THREE HOURS LATER, I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK OVER the sound of my own voices.
All six of them.
“Do you realize that Theo lost his left leg below the knee?” Mafiaverse is so angry she’s near tears, her fists balled up in the lap of her green skirt. We’re all seated at the table, being watched by my gaping parents and Theo as we have this extraordinary meeting—a gathering of all the people I could potentially be. “He’s going to need a prosthetic, and now I’m getting all these creepy emails from some guy in the Russian mob—”
“Paul and I are flying back from Ecuador tomorrow.” Triadverse sits near me in an orange sundress, calmer than any of the others. “So far as we can tell, nobody else at Triad had any idea about the cross-dimensional stuff—”
“I have an evil phantom inside of me,” says Victoire, who’s still stuck with Wicked. “Get it out.”
“Don’t get me wrong.” Cambridgeverse wears a cornflower blue T-shirt and a lot of dangly chain necklaces, and she rubs her left arm as she speaks in her crisp English accent. “Mom and Dad are super psyched about communicating between universes, but did you really have to go snuggle up to the guy who maimed me for life?”
Warverse is wearing a straw fedora, a pink dress, and a scowl. “Markov? Seriously? How am I ever supposed to explain all this to Theo? I mean, my Theo.” Her eyes glance back at the Theo in this room, who winks at the version who chose him. She beams back.
Angriest of all is Oceanverse in black, who yells, “You wrecked a submarine!”
Then another voice cuts through the din, hushing us at once. “Everyone, be silent.”
We all close our mouths and look toward the person sitting at the head of the table—the Grand Duchess.
She wears a crimson camisole and her curls tumble free down her back, yet she looks more regal now than I ever did in her jewels and furs. The grand duchess’s perfect posture turns the ordinary dining room chair into a throne, and the command in her voice is undeniable. From this moment on, there’s no question about who’s in charge.
“You must all listen to this Marguerite from the shadow world known as the Berkeleyverse, as she is the only one possessed of all the knowledge that can help us,” the grand duchess commands, gesturing at me lightly with one hand. “The question of her actions while in our own worlds—that will be dealt with later.”
Oh, God. Dread weighs me down. How am I going to look the grand duchess in the face as I apologize for getting her pregnant?
“You will proceed,” the grand duchess finishes, with a nod in my direction.
“Okay. Well. First of all, thanks for coming—”
“I was kidnapped!” Oceanverse cuts in, though she immediately looks abashed when the grand duchess fixes her in an imperious stare.
“Sweetheart, we’re merely borrowing you for a time.” Dad smiles at Oceanverse encouragingly; he was the one who made the trip to her dimension. Between him, Mom, and Theo, at least one of us was near the Marguerite in each world—even the Russiaverse, where the Parisian chemist Theodore Beck was already visiting his friend in her new Danish home. We only had the two Firebirds to work with at first, which meant we could only undertake one trip at a time. Since then, though, both the Triadverse and the Cambridgeverse have contributed one each. They’ve needed reminders, but we can pass one Firebird around for that.
I continue. “However you got here, I’m glad you came. Because if we’re going to stop the Home Office—the dimension that’s trying to destroy so many of the others—we all have to work together. I realize some of you were already making a head start on that,” I interject, nodding toward the three for whom this is true: Triadverse, Cambridgeverse, and Warverse. “But we need to be united, completely.”
Mafiaverse folds her arms across her chest. “You mean, we should just forgive you.”
I feel sick. “You don’t have to forgive me. Ever. Just understand that right now, this moment, I’m doing my absolute best to keep every one of us safe.”
“It’s not so bad, what you did,” Cambridgeverse says, surprising me. When she takes in my expression, she shrugs. “I mean, I wish you hadn’t gone over to Paul’s place, but he wasn’t exactly your Paul, and I remember how we used to be—you know, it’s awkward, but I get it.”
“Not so bad? Tell that to Theo,” Mafiaverse retorts.
“I’m right here,” Theo says, “and even though I’m not the one who has to live with the consequences, I am the one who took the bullets. So believe me when I say what happened to, well, to us that night wasn’t Marguerite’s fault. At the beginning she had no idea the Russian mob could be involved. She couldn’t have predicted what was going to happen. Me, I’m the one who knew she’d been kidnapped and walked right into a bad situation anyway. If what happened to your Theo is anyone’s fault besides the guy who fired the gun? It’s mine.”
Oceanverse still looks livid. “So who wrecked the submarine?”
“That would actually be yet another version of me, who’s now dead,” Theo says. “So if you were hoping to file a lawsuit, you’re out of luck.”
Triadverse leans backward, putting her hands to her temples. “My head hurts.”
This would be a prime moment for the grand duchess to bring up what I did to her, but she doesn’t. Maybe it’s beneath royal dignity to speak of such things in public. She looks at me and says only, “If the interruptions have finally ceased, please continue.”
“Right. So, first of all, we have to make sure we strengthen all of your universes so that they can’t be destroyed, ever. That process requires one Firebird”—I hold up my locket, even though the others are all familiar with the device by now—“and one stabilizer, which isn’t hard to build in a technologically advanced dimension. Those of you who are already in communication with other universes have started working on that. Mafiaverse, you guys have the know-how. You just have to execute the plan. For the rest of you with different technologies, we have to figure out alternative solutions.”
“Where are we even supposed to start with that?” Oceanverse says. “I don’t have that kind of knowledge, and in my universe, my parents don’t either.”
“But my parents do.” I think fast. “One of them needs to go to your universe. Preferably Dad—my version of Dad, I mean—he stayed there for a month after he was kidnapped, and he still remembers some of it. That would give him a head start with the technology.”
“I can head back and tell him.” Theo shakes his head with a wry smile. “High time Henry did some dimensional traveling of his own, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” Mom and Dad have left the journeying to us—to me, mostly, because of the talent Wyatt Conley gave me. But they ought to experience some of this, both the chaos of it and the wonder.
“And my own world?” At the sound of the grand duchess’s voice, everyone focuses on her again. She sits with her hands in her lap, and somehow she looks both older and more beautiful than the rest of us. People always say, oh, beauty comes from within, and I always thought they were being glib. But now I see that energy radiating from the grand duchess, intangible but undeniable, as she continues. “It appears our mechanical advancement is significantly behind yours.”
Theo shrugs, like, no big deal. “All we need are the right metals and the knowledge, Your, uh, Highness? Was that it?”
“Your Imperial Highness,” I whisper.
“Right, that’s it. Yes. Your Imperial Highness. Since it turns out you and I are friends there, and I’m in your neighborhood anyway, we can work together on it. You commandeer the materials, and I’ll get the job done.” Theo sort of salutes her, then pulls his hand back, obviously feeling ridiculous. Warverse giggles.
Oceanverse raises her hand, reminding me she’s one of the only Marguerites who attended something resembling a real school. “So, some other version of Dad is going to just take over my dad without any warning?”
“Ask his permission,” I say. “Tell your dad everything. If he doesn’t want my dad to stay, then he won’t. I promise. It’s your dimension, so it’s your choice.”
“Okay.” Then she adds sheepishly, “I guess since the alternative is getting our dimension blown up, Dad’s probably going to say yes.”
“Probably,” I agree. Though I predict that later on my father will bitch at length about the inhuman suffering of being forced to return to a dimension without the Beatles.
“What about here?” Victoire says. “Will your Theo stay, or will another version of Mom come to our universe, or what? And who’s going to get the evil phantom out of me?”
Theo and I glance at each other. How exactly do we deal with Wicked? If we just left her in Victoire forever, would Wicked remain trapped as she is now? Or might she grow stronger over time, work her way out? Even if she didn’t, it’s hard to imagine a soul that damaged, that poisonous not corroding the person who contained it.
And if my parents in the Home Office are willing to destroy entire dimensions to get one of their daughters back, is there anything they wouldn’t do to rescue the only child they have left?
The front door opens, startling us all. Cambridgeverse whispers, “Wait, there’s another one?”
But the footsteps are too heavy to be mine. The familiar sound brings a smile to my face even before Paul walks in.
His hair is slightly longer here, and at the moment it’s mussed—air-dried and textured with salt water. A faint stripe of sunburn covers his nose, and over his shoulder is a backpack no doubt full of equipment. He’s still wearing a long-sleeved black swim shirt and matching trunks.
But it’s not the differences that strike me the most. It’s the Firebird hanging around his neck.
It’s my Paul, finally with me again.
The reaction ripples around the table, each one of us wearing a different expression, from loving to terrified and everything in between.
But it’s the grand duchess I can’t bear to witness. She grips the arms of her chair, and her lips are parted in awe. Her love for Lieutenant Markov defined and changed her life, and then she lost him forever.
Or she had until this moment, when—for her—Paul has returned from the dead.
Paul, meanwhile, must have gotten texts from Theo and my parents telling him to get here as quickly as he could, and Theo sent a couple of messages explaining the clone thing. But knowing the facts doesn’t appear to have prepared Paul for the reality. He stops in the doorway, staring at each of us in turn, his jaw slowly dropping open.
“I know, little brother,” Theo says with a wry grin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I had this dream too.”
“You’re from the Oceanverse.” Paul points to the correct Marguerite, which surprises me. “And you’re from Cambridge—from the War—” His gray eyes light on me, and he draws in a deep breath. “—and you’re mine.”
I nod yes. Always, Paul.
But now his attention has turned to the grand duchess, who still gazes at him, transfixed. After a moment, Paul bows slightly. “My lady.”
The grand duchess half-turns, covering her mouth with her hand.
Tears well in my eyes. Paul knew her by sight. Knew all of us. Knew me.
Could anyone else in the multiverse read my entire history in a glance? Paul sees through to the truth of me. He always has.
Paul finally says, “I assume this isn’t merely a social occasion.”
“Got it in one, pal.” Theo thumps him on one shoulder. “Let me catch you up on the conclave of the Marguerites.”
As Theo goes through the entire spiel, I sit back down and try to read Paul as intelligently as he read me. I’m good at this, usually—so how can I love Paul so much and yet find it so difficult to understand the conflict within his heart?
But then, Paul tries to hide what he feels. His parents’ cruelty must have taught him long ago to be cautious. Closed-off. Even afraid. They tried to keep him from everything he loved, which is how you teach a person to bury love deep inside where nobody else can see. It’s how you teach someone not to hope.
“Now that we’re all up to speed,” Theo finally says, drawing the rest of us back into the conversation, “who wants to go home first?”
Mafiaverse raises her hand. No wonder she never wants to be near Paul—or the rest of us—ever again. Cambridgeverse says, “Everyone needs to know the Triadverse is no longer a threat. With Wyatt Conley dead, there’s one fewer perfect traveler, too. The sooner I get back, the sooner we can reach out to the new universes, since my parents have communication technology.”
“So do mine,” says Warverse. Everyone’s eager to get back to their own dimension right away, except for the grand duchess. Without saying a word, she sits in regal self-possession, so still I could almost believe I was looking at a photograph—until the moment her hand brushes across her abdomen, as if searching for the child who should be inside.
Paul’s child. What must it be like for her to see him again?
As my parents begin working out who’s going where with whom, Paul finally comes to my side. He stands near enough that I no longer feel he’s avoiding me, and his broad hand closes over my shoulder. “You’re all right,” he says. “When we realized a universe had fallen . . .”
“I’m okay. You rescued me.” I smile crookedly up at him. “One of you, anyway.”
“We need to focus. I’ve calculated a likely future target for the Home Office.” Paul is trying to switch fully into Science Mode, the better to conceal his confused emotions, and only half succeeding. “This next dimension serves as a source vector for many others, which puts it greatly at risk. I’m surprised the Home Office didn’t attack it earlier.”
“Okay, then that’s where we’ll go next,” I say. I’m heartened by the fact that Paul said we, that he still takes it for granted that we can go together. That gives me something to build on. “But first . . .”
“Yes?” His gray eyes meet mine for only a moment before he has to look away.
I nod toward the grand duchess. “You need to say goodbye.”
Paul hesitates, then takes a few steps toward her. When she looks up, her eyes are red. He says, “If you don’t want to talk to me—if it would hurt too much—”
“No, please.” The grand duchess gets to her feet. “It does hurt. But this chance will not come again.”
Maybe I shouldn’t be listening. And yet, I was literally a part of her during every moment she was ever with my Paul. There are no secrets among us.
Paul holds out his arms to her, and she embraces him desperately. He envelops her in his hug, cradling her close in the way that’s always made me feel so safe. So loved. When she finally pulls back, he says, “You understand the truth about the Firebirds now. That I’m not your Paul—”
“But another person he would have had the chance to have been,” she says, her voice trembling. “Lieutenant Markov so loved studying physics and optics. I feel sure it meant a great deal to him, learning that in another lifetime he had the chance to become a scientist. To follow his dreams.”
Paul nods. “It did. I was a part of him during those last few weeks, and I remember—” His voice breaks off, nakedly emotional in a way he’s never shown before. But those days in Saint Petersburg, and that night in the dacha, remain some of the most powerful in either of our lives.
Remember that, Paul. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. That wasn’t only her. That was us, too.
Finally he manages to say to the grand duchess, “He loved you so much. I will always carry that inside me. As long as I’m alive, in some way, so is his love for you.”
The grand duchess kisses his hands, and tears well in her eyes. Paul looks like he might break down too. I should stop watching them, grant them at least the illusion of privacy, but I can’t look away.
“The baby,” she begins, then holds one hand up to Paul’s mouth before he can begin to apologize. “If it is a boy, I will of course name him for you. But what name would you choose for a girl?”
He glances over his shoulder at my mom, who is even now preparing to take Warverse back home. With her yoga clothes and sloppy bun, she must look nothing like the bejeweled tsarina the grand duchess remembers, but she’s so like my mom at home—the one who loves Paul nearly as much as she loves me. He says, “Sophia. In most worlds she means more to me than my real mother ever has.”
“Sophia, then.” The grand duchess smiles up at him through her tears. “I have so much to say, and yet anything less than a lifetime would never be enough time to say it. Just know that I am and will be well. When the day comes, I look forward to telling our child all about you.” She clutches Paul’s hand tighter and holds it to her heart. “I will love you until the end of my days.”
Paul pulls her close again and kisses her.
I have no business feeling jealous. The hot rush that sweeps through me, as if I’d been slapped, can’t even compare to how the grand duchess must have felt when she understood that I took the one night she could ever have had with her Paul. And later on I know I’ll even be glad she had a chance to say her own goodbye.
That doesn’t make it easier to watch Paul kissing anyone else, even another me.
When they break apart, to my surprise, the grand duchess walks in my direction, stopping only a few paces away. “It was you who visited my world,” she says, her hands clasped in front of her. Even though a tear from her farewell to Paul has traced an uneven track down her cheek, her composure is already complete. “You were my shadow self.”
“I am so sorry.” The apology I gave her in my letter doesn’t even come close to being enough. “The things I did—I got caught up in the emotion of the moment, and I took all these risks without asking whether you would have done the same—”
“I would not have,” the grand duchess says.
Once again, I feel slapped, and this time, I’ve earned it completely. I hang my head, no longer able to face her.
But then the grand duchess continues, “I would not have had the courage.” When I look up, she is—somehow—smiling. “My path had been laid out for me since before I was born, and never had I dared to deviate from it, even by a single step. Not even for the love I felt for Lieutenant Markov. You took me off that path forever, and I am glad of it. Glad for the memories I would never have known but for you, glad for the chance to know my real father, gladdest for the child I will bear. You have given me the chance to make my own fate, and there is no more priceless gift in the world.”
It takes me far too long to find the breath to answer her. “You’re being nicer to me than I deserve.”
“None of us can know the full consequences of our actions. Just know that I am more than content with the consequences of yours.” The grand duchess holds out her hand, as she would to a courtier, then frowns—like that’s not quite right, but she doesn’t know what else to do. Admittedly this is not a situation covered in most etiquette books.
I just clasp her hand and smile. “Have a really great life,” I whisper. “You deserve it.”
“I plan to try.” The grand duchess looks over at Theo then. Her expression is no more than friendly, maybe a touch amused by the differences between her own dapper Theodore Beck and this one in his jeans and T-shirt. Yet it makes me wonder what might happen eventually, after she has mourned for Lieutenant Markov, and her friendship with Theo has deepened over months and years.
Probably I’m reading too much into it. But when I think of her raising Paul’s child with Theo by her side, it seems like a beautiful future, one worth having.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I say to her, thinking of one other person I got to know in the Russiaverse. “If Vladimir understands about the shadow worlds, if he ever believes—would you tell him hello? I miss him sometimes. Katya and Peter, too. But especially tell Vladimir that if I’d had a big brother in this dimension, I would have wanted one just like him.”
Slowly the grand duchess nods. “I think Vladimir would be pleased to hear that.”
“Okay.” Theo claps his hands together at the center of the room, bringing our attention back to the situation at hand. I realize only then that my parents are gone, taking Oceanverse and Cambridgeverse with them, because now those two clones are huddled apart from the rest of us, deep in conversation, clearly freaked out. “I figure the Russiaverse is my last stop, since it’s going to take me longest to help out there. Maybe I take Mafiaverse, and Paul can take Warverse back home?”
“I should move on to that universe you were talking about,” I say to Paul. “But as long as Wicked is stuck here, maybe there’s less of a rush. I can keep the others company, explain more of the details.”
Victoire, newly untied, crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Is anyone going to do anything about the evil phantom inside me?”
Theo, Paul, and I exchange glances. Theo ventures, “Um, we don’t actually have anyplace to put her that isn’t going to unleash her on the multiverse again.”
Paul tries to reassure her. “The chances of her unduly affecting you are undefined but unlikely.”
Victoire raises her eyebrows. “‘Undefined’?”
Paul isn’t always as comforting as he thinks he is. I hastily add, “We’ll get her out, I swear, as soon as we’re sure the multiverse is safe. Mom and Dad know to look out for you, and I can spend a while here before I have to move on—”
“I’m fine here,” Victoire huffs. “A friend of ours is coming over to stay with us while Mom and Dad are off on their weird adventures in other dimensions, though Romy will never believe this—”
Once again I feel a sensation wash over me, but this time it isn’t heat. It’s pure cold. “What name did you just say?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear her,” says Romola, who must’ve been able to walk right through the front door while the rest of us were so completely distracted. “You should know me by now.”
Maybe I should be unnerved by the Firebird around Romola’s neck—proof that she’s from the Home Office.
But I’m a whole lot more freaked out by her gun.