by Jen Greyson
I watch him go and lean against the open door. At the elevator he turns. “Thank you. For everything.”
I return his half bow as the elevator arrives.
Basking in the small success tonight, I wander aimlessly through the room for a few minutes and ponder my next move. An arc to anywhere will bring me back here to the right time. I pace the length of the room again and turn and make my way back, trailing my fingers across the top of the brocade couch.
Even though part of me is dreading the repercussions, it’s killing me that I don’t know how Papi’s doing. I need to see him. I need to hug him. I need to hear him forgive me. I pause and let my hands drop to my sides. The tips of my fingers tingle and—
A knock snuffs my lightning.
I smile and jog to the door. Nikola must have forgot something… I tug the handle and freeze.
Two men in black suits stand shoulder to shoulder. Identical brown haircuts, white shirts, black ties. Everything about them screams FBI.
“We’d like to speak with Mr. Tesla.”
I push the door closed. “Just missed him.”
Dark Suit Number One slaps his palm against the door, holding it open. “May we come in?”
“No.”
“What’s the nature of your relationship with Mr. Tesla?”
“None of your business.”
“It is if we make it our—”
“Great.” I slide the door closed a few more inches. “Come back, then.”
“Are you intimate?”
I slam the door and flip the lock with trembling fingers.
CHAPTER 14
PAPI’S FRONT LIVING room comes into focus as a piercing scream fills the air. I spin.
Tiana stands in the kitchen entryway, staring at me with her hands clapped against her open mouth. That was stupid. I’m too used to it being me and Papi here. Still reeling from the FBI episode, I collapse onto the couch and wave her over.
“What… the… hell?” she stutters.
Sparks erupt from my fingers, and she jerks away.
“Sorry! Sorry, that was dumb. Is Papi here?”
“He and Mami are at the hospital. What—”
I flinch off the cushions. “Again? Is he okay?”
“Just a checkup. Said they’d be back in a few hours. What are you?” She fidgets, torn between hugging me and fleeing.
“It’s fine. Come here.”
Like a puppy coming for a beating, she cowers her way across the room.
“Ti. It’s fine. Really.” I hold my empty hand out. She skirts it and rests half a butt cheek on the edge of the cushion. Apparently, Papi hasn’t told her anything about riding. So much for breaking the cycle and fixing his own father’s omissions.
Tiana never quite grew out of being a pixie-sized adolescent. Probably doesn’t help the image that her dark hair is always in a perfect bob curled under to brush her jaw. She’s delicate and dainty, quiet and reserved.
Unless she’s with me.
Her silly, excitable side gets reserved for our time together. Not sure if I can get her there today now that I’ve scared the crap out of her. I inhale and remember the time we plastered Papi with water balloons. I focus on making my energy joyful… and big enough to engulf her fear.
“Trust me?”
She snorts. “No.”
“Give me your hand.”
She shoves it tighter between her closed thighs and shakes her pixie locks.
Since she can’t take her eyes off my hands, I know she’s just one phenomenon away from caving. Slowly, I turn my hand over and form a marble-sized lightning ball in my palm.
“What… ” Tiana jumps back.
I grow it to the size of a golf ball and I manage to keep it chill.
She leans forward. “How are you doing that?”
“Here.” I’m completely trusting that what Nikola’s told me holds true for all of us. If he’s right—and when is he ever not—Tiana should be able to touch it, too. I hold it out to her, and she cups both hands together and hesitantly scoops the tiny flickering ball. This time it releases completely from me, instead of staying connected like it did with Nikola. Maybe because she and I are related…
Strands slide up each finger, and one curls around her thumb. Her hands tremble, but she’s leaning over the ball, studying it.
“I don’t understand.” She lifts her gaze and hands it back. Tendrils cling to her, and one drops to her pants. She pushes it around on her thigh with a finger, entranced.
She’s not as curious as I am, or as reckless, but I’m not sure anyone could resist a tiny, personal bit of lightning. It curls and uncurls for her at the slightest pressure. Finally, she lifts her head, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
She shrugs. “So what is it?”
“Lightning.”
“Like real lightning? Why isn’t it hot? Or shocking me?”
“It’s real—but different.”
She lifts it off her pants, dangling it from the tip of her index finger. Carefully, she brings it almost to her nose, brows knit in concentration. It dances, flicking from side to side, growing and retracting, feeding off my joy. “So, the sudden appearing act?”
I take a big breath and call the tendril off her finger. I close my palm and it vanishes. “While you and Des and Soph were away during the summer, Papi found a box. Apparently, his father forgot to tell him a few things. Kind of surprised he hasn’t mentioned them.”
She shakes her head then hops off the couch. “I have serious questions and this sounds like it might take a while. I need to change, so will you come with me?”
I follow her down the hall and flop onto her bed, smiling at her personal pixie land. Childhood dolls lean against pop star posters, baby headbands mix with classic ones she bought a few weeks ago, a multicolored, geometric comforter covers a white iron daybed she’s had since she moved out of her crib.
“Is Papi really okay?” I ask.
“Why’d you leave that night? Where have you been? They’re both kind of mad about that.” She tugs her sweater off and trades it for a worn hoodie that’s easily three sizes too big.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. How is he… other than being mad?”
“He’s not mad at you, I think he’s more disappointed in himself.”
“What? Why? I’m the one that put him in danger.”
She tugs her dress pants off and slips on a pair of leggings. “He thinks it’s the other way around. Maybe you guys should talk.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
She crawls onto the bed beside me, curling her tiny legs beneath her. “So what’s going on?”
For the next twenty minutes, I proceed to spew information all over her, leaving nothing out. Her wide-eyed stare never changes; occasionally I get a sound effect. For the most part, she’s a rapt listener. At the end, she shakes her head slowly and presses her hands into her knees. “You’ve never talked to me like this.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I meant to be a good big sister. But like so many other things, it fell into the I’ll-try-better-tomorrow list.
“So, we’re time travelers?”
“Um. Yeah.”
“Is that why Papi looks like he had serious plastic surgery?”
“It is.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Not really.” I sit up in a panic, realizing I need to make it sound terrifying so she won’t go messing around with it like I did.
Before I can recant, her nervous laughter trills through the room. “Nothing is dangerous to you. I’d pee my pants.”
I lay back on the bed, fears averted. She’d no sooner traipse off to explore than visit Pluto. “No you wouldn’t. You’re so responsible you’d probably organize the whole trip the moment you arrived. You’d never go off on random tangents like I do. Alterations would probably take you half the time they take me.”
“Because I’d be terrified and want to get home!�
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We laugh.
She sobers first. “It does sound kind of fun though, being able to travel. Why didn’t Papi keep doing it?”
“His never went right. The guy training him is a jackass, but now he’s asked me to work with him.” I sigh. “Parts of it are really complicated. I think Papi likes his simple job here.”
“Not lately. Things aren’t good at work. I heard him telling Mami that this big library is his last one. He wants to start training boxers—which make sense now with the time travel slash new body thing—and Chivo’s been here a lot.”
Papi’s right-hand guy has been in this house less than a handful of times the twenty years he’s worked for Papi. Either he’s insanely worried about Papi—which, why wouldn’t he be—or something is going very wrong at work.
If I’m here when Papi gets back he’ll focus on us and me and what happened, instead of whatever mess he and Chivo are trying to fix. My throat constricts. I hope none are the issues are because of Papi’s injuries.
As badly as I want to see him, I came to fix things, not make them worse. My chest tightens and I rub my braid across my lips.
“He’ll be glad you’re here. We all are.”
I stroke her arm. “I’ve missed you. I feel like I’ve been gone for years.”
She looks away. “You kind of have.”
I swipe at my eyes before she can see the tears.
I sit up and hug her tight. “I’m sorry.”
She mumbles into my hair.
We break apart.
“What?”
“You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
I look away.
“Because you’re staying, right?” She leans closer, and tries to meet my eyes. “Right?”
I snag a heart-shaped pillow off the bedspread and hug it to my chest. Without looking at her, I shake my head.
“When?”
“I just came to check on Papi.”
“That’s it?”
“I have to finish this alteration.”
“Right.” Her voice is clipped and hurt.
Not her, too. “I’m sorry, Ti, I really am. I promise to come back. We’ll start hanging out. You can come to the house, or the shop… ” I can’t stretch the lie any further. During my first alteration, I admitted that my old life doesn’t exist anymore. There won’t be days at the shop anymore, or casual Saturdays hanging out in my sweats on the couch. But there has to be a way to fit her into my life.
Add it to the rest of my list of screwups.
Tiana’s phone rings, and she stares at me through the first half of the song.
“Get it,” I say.
She leans over and swipes it off the desk. “Hey, Papi.”
I cringe.
“Uh-huh.” She grins and makes pointing motions at the phone while she listens. “Right, but—”
I lean closer.
Her face drops. “Okay, but, Evy—”
She looks at the phone. “He hung up.”
I frown.
“They were on their way home, but he’s going to have Mami take him to the jobsite. He sounded upset and angry.” She looks at the phone again. “Angrier than I’ve ever heard him.”
“When will he be back?”
She sets the phone down. “He didn’t know. Not soon he said.”
I sigh. “I have to go, Ti.”
“Will you come back?”
I set the pillow down. “Of course. Probably sooner than you think. The alterations don’t take the same time here as they do on the other side.” I fidget and shift from foot to foot. “I need to see him.”
She stands, arms crossed, face carved with disappointment.
I hug her and close her bedroom door behind me. In Papi’s office, I collapse against the wall and shake off the impact of Tiana’s words. Doubly impactful since I dragged her into the world of riding. I’m not sure what made me do it. I think I just want someone to talk to. Luckily, she’s not foolish enough to experiment.
I sit up and wiggle Papi’s mouse to wake the screen for details on Nikola Tesla. Last time I tried to cheat and research a man’s death, Tiana’s laptop died before I could find enough. I glance at the full battery, and wiggle the cord, just to be sure.
This says Tesla died from a fall off a ladder at age seventy, slipped into a coma, and never recovered. That seems incredibly preventable.
I close the search engine and the new e-mail indicator pops up as I move the mouse, accidentally opening the message. It’s from Chivo. Even though I don’t mean to, words pop out before I can get it closed.
$200,000 fine… bonding issue… pulled off the job
I gasp. No good can come of this job going south. Papi’s work is what defines him. Always has been. I close the message and put my face in my trembling hands. All of this is my fault. He’d have been fine if I had just handled everything with Aurelia and Rom.
Please, please let this turn out okay.
I click the new message button and type Papi’s e-mail address. I can’t believe this is how I’m talking to him, but I’m not sure when my arc will bring me back. Besides, when Tiana tells him what I did today, he’s going to flip. Maybe not in a good way. Hopefully he’ll see the e-mail first.
The white space of the e-mail mocks me. I drum my fingers on the keyboard.
Dear Papi. I miss you.
Good start.
Obviously, I’m not very good at riding by myself. I need you. I need another rider who can go with me and help me keep things from getting messed up. Will you keep at it… I mean, when you’re better?
I came to see you today, but Ti says things are bad with the library job. I’m sorry if I screwed that up for you too.
I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hopefully I can see you.
Please don’t hate me.
… And why haven’t you told Tiana? Have you at least told Mami?
I love you.
I stare at the words until they blur, tempted to delete the whole thing. I should explain, tell him why I did what I did, and talk to him about facing his fears. I mean, I get why he’s not keen on riding—or anything involving lightning for that matter—but I don’t want to be the only rider. What if something happens to me, too… and our entire heritage dies.
Again.
The room darkens then disappears, swallowed by blackness. Blue light from my fingertips illuminates random sections of my body.
I let Constantine call me home.
CHAPTER 15
MY VISION CLEARS to a Roman overcast sky. The gray clouds blend with the pastel sand and dirty water. The bridge looks fully repaired, and the bank no longer reports every inch of flood. My shoulders sag.
I’ve been gone a while.
But why? Constantine and I had a plan. Well, he had a plan. We were to train every day until we’d solved all the colors. If he’s not here, I have to assume it’s because something’s happened. Penya said Ilif wanted to affect my alterations… Is this his doing? A way to redirect me instead of letting me show up where I’m the most useful?
I turn in a circle, taking in everything about the desolation. Even though the bridge looks functional, the ten-foot section leading up to it is still washed out. The river is calmly passing by, a small waterfowl adrift in the middle.
Think, Evy! What are you missing?
Darkness engulfs me and it’s too late. I’ve missed it.
As the darkness fades, an unfamiliar ancient kitchen materializes. Wide-open spaces spread to my left and a large oven stands on my right. Smoked fish mingles on the air with the yeasty warmth of fresh bread.
A loud laugh from the left draws my attention. I creep across the emptiness and peer through the window, craning my neck to get a good view of the entire yard on the other side. Constantine stands with his head tipped back in laughter. Shock freezes me in place. On his right, Aurelia holds her hand over the lower half of her face, her shoulders rising and falling as she’s struck by a fit of giggles. Her baby fat is gon
e, replaced now by the lean elegance of a woman. I wonder how old she is and how long it’s been since her brush with death.
Constantine lifts a hand to her shoulder. His look of contentment and joy is unfamiliar. Gone are the harsh lines of war, the dark agony. I watch them, trying to reconcile this happiness with the brooding warrior I know.
Their laughter fades and Aurelia wipes her eyes and holds her hand up, palms facing Constantine. “Watch again,” she says softly but sternly like she’s addressing a classroom of young students.
Constantine puts his hands on his hips and bends over like a fool, intent on studying her every move.
Grabbing the sides of her skirt, she lifts the hem and dances away from the house, her feet twisting and kicking in precise dance steps, and she stops ten feet away. With a swirl, she turns and drops her skirts. “Now you.”
Constantine shakes out his arms, blows out a huge breath, lifts the sides of his tunic, and repeats her footwork. A few feet from her, his hand darts out to trap her waist, and he spins her around, dancing a wide circle in and out of the shadow of the house. Then they dissolve in another fit of laughter.
I shut my mouth. I blink once and turn away from the window.
Anna is standing in the doorway. Watching me. Her arms are piled high with fabric, and I smile.
“Hello.” Wariness steadies her voice. Her gaze flits to the scene beyond the window.
I glance behind me. Constantine and Aurelia have dropped to the grass now. I jerk my thumb toward them. “I just… um… Constantine. I’m leaving.”
She studies me. Another juxtaposition from when I met her before. This Anna is softer, untouched by tragedy, reminding me all too well that these are not the people I know.
Reminding me I’m an intruder.
She smiles at last and lowers the fabric to the long, rough-hewn table on her right.
“I’m Anna.”
“Evy.”
“I can get him for you—”
