“I don’t like the sound of this,” she replied.
“Emma, Aline, Orpha, keep the Kreak distracted. Bronwyn, I need your plane.”
Forty-six
Bronwyn landed on Down Street, climbing from her cockpit with confusion in her gaze. Victoria quickly thanked her and climbed into the cockpit, Graham following in after with the rock in his gloved hand.
“If we can get the Kreak through to Chicago,” Graham said as the hatch lowered, closing them inside, “it will turn back into the humans who are a part of it.”
“You’re sure?” Victoria gauged, checked her situation, readjusting her seat, and wrapping her hands around Bronwyn’s joystick. This wasn’t Elsie, but she couldn’t very well take the time to run down a hovney, order it back to the Aviatory, and retrieve her own plane. The Kreak was nearing the shore and any moment it would break through their defenses.
“Yep,” said Graham from behind her.
She triggered the ignition, noticing how low Bronwyn’s fuel gauges were. There was nothing to be done for it—they had to go now, before the Kreak decided it was done batting at the other planes, or worse, before their fuel ran out as well.
She made speed, lifting at the end of the street and climbing into the sky. Determination settled into her bones. She felt more right with herself than she ever had. She knew who she’d been. She knew who she was now. She knew what she wanted in that moment, and was determined to let nothing stop her.
“Break for the shore,” Victoria called in her headset as she approached the other three planes. “I’ve got it from here.”
“Good luck,” said Emma.
The planes circled around in retreat. The Kreak’s head whipped in their direction, its clockwork eyes clicking.
Victoria’s stomach plummeted. It couldn’t go back to the town, not now.
“How do we get it to follow us?” Graham said, voicing her doubts.
“Hold on.” She pitched the joystick to the left, hard. The plane responded, jolting and juddering, and it took every ounce of control she had to make it circle the brute’s head. Faster, faster, faster around she went. The beast reeled, whipping its head back, struggling to catch her. It lunged forward with a massive splash that rippled toward the shore now twenty feet away.
“You’re making it angry,” he said.
“That’s the idea.”
She continued taunting it, flying in as close as she could, then pulling back, zipping to its head, then rearing and causing it to hit itself as it swung for her. Again, she circled its head before spearing off at the last minute, off toward the edge of her world.
The Kreak released a deafening howl. The waves from its motion began at once, surging high and wide. The Kreak shot from them, glittering and enraged, its mouth gaping wide as with silver teeth.
“It’s moving fast, and so must we,” Victoria said. She tried remembering the coordinates that had appeared when she’d bounded back from the farmlands the day she’d taken Graham to find Wolverton. Going too far would mean subjecting the farmers on the other side to the Kreak instead, taking it farther than it needed to be from the very water they so desperately needed.
“It’s working,” Graham said, hammering a hand on the back of her seat. “It’s working!”
From her reflective mirrors, she could see the monster cycling after her, swimming in the direction she headed.
Energy filled her. She choked back the fear attempting to burble in her throat. This was for Dahlia. This was for Graham, for the town, for their memories and the lives they’d each lost.
“Open your hatch,” Graham said behind her. “This is far enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Open it!”
She slammed her hand against the hatch release at the same moment the Kreak vaulted itself up from the water, up, into the sky. The monstrous creature, its sea-stained metal dripping with algae and foam, barreled straight for them.
She released a cry as the Kreak struck her plane, spinning it in midair. Air crushed her in a rush through the open hatch, popping her ears, whirling her hair.
Graham shouted behind her. “Close it! Close it!”
“No!” Victoria’s restraints fought the pull of gravity with every whirl. She couldn’t close it, not now. She braced herself with her feet, struggling to regain control. The gauges in her dashboard screeched, but no matter how hard she jerked on the controls, it would not respond.
They were at a tailspin.
“We’re going down!” she cried.
“Hold on!” Graham called.
“Heaven help us!” she muttered, her heart thundering. Thinking fast, she released the joystick and applied full rudder in the opposite direction of their tailspin. The plane lurched, shooting her hard to the left, halting their rotation.
Her head rattled, making her dizzy. Victoria gripped the joystick, struggling to keep control.
“Let’s not ever do that again,” Graham said. She heard his restraints click as he unbuckled them.
“Be careful,” Victoria said, scanning the sea for a sign of the Kreak. There it was, swimming directly beneath them, its jaws gaping open as if waiting for their descent. “Now, Graham! Throw it now!”
He didn’t hesitate. He took aim and with a grunt, chucked it as hard as he could into the sea below.
Every second they had to wait was agony. She couldn’t leave too soon or the Kreak would follow. She had to time it just so.
She closed the hatch, waiting. Pulsing.
Purple light splashed across her vision in an instant, opening to an almost blinding whiteness.
She braced herself against the dashboard. “No. No, no, no, I faced this, I faced it!”
“It’s not you, Tori! It’s working! Go! Get us out of here!”
A seam ripped straight through the sky, tearing invisible stitches and leaving a gape. Victoria gasped at its pull, but she pushed the throttle, powering her plane to fight it, to go, get to shore. An earsplitting howl crackled through the air, tugging at her ears, her stomach, her teeth. She wanted to pull back, to release and let it consume her.
But there was no going backward. Only forward.
She gritted her teeth and gave the throttle all she had. Her plane lost altitude. Her fuel gauges were dangerously low.
“Prepare for impact!” she warned Graham, readying the eject nozzle and praying they were far enough away.
With a final glance behind, she saw it. The purple, glorious sky swallowed the Kreak whole, knocking back a drink of ocean for good measure. Within moments, the beam vanished, shooting them forward to crash into the sand.
Forty-seven
Graham stared at the fire crackling in its tomb beneath a wide, arching mantle ornamented with gold and narrowing its way up to the ceiling. He sat beside the gaudy four-poster bed with its dull curtains, watching A.C. Starkey’s sleeping form and rehashing the previous days’ events.
Starkey said energy couldn’t be created or destroyed, that it could only be converted. And boy, had they converted it.
There had been several moments Graham was sure he and Victoria wouldn’t make it out alive, or that they’d get sucked back to Chicago along with the monster. Not that that would have been the worst thing that could happen. But if he had gone back, he would always wonder about Chuzzlewit.
The smaller Kreak had attacked from its place in the lake in response, but the Nauts had been ready for it. Even the Exodus training Nauts had joined the fray. They’d managed to corner it and stab a tranquilizer into the chamber where the hearts rested, immobilizing the creature, and it was now contained in one of the girls’ hangars with guards at the door at all times.
The thick wooden door opened, and Victoria entered, looking amazing in a black skirt and floral corset. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and she smiled at him.
G
raham had told Victoria what had happened in that room. How Oscar and Rosalind had leapt through the vortex just before Starkey managed to erase and rewrite everyone’s memories again. But things had been so hectic with the smaller Kreak they hadn’t had much time to talk since.
“How is he?” she asked.
“No change,” said Graham. “Miller said he didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Victoria said. “It was self-inflicted, especially since Starkey was fighting to get through the door you both locked him in.”
Miller had told Graham how Starkey tried using a chair to break his way out. He’d slammed the chair against the door, over and over, before Miller heard a pain-filled cry. When the commotion stopped, Miller frantically opened the door to find Starkey had collapsed to the ground. The exertion had been too much.
And now he lay there, in a white nightshirt beneath the maroon bedding, his wrinkled skin pallid, his hair starkly white. Every once in a while the old man would groan and shift, but he hadn’t woken since Graham and Victoria returned from the beach.
“I still can’t believe Oscar and Roz are gone as well,” said Victoria.
“I know. But it was necessary,” Graham said. “You should have seen him. His arm was completely cluttered with metal clogs. He was turning into that thing. There was no other option.”
Victoria flattened her lips in a sympathetic smile and made her way to Graham. He straightened, unsure at her approach. The last time they’d spoken—really spoken—he’d basically told her he was falling for her. She looked down at him, memories of that conversation crossing between their expressions. He was glad for the opportunity to talk to her—just her—again. He’d wanted to before now, but he couldn’t leave Starkey.
She took the empty seat beside him and placed her hand in his. He inhaled, letting her touch do the talking for now.
Starkey mumbled, turning his head, and Graham slinked to the edge of his seat.
“Starkey?” he asked.
The old man’s eyes fluttered open.
“Are you all right, sir?” Victoria asked.
Starkey smacked his lips a few times, and Victoria reached for the pitcher of water on his bedside table. She poured him a glass and tipped it to his lips. Starkey struggled to rise enough to sip before flopping back to the pillow.
“What have you done, boy?” Starkey croaked.
Graham touched Starkey’s arm. “The rock is gone. The Kreak is gone, and the smaller one is contained.”
Starkey shook his head against the pillow, brow lined in pain. “I told you, you can’t stop it. If I thought that would work, don’t you think I would have tried it?” He attempted to sit up, coughed a few times, and slumped back.
“Would you have, though?” Graham interrupted. “We both know you didn’t want anything to change around here. You loved your power too much.”
“Do you think it worked?” Victoria asked, unusually timid. “That the Kreak made it back to Chicago?” She nibbled her bottom lip.
“Probably,” said Graham. “But that’s for the best.”
“I’m sure it did,” Starkey said. “Those who were trapped in it will be restored. They’ll just have a bit of a shock until then.” Starkey closed his eyes as if this thought upset him. “And you’ve doomed us all. We are stuck here now, boy,” he lamented. “We are all stuck.”
Victoria slid her fingerless-lace-gloved hand over Starkey’s. He tightened over her fingers. Of all things, she was smiling.
“I have a feeling it will be okay,” she said.
Starkey shook his head again, but still, he patted her hand weakly.
It was the truth. Graham knew he would never get home now. He worried about his mother, about the heartache she must be going through with his disappearance. He missed his father, missed how supportive his dad was even when Graham messed up and stole that wallet.
But they still had that other creature to deal with. He could help Victoria find something that would reverse the Charge’s affects. Maybe somehow they’d even find another way home, but until then, he was glad to be here with her.
Victoria gazed out at the ocean. A cool breeze swept across her cheek, swirling stray hairs from her neck. She closed her eyes and inhaled, drinking in the clear, salty breeze.
It was calm, so calm. And it wasn’t the sea only, but the trembling within her that had been pacified. It was all over with. There would be no more need for her to patrol the sky with her Nauts. No more need for a person to man the watcher’s shed. No more need for gas masks or fear of the night. Her very occupation was over. And while that had been her biggest worry with her upcoming engagement to Charles, with her uncle’s domineering insistence over her life, she felt nothing but at peace with it.
She would fly again. But on her own terms.
She recalled other memories. More and more were resurfacing since her moment with Graham in the shed. Her childhood. Working on cars in her father’s repair shop. Little Asher, the baby she’d lost, his first gummy smile. His tiny fist in hers.
The memories of him would always hurt. But she didn’t want to lose them either. It would be like losing him all over again, and he deserved to be remembered.
She understood it now, the scorn she’d held for those young mothers. It wasn’t disinclination toward children. It was her sadness, a sadness she couldn’t possibly have understood at the time.
Footsteps approached, and she opened her eyes. Graham had mounted the rocks and was reaching the peak of the overlook where she sat. He ducked his head down before lifting it once again and giving her a handsome half-smile and a wave.
“Hey,” said Graham as he approached. “Can I sit with you?”
“Please,” she said, smoothing over her skirts. “I had to get out of that house, if only for a moment.”
“I don’t blame you.”
He lowered to the rock beside her. Finality nestled in between them, swirling the air with awkwardness. For a fleeting moment she’d been ready to give up everything for this boy, to go back to an unknown world.
But she hadn’t run. She’d stayed and faced her problem—her many problems. And she was glad for it.
“Are you okay?” Graham asked, resting his elbows across his knees.
“I will be,” she said, squinting out at the horizon. “I have lingering questions. Questions that will always be there now.”
“Sure,” Graham said. “It’s only natural.”
She read the pain in his voice. “I don’t blame you, you know.”
“What?”
“For doing what you did. You were there for me, Graham. The most painful thing about those memories, about the life I left, was how alone and abandoned I felt. I can’t tell you what it meant that I didn’t have to face them again alone.”
He hung his head for a few moments, then drew her to him with an arm around her shoulder. “Never alone again,” he said, resting his cheek near her temple.
She stared out to the sea. “It is as you said, Graham. I’m me. I know myself as Victoria Digby, a pilot, a mechanic, and a connoisseur of the sky’s secrets.”
“That sounds about right,” he said, nodding.
She pulled back as to get a better look at him. “And you?” she asked.
His eyes flicked one way, then the other. “Me, what?”
“You’ve wanted to get home since you arrived here. You could have, you know. You could have leapt from my plane and gone back through with the Kreak.”
“It crossed my mind,” he said, exhaling.
“But?”
“But I didn’t want to.” His gaze met hers directly for the first time since he sat down.
“You didn’t want to go home? You’ve been gone too long, is that it?” She forced a smile. “Now look who’s avoiding his problems.”
Graham swallowed and took
her hand. His skin was warm, and he held her hand in both of his, staring at her fingers. He lowered his head.
“I did want to avoid something,” he said. “A major problem.”
Her throat tightened. “And what might that be?”
He shrugged and scooted a bit closer to her. “If I’d gone back, I would’ve been away from you. Biggest mistake I’d ever make.”
She laughed, but when she met his gaze again, his eyes burned. This was no joking, playful banter. He was all seriousness.
“Oh, Graham,” she said, speaking despite her trembling heart. “There are worse mistakes.”
His gaze snared her. “I don’t think so,” he said in a low voice. Her whole body heated just being near him. His hands cradled her face, feeling her soft, feverish skin. And he guided her mouth to meet his.
She gasped, her hand bunching into a fist on her knee until, slowly, it found its way to his arm. Graham’s hands slid to her back, gently urging her closer. Her chest pumped against his, and still he kissed her, his lips holding a charge all their own.
“I’m glad you stayed,” she said eventually.
“Me too,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. The two of them sat for a long time after, watching gulls soar on open wings beneath the clouds.
Epilogue
Dahlia paddled her arms, kicking with her legs toward the line of sand. People clustered there, men’s bodies covered only halfway and women’s bodies scathingly bare. The sight would be quite the scandal, would be cause enough to summon a town meeting back home. Yet here they were, splashing in the waves and tossing children into the air with the largest smiles she’d seen anyone wear.
Finally, the sand met her feet. Dahlia walked her way to the shore, her dress hanging heavily, weighing her down. This wasn’t the ocean she knew. It wasn’t the one she’d defended. It led to the sky in one direction, that was true. But the other direction was flanked with buildings higher than she knew could climb. And there were so many of them! The tallest was darker than the rest and antlered with two spires spearing straight upward.
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