“It’s too late,” Mark said softly.
“Mark!” his dad shouted. “This is about the future of humanity, not just your mother and me.”
“I know that, Dad,” Mark said patiently. “But the damage is done.”
The three stood staring at one another. Mark was right. The damage was done. Nevva had the ring.
A soft knock came on the door.
“Come in,” Mr. Dimond called.
Courtney poked her head inside to see the tense standoff. “Oops, sorry. Family stuff,” she said, and started to close the door.
“No,” Mark called out. “Come in. You’re part of this too.”
Courtney sheepishly entered the stateroom and looked at the Dimonds, saying, “I guess tennis is out of the question?” She gave them a big, hopeful smile, trying to lighten the mood. All three Dimonds stared back at her blankly. “Got it,” she added. “I’ll just slink off.”
“I told them,” Mark said. “They know about Nevva and the ring.”
Courtney relaxed, happy that the truth was out. She plopped down in an easy chair. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Now what do we do?”
Mark walked to the porthole. It was obvious he had something to say, so the others didn’t offer their own opinions. Not that they had any.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he began. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been doing since I gave up the ring. After we read Bobby’s last journal from Ibara, we thought it was all over. It wasn’t. Bobby’s trapped. Saint Dane is trapped. Nevva isn’t, obviously. She’s on the loose, and whatever she wants to do with that ring, it can’t be good.”
Courtney blurted out, “You think maybe she can use the ring to get Saint Dane off Ibara?”
“Maybe,” Mark answered. “I don’t know.”
“How would that work?” Mrs. Dimond asked.
“Mom,” Mark said with a touch of impatience. “You ask that like we know how any of this works.”
“You’re right,” she said quickly. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Mark continued, “I’m pretty sure what we should do. We’ve got to stay on First Earth. All of us.”
“We couldn’t travel if we wanted to,” Courtney added. “No Travelers here, remember? I doubt Nevva will let us hitch a ride with her.”
“Even if we could travel, I think it’s better that we stay here.”
Mr. Dimond entered the conversation, saying, “I told you not to worry about us.”
“But I do,” Mark shot back. “As long as you’re here, I think you’re safe. I don’t believe Nevva. If you go back home, all bets will be off.”
“But why?” Courtney asked. “She’s not Saint Dane. She wouldn’t do something horrible just for fun. Would she?”
“I don’t want to take the chance,” Mark said with finality.
“But, Mark—,” Mr. Dimond complained.
“Dad!” barked Mark. “We have to stay here. This is where we belong now.”
Mr. Dimond looked at his wife. They had never heard Mark speak to them like that. He wasn’t a sheepish little boy anymore.
“All right, son,” Mr. Dimond said calmly. “This is your show.”
“What are we supposed to do in 1937?” Mrs. Dimond asked. “Start a new life?”
“If we have to,” Mark said. “We can get by. The money from KEM will help with that. It’s the other reason I think we should stay. As much as it hurts to admit, I’m in business with KEM. Dado is a real thing. Maybe if we accept it and become part of the process, we can find a way to sabotage Forge. It’s still First Earth. It’s still 1937. We might be able to change history yet.”
“It’s true,” Courtney chimed in brightly. “We’re not done here. We could still scuttle the dados!”
“And don’t forget Nevva,” Mark added. “We need to find out why she wanted my ring. If she finds out we’re creating trouble for KEM, she’ll be back. I want to be waiting for her.”
“I like that,” Courtney said with an evil gleam in her eye. “Let’s make her come to us.”
Everyone exchanged glances and nods. Mark’s words rang true. Better, they contained hope. That had been in short supply.
“I guess that’s it then,” Mrs. Dimond said. “We’re going to be living in the past.”
“I wasn’t much for cell phones anyway,” Mr. Dimond said with a smile. “Or microwaves or computers or sushi.”
“I kind of liked the microwave,” Mrs. Dimond said wistfully.
It actually gave them all a chuckle. This was a family, including Courtney. There was a bond between them that they knew would help get them through, or even better, help them start doing damage control.
Another knock came at the door. Without being asked, Dodger poked his head in. “Hey hey! The gang’s all here! It’s our last night on board. I made dinner reservations. Who’s with me?”
Everyone looked to Mark, who shrugged and exclaimed, “Why not? Let’s celebrate the beginning of our new lives.”
It was a wonderful evening. They ate in the same opulent dining room where Dodger and Courtney had cornered Mark on their voyage to England. This time, there was no pressure. Dodger acted as host, ordering for everyone. Mrs. Dimond danced with her husband to the music of the swing orchestra. She even coaxed Mark onto the dance floor. Courtney and Mr. Dimond shared a dance, but Dodger cut in and spun Courtney around the floor expertly. Since the age of twelve, Courtney had taken dozens of ballroom dance classes, all under protest, thinking it was a dork skill she would never have to use. It never occurred to her that one day she’d travel to the past, where an orchestra would play swing music for her dancing pleasure on an ocean liner.
The group did their best to forget their troubles for a while and enjoy their last few hours on the most elegant ocean liner of its time. They spent hours in the restaurant. There was no hurry. They weren’t going anywhere. At one point Courtney grabbed Mark by the hand. Before he had a chance to complain, she pulled him onto the dance floor. The song was slow—a ballad.
“I’m actually starting to recognize this music,” Courtney said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I’m kind of starting to like it too,” Mark added.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Courtney groused.
The two swayed back and forth in time to the orchestra. Mark stepped away, took Courtney’s hand and spun her around with surprising grace. Seconds later she was back in his arms.
“Where the heck did you learn that?” she asked in surprise.
“We were in the same ballroom class for two years, Courtney,” Mark said flatly.
“Oh. Really?”
“You didn’t know I existed.”
“I wouldn’t say that! I just thought, I mean, I really kind of…Okay, you’re right. I didn’t know you existed. Did we ever dance together?”
“No. I was afraid of you.”
“That was a long time ago,” Courtney said with a touch of sadness.
“So much has happened.”
“Really.”
“At least I’m not scared of you anymore.”
Courtney laughed and held Mark closer.
“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Courtney said.
“I’m your only friend,” Mark replied with a smirk. “It’s kind of hard to maintain a social life when you’re bouncing around Halla. I haven’t been to many parties lately.”
“True.” Courtney sighed. “Then again, you didn’t go to many before, either.”
“Gee, thanks for that.” Mark chuckled.
Courtney added, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”
Mark had never had a girl tell him he was great before. He barely spoke to girls at all. This was alien territory. He didn’t know what to say.
Courtney answered for him. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thanks. I think you’re great too.’”
“I do.”
They danced for a few more moments, then Courtney asked somberly, “Do you think we’re going to spend the rest of our lives i
n the past?”
“I don’t know. But if we do, I’m glad we’re together.”
The two held each other even closer and let the music become their world, if only for a few minutes longer. For that one short magical moment, Courtney liked the music too.
The next day was filled with a whirlwind of activity. The Queen Mary had docked in New York, and the romance of being on board had worn off for the nearly twenty-five hundred passengers. They were all about getting packed up and off the great liner. It was organized bedlam.
Courtney, Dodger, and the Dimonds gathered in the Dimonds’ stateroom, waiting for the crowds to thin. Their luggage had already been sent ahead to the Manhattan Tower Hotel. Dodger saw to that.
“I got rooms for all of you,” Dodger said. “Good rate, too. You can stay at the hotel for as long as it takes to find someplace to settle in permanent. Courtney can bunk in Gunny’s apartment. The Dimonds have adjoining suites. It’s all very cush.”
“Who died and made you manager?” Courtney asked.
“I told you, we bellhops run the place. We know where all the skeletons are buried.”
Courtney quipped, “From what I’ve heard of that hotel, that’s no figure of speech.”
“Yeah, real funny. Everybody ready?”
Everyone exchanged glances. Mark broke the silence. “Let’s go home.”
They made their way along the passageway and up to the Promenade Deck, where the gangway off the ship was waiting for them. As a group they stepped onto the bridge and off the deck of the ship that had been their home, more or less, for many days. Nobody was sorry to say good-bye. Dodger hailed them a cab, and they all crowded in the back together.
“Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Dodger announced. Then added, “Wait.” He reached through the partition that separated the front seat from the back, grabbed the cabbie’s chin, and turned him to face the group.
“Hey!” the cabbie protested.
“Relax, pal,” Dodger ordered, and faced the others. “This guy look familiar to anybody?”
Everyone shook their heads. Dodger let go of the cabbie and said, “Good. Let’s go.”
Courtney laughed. She knew exactly what Dodger was thinking. The last time they were in a cab together, the driver turned out to be Saint Dane, and they were both nearly killed. Dodger wasn’t taking any chances.
Traffic was light, and they made it uptown to the posh Manhattan Tower Hotel in no time. The cabbie rolled off Park Avenue, into the circular driveway, and up to the wide stairs that led to the front door.
“All ashore!” Dodger announced. He paid the cabbie and said, “Thanks, pal. There’s a little something extra for your trouble.”
The cabbie took the cash while glaring at Dodger. He didn’t like the cocky bellhop, but he didn’t mind taking his money.
As everyone piled out of the cab, Dodger said, “I’ll check on the bags. Meet you all in the lobby.” He didn’t wait for an acknowledgment and bounded up the stairs, throwing greetings to all his pals. Dodger was back on familiar turf. Mr. and Mrs. Dimond followed close behind, with Mrs. Dimond mumbling something about needing to use the ladies’ room.
The cab charged off, leaving Mark and Courtney alone at the curb. Mark looked up at the tall, pink-colored hotel in awe.
“Just like Bobby described, isn’t it?” Courtney asked.
“It’s like stepping into the pages of a book,” Mark said softly. “Or a journal.”
“It’s pretty cool. Old, but cool. I’ll show you around.”
The two were about to walk up the steps when they heard a man’s voice call from behind them.
“Courtney?”
They both heard it, but neither thought it involved them. Nobody knew Courtney in 1937. It had to be a different Courtney. They kept walking.
“Courtney Chetwynde?” the voice called, more adamantly.
Mark and Courtney froze, then slowly turned. Apparently someone did know her.
The man stood in the garden that was beyond the far edge of the circular driveway, across from the front door of the hotel. The first thought that came to Mark’s mind was haunted. The guy looked haunted. He stood stock still. His clothes were a mess, like he’d been in a fight. His face didn’t look much better. He had a scratch on his cheek, with dried blood caked beneath it. Stranger still, his clothes didn’t look like they belonged on First Earth. He wore a simple, black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His dark hair straggled over his ears. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, as if he hadn’t slept in years.
Neither Mark nor Courtney knew who he was.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” the guy stammered without moving. He seemed on the verge of breaking down. He was definitely on edge. “I waited here, hoping you’d come back. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
Though the guy gave Courtney the creeps, she walked slowly toward him. Mark grabbed her arm.
“Whoa, wait,” he cautioned.
“It’s okay,” Courtney said calmly.
She walked closer to the man. Mark was right with her.
“I’m sorry,” she said soothingly to the stranger. “I don’t think I know you.”
The man chuckled, though not because he thought anything was funny. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “I haven’t been myself. I’m not so sure I’d recognize me either.”
“Who are you?” Mark asked.
“It’s all changed, Courtney,” the man said. “Nothing is as it was. We have to find out why.”
Courtney and Mark didn’t know what to say.
“Maybe this will jog your memory,” he said, lifting up his right hand. On his third finger was a ring—a Traveler ring.
For Courtney, it clicked. She looked at the guy’s face, stunned.
“Patrick?” she gasped.
Patrick smiled. He’d made contact. They knew who he was. The rush of relief was too much for him, and the Traveler from Third Earth passed out cold, right in front of the Manhattan Tower Hotel.
FIRST EARTH
(CONTINUED)
Patrick slowly opened his eyes. It was dark—too dark to understand where he was. For a moment he wondered if all that had happened to him had been a dream. Was he in his own bed far below the grassy plains of Manhattan? Was there no longer a giant green statue outside the window, peering in at him? Was everything back to normal?
No.
“Hey, you okay?” Courtney asked him.
Reality quickly flooded back for Patrick. “I was until I heard your voice.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe you don’t want the water I brought you.”
Patrick struggled to sit up. He was dizzy. His head hurt. Nothing was right. “No, I’m thirsty.”
Courtney helped him sit up and offered him a tall glass of ice water. “Drink slowly.”
Patrick took a sip. The water tasted good. Patrick thought it was the only good thing that had happened to him since the horrible day began.
“You’re in Gunny Van Dyke’s apartment in the Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Mark Dimond offered.
Patrick focused and saw that Mark was sitting in the cushy easy chair across from the bed in the one-room, basement apartment that belonged to the Traveler from First Earth. “I’m Mark Dimond, one of Bobby’s acolytes.”
Patrick did a double take. “The dados really do look just like you.”
“What?” Mark shouted, aghast.
“It’s cool,” Courtney said with a chuckle. “The dados on Third Earth were made to look like you. You’re their daddy, after all.”
Mark frowned. “There’s nothing even remotely cool about that.”
“You’re right. Sorry,” Courtney added quickly. “But the resemblance really is amazing.”
“Stop!” Mark scolded.
“Good to meet you, Mark,” Patrick said warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“That’s pretty okay with me, too,” Mark agreed.
Patrick took a
nother sip of water and surveyed the room, scrutinizing every ancient touch of Gunny’s life on First Earth.
“Weird, huh?” Courtney said, reading his thoughts. “You ever been away from Third Earth before?”
Patrick nodded. “I’ve been here before. With Gunny. It’s still disconcerting.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Courtney added.
Mark and Courtney watched Patrick with curiosity. Mark thought the guy looked dazed. He’d obviously been through something traumatic. They didn’t press him for details. They wanted him to get his head back on straight first. Finally, Patrick took one last gulp of water, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked at Mark and Courtney.
“The future isn’t what it used to be,” he declared solemnly.
Courtney and Mark exchanged glances.
“I have no idea what that means,” Mark replied.
“It means Third Earth has changed.”
“Yeah, I told him about the Mark-looking dados,” Courtney said.
Patrick laughed ironically. “I wish that were the biggest change.”
He went on to explain in detail what had happened to him since he woke up on a different Third Earth. From inside his shirt he pulled out the mysterious, torn book cover with the star symbol. He had been holding it next to his heart, protecting it. Mark and Courtney examined the cover with awe.
“It’s the symbol that marks the gates.” Mark gasped.
Patrick nodded. “When I couldn’t contact Pendragon, I went back inside the library. I needed to learn more. Richard, the librarian, was my only link to reality, if that’s what you can call it.”
Patrick wiped his eyes nervously. It was clear to both Mark and Courtney that what happened next wasn’t good.
“I heard shouting coming from the room where Richard had given me the book cover. I ran down the corridor and stopped short of the door when I heard a crash come from inside. It sounded like something had been knocked over.”
Patrick stopped talking, as if the memory choked him up. Mark and Courtney waited patiently. They knew Patrick would tell the tale as best he could.
Raven Rise Page 9
