Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2)

by Jen Greyson

  Thunder rattles the sky, reminding me that if I arc home, I could fix my leg.

  Not until Rom is safe.

  I squint through the sheets of rain. Rom’s dark head moves through the water, but he’s got a hundred feet, easy.

  As suddenly as it arrived, the wind dies, calming the waters. Rom looks like he’s swimming through two bodies of water, one below and one above.

  Seventy feet from safety.

  I lean forward, willing him closer.

  Upstream, the chariot’s lip is barely visible below the churning water. The big bay fights his remaining clasps, water flowing over his back. Horror forces me to witness his struggle a few more moments before turning back to Rom. I can’t watch him drown.

  Sheets of water become thick blankets, and the river rises to my knees. The cold water numbs my pain even with my broken leg bobbing like a plastic bag stuck on a tree. Lightning crosses the sky, crackling and sizzling across the clouds.

  Please don’t arc me before it’s time.

  Waves hurl themselves up the shore. Debris and dead bodies—some animals, some not—knock into my boots, but I’m staying right here as a marker.

  Forty feet.

  Minutes and we’ll be on our way home with Aurelia.

  A movement upstream catches my eye.

  I cringe. The chariot moves slow at first, the immense weight of the wet leather, soaked horse, and iron frame holding it in place. Now, with the new surge of rainwater, the iron bucket is free of the sucking clay.

  Still attached to the chariot, the bay thrashes. The floating chariot lifts his rump above the water. I want him to hang on just a bit longer. Eventually, the water will recede enough and someone can free him. Until then, this is worse than watching a slow-mo car wreck.

  I check Rom’s progress. Less than thirty feet. In moments, he’ll be able to touch the bottom.

  The current carries him toward the bridge. He’ll come ashore right by the road leading over the bridge. I hobble six steps downriver so I can intercept him.

  I glance back at the chariot. It’s moving faster now. In front, the bay’s legs thrash above the water as he tries to swim himself to safety, too.

  Lightning strikes overhead again and the bridge casts an ominous shadow.

  Twenty feet. I glance at the lumbering chariot again. With the bay’s attempt to swim, the entire mess is traveling faster than the water. In the time it took me to move to the bridge, the horse and chariot covered the same distance.

  I stare at Rom.

  Then calculate the distance from the chariot to bridge.

  A perfect intersection of terror.

  Even though the bridge used to rise a dozen feet above the water, now the distance between water and stone measures less than six inches.

  Less than one man’s head.

  Less than one horse’s.

  The impending collision cements my feet. I should’ve tried arcing him. There’s no way I can swim to him and try it again.

  Lightning explodes from my hands as I arc.

  For a moment, evergreen limbs and twinkling lights impede my vision.

  Not again. No way I screwed this up. Pushing through the branches of the Christmas tree, I step forward on a strong, healed leg.

  Papi spins. “Evy!”

  The sob wrenches free of my chest. “Papi! I screwed up. Bad. I need you.”

  “I’m here.” He lunges forward, curling his strong fingers around my shoulders. I don’t have time to sink into his embrace.

  I turn to Mami, flinching at the shock on her face. “We’ll be back.”

  Knowing Papi’s turned off his own ability to arc, I ring us with lightning and vanish back to the water’s edge. Papi staggers, but otherwise, seems okay from the trip.

  I grab his wrist and point to Rom. “You have to save him.” My other arm sweeps to the chariot. “It’s going to crush him.”

  Papi glances between the chariot and Rom.

  I look away and search for a helpful solution. The arc healed my leg, but I still can’t swim. Rom’s strong strokes fade as the rushing water saps his energy. I shouldn’t have believed him. He’ll never be able to navigate around the chariot if it traps him against the bridge. Mere feet away from him now, the chariot moves fast.

  “It’s going to crush him!”

  Beside me, Papi scrambles for a way to save Rom. “Send me to the chariot!”

  Without a second of hesitation, I unfurl a huge whip of lightning and wrap it around his waist then extend my arm to the chariot, praying it works. His head jerks back and he’s gone.

  He lands on the rail of the chariot.

  I arc to Aurelia, ready to send her the second Rom is safe. She wraps her arms around me and we watch the men. The chaos of the people surrounding us only adds to the awfulness. We bob in the sea of bodies like flotsam in the churning river below.

  If Papi can balance himself and grab Rom before the bucket reaches him, they have a chance. It’s a teeny one, but we’re out of options.

  A leather strap floats in the water above the horse’s back. Papi reaches over and fumbles with the clasp and pulls it loose. The big horse thrashes until the harness untangles. Finally free of his prison, the horse’s head slips below the water.

  We gasp and Aurelia’s grip tightens. People push past us, ignorant of our plight.

  The horse surfaces and moves toward the water’s edge. He trots in the water, hooves in clay, gaining purchase with each step. He whinnies his thanks as he exits the water near the bridge.

  I turn back to Rom and Papi.

  With the horse out of the way, Papi has more room to maneuver and make this work.

  Aurelia’s arms squeeze the air from my lungs. We lean forward as one body.

  As the chariot nears Rom, Papi cups his mouth and shouts to gain Rom’s attention.

  A clap of thunder roars across the sky, obscuring his words, and lightning strikes the bridge, making my hair stand on end.

  In the chariot, small blue tendrils of static electricity race along the top and sides. My heartbeat races and I clench my fists. Not yet, not yet.

  Papi shouts again as the lightning bolt recedes. I will Rom to hear him, and then he glances over his shoulder between strokes. He jerks in surprise at the chariot and man bearing down on him, but then adjusts his stroke to bring his trajectory closer.

  Papi leans forward and extends his arm.

  The bridge looms a few feet away. Water rushes over it, unable to pass beneath.

  Another bolt of white-hot lightning strikes as Papi reaches for Rom.

  The chariot slams the bridge and Papi stumbles, but manages to stay upright. He clasps Rom’s hand between his and holds on, muscles bulging. Rom grabs the rail to raise himself, but his arms collapse beneath the strain.

  Boots still jammed in the chariot rail, Papi drags Rom across the bucket’s rim, even now with the top of the bridge.

  Rushing water presses against their bodies, tugging and resisting their efforts. Rom manages to pull his feet to the top of the rail and climb onto the bridge. He slips and Papi loses his grip. Rom falls into the foot of water crossing the bridge’s surface, and Papi wavers unsteadily.

  Rom reaches for him and struggles to kneel.

  Another bolt strikes.

  The rain dies.

  “No,” I scream and lunge forward. Aurelia holds me tight.

  Papi’s body arches backward, bent in an impossible bow. The lightning leaps and sizzles across the ironwork at his feet.

  Rom pushes himself up and spreads his legs wide to brace himself against the rushing water.

  My chest heaves and I reach for Papi. He falls forward, his body limp and unresponsive.

  Rom catches him and struggles to maintain his hold. The river rips at Papi’s lifeless body, desperate to pull it downstream. The terrifying odors of burned flesh and singed hair now mingle with the ozone-rich air.

  The water recedes a few inches, still boiling and frothing over the lip of the bridge. Rom stag
gers beneath the weight of Papi and his knees buckle. They crash to the bridge and Papi slips from Rom’s grasp, pitching forward onto the wet bridge like an unloved doll. The water rolls him over, but it’s no longer strong enough to drag him away.

  I spin and choke back my horror then pull Aurelia close and turn her chin, forcing her gaze away from the river. Ignoring Penya’s warning, I do what I must to save us all. “You have to trust me like you’ve never trusted anyone in your life.”

  Aurelia nods, her eyes wide and frightful. “I will.”

  “You must do exactly as I say. Do not waver, do not falter.”

  “But Rom… and—”

  “Is safe.” I cut her off, refusing to consider what just happened.

  She swallows and tears fill her eyes.

  “I’m going to send you.” Down the hill, a scream pierces the air, but I soldier on. “To your father. I’m sending you to your father.”

  Aurelia’s eyes glass over. “Yes. I want to go home.”

  I shake her. “Sending you, Aurelia! Like I sent myself to stand on the horse! Like I saved that mother and her babies. With my lightning!”

  She pales.

  “Aurelia, I want you to think of Constantine.” My voice catches. “Close your eyes right now and picture him somewhere in your house. Picture his war room, the maps. Visualize what he’s doing right now, hold tight to it. See him studying his maps, leaning over the big table.”

  While I talk, I make long whips of lightning, viewing the images in tandem as I describe them to Aurelia. I turn us until I’m facing the river. As I throw one whip of lightning toward Papi, I slide the other around Aurelia and send her through time.

  CHAPTER 5

  DOCTORS AND NURSES shove me out of the way and lift Papi to a gurney. Then he’s gone through glass doors and I’m left outside to suck down icy gulps of air. Arms help me inside and I squint into the bright lights. More arms wrap a blanket around my cold shoulders and guide me to a line of hard plastic chairs. Words of comfort mumble against my ear. My fingers clutch at the edges of the thin blanket until my wet clothes soak through the wool.

  I am adrift, lost in a hurricane of sensory overload. I focus on the scratch of the wool in my fist and block everything else.

  I can only survive now.

  Mami shows up and I vaguely remember a white coat asking me for her number, but I can’t remember calling her. She pats my head and rushes to the nurse’s station.

  After a while, she comes to sit beside me and pulls me to her chest, rocking me and smoothing my dripping head. She sings my favorite lullaby, but it doesn’t soothe my fears. I can’t stop shivering. She must know what they’re doing to Papi because no one comes to tell us what’s going on. I have no idea how long we sit there, next to the sliding glass doors that keep belching icy air on us, but finally, she rubs my back and tells me to go home.

  I manage to sit up and look at her, even though the pain in her eyes nearly guts me. “Please don’t make me leave.”

  “You’re shivering,” she says, sticking to facts like she always does in a crisis. My pillar of strength, even now. She’s always been the strong one. Stoic and unflappable. Outsiders must see her as uncaring, but the rest of us are emotional hair triggers, so she grounds us. “Go change, and come back. He’s stable. They’ll know more in an hour. Bring me an overnight bag.”

  Tears stream down my face and I twist my fingers together.

  She caresses my cheek, wiping at the wetness. “Everything will be fine, mija.”

  I cringe. I should be the one apologizing, comforting her for trying to kill her husband.

  Another sob wells up in my throat, but I quench it. “Okay. But call me if they tell you anything while I’m gone.”

  “Tiana and the girls are at the house. They don’t know anything yet. Take them to Tia Marie’s.”

  I can hardly breathe. Please don’t let me have screwed up their entire childhoods. I stand and she gives me the keys.

  “I’ll stay here, in case—” Her voice cracks and my eyes well again. She pulls her purse onto her lap and digs inside for her knitting. I clutch her hand in both of mine and lift it to my cheek then drag her against my chest in a wet and hasty hug. She kisses my temple, and I pull away before I curl up in her lap and sob.

  The doors slide open, and a panic-stricken couple comes in. Blood covers his left hand and she’s helping him stand. I use the diversion to escape.

  During the entire drive home, I’m bombarded by scenes from the accident. If I could undo the day’s events, I would.

  I sit up straight like Penya just yanked the top of my head. With a sudden rush of clarity, my body stops shaking. Why can’t I? I altered the history surrounding Aurelia. There’s no reason I can’t do the same for the events surrounding Papi.

  I can make it all right again.

  I draw my first real breath and grip the steering wheel with a sure confidence. The web of events is a mired tangle and I need to decide where to start, or if there’s a right order to undo everything. I don’t know if I need to arc back and save Rom by myself, never even bringing Papi into the situation, or if there’s a different way to save Aurelia all together. I don’t want to end up trading Rom’s life for Papi’s. My shoulders burn. There are so many possible repercussions if I screw this up.

  There has to be a better way, a better spot on the timeline to arc… Somewhere to save everyone. I need answers.

  CHAPTER 6

  WITHOUT A WAY to contact Penya, I’m forced to rely on my ancestors for historical accounts of fixing an effed-up arc. I am surprised she hasn’t shown up though. She has to know that I altered history. I hate that I’m subject to the slices she can give me. What’s the point of a mentor if she’s never around when I need her? I don’t care how important this stuff is that Ilif’s working on, saving Aurelia was the alteration.

  I barrel up the driveway and slam Mami’s car into park. “Tiana,” I yell as I come through the back door.

  She pokes her head around the kitchen wall.

  “Call Tia Marie.” I push through Papi’s office door. “Tell her to come get you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  My throat constricts. “Papi got hurt. Mami will tell you later.” I press my hands into the desk and look up. “Please, Tiana.”

  She bites her lip and nods.

  I slide an aging cardboard box off the top shelf and set it on Papi’s desk. The leather tome is there, along with the smaller booklets. I have no idea if anything is going to be in these. So far, they’ve failed me at most every turn.

  The leather one yields nothing. Just ancestral tales of earlier arcs. There are a few failed ones, but none that specify redoing one.

  Something has to be in the booklets.

  The first is about how an alteration starts, nothing helpful. The second and third are even less helpful—more about fine-tuning lightning and health benefits.

  In the fourth one, I find an interesting list of why the lightning is different colors, but not one that will undo an alteration. I toss it into the box. Bracing my hands on the edge of his desk, I hang my head.

  Tiana bounds into the room. “She’s on her way.”

  I roll my shoulders and focus.

  “Grab clothes for the weekend for you and the girls. Make a second bag for Mami. Have Tia take it to her.”

  Tiana pauses. “What’s going on?”

  I blink back tears.

  Nothing, if I figure out the redo.

  My throat closes, and all I can do is shake my head.

  She races to my side. “It’s okay, Evy. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

  I hold her against me and force the tears not to fall.

  “I know,” I say through my choked throat. “I’m fixing it.”

  She squeezes me and tips her head back. “I can help.”

  I smile through the tears and tuck her head beneath my chin, willing the trembling to stop. She’s always looked up to me, tried to impre
ss me. Such misplaced hero worship.

  Because I’ve always fallen short.

  So I bluff. “I got this.”

  CHAPTER 7

  WITHIN THE HOUR, Tia Marie comes for the girls and I shoo them out the front door with a convincing lie. Their bubbling laughter stabs me through the chest, and I wave through the tears until the car eases out of the driveway. Tia Marie didn’t ask questions, but she’s been around long enough to know the stench of fear. Her hand lingered on my shoulder and she promised to handle everything. I avoided Tiana’s scrutiny, but she thinks I’m right behind them.

  As the front door shuts, Penya’s holographic image fills a space beside the coffee table.

  “Well done,” she says with a touch of disbelief before I can decide if I want to yell at her or collapse in her arms.

  “No.” I turn from the door and sag onto the couch. “Not well done. It was a disaster. You have to tell me where you are. I can’t do this alone. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I always think I can do everything. Last time I had you, Constantine, and Ilif. This time I nearly killed everyone.”

  “That’s not what Constantine said.”

  “Well he wasn’t there.” I huff. “Did you hear what I said? I almost killed us all.” I fling my arm sideways. “Papi’s in ICU and I have to undo today. I screwed this up far worse than any of the arcs in Spain.”

  “Calm down.”

  My hands tremble.

  “You saved Aurelia and reshaped Constantine’s life.”

  I want to revel in that success, but the reason for the empty house screams obscenities at my recklessness. My emotions swing back and forth so wildly I’m nearly seasick from the whipsaw.

  “Did you see them?”

  “Moments ago. I left him and Aurelia safe in Rome.”

  She made it. My breath comes quick. Elation rushes in, battling with the anxiety and fear roiling in my gut. I fight to recover and calm down. At least I managed to get one sliver of the entire disaster right.

  “By the time I was able to project my image to Rome again, you had already gone. You always come back here, so I met with Constantine. Now that Aurelia is alive, I had to be sure everything is correct for your later arc when you assist Constantine with Viriato.”