Stupid! she thought.
“So, how’d you manage it?” Dak asked, getting into a fighting position of his own.
“Manage what?” Sera said, spitting out the words. Her brain was still slow from sleep, but she knew she had to focus, and fast.
“Getting me thrown into jail.”
“Are you kidding?” Sera shouted. “The question is how’d you find me?”
They began slowly circling each other in the cell, staring at each other, waving around their fists. Sera watched Dak’s mouth move as he talked, but she also watched his hips in order to pick up on any sudden movements so she’d be able to react in time.
“How’d I find you?” Dak countered. “I’ve been trying to get away from you!”
Sera picked up a broken piece of brick for protection. If it came down to it, she’d fire it right between Dak’s eyes. Even if she missed her bull’s-eye, his head was so big, she was bound to do some kind of damage.
Dak picked up a jagged board.
As they continued circling in the cell, never taking their eyes off each other, Sera stepped over the legs of the other prisoners, most of whom had begun to hoot and holler, excited to have some form of entertainment. Only the weird old man seemed to be pleading for peace.
“I’ll never understand it!” Sera shouted at Dak. “How anyone could do that to their own best friend!”
“Me?” Dak scoffed. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt as long as I could, Sera. And then you tried to stab me —”
“I see you’ve been busy since I last saw you,” she said, pointing at Dak’s Chinese robe. “What animals did you harm over there?”
Dak spit, wielding his board like a sword. “Are you seriously gonna pretend you didn’t stab me with that needle?” He pointed at his forearm, shouting, “Look at my arm, Sera! I’m bleeding like a stuck pig!”
Sera saw the small trickle of dried blood on his forearm. He’d always been a baby about cuts and bruises, but was he really blaming her? “I’ll never forgive you for kicking my dog,” she told him. “Why don’t you come on over here, Dak? I’ll show you what it feels like to get kicked in the ribs.”
“Your dog?” Dak scoffed. “Is that what we’re now calling that flying can opener?”
“You’re not even making any sense!” Sera shouted.
“You’ve gone insane!” Dak fired back.
Sera’s cell mates were all on their feet now, urging her and Dak to fight. They wanted blood. Anything to break up the monotony of sitting in jail all day doing nothing. And maybe they were right. Maybe Sera should just punch Dak in the nose and settle it that way. She was so tired and hungry and frustrated, she could barely form a coherent thought. And her words were coming out all jumbled. And didn’t everyone always say that actions speak louder than words?
“I can look the other way about a lot of things,” Dak growled between clenched teeth. “But you did the unforgivable, Sera. You ruined my taste for smoked Gouda. I can’t even picture it now without feeling sick to my stomach.”
“You used me to win a trial!” Sera countered. “And what thanks do I get? You chase me down like a wild animal.”
Dak turned to the other prisoners. “Has she tried to stab any of you in the neck yet?” he shouted. “Because that’s her new pastime! She especially likes stabbing old people!” He pointed at the man with the beard, who appeared to have tears on his cheeks.
Sera was so angry, she actually screamed.
A couple of the other prisoners laughed at her, which made Sera even angrier. She fired the brick at Dak’s feet but missed. And then Dak charged at her and slammed his piece of wood against the wall right above her head. The wood fell from his hands and they grabbed on to each other’s arms and tumbled onto the floor, Sera pulling Dak’s hair and Dak pinching the skin on the back of her arm and twisting.
Dak leapt off her, shouting, “I knew it! You’ve been trying to kill me from the second we warped out of the forest!”
“Me?” Sera shouted back, climbing to her feet and rubbing her arm. “You’ve been trying to poison me with your stupid tamales since you showed up at my house. Oh, wait, I forgot. Your Mayan tamales. That was a nice touch, Dak! Using my ancestry against me!”
Dak spit again and shouted, “You’re a liar, Sera Froste!”
“No, you’re a liar, Dak Smyth!”
One of the other prisoners shouted something over their argument, and Sera looked at him. She turned back to Dak, saying, “Aren’t you gonna tell me what he said? Or was that your plan all along? To have one of your thugs rip the translation device right out of my ear and leave me helpless?”
“You’re the one with the stupid translation device!” Dak shouted back. “You tell me what he said!”
“Why don’t I do the honors?” Sera heard a deep, manly voice say. She looked toward the prison door and saw someone standing there, someone tall enough that she could only see his chest through the metal bars.
But it was his perfect English that gave him away.
“I believe the literal translation would be, ‘Shut up, you idiots. The guards are here.’ And he was right on all counts. The guards are indeed here with me, and sadly you’re both idiots.” The owner of the voice then lowered himself enough for Sera to make out his face.
“Riq!” Dak shouted. “My man! It’s been way too long. Get me out of here ASAP so we can discuss our next course of action.”
Sera watched a big smile come over Riq’s face. “Let you out?” he said. “Now, why would I want to do that? I’m the one who had you both thrown in here in the first place.” He turned to the two guards he was with and said something in Greek. From the tone, Sera guessed it wasn’t a request for extra pillows.
And with that, Riq began walking away from their cell.
Sera looked over at Dak, who was frowning so hard, his forehead was folding in on itself. He was just as angry and confused as she was. But there was something familiar in his eyes, too. Something she hadn’t seen in days.
Whatever it was made her unclench her fists.
Still, it wasn’t like she was going to talk to him after everything that had happened in Rome. She went clear to the other side of the cell and slid down the wall into a sitting position and watched him.
The old man was on his knees again, staring at the ceiling and preaching.
This time, Sera vowed not to let her eyes rest for even a second.
17
Double Duty
THE NEXT morning, Riq paced back and forth in his chambers, stressed out and exhausted. There were several people outside who needed to meet with him, but if he didn’t take a second for himself, he was going to lose it.
They had been victorious in the Battle of Issus, yes, but he was starting to think victory brought as many headaches as defeat. Before Alexander the Great had headed down the Phoenician coast, he’d left Riq — better known around these parts as Hephaestion — in charge of appointing someone to the throne of Sidon, and it was a task Riq didn’t take lightly. On top of that, he was in charge of realigning the Persian border and figuring out what to do with the ninety-seven remaining Persian war prisoners. He knew he was going to release them, but he hadn’t figured out how to do it safely. He also had his own wounded warriors to look after. And on top of all that, Dak and Sera had decided that now was a good time to crash-land back into his life.
He used to think stress levels were high in the twenty-first century, especially when he had a big soccer match, or a test at school, but that was before he became the right-hand man of Alexander the Great.
The job accounted for his stress. The exhaustion came from his secret — and it was a big one.
For the past six weeks, Riq had been pulling double duty. He was, by day, Hephaestion, Alexander’s best friend and top adviser, and by night, he was a time-traveling Hystorian who was slowly but s
urely uncovering some incredibly odd developments he had started to believe were the work of Tilda and what was left of the SQ.
In other words, Riq hardly ever slept.
He couldn’t have known it at the time, but he was forever changed on the day he and Dak and Sera had finally defeated Tilda. In his anger with her, he’d shattered the woman’s Eternity Ring — and tachyon fluid had splattered all over his bare hands and arms. Initially he was worried the fluid might be toxic, but Riq wasn’t poisoned. It turned out the fluid had other effects entirely.
He figured it out one day by accident. He was taking a late-night stroll outside the castle he now lived in, when he started thinking about the Mayan girl from Izamal who had meant so much to him. Kisa. He remembered the date they’d last seen each other and he repeated it to himself in every language he knew that night. He was only trying to keep his language skills sharp. But when he mumbled the date in binary code, everything started swirling around him, and he blacked out. When he came to, he was in Izamal, 628 AD. And there was Kisa, sitting outside her hut all alone, eating something out of a clay bowl.
His stomach flooded with butterflies.
But he knew he couldn’t speak to her. That might throw something off in the time continuum, and the last thing he wanted was to undo all the hard work he, Dak, and Sera had put into fixing the Breaks. He was nowhere near smart enough to figure out how it all worked, but he was smart enough to know not to tempt fate. So he settled for watching her over the course of the next few hours. He felt a little bit like a creep, but it was worth it. Because she was just as graceful and beautiful as he remembered.
And happy. It was good to see that she was happy.
He warped back to Anatolia that night before the sun came up over his new home city. It was easy, once he understood it. In essence, his entire body was an Infinity Ring now. He just had to program himself by speaking in code.
The following night, after he was done with all his duties, he opted for a different kind of warp. He went back to Athens to check up on Tilda, who had been left there, soundly defeated. Only Tilda was nowhere to be found. Instead, he heard rumors of a ghostly red-haired woman with a magical golden relic. People said they’d seen her vanish into thin air. And that’s how his current wild-goose chase through time had begun.
He suspected that Tilda had somehow gained access to another time-travel device and had come up with a new plan, one that he was afraid might be more ambitious and sinister than anything before. He’d been racing through time — during his off hours — ever since, trying to uncover exactly what she was up to. But if Tilda was out there, she was keeping a low profile. Probably getting others to do her dirty work — like these AB Pacifists who seemed to be popping up everywhere.
There was another knock, and Riq started across the room toward the door. It looked like his quiet time was coming to an end.
He paused in front of the door, remembering the most troubling thing he’d learned during his six weeks of recon warps. Both Dak and Sera were actually assisting the AB Pacifists. But just last night, Riq had discovered what was really happening.
They had been tricked.
The knocking became more desperate, and Riq finally pulled open the door. It was two of his guards with a man he instantly recognized as Abdalonymus, the simple, trustworthy farmer he intended to crown king of Sidon — his last order of business before taking Dak and Sera on a little trip.
“Hello, there,” he said, bowing in front of the man. “Please, have a seat inside and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The man gave a bow in return and went inside.
Riq stepped outside with his guards. “The two kids,” he said, “have they killed each other yet?”
“Not yet,” the larger guard said. “They’re still staying as far away from each other as possible.”
Riq grinned, picturing the two of them eying each other distrustfully all day. Wait until he told them the truth about how Tilda had been fooling them.
“They didn’t get dinner, as you ordered. Should we feed them breakfast?” the smaller guard asked.
Riq rubbed his shoulder, where a small scar had begun to itch. He didn’t remember where the scar had come from. He must have been cut in some battle.
He thought of his old friends, hungry in a cell.
What happened wasn’t technically Dak’s or Sera’s fault. But they could have been quicker to figure things out — especially Dak. “I’ll bring them food myself,” he told the guards. “Get a basket together.” Riq grinned to himself. “But no cheese.”
The guards nodded and went off to perform their daily duties. Riq stepped back inside his office, readying himself to crown a new king.
18
A Different Kind of Warp
IT WAS early morning when Dak heard the guards shuffling down the hall, toward his cell. He stood up, eying Sera and the other prisoners. They were all still asleep. Dak rubbed his eyes, wondering how long he himself had been asleep. He’d vowed to stay awake through the night, but his exhaustion had gotten the best of him.
The door opened and in walked Riq, wearing a leather satchel and holding a large basket full of food. Dak’s stomach immediately started growling. The thought of food was almost enough to make him forget how angry he was at Riq.
And Sera.
And just about everyone else he could think of.
Riq dismissed the guards and then turned to Dak and gave him a nod.
Dak was stiff from sleep, but that didn’t stop him from staggering over to Riq. “I want answers,” he demanded, getting in the bigger kid’s face, “and I want them right this second.”
“I’m sure you do,” Riq said, leaning away from Dak. “I’d bet you want a toothbrush, too.”
“And something to eat,” Dak added. “Anything but smoked Gouda.”
“Or tamales,” Sera chimed in.
Dak turned around and saw that Sera was on her feet now, too. They watched each other uncertainly.
Riq set the basket on the ground. “There’s fruit and bread and stuff in there. But I have to say, you guys aren’t exactly in the best position to be making demands.”
Dak dove into the basket first, grabbing a hunk of bread and a big stem of grapes. Sera reached in after him, followed by a couple of the other prisoners who had woken up, too. “What do you mean we shouldn’t make demands?” Dak said between bites of the stale bread. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Please,” Sera said, rolling her eyes. “I’m the one who’s innocent.”
They shot each other dirty looks.
All but one of the other prisoners were at the basket now. They were reaching in and pulling out the rest of the bread and fruits and olives and figs.
The loud old man with the wild gray hair and beard was back to his preaching again. He was on his knees, pointing at the stone ceiling of the cell and crying.
“What’s he going on about anyway?” Dak asked.
Riq shook his head. “Some nonsense about the moon exploding. He was passed out in a ravine when my men picked him up.” He motioned between Dak and Sera. “So, I take it there’s not a whole lot of trust between you two right now.”
“Me, trust him?” Sera said, pointing at Dak. “Not a chance.”
Dak scoffed. “The feeling’s quite mutual, my dear.”
Riq was still grinning in this irritating way as he watched Dak and Sera wolf down their food. “How should I put this?” he said.
“What are you beating around the bush about?” Dak said, firing a grape at the older boy’s legs. “Just say what you have to say. We deserve to know why you had us thrown in here in the first place.”
“Exactly,” Sera said. “We deserve the truth.”
Dak and Sera looked at each other. It felt odd to be on the same side again — about anything. Dak looked away so she wouldn’t start thinking
they were friends again.
“The truth can be a dangerous thing sometimes,” Riq said. “I’m not sure you’re prepared for what I have to say.”
Dak and Sera both stopped eating and shot him nasty scowls. Sera gave a little growl that actually kind of impressed Dak, so he growled, too.
“Okay,” Riq said. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Remember our little friends from the SQ? The group we supposedly eliminated?”
Dak furrowed his brow at Riq. “What do you think, dude?” he said sarcastically. “We only risked our lives to stop them.”
“Well, another group has risen up from their ashes,” Riq said. “They call themselves the AB Pacifists. And I’m almost certain they’re led by Tilda herself.”
Dak almost choked on his food. He looked at Sera, remembering the men she’d been associating with in ancient China, and then Massachusetts. “By any chance, do these guys wear a lot of gold?” he asked Riq.
“As a matter of fact, they do.”
Sera pointed at Dak. “You —!”
“Me?” Dak said, cutting her off. “More like you!”
“Hang on,” Riq said. “It gets worse. The AB punked you both. They’ve been spying on you and your families from the minute you made it back to the present. From what I’ve gathered, they may have approached you separately with clone versions of each other. In other words, Dak, you were approached by a fake Sera. And, Sera, you were approached by a fake Dak.”
Dak’s eyes grew wide. “Clones?!”
He’d known there was something off about the Sera he’d just been warping around with, but he figured her parents had gotten to her somehow. He’d never even considered that he might be with Sera’s evil clone.
“How?” Sera said. “There are only a few experts in the world who understand how cloning works. And they’re nowhere near that level of sophistication.” She sounded more impressed than horrified.
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