif wring his hands and pace was making me all the more jittery. I wished I was with Jason in a safe library somewhere, doing homework.
It was Friday morning, just after nine. I’d skipped school again, but this time Lee ditched with me. With Patrick gone, she was my greatest support. She stood beside me while we made our final preparations. Toni stood behind her, one hand resting
on her slim waist. She was wearing a pink poodle skirt and a light pink blouse. A white scarf was wrapped around her neck, and her hair was in a short ponytail. Her face was still bruised but no longer swollen. Her presence alone infused me with confidence.
“Things are going to go great,” she whispered, urging me to stop frowning. “You go in, follow the plan, then you hop back out. Easy!”
I forced a smile, but there was nothing real about it. Up to this point it was easy to focus on the details of the mission, not the actual objective. So many things could go wrong, especially if this date was as guarded as we suspected it could be. Demons, Seers—who knew what forces we would have to reckon with? Hanif had some training, and that was lucky for us. I’d been in fights, but I’d always had someone to rescue me when I got in over my head. Peter Keegan hadn’t been in a fight once in his life; he’d confessed as much to me the other day.
And we were supposed to succeed?
But though I had all of that to worry about, it was impossible not to think about the reason behind all this stress and hard work—ending the life of a small boy who would one day become one of the most evil men to ever live. The thought still made me sick.
At least Radcliffe’s plan wasn’t too direct. None of us were actually expected to do anything to that little boy. Rather, we were supposed to make sure no one did anything. Hanif would cut the phone line, making it impossible for the young Demon Lord to call for an ambulance. Peter and I would watch from the sidelines, making sure no one interfered. Making sure the small boy bled to death.
I needed to concentrate on the Demon Lord’s face. On all his horrible followers: the Dmitriev brothers, Mei Li, Takao Kiyota. And of course, Far Darrig. I needed to think of the twins—what would happen if I didn’t succeed.
“I think I’m nearly ready,” Dr. Radcliffe said to the room, his British accent pronounced.
I glanced up to see Hanif straighten. Peter’s eyes closed tightly—he started muttering to himself. The words seemed too hurried to be a prayer, but I didn’t know what else it could be.
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