Skyline Read online

  “I still can’t believe Ana’s the bomber,” Monroe whispered. “I could’ve sworn she was on our side. I guess she changed her mind.”

  His eyes glued to Manhattan’s skyline—still marred by a thick cut—Bill said, “Who wouldn’t change their mind after this?”

  “Well, c’mon,” Monroe said. “We know what to do now! All we have to do is pick a new endpoint, figure out the historical time, and catch Ana setting another bomb! Easy as pie.” He pushed through the doors, gesturing to the empty boat. Outside, he grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “You did awesome, sis. Maybe next time, since we know there’s an explosion at the end, we’ll be okay. We can defuse the first two parts—whatever they’re supposed to do—and then run. Right?”

  “Sure,” Charlotte agreed. But she doubted the next bombs would be as easy. Knowing that people were coming to stop her, Ana wouldn’t likely keep things the same.

  As they made their way amid the tables, she heard a voice call, “Charlotte?”

  She turned, looking around, and saw Charlie and Felix at a table, a couple empty plates before them. This time, Felix was meeting Charlotte’s eyes, one eyebrow lifted. Beside him, Charlie’s tan face was wide open with delight, but Charlotte could see fifteen ticks on his drawing.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to show up,” Felix said.

  “I, uh …” Charlotte glanced at Monroe, before asking Felix, “You have?”

  More must’ve changed in this world than just a single building. Perhaps they’d told Felix and Charlie to meet them here. That they were investigating the Blast or … She had no idea. Maybe she’d never fought with Felix. Fiddling with her ring, Charlotte said, “Sorry, I don’t really—”

  Felix sighed, his wide shoulders dropping. “Remember? You told me to drop off Charlie here tonight. We made a date of it, but I don’t understand—” He spotted the ring on Charlotte’s finger. “Why are you wearing that?”

  Dropping her hand from her ring, Charlotte checked Felix’s left hand. There was no gleam of silver on any of his dark fingers. “Why aren’t—Oh, oh, God.”

  She should’ve expected this.

  They’d just snatched a thousand people from death. They’d changed time, rewritten history. Of course there would be consequences. She just didn’t expect the consequences would target her. “Oh God, ’Roe.” Charlotte staggered back against a chair, her breath racked in sudden sobs.

  “Charlotte?” Felix asked.

  “Mommy?” Her little boy stood up, one of his small hands on her leg to steady her. “Are you okay?”

  She stared at her ring, not daring to look at her son or her husband.

  Her ex-husband.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CONSEQUENCES

  JUNE 23, 2023

  Why hadn’t she just told Felix?

  All year they’d had a feasible prototype, but Charlotte had waited until the final product. And then she’d invited Monroe first, fought with Felix, and let him storm away. Like she didn’t have all the time in the world to fix it. What was one trip, one little trip, before they witnessed Leanor’s death?

  Now that fight had been replaced with something far worse.

  “’Roe, please.” Charlotte gasped, falling into the chair she’d been using to prop herself up. She could barely see; her eyes filled with water. How could she ever fix her relationship with Felix now? “Please,” she begged her brother. She needed him now, more than ever. She needed him to be strong. Because for all her muscles, she couldn’t be.

  “Thanks, Felix,” she heard Monroe say. Through her blurry vision, he took Charlie’s hand, and Bill grabbed the boy’s blue-and-red backpack from where it sat on the ground. Together, the two men crossed closer to her, and she felt Charlie run his fingers through her hair gently, rubbing the bristles of the part that had been buzzed a few days ago.

  “Sorry we were late,” Monroe continued, as if tears weren’t streaming down Charlotte’s face. “Charlotte, uh, will explain everything later.”

  “Why can’t she explain now?” Felix asked, his voice gruff but confused.

  Charlotte’s vision cleared, and she saw Felix in the lights of this outdoor tourist bar. His thick arms folded over his light polo, making his muscles press outward. His face seemed even more angular than usual with his lips pulled down, his nostrils flared.

  “I … We …” She hadn’t been able to figure out how to explain time travel to him before. There was no way she could explain anything now. Certainly not all that had happened since the last time she saw him. Leanor dying before their eyes. Charlotte transformed from a technician into a poor defuser of bombs. Felix becoming her ex without any divorce. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  There was no explanation to offer.

  As tears ran down her cheeks, Felix pushed himself from his seat. His fury dissipated, replaced by a man she recognized. Eyebrows pinched in concern, mouth turned downward. The man he was when Charlie scraped his knee. The man he’d been before she’d gotten the job with Leanor. He kneeled close to her, eyes flicking away to Charlie, to her, to Charlie, and settling back on her. “What happened?” He reached out to her shoulder. “Look, I know it hasn’t been easy since … I know. But Charlie still loves you. You’ve got Monroe and Bill and, well, I’m here too. Just not in the same way.”

  She shook her head. He was reaching out, and she couldn’t accept him. Yes, she was upset because they’d broken up, but not because it’d happened years ago. She slipped her ring off her finger, gulping as she did so.

  “I wore it to keep it safe,” she said. Not really a lie. “But here.” She held out her hand, the jeweled ring so light in her palm, it was barely there. “I brought this for you.”

  Felix shook his head. Folded her hand with his fingers to keep the ring inside her palm. “No, I told you, Charlotte. I’m not taking it back, not pawning it. I keep my ring; you keep yours, that’s the deal. We don’t pretend we were never married, like we never loved each other, right?”

  Her eyes fell closed, relief coursing through her. Maybe she had a little time to accept this new world.

  “Look, will you let me come with you?” he asked, his hand still on hers.

  He’d said something similar once.

  Long ago, she and Monroe were at one of the many Blast memorials that were being held around the city. This one was for her fallen classmates, and Charlotte found herself learning so much about her college best friend. That she’d been working on a book, that she’d gotten a job at a prestigious design firm, that she’d gotten two promotions in as many years. And as Charlotte’s best friend was being remembered, there was someone else just as riveted, drinking in every detail.

  His eyes met hers and after the memorial was over, he laid a hand on hers. “You knew her, didn’t you?” Felix had asked Charlotte. “Would you mind if I came with you?” He nodded to the exit, and that was that.

  A romance had been snatched from Felix, she learned, but he got her in return.

  Was it possible that their divorce had made things better? That they still shared their link, instead of being pushed away by the astrolabe? What if, in this world, she’d never let her work keep Charlie away? Maybe Charlie connected them just as her best friend had.

  God, she’d give anything for that to be true.

  “We were just gonna go home,” she said. But maybe she could do something better. Perhaps, with this Felix, she could do what she hadn’t before. Maybe this was the time to take him and Charlie on a trip. To tell him everything.

  Maybe she could mend this relationship right now.

  “Home?” Bill asked. Charlotte opened her eyes to see him frowning. “But I thought, now that we know …” He shrugged, looking from her down the length of this arm of the Mid River. In the distance, out of sight, stood another endpoint to the Blast. Bill was ready to disarm another bomb, even though they’d barely survived the last.

  Monroe placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. The small gesture cut Charlotte wide-open. Monroe�
�d been able to see history, Bill to live his science fiction dreams. But her family was farther than they’d ever been. It wasn’t fair. “This is bigger than us, Char,” Monroe said. “This is why you made the astrolabe, right?” Just as ready as Bill to find the next bomb.

  “’Roe, I …” She glanced to Felix, to Charlie. Felix frowned, watching her carefully with his dark eyes. This wasn’t the way to introduce them to time travel. Villains, bombs? This wasn’t at all how tonight should have gone. “I can’t.”

  “You can, Char,” Monroe replied. In his happiness, he was so ready to move forward. He reached a comforting hand to her shoulder, too, but it wasn’t really for comfort. He wanted her moving. Why had she wanted Monroe to take charge, anyway? He always challenged her, forced her to make the hard decisions. If it had been his relationship in danger, he would never be so cavalier.

  But maybe this was a solution, of sorts. She watched Charlie, the boy’s fuzzy black eyebrows low in concern. She’d wanted to take him through time, to meet the Grandpa that he always asked about from her photo albums. But maybe she could show Felix and Charlie time travel here. Find a way to keep them safe in time as they defused a bomb.

  Do exactly what she should’ve done at the outset and include them.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Okay, we can go.”

  With a nod, Monroe hefted the gangly little boy in his arms. “What d’you think, Charlie? Want to take a trip down the Mid River? We were thinking of going to Pier Fifty-four. From one Blast site to another.”

  Charlie didn’t answer. A single lip was pressed out, like he was about to cry. He asked, “Mommy? Are you okay?”

  Without another word, Charlotte’s arms were around him, squeezing him between her and Monroe. Only recently had the boy begun to look outside his own activities. His watchful eyes suddenly turned outward with more than interest: with compassion. She squatted down—a hand lingering on his tan face—to stare directly into his dark eyes. “I’m great, Charlie. I’ve got you, don’t I? What d’you say?” Charlotte stood, rubbing a hand through his dark curls, messing up his already messy hair. “Want to hear your uncle tell us some history?”

  He frowned, a little hand reaching up to smudge the wetness on her face. “Okay. I love you, Mommy.” He pulled away from Monroe and reached around her, tiny hands embracing her tightly.

  Felix was right about that, at least. She had Charlie. “I love you too, baby. Why don’t you, Monroe, and Bill have some uncle-nephew time, okay?”

  “C’mon bub,” Monroe said, bobbing Charlie in his arms. “Let’s give your mom some space.” He lifted an eyebrow at Charlotte, and she nodded permission before he and Bill walked along the boardwalk toward the pier on the shoreline.

  Felix watched them go. Even in this timeline, he was always making sure that Charlie was safe.

  “They’ll be okay,” she told him.

  “You don’t owe me any explanation, Charlotte,” Felix said. She glanced his way and saw that his fury had returned. Much more familiar to her these days. “But you can’t do this to Charlie. Tell him you’ll be here and then—”

  “I won’t be late again,” Charlotte said. If she could, she’d never let Charlie out of her sight. “But I did want you to come tonight, too. What’s going on is important and …” She shook her head. “It’ll be easier if I show you.”

  “At Pier Fifty-four, you mean.” His tone was brisk, like he was expecting another promise broken. She could show him now. Could easily heft the glassy grapefruit in her bag and spin him through time. That’s what tonight should have been.

  But it was better to do this at Pier Fifty-four. Take Charlie, Monroe, Bill. There she could deal with his questions, his—hopefully—awe, while Monroe and Bill looked for Ana. That would be better. Smarter. “When we get to Pier Fifty-four,” she confirmed.

  With a snort, Felix rolled his eyes. “See you then.” He strode away from her, easily catching up to her family in the distance. But when he did, Bill cast back a look of concern. As Monroe, Charlie, and Felix wandered toward the tour boat, Bill waited.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her when she met up with him. “We shouldn’t push you. There’s time. That’s what this is all about, right? We have plenty of time.”

  He gestured to a chair, but Charlotte shook her head. “How can you be so sure?” she asked. “All the time, you’re confident. You know what’s right. But I’m …” Charlotte shook her head, trying to hold herself together. Trying to keep the tears in. She stared at her family as they bought tickets at the boat. “Is this even worth it?”

  He paused, following her gaze toward the Mid River leading back into the city’s lights. They’d almost killed themselves to save a single building. That was all they’d changed, but so much more had rippled. Just as Bill had predicted with his damned butterfly effect.

  He didn’t mention that. Instead he gestured with an open hand. “You did this. All of this. You saved more than a thousand people with your bare hands. Me? I froze.”

  “And lost a husband in the process.” She let loose a guffaw. “God, how petty do I sound? A thousand people are alive today, and all I care about is losing Felix.” But that wasn’t the worst of it. “What if I can lose him? What if I lose Charlie?” Across the way, Charlie fiddled with his shirt, glanced back, and then waved before boarding the boat with his father and uncle.

  Bill followed her gaze. “We won’t let that happen.”

  “How?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “We’re not in control, Bill. Not even Leanor is—was. No one could’ve guessed that this … That I … How can we keep him safe? By bringing him with us? By letting a mad bomber see him? How can I ever keep Charlie safe in a world that doesn’t care?”

  Because it didn’t. She could see that now. Time wasn’t going to reward them. The universe wasn’t going to reach out and pat her on the back, restoring her family or Leanor to her. There was nothing they could do.

  But Bill shook his head, coming closer. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “We try.” He squeezed, and his strength coursed through her like a burning flame.

  Her back, her arm, her fists clenched. She’d do more than try. Somehow she’d keep Charlie safe from harm. She’d find a way to get Felix back. She’d resurrect Leanor. She’d fix her life.

  That was how to combat an uncaring world: by being active, by never losing your grip, by staying focused on everything that was important. “Yes,” Charlotte agreed. “We try.”

  She crossed the remainder of the way, ignoring all that the Octagon had done to commemorate the Blast, eager to catch up to her family. Charlie was probably already seated, feet swinging as he looked toward Manhattan’s skyline. His eyes were probably already gleaming, ready to draw some new picture when he got home. Monroe would be narrating some tale. And Felix … She tried to breathe evenly, tried to not collapse into sobs again.

  She felt Bill at her side and grabbed his hand. He was family now. She had lost Felix, but she’d gained Bill. Soon they’d fulfill Leanor’s final wish. They’d stop Ana. Then she’d find a way to fix this whole mess.

  The tour boat was softly lit, a constant reminder that this wasn’t a celebration tour. This would be about remembrance. But not for Charlotte. Not for Monroe or Bill. For them, this would be about learning how to stop the Blast altogether.

  As Charlotte followed Bill onto the dim boat, she felt a thick hand touch her arm. “Going somewhere?” a low voice asked. She spun to see him, the short shadow with blazing blue hair. He grinned widely to show his canines.

  The man who’d killed Leanor had returned.

  • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Bill leaped in front of Charlotte, crowding her back. “If you want to kill her, you’ll have to go through me.”

  “Kill her?” the man asked. Paris, Ana had named him. He tossed a Granny Smith apple in his hands, then brought it up to his mouth. “Why on earth would I want to kill her?” He bit into the apple, juice sp
attering over Bill’s shoulder onto Charlotte’s face.

  “You …” This man had killed Leanor; why wouldn’t he want to kill Charlotte? She’d carried on Leanor’s work, was doing what Leanor wanted—wasn’t she?

  “What do you want, then?” Bill asked, his voice barbed.

  “To say hello,” Paris said. “To meet properly. I didn’t get much of a chance, covered in Leanor’s blood, did I?”

  Charlotte swallowed her retort. This man was so cavalier, so happy with himself. She wanted to smack his grin off.

  “I’m Paris,” the man said, offering a hand. Charlotte didn’t take it. Neither did Bill. “And you must be Leanor’s … What did she call you? Minions? Henchpeople?”

  “Family,” Charlotte hissed.

  “Aw.” The man touched his heart. “That’s genuinely sweet. Well”—he shrugged—“I’d apologize, but I wouldn’t mean it. Leanor deserved to die. But I’m glad to see you’re doing some good instead of harping on about the past. Trust me, it wouldn’t work out well for you.” His eyes glinted in the dim light. “Though you already figured that out, didn’t you?”

  “Why are you here?” Bill asked, still blocking Charlotte. Who was he protecting? This man could bat Bill away just as easily as he had Charlotte. Her muscles and Bill’s stomach probably made an even match in the weight department.

  But this man had let Charlie, Felix, and Monroe pass. He could’ve incited her wrath; he chose not to. What did he want, then?

  With a colossal bite, the man finished his apple. “I’m here to make sure you don’t get distracted. We like what you’re doing, y’know? Stopping the Blast, that’s good. Altruistic. We approve. So we’re letting you keep your time device, letting you interfere. Because clearly you can be trusted. While Leanor … Well, maybe someday you’ll learn what sort of woman she was.”

  “She was—”

  The man lifted a hand, a snarl on his lips. “You have no clue who she was.”

  “And that’s it?” Bill folded his arms, and Charlotte came out from behind him. “You just want us to keep going? On a boat headed to Pier Fifty-four?”