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  Beside Charlotte, Bill took Ana’s fist, spread it open. Clung to it. Monroe snaked a hand across Ana’s shoulders. But Charlotte couldn’t comfort the woman. If this—whatever Ana meant by that—was the way to stop the Blast, then they shouldn’t be here. Or, rather, Charlie and Felix should be, too.

  “Then?” Bill whispered.

  “My people—now trapped in time—retaliated somehow. Changed our history.” With her free hand, Ana made unfinished shapes in the air. “Endless snow came, ruining our age. With no one left, with the atmosphere ruined, the Council fled. Abandoned our time. But when they did, I got free. I traveled through time myself, but they were ready. There.” Again she nodded down to the street.

  With a flash, another figure appeared, this one dressed not in a sleek suit, like the Council, but in rags. Even two stories below in the flickering dark, Charlotte saw burns spiraling up Ana’s—the Ana below—arms. Stained lines of blood ran across the back of her tattered shirt.

  Ana’s story had caught up with them. Charlotte’s fingers twitched at her side, feeling the glass orb within her bag. She could run now, grab Charlie and Felix, return. But not without jumping down. Not without the Council—without Paris—seeing her.

  “Please,” Ana begged. “This is the crossroads. If you save me here, tell me to destroy the device, I’ll get away from them.” She watched them, her brow furrowing deeper. “You don’t know, do you? What the Blast did, you don’t know.”

  Bill crossed his arms. “Sent millions of New Yorkers through time.”

  Ana shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, it did. But the point was to take them through time.” She nodded down to the three figures closing in on the Ana in rags. “I found the moment they entered history—your time—and I stopped them.”

  “So the Blast,” Charlotte said, “was for three people?” She couldn’t help but glance at Bill as bile rose in her throat.

  “I didn’t mean for it to be so big,” Ana said, but then her eyes flicked back up, alight with fire. “But if you stop them here, save me here, then I won’t resent them. I won’t make the Blast. Everything can change here. No bombs to defuse at all. Don’t you see?”

  “You said time traveler’s actions stay in time,” Monroe said.

  “Not if another time traveler interferes. Now, please.”

  Could this have been what Leanor wanted a few days—hundreds of years—ago? Was this what Charlotte was meant to do all along—come here, stop Ana from being tortured? But why encourage Charlotte to learn the technology? Why have her create the astrolabe? Why not find some cops, someone who—

  Bill slammed the ladder from its hiding spot. He slid down the side pipe, his legs barely keeping him from falling the entire distance. Monroe was right behind him, clambering down instead of gracefully falling like Bill.

  “No,” Charlotte told Ana, her voice quavering. “My son. I’ll lose him and—”

  “This is why I brought you here,” Ana said, her teeth gritted together. “I thought you wanted to save New York?” There was something odd in her eyes. A fervor, a desperation that Charlotte had never seen in her mentor, even that day in her apartment. That woman was cautious. She was wise. Her plan must’ve been something she’d worked on for decades. Finding the right people, trusting Charlotte.

  Below, Monroe called up, “Char! We need you!”

  “I can fix this,” Charlotte murmured to herself. “I can do both.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” came Paris’s snarl as Charlotte hefted herself over the balcony. One last glance showed that Ana had gone, content that she’d set the course right.

  Even if this wasn’t what Leanor had intended, what was the harm? She was right. This was—or at least could be—a way of preventing the Blast. Now that Charlotte knew who Ana truly was, stopping her here would likely stop her from dying. She could change her timeline right now.

  Charlotte slammed to the ground, her hand already in her bag. “Be back in a sec,” she told Monroe, whose eyes widened. Lights glittered from her bag as she hefted the orb, spinning back, back, back, to their time.

  But then fingers were around her arms, pulling them back. The orb dropped back into her bag, the device going dark. “Now now, when did Leanor get herself some friends?” snarled a voice in her ear. She could practically see Paris’s horrible grin in her periphery.

  “Ana,” Monroe said down the alley. “Leanor. Run.”

  “’Roe,” Charlotte said, her limbs shaking in Paris’s grip. “No.”

  Ana struggled to her feet, but the woman with red hair—Cora, Ana had named her—grabbed at the dangling rags, hissed something into Ana’s ear.

  “Get ’em!” Monroe shouted, racing forward. Bill jumped at the tall, pale man, his muscles flexing. Monroe headed for the red haired woman, oblivious to what was happening behind him.

  Paris’s grip on her arms tightened, squeezing them together. Her shoulders rippled with pain. “That wasn’t loud enough, I think.”

  “’Roe!” Charlotte shouted now. Tears were streaming down her cheek. “’Roe, stop! You have to stop!”

  Monroe froze, arm still on the redhead, who still clutched Ana. Bill twisted his neck to see her, even as he held Alek’s shoulders firmly. “Char,” both of them murmured.

  “You can’t,” she said. Hating herself for going along with this hateful man. “Charlie.”

  Now Monroe’s hand fell from Cora’s arm. Bill released Alek. And, in kind, Paris let her shoulders relax. “Very good,” he said, hot breath in her ear.

  Bill and Monroe stepped away from Alek and Cora. Paris stepped away from her. Step by step, they traded sides, getting back to where they’d been. And in the center: Ana, still trapped. But before Paris could fully reach her, Ana broke free of Cora’s grip. With all eyes on the trio, she had her chance. She raced away, darting past Paris’s outstretched hand, then blinking out of existence, vanishing through time.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte whispered as the men joined her. “I’m sorry.” She could have broken away from Paris. Knocked his legs out, punched him while he was down, joined the fray. But he didn’t seem to realize he’d already taken her out by preventing her from leaping through time. “I should’ve brought him,” she said, tears bubbling out alongside the anger. “Why didn’t I fucking bring him?”

  Through blurry vision, Charlotte watched Bill take her clenched hand and spread it. Monroe snaked a hand over her shoulder. Exactly as they’d comforted Ana. She wrenched herself away. “Why didn’t you think? Why didn’t she tell us what we really needed? Why wouldn’t she answer our questions? Fuck the Council”—only now did Charlotte realized that they had vanished—“we should’ve leapt away. Gotten more out of her. And now?” With fists, Charlotte smeared the tears away. Drew herself up. “Now we have literally, absolutely nothing.”

  Head tilted down, Monroe glanced over at Bill. The now-muscled man shook his head. Neither of them could meet her eyes. At least both of them realized how foolish they’d been.

  “We’re not superheroes,” she told them, trying to quiet down, to not scold them too harshly. “We shouldn’t have run in.”

  “Leanor said …” Monroe began, but he couldn’t finish.

  “At least Charlie’s safe,” Charlotte said. That was something.

  Then a figure appeared, exactly where the Council had grappled with Ana moments ago. The blue-haired figure stepped from the shadows, cracking his knuckles and smiling like a crocodile. Charlotte shuddered, realizing she’d have to add a couple extra words. Charlie was safe.

  For now.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Paris stepped forward. One foot, then the other. Closer and closer, grinning all the while. “How curious,” he said, tilting his head. “I send you to stop the Blast, we agree to terms, and then I get this message from my colleagues—that once upon a time you tried to change our history. What, did you get lost?”

  Charlotte glanced to Monroe. To Bill. “We …”

&
nbsp; “We couldn’t find her,” Monroe said, stepping up. “We’ve been tracking her down, trying to get clues.” He gulped when Paris’s menacing expression didn’t change. “I guess we tracked her too early.”

  “Seems like,” Paris said, folding his thick arms over his chest. “Yet you told her to run. You tried to save her from us, like we’re the threats. Like we bombed your precious city.”

  But Paris and the Council were why she’d bombed the city. That’s what Ana said, even if she never said what made them so terrifying. What did their torturing her, chasing her through time, have to do with destroying New York City? “This was a way to stop her,” Charlotte tried.

  “Enough lies.” Paris sprang forward, hand out toward her neck.

  She wouldn’t be held by him again. Charlotte ducked, slid a leg under his and sent him tumbling. He wasn’t going to take Charlie, wasn’t going to freeze her into submission again.

  She spun to take on Paris, and Bill sprang over her, leg out. Even standing up from where Charlotte had knocked him down, the man grabbed Bill’s leg as if it were nothing, and pulled Bill into his fist. “Muhh,” Bill wheezed, then collapsed to the ground.

  “You think I haven’t been watching you? I gave you all that time, Charlotte.” He stepped over Bill. “A day to meet Leanor. Four years of searching the past. Another day and night. But you had to come here.”

  “Char!” Monroe said, tugging at her shoulder. But she didn’t turn to face him. Didn’t ask what he wanted. This was about her and Paris. About her stopping the man who’d threatened her child. Adrenaline raced through her, pumping blood through her veins, erasing every concern from her mind. “Char,” came Monroe’s voice again. Closer. Whispering, “He doesn’t want a fight. He just wants you.”

  Paris’s grin widened. “Smart man, your twin brother. Tell me, why’d you just send him to a library?”

  Her fist dropped a few inches. Even though he’d said he was watching, she hadn’t believed him. But to know that . . . “Why do you want us?” Charlotte asked. “Me. Why do you want me?”

  “Didn’t I already say?” He lunged forward, but not toward Charlotte. He crashed into Monroe, sending her brother sprawling, then pivoted and gripped Charlotte’s raised wrist. He wrenched her purse from her shoulder and dropped it to the ground. Then he pressed his lips against her ear. “To keep my promise.”

  Images flickered in front of Charlotte fast as lightning. New York City. Trees. Ice. An alleyway. A tall spire. A darkened street. And then the violent torrent stopped, and Charlotte swayed in front of a building with shadows creeping up it as the sun lowered. Felix’s apartment building, where she’d left Charlie for safekeeping.

  “No,” Charlotte whispered, but she couldn’t break Paris’s grip on her wrist held tightly behind her back.

  “You’ll lead me to him,” Paris said. “You’ll act like everything is fine. If you do, if you’re good, then when you finish with the Blast, we’ll bring him back to you. I promise.” He released his grip on her wrist. “You know I keep my promises.”

  Before he could think, Charlotte pivoted, swung a hand up right toward his face. But he was ready, somehow knowing her that well. He caught her hand before it could meet its target. He squeezed. “Ah ah,” he said, and released her once more. “Try again, and you won’t like the state I return your boy in.”

  “You w—”

  He pressed a finger against her lips. “I will. How long have you been traveling? How much technology do you have? I’ve been at it longer, and have more on my side. You have your”—he looked her up and down then sneered—“muscles. But they aren’t everything.”

  Paris moved his finger back an inch or two. “I’m not your enemy, Charlotte. I want what you do. To save New York City.”

  Charlotte wanted to scream. To hit him because of the insanity. He’d killed Leanor, who’d wanted the exact same thing. He was threatening her even though she was trying her hardest. She squeezed her eyes closed, her teeth together, her fists tight. And then she relaxed everything, opened her eyes and stared at him. “Then what the fuck?”

  “Maybe you weren’t lying,” Paris said, ignoring her. “Maybe, somehow, saving Leanor all those years in the future was a way of preventing the Blast. But you hesitated.” He jerked his head up toward the apartment. “For him. Well, no need for that.”

  “No, give me one more chance.”

  His smile turned into a snarl, his eyes glowing with fury. “I gave you chances! More than three. And you failed. So, enough of that. I’m taking him. You can try to stop me if you like.”

  Charlotte took the invitation, throwing another punch, but stopping short. Paris grabbed at air. She slid a leg under, hooked his ankle, then twisted up. He stumbled back, but kept his balance. “Nice attempt,” he said. “How’s this?”

  Paris vanished, a hand suddenly around her waist. Spinning her in place. A hand clasping hers. His body now pressed tightly against hers. “I prefer dancing to fighting,” he said. Stepping forward, and tugging her with him. She tried to break free, but he had her. And no amount of kicking stopped him from swinging her around the street. He leaned in. “Isn’t this better?” he whispered, his teeth grazing her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine.

  “God,” Charlotte said, shoving herself away. Shook the strange thoughts out of her mind. He was a monster. He was her enemy. He wanted to steal Charlie.

  “It’s not like I need your permission,” Paris said, and strode through the doorway.

  Charlotte went after him, just a pane of glass away in the revolving door. But when he met the lobby, he vanished. She kept pressing, stumbling forward.

  “Ms. Osqui?” Harold asked. “You visiting Felix again?”

  “Yes,” she said, surveying the lobby. Paris was here, sometime. Ready to leap forward. He could already be up there. “Call Felix while I go up?” She bounced on her heels. “I promise he’ll say okay.”

  “Sure,” Harold said, lifting the phone from its cradle. She sprint-walked over the lobby to the elevator. Got in and pressed the second floor button again and again until the door slid closed. The seconds it took to get to the next floor up seemed eternal. But the more that dread built in Charlotte’s stomach, the less she wanted the doors to open wide.

  And then they did, Felix at his door, eyes wide. “Charlotte,” he said, a shaking hand against his cheek. “A man … Charlie … Gone.”

  She rushed to him. Clung to him in a way she hadn’t all year long. Stroked the whorls of his short hair. This was worse, so much worse, than all she’d done for the past year. She’d abandoned her husband, hurt him, made his life worse. But now, she’d utterly failed him.

  And Charlie was gone.

  Charlotte tried to hold in the tears, squeezing her body against Felix. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, telling herself as much as Felix. “He promised he’d bring Charlie back.”

  Felix pulled away. “He said to give you this.” He gulped. “In exchange for your sacrifice.”

  Charlotte took the scrap of paper and clutched Felix back into a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered again. “I promise he’ll be okay.” With both hands around Felix’s back, Charlotte unfolded the paper.

  Read the words that Paris had left: She’s always in a hidden place. Of course. Gets in through a crowd. Obviously. Is that enough, or do I need to spell it out? And below the angry scrawl, a date and place in block letters: Pier 54. May 6, 1932.

  “God,” Charlotte said, pulling Felix close for her own comfort. She felt like she’d sold her child for a scrap of information. “It’s better this way,” she told Felix. Told herself. “Now he’s safe.” She wouldn’t hesitate anymore. Even if he’d come along with Felix, she still would have checked in. Would have watched him to make certain.

  “How can he be safe with a stranger?” Felix asked.

  Charlotte had no answer.

  Only a dull ache in her heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  BACK TO THE PIER<
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  JUNE 25, 2023

  The air in Felix’s apartment hallway felt thick. “Better,” Felix muttered as he pulled away and into his apartment. Charlie’s drawings were scattered across the floor, wind from an open window blowing them toward Charlotte and her ex-husband. When she followed him in, he turned to her. “How can you possibly say this is better?”

  Charlotte lifted her hands. She didn’t need this. She needed to stop the next bomb, the next, and the next, as many as Ana threw at them until Charlie was back in her arms. “It is, Felix. You have to trust me. You’ve barely traveled through time.”

  His shoulders sagged, but he didn’t respond.

  He’d barely traveled through time because of her. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t—”

  “Can’t we go back? You can time travel, Charlotte. Can’t you go back, or send Monroe and Bill? They could be here before Paris arrives. They could stop it from happening.”

  Charlotte shook her head, unable to keep her eyes on Felix. She ran a sweaty palm along her cold forehead. Tasted acrid bile. “We can’t, Felix. Paris—that man—has followed us at every turn. He always knows where we are. And it’s more than that. His tech is different from mine. He was able to bring me here from the Triangle in an instant. To stop every punch I threw. He’s …” But now that she’d met the Council, Charlotte knew Paris was only one of many. “They’re too strong.”

  Felix reached out to her. “You’re just as strong, Charlotte.”