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All of Charlotte’s aggression toward Paris poured out. She dragged Ana toward her, and slung a punch into her face. Felix went for another kick, but Ana spun herself around against the foundation and slung a foot under Felix, sending him down. She didn’t even look to see the damage; Ana raced away, even as Charlotte leaped toward her.

  “’Roe!” Charlotte yelled as she fell to the ground. He stood there with Ana’s bag as she came straight at him. He didn’t run. Didn’t brace himself for impact. He cringed away. “Monroe!”

  Just in time, he tugged the bag back as Ana passed, her hands empty. She spun, smoke nearly coming out of her nose like a furious bull.

  Felix helped Charlotte up, and they raced over. Monroe shoved Ana’s bag into Charlotte’s arm. “Take it.”

  From beside the bomb, Bill called, “Um! I could use some help!” He was undoing screws as fast as he could, but at a glance Charlotte could see two dozen more to go. Damn it, this was why Charlotte was supposed to be calm. So she wouldn’t get caught in a fight.

  Distracted by the bomb, Charlotte felt Ana’s foot slam into her chest. She crumpled, flinging the bag far behind her.

  “Charlotte!” Felix shouted, crouching at her side.

  “The bag, Felix!”

  But it was too late. Ana was halfway to the bag. And by the time Felix stood and saw what was happening, the mesh orb was in Ana’s hands. Charlotte retched onto the dusty foundation as Ana called out, “Good luck with this one! I left some treats.” Lights illuminated their surroundings, and then it was black.

  Clutching her chest, Charlotte stood, coughing.

  “Should we go after her?” Monroe asked.

  Charlotte barely glanced his way. “No time.” She didn’t even have time to reprimand Felix. Ana wasn’t what mattered right now. They had to stop New York from being taken whenever Ana wanted to send the Council. Charlotte dived beside Bill and pulled out a screwdriver of her own to help with the final few screws.

  “It’s okay,” Bill said, prying up the top, “we just needed her to get away from this one.” Thus far, Ana hadn’t set up any new bombs. Maybe it was lack of resources, time, or simply confidence. Hopefully that wouldn’t change after they’d defused this third bomb.

  At the sight of the bomb’s guts, Charlotte inhaled. “Shit.” If they could even defuse this bomb. Underneath the lid, hundreds of wires and cables twisted together, connected with the sides, with each other, with the computer board below. A complete mess. Probably unnecessary wiring, filled with failsafes, with false alarms. And no clock to show how much time they had. “How do we defuse this?”

  “We work quickly,” Bill said. “Calmly.” He took a deep breath, muttered, “One, two, three,” and then he began yanking out the wires, tossing them Charlotte’s way.

  “Is this—”

  “Slash and grab,” Bill said, but Charlotte wasn’t sure whether he was responding to her or reminding himself. “Just like Joe taught.” Faster and faster, Bill pulled wires from the box. He reached for a thick bundle of wires, and then the entire box disappeared.

  “Oh, God.”

  “What happened?” Felix’s eyes bulged, terrified.

  “It's gone?” Monroe asked, shuffling forward.

  “I'm going to get it,” Bill said. He raced back to top of the hill and grabbed Charlotte’s bag. He pulled the astrolabe out as he rushed back down and skidded to a stop. “You coming, Charlotte?”

  She held out a hand, almost taking it. Almost grabbing him and leaping through time. But then she took her hand back. “Wait, no.” She looked to Monroe. Nodded at him. “We have to be smarter, right? Calmer?”

  Charlotte positioned herself against the foundation wall, on one side of where the bomb had been. “’Roe, you go there,” she said, pointing to her side. “And Felix?” She pointed to her opposite side. She didn’t even have to speak Bill’s name for him to take the position opposite her.

  Once they went through time, the bomb would be exactly between the four of them.

  “Now,” she said, “Bill and I will rip out wiring as fast as we can. ’Roe, you have the astrolabe ready, just in case. And no arguments this time. Felix?” She looked her ex-husband straight in the eyes. He’d barely traveled through time. He didn’t know wiring, didn’t know any calming tactics. But those eyes . . . “Keep watch for Ana.”

  He nodded, smiling grimly.

  “All right, ’Roe. Take us to the Blast day.”

  With a twitch of his hand, the Plaza built itself around them.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  The basement of the Plaza where they appeared was grand and opulent, just like the rest of the building. All around were stores designed for the Plaza's ritzy clientele. Mini shops sold soap, jewelry, and thick purses in a well-lit arched galleria. Charlotte blinked, trying to get used to the sudden light in their changed surroundings.

  “How much time do we have, ’Roe?”

  “We’re a minute or so away. God, I’d forgotten the Plaza had shops in its basement.”

  “They’re pretty pricey,” Bill replied. But before he could say how he knew, whether he’d purchased anything here, the compact device appeared between them.

  The tangled mess of wires and cables was still visible. “Get those,” Bill said, pointing, and Charlotte ripped out all the wiring she could while he worked on the opposite end. “Okay, that should be power. And there’s the orb.” Charlotte snatched it out, but that orb didn’t matter; that was the one that had already activated, bringing it to this day.

  “Careful,” Charlotte said as he kept pulling wires. “Ana said there’d be surprises.”

  “Just lots of wires,” Bill said, pulling out the other orb and handing it over. He attacked the computer board, taking out screws so he could get beneath it. “I think she just wanted us freaked. But no dice.” He breathed. “I’m a professional.”

  With the computer board gone, they saw a similar sight as they had in the bomb at Pier Fifty-four. A power source inside purple goop, with wires leading out, ready to spark. Bill didn’t hesitate. He pulled the wiring out, then cleaned off any of the remaining explosive on his shirt until every component was dry. “There.” He smiled at Charlotte. “But just in case.” He grabbed the box of goop, took the astrolabe from Monroe, and vanished for only a millisecond before reappearing. The bomb was gone. “There.”

  “Where’d …”

  Charlotte ignored Monroe’s question; where Bill went didn’t matter. Soon, the Blast would go off—the fourth bomb would be like the second. A thinner cut would slice through the city, ending directly where this bomb had been. Where Felix now sat.

  “Fe—!” she said, tugging him away, over her, right as a white light exploded behind him, carving into the foundations of the Plaza that they’d seen built.

  He tumbled over, but he was safe, breathing on top of her. His dark eyes staring into hers.

  “Thank God,” she said. He didn’t move, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. It’d been a long time since they’d been intimate.

  “Um,” Monroe said. “We should probably go.” Charlotte turned from Felix’s dark eyes; every worker and patron was watching them. Felix pushed himself off of Charlotte, and she stood, touching her hot cheeks.

  “What just happened?” a nearby well-coiffed man asked.

  “Guys, c’mon,” Monroe said, hand out to Bill.

  “They’re still in danger,” he replied, gesturing to the cut that the Blast had made in the Plaza’s basement. In the sudden daylight, the new rock canal was visible, running south all the way to the Upper Bay. The exact path that the water would gush.

  “Out!” Bill yelled, jumping up. “Everyone out!”

  “Tell us what happened!” the same man shouted. Everyone stood frozen with fear, too stunned to run.

  The only movement came from a petite woman at the nearby perfume shop. She lifted a phone to her ear, saying, “Wait right there.”

  “Look!” Bill gestured, both arms flung
out, to indicate the massive hole. “We don’t have time. Water’s rushing this way. You’re going to drown.”

  “There's a man here,” the woman said into her phone, her voice measured, “threatening us. I think he—The whole city?” Now her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

  “We’ll save them,” Monroe said. “Later. Remember?”

  Charlotte twisted her head toward her brother. “They’re in danger now.”

  “This is just like the subway, Char!” Monroe said, hands lofted up. “You saved them once, great. But then we removed that entire line of water. We’ll do it again. But we have to go now. Or did you actually want to swim today?”

  Charlotte looked to Felix, who lifted his shoulders. To Bill, who stared her down. Through gritted teeth, she told him, “He’s right.”

  “Fine,” Bill said, and as Charlotte gripped his hand, time swept forward. Water gushed through, but they were dry, traveling through time. Soon a wall was rebuilt, the water drained, and the shops renovated back to exactly how they’d looked before. Like the Blast had never happened, even though there was still a jarring line in the southern marble wall.

  “Come on,” Bill said, turning his head away from where the Mid River would be. “We still have work to do.” He led the way out, and Charlotte didn’t reply to his fury. Monroe was right: Bill didn’t need to sacrifice his life here; he hadn’t needed to in the subway.

  They needed to be smarter, not reactionary. It was exactly why Monroe was there—to remind them of that.

  “So what happened?” Monroe asked as they pushed through the Plaza’s front doors into the night. Only moments before, they’d been on the opposite side of the road, staring up at another Plaza. “What’d you do with the bomb?”

  “What any good technician would,” Bill replied, his voice mechanical. “I detonated it. And—”his fury diminished; a grin grew—“I think I made the lake that all those skaters enjoyed.”

  “A neat coincidence,” said a deep voice. Beside the entrance stood Paris, another apple in hand. “Saved the original owner of the skating rink a lot of hard labor.”

  Felix tried to tug his hand from Charlotte, but she clung tight. Pulled his muscled body toward hers. Smarter, not reactionary.

  “Where’s Charlie?” she asked the horrible blue-haired man.

  “Where else?” Paris asked with a shrug. “Home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  HOME

  JUNE 25, 2023

  Paris stretched his grin wide, reaching a gentle hand to Charlotte’s elbow. “See? I keep my promises.”

  She yanked the elbow away. “Home?” She glanced at Felix. “But you said—”

  “You needed incentive; I gave it to you. Look how well you’re doing. Finished with three bombs. Like that.” He snapped. “Once we saw how well you’d done, I brought him back. Fair’s fair. Like I told you, we keep our promises.” This time it didn’t sound like a threat. He almost sounded fond of Charlotte.

  “Who are you?” Charlotte asked. Paris couldn’t just be another council member. Why else would he let her keep her astrolabe, chase them so doggedly? Was he somehow working with Leanor? Or at least, had they known each other? Were they related? There had to be something.

  “Tell us why you want the bombs stopped,” Monroe asked instead. “It was more than just New York City she took, wasn’t it?”

  “Clever kid,” Paris said with a wink. “Good for you.”

  “What is it?” Monroe said. “Why was it so big?”

  “Didn’t Leanor lead you to us in the future? Didn’t she tell you everything?”

  Bill glanced at Charlotte. “She told us practically nothing.”

  “Well, who am I to argue with her?” The man laughed. “Go home. Get your son.”

  Charlotte bit her lip. Paris wasn’t going to give them any information, but he’d brought Charlie home. For that, at least, he deserved her gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “Oh.” His brow lowered, his eyes clouded. “Don’t thank me yet. I think I liked him more before all of this.” He took a bite of his apple and vanished.

  Charlotte’s stomach rumbled. She and Felix exchanged a worried glance, but she tried to ignore Paris’s words. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

  A hand on her shoulder prevented her from running. “Char, stop.” Monroe’s face was scrunched to one side. “This is what he wants, y’know? Us terrified. Us worried. Us not thinking.”

  “But Charlie.” Shaking herself, Charlotte said. “Didn’t you see it, ’Roe? That wasn’t a threat. Almost an apology. Like he cared about Charlie. More than because we’re stopping Ana.”

  “Charlotte,” Bill said, his voice quiet but barbed with rage. “He killed Leanor.”

  She cast Bill a look. Like she didn’t know that.

  “Charlie’s home,” Felix said. “Isn’t that what’s most important? Not L—Not her death. Not whoever Paris really is. Charlie.”

  Right. Charlie was all that mattered. And if he was home … Charlotte tilted her head. “Who’s with him?”

  Monroe looked from Charlotte, to Felix, to Bill. Everyone Charlie knew was standing in this circle. “Oh shit.”

  Felix’s eyes widened as he realized what Charlotte meant. “No one’s home with him?” His legs tensed, ready to spring into action.

  “Home,” Charlotte said. “Which home?” Because there was no reason to assume that she and Felix were together in this timeline when they hadn’t been before.

  “You go to your apartment,” Felix said. “I’ll go to mine.” He raced away, dodging through the traffic to get across the street and to the subway line that would take him north to his place on Lexington Avenue.

  “Char,” Monroe tried.

  “This isn’t a trap, ’Roe!” Somehow, in her bones, she felt it. Paris had kept his promise, even if something unforeseen had happened. “Stay if you want, wait if you want, think if you want,” she spat. “But I’m going.”

  And she was away, the light turning red just in time so that she could cross without worrying about reckless cabs coming her way. She pushed herself hard, her heavy black Sketchers clunking against the pavement. Not the best shoes to run in. What choice did she have? At Lexington, she jumped down the subway-station steps three at a time, had her card out to tap her way through the turnstile, and then the train arrived.

  Everything timed perfectly so she could get home faster, as if the universe actually cared about her.

  As she boarded, she felt a finger tap her. Bill boarding behind. Monroe too, completely out of breath. “Jeez, Char, you can run.”

  She shrugged and watched the doors close. If she could make this go faster, she would. Get home in a second. But activating her orb would leave her in the same place, just in a different time.

  “Sorry you didn’t get to see the Plaza.”

  Monroe shrugged. “There’ll be time later. Is Felix … ?” He craned his neck to look down the subway car.

  Charlotte did the same, but the evening car was empty enough. No sign of the familiar black man. Just a few teenagers, some hipsters, and a mom with a stroller. The woman was on her phone, distracted as her child reached out to grab it like a toy. “Stop,” the woman hissed, batting her child’s hand away.

  God, how often had Charlotte done that?

  Now Charlie was home alone, and who knew what had happened? What if too much time had passed? What if she’d missed years of Charlie’s life, thanks to Paris? What had that man said? He liked the other “version” of Charlie better? What did that mean? Had he changed that much? Growing up beside Paris could’ve turned him into a killer. Or maybe he thought of himself as one of the Council. Or maybe something worse had happened. He’d been hurt, physically or emotionally. A million different versions of Charlie flashed through Charlotte’s mind until she silenced them.

  Her son would be fine.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said to Monroe’s and Bill’s looks as the subway slowed at their stop. The truth was, it did
n’t matter why Paris waved off her thanks. She would love Charlie regardless. Whether he was older, hurt, or somehow utterly different, he’d always be her little boy. All that mattered was that he existed.

  When the subway doors opened, she raced out, hearing Monroe curse, “Dammit, Char, again?” Yes, again. Always, she’d run after her little boy. Never again would she waste years of his life on anything but him.

  Saving the world was important, but time travel meant she’d always had the choice. She could’ve taken her time. Could’ve skipped a day of work to take him to a museum. Could’ve left the work for another day. If the astrolabe had taken them ten years to complete, it wouldn’t have made any difference, except she would’ve had Charlie by her side.

  Fitting her key into the apartment door, she wiped her tears. Had she been crying? It was going to be fine. She pushed open the door, and there was Charlie, on the floor drawing. Exactly the boy she’d left in Paris’s care hours ago in this timeline.

  With a smile, he dropped his crayon and raced over. “Mom!” He leaped into her arms, squeezing her tightly.

  His body was warm against hers. His wavy black hair smelled of strawberries. His little hands pulled her shirt tight against her back.

  Paris had kept his promise. Who knew why he’d disregarded her thanks? So what if Charlie was here alone? He’d just been drawing, working on a new anachronistic picture. This one was a detailed and intricate picture of a circle of American Indians, a woman standing in the center offering a feather.

  “I love you so much,” she said, clutching Charlie to her.

  But the picture nagged at her. It was almost complete, but that much time couldn’t have passed. The subway ride had been ten minutes, tops. Maybe that explained Paris’s regret. He’d returned Charlie before this timeline had changed. But that was smart. Now Charlie would never know that he’d been kidnapped.

  He wiggled away, blushing. “Mom’s here!” he called, racing from her, toward the kitchen.

  She turned, confused. Felix wouldn’t be here; he was at his apartment. She needed to call him. Tell him that Charlie was with her. That everything was okay. Charlie wouldn’t remember the trauma they’d experienced.