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  “Was I talking to you?” the man asked, his voice rising into a shout. Then in a whisper, “Fucking New Yorkers. Ahem, no. I was talking to her.” He swiveled his neck to Charlotte. “I’m telling you, Miss Charlotte Osqui: keep going. This little thing?” He gestured to the boat’s ceiling, perhaps through it to the seats above. A cold pit in Charlotte’s stomach told her he meant Felix. The man shrugged. “It’s nothing. Time changing, that’s all. Don’t let it scare you. Don’t let it stop you. You’re doing good work.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  Paris sighed. “I’ve been in your laboratory. We’re watching you, I mean …” He shook his head, not a single blue hair moving out of place. “Just listen. We saw what you did; we approve. Is that getting through? We’ve decided to offer this to you: if you’re worried, if you don’t want to lose anyone else, hand them over to us. We’ll keep them safe. Your son, your ex-husband, your brother. Even this man. So long as you keep going, we’ll keep them safe and sound, ready to be returned once you’re finished.”

  Charlotte’s heart fluttered. “How can you keep them safe?”

  “You’re safe, aren’t you? Out of time, you didn’t change. So hand them over to us.”

  Bill crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that a threat?”

  “No.” The man balled his hands into fists. He was losing his patience, the good humor that he’d been projecting. Soon enough he’d get violent, and Bill wouldn’t be able to protect Charlotte then.

  She needed to end this. “Charlie’s not going anywhere,” she said.

  “Okay.” The man lifted his hands. “Don’t take the offer. Offer, not a threat, you ape.” He rolled his eyes at Bill. “But don’t stop. Stop, and we won’t give you the choice. And that, my dear gorilla”—he reached out a hand and touched Bill’s beard—“is a threat.”

  Repulsed, Bill shuddered, and the man grinned his shark smile once more.

  The floor shifted as Paris’s hulking weight left the boat. Back on the pier, he tossed his apple core into the water between them. “Good luck,” he said. “Don’t fuck this up.” Then he vanished into the darkness.

  CHAPTER NINE

  PIER FIFTY-FOUR

  JUNE 23, 2023

  A crew member tugged a rope across the entrance, the tour boat glided away, a low voice began telling the story of the day of the Blast, but Charlotte couldn’t pull herself from the entrance. Couldn’t stop staring at the space where Paris had been.

  Should she have sent Charlie away with him? Who was she to think she knew how to keep her son safe? But how could she give him up?

  How could she not?

  She couldn’t move.

  “Charlotte?” Bill asked, his voice quavering. He must’ve been just as stunned, just as terrified as she was.

  Charlotte forced herself to swivel, every inch bringing her closer to her admission. She had no clue what to do. She wanted to use her astrolabe to freeze herself in time. Or steal Charlie and Felix away and hide somewhere remote without any responsibilities. But the boat kept sweeping them forward, ever closer to another bomb. If she defused it, her life would no doubt change again.

  “Why don’t I remember?” she asked Bill, searching his brilliant green eyes. “When that memory rewrite happened, I thought that would happen for every change. But then we come back, and I don’t remember a thing.”

  Bill’s mouth twitched to the side. He shook his head. “I dunno.”

  “But what about those theorists?” she asked him. He’d known about the butterfly effect. Guessed that time was malleable. “Heisenberg? Nova…whatever?”

  “I don’t know, Charlotte.” He twisted his head away from her, toward the dimly lit room where a few tourists sat listening to the voice filtering down. Most, Charlotte knew, were above—where they could see the city and watch the tour guide speak. She should join Monroe, Felix, and Charlie soon. But right now she needed Bill’s hypothesis. He lifted his hands. “If I had to guess? This is our timeline; any change we make, we only get to see. But when we meet ourselves outside of this, it’s another ball game. Because it’s something we see happen differently.” His shoulders fell. “I just don’t know.”

  Charlotte exhaled. “Should I have let Paris take Charlie?”

  Bill gripped her shoulder, his eyes firmly on her, blazing with passion. “No, Charlotte. No. You have no idea what that man would do. No idea if away from us is safe. We can’t trust that man and whoever else ‘them’ is.”

  Paris had killed Leanor; that was true. But if Ana had known that time could be changed, then who was to say Paris didn’t know how to keep someone safe? Both of them had been traveling longer than Charlotte. Both seemed to understand things that had taken Charlotte a year—and Bill’s intuition—to see.

  Could she ask Felix? Show him time travel, send him elsewhere? Not without a million questions. Not with any certainty.

  So what then? She couldn’t leave Charlie here, but she couldn’t bring him either. What would Ana do with such collateral? Steal Charlie? Threaten him? Find some way through time, like Paris had, to make her case?

  Charlie wasn’t safe here, he wouldn’t be safe there, and there was no way to get him to safety now. Paris was gone.

  Charlotte pushed through the dim boat, past the barman pouring white wine for a somber couple, and up the stairs to where Charlie, Felix, and Monroe sat.

  “What are you gonna do?” Bill asked, following close behind.

  She didn’t answer. What was she going to do? She had no fucking clue. “Hey guys.” She settled beside Monroe. “How’re you doing?”

  Monroe cast her a glance that said, Where have you been?

  “Sorry, Bill and I were talking; we got distracted. Um, Felix?” He turned to her. “I have something to ask. And, please, don’t get mad.”

  She’d done this once before. Look how it turned out. Look how her life was changing. Not incrementally, not subtly at all. But she couldn’t take Charlie with her. She was out of options. All she could try was repeating her actions, hoping for a different result.

  The very definition of madness.

  “Can you take Charlie for the night? I know I said I would, but something came up, about my boss. My benefactor. I need to take care of it. I’ll explain everything tomorrow; I’ll come by at lunch to get him. But just please.”

  Felix’s dark eyes searched hers. His thick lips moved silently as he tried to read her. He must’ve been out of practice at it in this timeline. Or perhaps he didn’t want to start a fight as the other passengers murmured about the Blast. He exhaled; Charlotte had won. “Fine. But tomorrow? Lunch? You swear you’ll come? You won’t suddenly forget plans or change them randomly like tonight?”

  “I promise,” Charlotte said. Though even that could be an accidental lie. Tomorrow she could show up and learn that Felix had never lived in their apartment. Had never existed. “Is that okay, Charlie?”

  The little boy glanced away from the passing skyscrapers, lights flickering to black as those living there went to sleep. This was already way past Charlie’s bedtime. Tomorrow, Charlotte swore to herself, tomorrow she’d take him to see his Grandpa. The boy’s eyebrows lifted, looking almost like Felix, just with wavier hair. She had to reconnect with them soon.

  Tomorrow.

  He snaked a tanned arm over Monroe and clutched Charlotte’s hand. “Of course, Mommy. We love you.”

  She gulped down whatever sob was in her throat, trying to keep her composure, just as Felix had. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Monroe’s jaw dropped when Charlotte finished telling him what happened. “And you sent Charlie away?”

  Charlotte kept her lips sealed. She didn’t need to justify her decision to Monroe.

  “What choice did she have, Monroe?” Bill asked. “Bring him with us? To where a bomb is set to explode? Strand Felix and Charlie in time, not knowing if we’ll even survive?” God, she hadn’t even considered
that. “Or, what, call back Paris? Leave Charlie with a murderer? Which sounds best?”

  Monroe swallowed. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “We’re nearly there,” Charlotte said. Time to move forward. “When should we go? We’re certain it’ll be a historical event?”

  Monroe surveyed her, probably deciding whether to keep fighting. He closed his eyes, capitulating. “It’s some place to start at least. And here, there’s two major events.”

  That much Charlotte knew. After they’d dropped Charlie and Felix off at the midpoint—the new New York Public Library—the soft tones of the tour guide had detailed the two important historical events that happened at Pier Fifty-four. “So do we go to the Titanic or the Lusitania?”

  “April 18, 1912,” Monroe said. “Technically it’s the Carpathia we’ll see.”

  Like she didn’t know that the Titanic had sunk.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said, and led the way down through the dim bar and outside to the rear of the boat. She needed to do this now, before she second-guessed their plan. It was so riddled with holes; a moment’s thought would wreck it. She felt a hand, then two, and she watched the river they’d just traveled down. The water was dark; a few bridges blocked the view back to the library.

  Did she even want to undo this?

  But then one of the hands squeezed her shoulder. Bill said, “It’ll be okay, Charlotte.”

  She had to believe that.

  She spun the astrolabe, and the sun rose, nearly blinding them after the darkness. The sunlight quickly turned into a dim strobe. The boat disappeared under their feet—leaving them floating for a split second—and the jagged wooden structure that had been built around this section of the Mid River unbuilt itself before being replaced by a long concrete pier. When time restarted they were indoors. Darkness surrounded them once again.

  On one side of the pier rested a long, dark boat—the Carpathia, loaded with the passengers it had picked up from the Titanic wreckage. Around stood hundreds of silent people, watching for the first sight of the historical survivors. No news bulbs flashed. No hissing whispers discussed the stunning event that happened three days prior.

  The gangplank lowered with a slam, and the crowd buzzed to life, nurses and newspapermen alike pressing forward. At the base of the gangplank, within the pier, an open area was blockaded by metal fences. Inside, several officials waited to document the survivors as they arrived.

  Monroe began to speak. “This boat was the only one close enough to hear their SOS. The captain risked the lives of the Carpathia’s passengers navigating the icy fields that took down the Titanic. He saved over seven hundred people.”

  “Like us,” Bill said. But Charlotte didn’t feel like a hero. She felt like a fraud.

  “For a long time, the bravery of the Carpathia wasn’t well remembered,” Monroe continued. “Then the Blast happened.”

  God help Monroe if he was enjoying this. This wasn’t about appreciating history; not anymore. It was about ending the Blast. Moving forward so that Charlie would be safe from Paris’s threat. But then, Monroe had always had different priorities than her.

  The sailors finished readying the gangplank and fled inside. Monroe quieted, and the rest of the crowd followed suit. The next person to disembark would be a survivor.

  Then, from the dark opening of the higher gangplank, a woman stepped forward. Her hair was a ratty nest on her head. Her eyes were pools of sadness and loss. She twitched her gaze over the crowd. The woman’s chest swelled as she hyperventilated, and a man from inside the metal barrier swooped forward to catch her.

  He wore a crisp dark suit and hat: a customs official. He murmured something to her, and the woman nodded, staggering with him down the gangplank. He kept peppering her with questions, scribbling down her whispered answers on his paperwork. Then, from beyond the barrier, a man shrieked, “Dorothy? Dorothy!” He shouted her name again as he shoved through the crowd, easily leaped the barrier, and raced to her. He scooped her into his arms and spun her around. Both sobbed into each other’s clothes.

  Without letting her feet touch the ground, he carried her back through the crowd.

  A stream of survivors followed the woman.

  If Ana was going to show up at this historical event, it’d be now. While all attention was fixed on the boat and the survivors. She could place a bomb in a corner and no one would see her. No one would notice the device disappear through time.

  “C’mon,” Charlotte said, touching Monroe and Bill lightly. This was why they were here. Bill went one way, so Charlotte went the other.

  Ana wasn’t near the pier’s entrance. She wasn’t tucked against the wall opposite the Carpathia. She wasn’t hiding anywhere, even in plain sight.

  As the passengers disembarked, a few of the reunions moved away from the center, to the edges. But even though there were people everywhere, Ana wasn’t around. Not in the corner, not on the viewing deck, where a couple was having a romantic reconnection. Charlotte passed Bill, and he lifted his hands.

  At last, they made their way back to the center, where Monroe still stood, gazing at the boat. He hadn’t spared even one glance for Ana.

  Charlotte gritted her teeth. This was what she’d wanted, right? To show Monroe all of history? “’Roe?” she asked, keeping her voice even. “You ready?”

  “Just watching history,” he replied.

  Bill stepped closer, ran a hand along Monroe’s boney frame. “Hey.” He whispered the rest in Monroe’s ear.

  Monroe looked over, eyes low. “Sorry, Char,” he said, shaking himself. “I sorta got … You guys didn’t find anything? Okay then, May 1, 1915.”

  Whatever Bill said, it was enough to remind Monroe of the consequences. Today wasn’t just about history, after all. Charlotte kept quiet, not needing to reprimand him further, and spun them through time.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Light flooded Pier Fifty-four. Once more, people surrounded them, but the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. Instead of quiet, mournful, or worried, this crowd bubbled with excitement, chattering about the sights their friends were about to see. Even the boat across the way was different. Instead of the dark, opulent blues that had reflected in the moonlight, today’s sunshine showed a dull gray paint covering the Lusitania.

  “Let’s hope she’s here,” Charlotte said. If Ana had stopped visiting historical moments, then she could be anywhere in time.

  In the daylight streaming through the upper windows, there was no place for Ana to hide. The corners weren’t dark, and there wasn’t enough of a crowd, really, to conceal her actions. Unlike with the Carpathia, those on the pier weren’t distracted by a single event. If Ana was here, Charlotte couldn’t figure out where.

  “Where could she be?” Charlotte nodded toward stairs leading up to a viewing deck. “There? Or in the staff waiting area?” Even that had a few sailors inside.

  “I dunno,” Monroe said, stooping to grab a newspaper page as it fluttered by.

  Charlotte bit her lip, casting Bill an annoyed look. He raised his eyebrows, as if to say, This is Monroe. As before, they’d just have to search without him.

  Turning toward the entrance, Charlotte heard Monroe intone, “Holy shit.”

  She spun. “Ana?”

  Monroe’s gaze wasn’t on the pier. His attention was still on the newspaper, opened to a page with an advertisement for the Lusitania.

  “A clue?” she asked. Perhaps Ana had boarded the Lusitania and gotten caught in the photo.

  Bill leaned in alongside Charlotte, but Monroe pulled the ad away. “Not a clue, no. Just a reminder of the Lusitania’s final destination. I forgot all about this.”

  “What is its final destination?” Bill asked. “We left before the tour guide said what happened, and my schoolteachers always focused on the Titanic survivors.”

  Monroe sighed, meeting Charlotte’s eyes. “It’s 1915, Bill.” She at least knew what was going to happen to the Lusita
nia, but Monroe wouldn’t be surprised by that. What else could be in an old newspaper?

  “So?” Bill asked.

  Monroe lifted his eyebrows, and Charlotte shrugged. What was the harm in letting Bill see some historic newspaper? She leaned over to read with him.

  The ad described the Lusitania as a simple passenger boat traveling from New York City to Liverpool, England. It claimed the boat, owned by Cunard, was the “Fastest and Largest Steamer.”

  “So?” Bill asked again.

  “Below the ad.”

  The lower notice, placed by the Imperial German Embassy, reminded passengers that a war was on. It was dangerous to take a ship like this through occupied waters. Any boat flying an Allied flag could be destroyed. The paper fell from Bill’s fingertips.

  “What’s going to happen?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Just what it says.” Monroe kept his voice soft, unthreatening. “The boat will sink. It’s the reason the U.S. joined the war. They're gonna die.”

  Bill gripped his beard, closing his eyes. “How many?”

  “Over a thousand.”

  “Didn’t we just save a thousand people?” Bill asked, meeting Charlotte’s gaze. Now Charlotte understood why Monroe tugged the paper away. Bill had risked his life in the hope of saving one last person in the subway train. What would he do for thousands?

  But this wasn’t like the subway, saving hundreds of lives that wouldn’t dim the impact of the Blast. “This is history, Bill,” Charlotte said. “Not a time-traveler thing, not an event that shouldn’t exist, like the Blast.”

  “History can be changed, too!” Bill said. “That’s what the Blast did. Completely altered the course of New York’s history. And look. We’re alive.”

  “The Lusitania’s destruction is why the U.S. joined the war,” Monroe repeated, his voice rising. “The Lusitania’s fate turned public opinion against Germany. If America didn’t join the war, who knows what would happen! We’d return to a completely different future. Who knows if we’d even exist then, Bill! Time can be changed, fine. But something like this? Something like this could ruin America.”