“And she’s alive?” West demanded. We were in the city again; the park was within view. The streetlights snapped on in the darkness.
“Oh, she’s alive. You could all three be together. One happy family,” he slammed on the brakes along the street, pointing the gun at Violet. “Move. To the fountain.”
I got out of the car and followed West. The park was empty in the cold, constant rain. The temperature had dropped several degrees, and that, combined with the light mist, reduced me to compulsive tremors.
“Parallel universes?” I whispered to West. He nodded. Warm tears welled in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks. I brushed at them with the back of my hand. “When I die here, will I die in the future? In 2012?”
“You’re not going to die,” West said firmly. Troy heard him, nudging Violet along with the gun. At the base of the fountain, he stopped and walked behind her.
“Someone is. Either your beautiful blonde daughter- or this pain in the ass you’ve been dragging through history. Pick one.” With that, he cocked the gun and pushed Violet to her knees, execution-style. He pressed the gun to the back of her head, and she cried out, pleading, moaning.
Adrenaline pumping, I dug my fingers into my palms. “No! West, no, please, just take her back. It’s over. There’s nothing we can do, just save her,” I cried.
West looked at Violet, and then back at me, as if deciding. Raw pain washed over his face. “I need to say good-bye to her,” he said finally.
Troy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Fast.”
In the second it took him to turn fully toward me, I exhaled a sob, my heart dropping. He tried to gather me into his arms but I fought, ready to run. I was on my own; pregnant, in some stranger’s body, in some foreign time, and West was leaving me to my serial killer’s mercy.
He held me firmly, gripping my right arm. “Remember what I told you, in the motel. I love you. Everything I did is for you,” he managed, his voice breaking.
“I love you, West,” I hushed, survival instincts surfacing. “I need to run, please let me go,” my words wavered, barely intelligible.
He smoothed his thumb over the numbers, the same pattern of numbers that lined his own arm. “They shouldn’t match,” he hissed between clenched teeth.
I narrowed my eyes, confused. The numbers shouldn’t match? His numbers located me; my numbers, still the coordinates for Russia…
Located Logan.
My numbers had never changed.
Logan left the hotel, but he never left Russia.
I processed the information in the seconds he pressed his lips to mine. He whispered into my lips. “Back up to the fountain.”
I nodded against his mouth, inching backwards. He broke away from me, turning to Troy and Violet. “Now give her to me,” West demanded. Troy picked her up off the ground by her arm, tossing her like a rag doll at West.
At that moment, Logan appeared out of the darkness, his arms encircling me. West thrust Violet at both of us, and Logan caught her. Blindsided, Troy lunged for me, but West was already aiming his fist at my attacker. The first blow was to his gut, sending him reeling backwards. The gun fired as Logan thrust my arm into the water.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Peterhof Fountains, glorious in the middle of the late summer day, appeared before me. The water in the Roman Fountain touched to the middle of my calves. We hurried out of the fountain, and I glanced around, hoping no one noticed us materialize out of thin air.
We managed to run ten feet before armed guards were ushering us toward the exit. “Please evacuate immediately,” they ordered in both English and Russian. I followed the confused herd of people to the exits. Violet crowded next to Logan, the fear evident in her wide-eyed gaze.
“What’s going on?” I asked, loudly enough for anyone to give me answers. One of the older men ahead of me turned around briefly.
“Bomb threat,” he said, his English accent leading me to believe he was a tourist. “Not to worry, girls, just move quickly to the exit. This sort of thing happens. We’ll be back inside in an hour or less, no doubt.”
“Bomb threat... Logan,” I turned to him, the blood draining from my face and sending tingling sensations through my veins. “West… he isn’t back yet!”
“Just keep moving, Roam, and be quiet,” he ordered, shoving me forward. I fought him, trying to turn back to the fountain, but he caught me and locked his vice-like grasp on my upper arm. Years of playing baseball gave him a merciless grip, and he held my arm like a metal bat. “Move, Camden, or regret it,” he hissed, his voice unrecognizable and thick with urgency. “I’m following West’s orders, so just do what I say.”
I blanched. West gave Logan instructions, but not me? Moving quickly, we reached the nearest exit. Outside, Logan hailed us a taxi. I sat between Violet and Logan as he gave the driver the name of our hotel.
Remembering, I covered my stomach with my fingers. Nothing. The same body I’d been born with, in 1995, met my touch, and my dark hair hung damply against my cheeks. Violet was breathing calmly next to me, and I turned to her.
“Are you okay?” I managed. She raised a perfect blonde eyebrow, shaking her head.
“Okay? What does that even mean? I have a million questions, and my head is throbbing,” she held her head with the arm closest to the window.
“Who is she?” Logan asked me.
“West’s daughter,” I said softly. He stared at her, and Violet stared back.
“I was adopted. I’m assuming you mean my biological father, and that asshole left when I was an infant. So if you’re referring to the man who just saved our lives, he was way too young to be my father.”
At that moment, the cab shook violently. I stiffened, turning around to look out the back window. Billows of smoke appeared thick in the air in the direction of the fountain as we passed the Nava Arch. The driver said something in Russian, and the cab shook again as I witnessed another explosion deep in the distance behind us. As the cab pulled over to the sidewalk, I struggled for breath, trying to process what was happening. Explosions. At the fountain.
“She’s hyperventilating,” Violet said, her voice distant in my ringing ears. I winced in pain as I felt Logan’s bruising hold on my upper arm. He had pinched me, hard, and I widened my eyes at him.
“Don’t faint. Get out of the cab,” he shouted, pushing us out. We were blocks from the hotel, but Logan was running and we had no choice but to run to keep up with him. I looked around; everyone in sight was yelling, and screaming, and cell phones were pressed to hundreds of ears. When we finally reached the hotel, the concierge at the front desk was turned with his back toward us, watching a flat-screen television on the wall just over his shoulder.
“…bombings at the Peterhof Palace. The fountains appear to be the focus of the attack, and explosions continue to erupt behind me…,”
“Oh my God, we were just there,” Violet stared at the reporter on the screen, her wide, blue eyes filled with shock. Logan took her hand, gently leading her toward the stairs.
“Let us get our things and we’ll get you safely home,” he said, the chivalrous boy that I was used to surfacing for a moment. “Hang on,” he said softly. Violet nodded, following him.
Once in the hotel room, I rushed to West’s suitcase and laptop, kneeling next to it and searching for some sign that he’d made it safely out of the past, out of the fountain and back to the hotel. Violet melted to the bed, breaking into relieved tears. Logan sat next to her, speaking quietly, answering as many questions as he could for her.
I ruffled through his few clothes, the scent of him making my heart involuntarily hammer against my chest. Everything was just as we left it that morning; his laptop, his clothes, his phone- all neatly packed inside the carry-on. His wallet, filled with cash, lay neatly on his laptop. As I picked up the leather bi-fold, a sheet of paper fell on the carpet.
Opening it, I touched my lips, tears threatening. His all-capital handwriting, so neat and evenly-spaced, fille
d the paper.
Dear Roam,
I pray you receive this. If you have, then my plan was successful.
I knew Troy would be waiting for us at the motel. If you knew that too, you’d have panicked- and my love for you would have taken over all logical thought. I wouldn’t have been able to put you through that.
I spoke to Logan for hours before he Pretended to leave. We developed this plan together. Keeping you from knowing was essential. You are beautiful and smart, but we all know you’re a terrible actress. If Troy suspects anything, this plan may not work.
The only way to protect you is to keep Troy from you. As you said, we cannot kill him, but we can trap him. I am the only one who can keep him from following you, and that means destroying the door and protecting you.
If you are pregnant, please protect our child. Whatever her destiny is, she is the only hope for this world. Logan has promised to care for you and keep you safe until you both get home. After that, you can understand why he does not want to be with you any longer.
I sobbed, taking a moment to wipe my face with my wet sleeve before trying to read through my blurry vision.
I love you, Roam. I have loved you my entire existence, and will always love you. So many questions are unanswered right now, but know that if there is a way for me to come back to you, I will. I swear to you I will.
-W
“Roam?”
I lifted my face to Logan’s. He knelt down beside me, glancing at the paper in my hand. The bathroom door snapped closed as Violet left us alone.
“Logan… he’s gone, he’s trapped,” I swallowed hard, trying to form words. “I know I’ve- I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I just… my heart is breaking, and there’s no one…,” I made no sense, but he seemed to know exactly what I was saying.
In seconds his arms were around me. “Cam, I’ll always be your friend. Even if things can’t be what they were, I can’t erase our history. Our friendship.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“I promised West I’d make sure you took care of yourself. I owe him for saving my family, for working with me even though he knew… what I am.” He lowered his eyes. “I also promised to make sure you learn how to fight. I have a year before boot camp, and I plan to do that.”
“Troy said there is another world. A world where he is a king, and we exist as something else.” I pressed my face into his shoulder. “Do you think that’s true?”
He brushed his hand over my hair. “I don’t doubt anything anymore. Anything is possible.”
Violet opened the door, her face freshly washed. Now that I could focus on her, I realized that she reminded me a lot of West; aside from her blue eyes, her composed countenance mirrored West’s self-control. “I live in Virginia. If we all just go to Ohio, I can drive back to Virginia myself.”
“Did Logan explain things to you?”
She tilted her head slightly, nodding. “Yes. And if what- Troy- said is true, then my mother- my real mother- is alive. And I have to find her.” She locked eyes with me, crossing her arms around herself. “Logan says you lost your mother. What would you do to get her back?”
Staring at her, I registered her words. “I would do anything.”
“Exactly.”
“What about your father?” I asked, trying to keep the hurt out of my tone.
She shrugged, her blonde curls moving with her shoulders. “I don’t have a father.” With that, she looked at Logan. “Let’s get out of here.”
With West’s laptop, air card, money, and credit, Logan booked us a flight and arranged for our trip back to Ohio. With the bombings, many of the primary flights were canceled, but we secured one that evening that took us back to Rome. The initial guilty feelings that surfaced while using West’s resources were overcome by our need for survival. I thought about my father and Morgan, wondering how I would explain myself.
As we boarded for the first flight, I turned to Logan. “The numbers will change. Can you handle it in your seat?”
“Can you?” He asked, glancing at the attendant.
“I think so,” I whispered. He nodded.
“Don’t scream,” he warned. I nodded. Ten minutes into the air, the tingling began. He locked his hand with mine, and his bone-crushing grip on my fingers helped me breathe through the burning change. West had been right; controlling pain was a learned effort.
The layovers were spent in the airports eating small meals and watching the news of the bombings. Several stations were calling it acts of terrorism, but often an expert would chime in to say the bombings appeared to be the efforts of one activist group. I watched on splintered nerves, waiting for some mention of “suspicious looking teens appearing out of a fountain,” or West’s face to flash on the screen. Nothing but the same information reported in several different ways sounded from the televisions of the airport.
I spoke very little to either of them through the entire flight, wishing for sleep. Tears came again and again, the awareness that West was truly gone sending me into periods of silent, wracking sobs. The time we spent at the shore, his touch, the taste of his mouth, all of the memories of him were more upsetting than any of the terrifying dreams I had experienced. Logan left me alone, sitting behind me with Violet. I stared out the window, as far away from the man next to me as possible.
They talked softly to each other, Logan answering as much as he could for Violet. When Violet boldly asked him if I was pregnant now, I froze, holding my breath while waiting for Logan’s answer.
“Maybe.” I felt his dark eyes on me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
At the Cleveland-Hopkins Airport, we found West’s Pilot parked in the long-term area. Logan’s Camry was only a few spaces away, and I wondered how I didn’t notice it when we originally left. I pulled the keys out of his carry-on, and Logan loaded our bags into the back of the Camry.
Sometime during the flight, Logan had offered West’s Pilot for Violet to drive back to Virginia. He gave her a handful of cash and the keys, making arrangements for her to call him as soon as she made it safely home.
“Thanks,” she told him, and finally I detected some emotion in her voice. My eyes widened as he kissed her softly on the cheek, squeezing her hand. Unreasonable jealousy surfaced before I chased it away with the cold facts of our situation. Logan will never be mine again.
“I’ll drive,” I said as she pulled away, and Logan looked ready to argue. “I’m okay, just let me drive,” I insisted, meeting his commanding glare.
“Don’t crash,” he said, and I shot him an offended glance.
“Buckle up.” I retorted, easily pulling out of the airport and curving around the exit for the highway.
In forty-five minutes we were parked in front of my house. It was Saturday afternoon, and my dad’s car was parked in the open garage. We needed to discuss what we were going to say, but neither of us had spoken during the entire trip from Cleveland. Finally, I turned to him. “I’ll tell my dad that we broke up.”
He was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead.
“And that I’ll support the baby- if there is one.”
It killed him to say the words, and I knew it. There was no expression of gratitude that would suffice at that moment. Finally, I decided to remain silent.
“Do you want me to come in with you? I can’t even imagine looking your father in the eye, but it disgusts me to drop you off and drive away.”
“It’s your decision.”
Finally, Logan sighed and got out of the car. I expected him to take the driver’s seat, but instead he walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Shaking, I followed him, feeling very much like the wayward, runaway child that I was. After the disrespect I’d shown my father, I felt the need to knock.
He opened the door, his face a wash of emotion as he focused on us. I was lifted from the step and into his arms in seconds, his familiar, loving touch sending me into a fresh wave of tears.
“I’m never letting you leave th
is house again,” he said, gruff, tears thick in his own voice. “Either of you.”
“Dad, I’m so s-sorry,” I cried, hugging him. “We need to talk.”
And we did. An hour later, Logan was on his way home, and I was in my own room, West’s bag next to my bag at the foot of my bed. You will take care of this baby, young man, my dad’s voice echoed through my exhausted mind. Don’t think for one second your responsibility ends because the two of you broke up. I cringed, pressing my face against the pillow. I understand that, sir. I’ll take care of Roam. I already promised her that.
The reunion with Morgan that evening was not as kind as the one with my father. Morgan had left campus the moment my father called her, and stopped only once to receive a speeding ticket an hour from the house. “If you ever disrespect me or dad like that again, Roam, you’ll regret it,” she’d screamed at me before squeezing me in a desperate hug.
“I already regret it,” I whispered, watching my sister fight back tears.
“Good. Now go to your room. I’m making you an appointment for the OB-GYN on Monday, and we’re getting you back to school Tuesday morning. Thank God you only missed a week. Ally-May said you are to call her immediately.”
“Have you heard from…Reed?” I asked.
Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Screw that bastard.”
I took that as a no.
The transition back to school was easier than I’d expected. First period history was taken over by a revolving substitute I’d recognized from previous years. “What happened to Mr. Perry?” I asked Michelle Crane as the bell rang.
“He resigned about the same time you took off with Logan.”
I nodded, sitting back in my seat.
My dad arranged for a “family meeting” the following Saturday. Logan and his parents arrived Saturday afternoon. I hadn’t spoken to Logan since the day we returned, avoiding him in the hallways and taking the bus home each day. I felt myself slipping into an unavoidable depression, but made no effort to claw my way out of it. The void in my mind, the comfortable emptiness, made each night more manageable as I lay in my bed, longing for West.
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