by Jen Greyson
I snort. “No—I mean, we better not.”
“You are confusing.”
I readjust myself on his lap. Even though I should get off, I can’t. “I hate him, and my life would probably be easier, but—” I shiver. “No. Thank you… Please don’t kill him.”
He curls his hand around my nape and tucks my head beneath his chin. “You’ll tell me if you change your mind?”
I nod, bumping my hair against his jaw. “First to know… ”
“Tell me of Penya, then.”
I lean into his heat. She can’t figure out when or where she is.” I sigh and sink into his chest. “I need her.”
He wraps his arms around me and rubs my back, rocking slightly.
A doe pokes her head out from a tangle of limbs twenty feet to our right. Constantine watches her move toward us, gingerly picking her steps, ears flicking back and forth.
“I need Penya, too.” His fingers slide to my nape. “You need me.”
Understatement of the year.
“I do. But… I need you here, too. I need a place that stays the same. And I don’t ever want to endanger you.”
He snorts.
“You’ve only travel forward once, and we only managed that because we used my power. The books say no one can travel beyond their own death date.”
“Then I’ll travel again by your lightning.”
I jerk upright. “I’ve barely put your life back together. No.”
“I can handle myself.” He sounds offended.
“No, you can’t. You haven’t even gone to Papi’s house with me yet. You don’t know anything about the future. You certainly can’t go yanking your sword out all the time like you do here.”
“I do not yank.”
“You’re missing the point. It’s already dangerous, and I have no idea what Ilif is up to.”
“More reason you need me.”
True, but I can barely concentrate when Constantine isn’t with me.
“Maybe later.”
“I don’t like being apart.”
I chew my bottom lip. I don’t know how to answer that. This is a circular conversation. I can’t stay here. He can’t come with me. We’re the ultimate failure of a long-distance relationship. Not that we have one… We’re can’t even get long-distance booty calls right.
I pull back and lift my hand to his cheek. I don’t want us to be just sex. We’ve been through too much together. When I’m with him, there’s no pretending.
And I hate being apart, too.
Which is going to make this next part really awful.
“I have to go.” I slide off his lap and tug my shirt back on.
He stands and offers me his hand. The pain and disappointment on his face makes me flinch.
“I’ll come back,” I say, putting my hand in his.
“And I’m to wait, then?” He drops my hand and takes a step away, yanking his sword out of the dirt and wiping the blade across the hem of his tunic.
“No.” I cross my arms. What just happened? I want to rewind to the kissing and not arguing. “I never asked you to wait. I think I’ve always been upfront about what I had to do.”
“Yes.” He jams his sword home.
I step closer. “Why are you being like this, then?”
“Go.”
I reach for him, but he twists away.
No, this is our relationship—him getting mad and shoving me away, him not talking when he’s upset, me feeling like an ass.
“Please don’t make me leave like this,” I say, pissed at the pleading tone in my voice.
“I’ve given you several other choices.”
“No—” I stop. There’s no point. “Fine. I guess I’ll see you”—I flop my hand back and forth—“whenever.”
He opens his mouth and closes it again and turns to watch the doe munching her way across the field. “Fine.”
We stand there, fuming and staring across the abyss he’s carved.
I shake my head, and tiny strands of lightning crackle between my fingertips, but he still says nothing. I let it simmer until I’m certain he’s said all he’s going to. Then I grow the lightning, and the darkness creeps into my peripheral vision.
“Bye.”
He nods.
Blackness drowns me. But this time, he does nothing to kiss it away.
CHAPTER 20
I ARRIVE AT sunset in the mountains. For a moment, I think I’m home. Then I look behind me and realize I’m missing an entire mountain range for this to be Utah. But this clearly isn’t New York, either, even though I deliberately arced to Nikola. A wooden building stands between me and the sun—the only thing on this wide expanse of land. A tall metal pole juts from the roof, towering thirty feet in the air.
The door wrenches open and Nikola bursts out. “You’re here!”
“Where?”
He grins, clearly excited to show this work to someone. “Colorado Springs.”
I scan the landscape again. Not much to check out in Colorado at the turn of the century. The tightness in my gut loosens. At least I haven’t lost control of my arcs—I just didn’t anticipate him being anywhere other than New York. I shake off my confusion. There’s gray at his temples, and his cheekbones sit higher on his drawn cheeks, but today his smile is large and bright.
It’s good to see him. “What are you up to?”
“Come, come.” He ushers me into the building, closing the door behind us.
Nothing could have prepared me for the inside. Tall vertical discs made of wound copper wire stand precisely spaced around the interior. As I step closer to one I realize it’s made completely of wire, like he’s started with a small, flat circle and wound the wire around and around and around until the disk is as tall as I am. As I study the last disc, I notice another fine wire extending from the top toward the pole in the middle of the ceiling. I check and they’re all connected the same way. “What in the—”
He grins and I swear he’s about to start jumping up and down. “I got delayed.” He waves a hand in dismissal. “J.P. procured the funds for the Niagara Falls turbine, but it required extensive convincing to get the funds for this.”
“Which is… ”
“Lightning. I’m creating a free energy source that is not dependent upon wiring like the last time I showed you. This uses lightning.”
The air rushes from my lungs. I did this. I gave him the idea, and now he’s harnessing real lightning. That can’t be good. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“No.” He points to a chair next to the tallest column. “I can sit in here while the coils are charging and firing the bolts. I think it’s similar to your energy in that it behaves differently than a single-charged bolt during a storm.”
“Is this because of me?” I have to know.
“No. No. I’ve always been on this trajectory, you just helped me see that I needed to be more diligent. The mapping at this stage is far more grand than something to power lightbulbs.
I skirt one of the towers. “How long have I been gone?”
“Eight years.”
I chew my bottom lip. Another oddly placed arc…
One I could handle. Two makes me edgy. Why can’t I have one alteration that doesn’t lead to more questions.
“Nikola, what’s the downside to this?”
“There are many. Like with any of my findings. In the wrong hands, or used for the wrong reasons, anything can further evil.”
Ilif is definitely the wrong hands.
“Will you show me yours again?”
“Do you think that’s why I’m here, Nikola?” I cup a grapefruit-sized ball of lightning and hold it toward him.
With great reverence, he takes the ball, cupping it between both his hands. “Maybe. Strange occurrences are not new to me. Maybe the world needed me to finish this creation sooner and that’s why you had to come.”
If that were true, the alteration would have been complete when he started working on it—I doubt my sticking around would
help him complete it. There’s something huge I’m missing…
Nikola is engrossed in the ball, slowly moving it from one side of the disk to the other. The lightning is oddly responsive to him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s a lightning rider in his own strange way. I don’t understand what he’s doing or why it behaves like it does around him, but whatever he’s doing—or feeling—is definitely mirrored in the pulsing ball as it grows and shrinks, changing from orange to a soft pink. I don’t remember either color being in the book.
I never thought about handing any to Constantine. I wonder if it would have reacted the same, or if it’s Nikola’s control and fascination of lightning that makes it react. Maybe this new, joyful Constantine could handle it.
This alteration doesn’t make sense. It can’t be about just getting Nikola’s patents. That doesn’t jive with anything Penya told me about how alterations work. There must be something bigger about this alteration, something that really has to do with Nikola, not just his papers after his death. I’m missing something.
Nikola leaves golf-ball-sized sections of lightning on each coil. His movements are so sure, so purposeful. Even now, as comfortable as I am with the lightning, it still isn’t this obedient. Sure, I can fling myself through time, but when I’m trying to manipulate it here, luck seems to play as much as skill or desire. Constantine and I kind of figured out that I have better luck with the weapon if I’m mad or angry, but Nikola’s control is fascinating.
As he moves on to the next one, the electricity expands and wraps around the coil. Once the outer coils have been lit, he moves to the big one in the center. “Evy, I want to try something.”
This can’t be good.
“Do you trust me?”
“Uh, most of the time.”
He waves me forward. “I want to activate the coils again. Last night’s tests were inconclusive, and I don’t want to wait for another storm to rerun them. It will require your assistance.”
“Seriously? What if I accidentally arc us somewhere?”
“I wouldn’t be able to record my results.”
He says it so matter-of-factly that I laugh.
“Keep us here,” he says.
I nod and caress the gyrating mass of lightning. It doubles in size but stays where he’s placed it. Trippy. I don’t know how he’s controlling these, but then again, I don’t know how I do it either. He’s beyond genius.
“When I tell you, send your biggest bolt to the top of the pole.” He points to the tall column piercing the ceiling. “The energy will displace through the top of the pole, but the majority will travel to these coils.”
“You’re not going to kill us today, are you?” I ask.
“Not today.” He steps away from me and picks up a notebook and pen from a nearby table. It’s one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Opening to the middle, he makes a few notes and holds his arm out toward me. “Now.”
I take a big breath and lift my hands toward the ceiling, palms out. A single strand of lightning leaps from me and clings to the pole. With a flash, it zips down the attached coils to the discs. Brilliant white light fills the room. I stay planted, arms up, holding my single rope while Nikola paces the room, his notebook forgotten on the chair. He ponders each coil, and his face is trancelike, as if he’s turned inward to perform ridiculously complicated math problems. After a minute, he completes the circle and stops by my side. My shoulders are aching.
He studies me, the lightning, and the distance to the pole. After what feels like forever, he lifts his fingers to his chin. “That is sufficient.”
I recall the strand, but it sticks to the pole, forcing me to yank it off.
Nikola chuckles. “Interesting. You may be my greatest invention yet.”
Finally, the lightning returns to me and I shake out my hands. Adrenaline surges through me, like the long burst energized me. As it ebbs, my shoulders burn. From holding them up for so long, I guess. Nikola doesn’t notice my discomfort, lost again in calculations and theories.
“Did that work like you wanted?”
He nods. “I was going to ask you to stay for dinner, but now I think I’m going to work through the night. My apologies.”
I shrug. “No big deal.”
“What you’ve allowed me to experience here today is rather the opposite. You prevented months of delays and unproductive experiments.”
“I didn’t do much.”
He chuckles. “You’re quite extraordinary.”
I fidget and my cheeks flush beneath his praise. “What’s next?”
“I’ll only be here for a few more months, and I’ll be back in New York for several defense meetings. Will you come see me again?”
“Of course.”
“Until then.” He inclines his head in a small bow then walks to the center of the room and begins to adjust the tension of the coils. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve already left. I stay for a few more minutes, watching him work, transfixed by the surety of his movements, the confidence in his steps.
I wish I felt the same.
CHAPTER 21
FIRELIGHT BATHES THE right side of the room I’ve landed in. I hesitate. I meant to come here again, but to the training field, not his home. Way too many memories to battle here.
Across the darkness, movements halt and start again.
I step into the light. “Hi.”
“Thought you weren’t coming back.” Shadows caress Constantine’s back, but I can still tell he’s dressed in his standard warrior-fare of tunic and soft sandals. He hunches over the table, illuminated only by a small candle at the end. By the strain in his shoulders, he’s clearly upset.
“I never said that.”
He grunts and pushes maps around on the wide table on the far side of his room. “Did you find Penya?”
“No. I haven’t seen her since I was here last.”
“A whole year?”
I drop my head forward and sigh.
“Only a day for me.” I scan the room, but it never changes. A large bench by the fire, logs stacked and ready, a simple table, a cot—I jerk my eyes away from his bedroom. Bad enough I’m in his house, I don’t need to make it worse. A whole year… and yet only a few hours for me. Explains his attitude. I must seem like an insensitive ass to him.
“No wonder this is so easy for you,” he says. It’s impossible not to hear the pout and anger. Surely he hasn’t been mad for a whole year. Something else must be bugging him, and I just picked my usually crappy time to show up. Even so, I need his unique slant on events, his ability to see things I’m blind to.
I snort. Not sure who I’m trying to kid… I just need him.
I sigh and walk to the map table. With a hand on his arm, I coax him to look at me. “Nothing about being away from you is easy. I’m sorry it’s been a year. I would come back here every night if I could.”
“Would you?”
I step closer, forcing myself between the table and his big body. “Can we not fight?”
His face softens and he searches my face. “Fine. Tell me and go.”
I resist the urge to step away, and instead I run the tips of my fingers gently up his forearms. He shivers and licks his lips.
“I’m struggling with this alteration. It’s hard and I need help… and I wanted someone to talk to.”
He stiffens beneath my fingers. “Then you should have gone to Anna’s.”
I take the hit without comment because I know he’s hurt. We didn’t exactly leave on good terms—a year ago.
Guess we better make up before I leave each time. He’s so full of pain tonight. Has he been in battle recently? Lost more men to war? I refuse to believe my absence is the only reason he’s so upset. The Constantine I know is a master at keeping his feelings buried. Whatever happened must have been huge to draw this excessive display. I’m not sure what to do for him, how to pull him back. I slide my hands higher, curling my fingers over the ridges of his biceps. The edge of his tunic feathers
over the tops of my knuckles. “I didn’t want to talk to Anna.”
His eyes drift closed and his lips part. His fingers curl and his muscles bunch beneath my hands.
“How was your day?” I whisper.
He swallows. “It’s getting better.”
“Mine, too.” I press on the back of his arms and lift up on my tiptoes. I can only reach the hollow of his throat, but since it’s a serious hot spot for him, I dip my tongue into the depression and swirl it until he moans.
In one motion, he sweeps everything from the table and lifts me onto it.
“Oh!” I wrap my legs around his waist as he presses me backward, lowering his lips to mine. He punishes me for being gone so long and I take his bruising kiss, sweeping my arms around his back and pulling him tighter. His lips part and I let him taste me. He nips my lower lip, tugging my mouth open. He tastes like he always has, of wine and a raw manliness I can’t get in my time. He scoots my hips closer to the edge of the table and lifts one knee under my thigh, locking my hips against his. I grind against him, but he keeps a minute cushion of space between us no matter how I squirm and angle my hips. My body begs for the hardness of him, needs him to fill me beyond the point of control. He breaks the kiss and scrapes his stubbled cheek against my neck. I squeal and try to pull away, but he wraps an arm around my shoulder and licks the beard burn, repeating the slow torture down the length of my neck.
He’s curiously reserved and yet brazen in his touching, like it’s both the first and last time, and I guess that’s nearly true. I’ve had has hands on my naked skin already, but for him, this is a memory come to life.
A cold press of steel against my shoulder freezes my wiggling and my eyelids fly open. He holds a knife in his left hand, the blade dipped beneath the fabric of my shirt. I can’t read his face but there’s no menace there. With a flick of his wrist, he splits my shirt from sleeve to hem. I gasp as the cool air mingles with his warm breath across my cleavage. He cuts my other arm free and slips the blade beneath the front of my bra. He hesitates. “Seems a shame. I like these.”
I lean forward, sliding the fabric along the blade. “I have more.”
