TWENTY-THREE

Evan woke up in a sour mood on Saturday, haunted by the memories of his multiple pasts. They leapt at him from his cutting room floor—scenes deleted but not forgotten, words unsaid but not unheard, all the hurtful actions of a woman he’d cherished but now despised. They always hit him worst in the morning.

With a drowsy yawn, he crossed the floor of his hotel suite. He showered and shaved, dressed himself in a sleek charcoal business suit, then tucked his hair beneath a wavy brown wig. Once he applied his putty nose and chin, Evan chuckled at his reflection. He could have passed for Zack’s dapper young brother.

After a hearty breakfast in the grotto café, Evan rented a room on the tenth floor of Tower Five, just a few doors down from his fellow Silvers. He ordered six mimosas from room service and then called the front desk to launch an incoherent complaint about his new accommodations.

Soon a manager knocked on his door. He was bald and barrel-chested, with a strong lantern jaw that unpleasantly reminded Evan of his father. The manager did a double take at Evan’s suit, a nearly exact replica of his own.

“Good morning, Mr. Freeman. I’m Lloyd Lundrum. What seems to be the problem?”

Evan tapped the square brass pin on the man’s blazer. “Lloyd Lundrum. Good name. I like it. Listen, the room’s fine. I’m just hoping to play a gag on some friends down the hall. I’ll give you a thousand dollars to lend me your name tag for an hour.”

The manager’s eyes narrowed to frosty slits. Evan laughed.

“Okay. Wow. You even glare like my dad. I guess there’s no point in raising my offer.”

“No, sir. There’s not. And I don’t appreciate you calling me here under—”

Evan’s skin tingled with tiny bubbles as he reversed his life fifty-eight seconds. He straightened his sleeves, then answered the knock at the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Freeman. I’m Lloyd Lundrum. What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, Lloyd, there’s an ugly red stain on the carpet and frankly, I’m not happy about it.”

Sixty seconds later, the manager lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, a trickling bullet hole between his frozen white eyes.

Evan stashed his silenced .22, then stooped to remove Lloyd’s ID pin. He could only imagine that Luke Rander was shaking his head from the great beyond. His father never understood him in the old world and sure as hell wouldn’t get it now. In Evan’s Etch A Sketch life, nothing mattered. All that was done was inevitably undone. The screen would wipe clean for Round 56, and Lloyd Lundrum would live again to scoff at wealthy pranksters.

Evan whistled a chipper tune as he stirred a vial of crushed pergnesticin into the mimosas. Soon he heard Amanda in his earpiece, placing the room service order. He waited in the hallway until a freckly young porter emerged from the elevator. Fortunately the kid was more flexible than Lloyd, and was happy to relinquish the food cart for a thousand dollars. Evan dawdled in his room for another half hour before wheeling the cart down the hall.

He stashed his hatred behind a genial grin when Amanda greeted him at the door. Evan couldn’t look at her without recalling the trauma from his last life, the cold and rainy night she jammed a tempic sword through his chest. That Amanda had died before Evan could get his revenge. But this one was standing right here, just ripe for the plucking.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Lloyd Lundrum. I sincerely apologize for the delay.”

“What happened?”

“We’re short on bellhops today. It’s a madhouse. I’ve been delivering food all morning.”

Amanda looked over the cart. “Are you sure this is our order? Those drinks—”

“I threw in the complimentary mimosas as our way of saying sorry. If you don’t want them—”

“No, that’s fine. My sister loves those.”

Evan smiled. “Well then I hope you and your sister have a wonderful brunch.”

As Amanda processed him with her sharp green gaze, he fought the urge to rewind and start over. But soon she passed him a twenty-dollar tip and then pulled the cart inside. Evan grinned all the way to the elevator until he realized the bitch never once looked at his name tag.

Twelve minutes later, he sat on the balcony of his Tower Five rental, listening to Zack and Amanda’s giddy banter in his earpiece. When Evan first discovered they were staying in the Baronessa Suite, he rewound two days and became its previous occupant. Tiny listening devices were concealed in various parts of the living room, the balcony, and of course Hannah’s bedroom.

The hardest part of Evan’s week was having to once again hear her dulcet moans of pleasure, each one a pinch of salt in a very old wound. But he knew her fling with Theo never lasted long or ended well. Evan had only seen two men pierce the formidable shell around Hannah’s heart. He’d already killed one of them. The other would crash her life next year, with deliciously tragic consequences.

Evan had been wiping the makeup off the back of his hand, scrubbing his “55” tattoo back into visibility, when Hannah smashed her first flute glass. He launched forward with the binoculars, hoo-hooing and oohing as the sisters traded angry barbs. When the second glass cracked across Amanda’s forehead, Evan squealed with delight. This was a thing of beauty, a moment so perfect that he had to watch it six times.

His smile vanished when Amanda’s tempic hand knocked Zack off the balcony. Evan shot to his feet now, staring in alarm as Zack lost his grip and fell. Screaming, Amanda threw herself against the railing and launched a tempic arm at Zack. She caught him at the fifth floor.

Evan closed his eyes and moaned with hot relief. He didn’t want to reverse such a beautiful chain of events, but he would have done it to save Zack. The cartoonist was the focus of Evan’s next mission. More than that, he was a friend.

—

Amanda’s mind howled with chaos, a fire in a crowded theater. Panicked thoughts trampled each other on the way to her mouth as her body twisted painfully over the railing. Her hands were submerged in an enormous white arm, fifty feet long and as thick as a manhole cover. She could feel Zack’s body in her thoughts, resting limp and unconscious in her titan grip.

“I got him. I got him. Oh my God.”

David pressed up against her backside, holding her in place. “Okay. Good. Good, Amanda. Now you have to bring him back.”

“It’s not working! I can’t control it!”

“Yes you can,” said David. “Concentrate.”

Six weeks ago, Sterling Quint’s physicists had attempted to gauge the limits of Amanda’s tempic talent. Her creations took an increasing amount of willpower to maintain. At sixty seconds, it felt like squeezing a tight fist. At two minutes, it felt like squeezing a tight fist around thumbtacks. Czerny had stopped the endurance test at 148 seconds, when Amanda began to cry and bleed from her nose.

David laid his hands on Amanda’s wrists. She could feel the giant arm contract.

“What are you doing? David, how are you doing that?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “It’s all you. Just keep focusing.”

Theo fumbled his way up the side of the hot tub, throbbing with pain. He yanked a small shard of glass from his thigh, then looked to Hannah. The actress lay motionless on the floor.

Amanda turned her head as much as she could. “Theo! Are you okay? Is Hannah okay?”

“Concentrate on Zack!” David yelled.

Theo took an anxious reading of Hannah’s pulse and future, then exhaled at the presence of both.

“She’s all right. She’s okay.”

“Don’t move her. She could have a broken—”

Amanda screamed when Zack slipped in her grasp. David seethed at her.

“Goddamn it, Amanda! If you care about him . . .”

“I do! I’m sorry!”

Theo looked to the patio doorway, where Mia stood frozen in dread. Her inner voice chanted Zack’s name over and over.

“Mia . . .”

The urgent note from the future still dangled from her fingertips, warning her of Evan’s drugged cocktails. If only she’d seen it sooner . . .

“Mia!”

She snapped out of her daze. Theo jerked his head at the living room.

“Security’s coming. We need to go fast. Gather as many bags as you can carry. Leave the stuff we don’t need. Can you do that?”

She gave him a trembling nod, then disappeared inside.

Theo scooped Hannah in his arms, praying she didn’t have a spinal injury. He saw a thick stream of blood trickle down her hair. Goddamn you, Evan.

By the time Zack reached the ninth floor, Amanda’s brain felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire. David wiped sweat and blood from her forehead.

“Hold on. Just a few more seconds.”

“I can’t hold it . . .”

“You can, Amanda. You have to. You’ll never forgive yourself if you let him drop.”

With a final scream, she raised Zack to eye level. David grabbed his arms just as the tempis vanished. He pulled Zack over the railing, then checked his vitals.

“He’s okay, Amanda. You did it.”

Amanda fell back onto the one chair that was left standing, her face drenched and white.

Theo turned around in the doorway and looked to David. “You think you can carry him?”

“Yeah. I can get him to the van.”

With a loud grunt, David hoisted Zack into his arms. Amanda cast a shaky palm.

“Be careful! He could have a broken neck! They could both . . .”

Now the images in Amanda’s head turned melodramatic, a theater in a crowded fire. She pictured Zack and Hannah as paraplegics. Her fault. Her hands. Her tempis.

“Oh my God. I did this . . .”

David gritted his teeth. “Amanda, we don’t have time.”

“He’s right,” said Theo. “I know you’re drugged and I know you’re hurting, but you need to pull yourself together. We have to go right now.”

Wincing, she struggled to her feet. “Okay. Okay.”

They turned their gazes to the airy distance, at the sound of approaching sirens. Now Theo’s future howled. There was no way they’d make it to the van without being spotted. There was no hope of making it out of Evansville without another chase.

—

Zack came to life on the way to the elevator. Hot knives of pain stabbed his chest while his body bobbled and dangled in David’s arms. He raised a weak gaze.

“David . . . ?”

Amanda rushed to his side. “Zack! Are you all right? Can you feel my hand?”

He fought a cracked and addled laugh. I think we all felt your hand, honey.

“I’m okay. Anyone else hurt?”

“Hannah. She’s unconscious. I don’t know how bad it is yet.”

As Mia jabbed the elevator call button, Theo checked the progress displays above all four doors. Two of the cars were on their way up, one from the first floor, the other from the fourth. His thoughts flashed with images of six security guards in the lower elevator.

He pointed to the north-side doors. “This is going to be close. We need to jump in that thing the second it opens.”

“Put me down,” Zack said. “I can walk.”

The moment he touched the ground, he winced at another painful chest stab. Amanda held his arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m all right.”

The elevator was two floors away. Theo shifted Hannah in his arms. “We’re never going to make it through the lobby. Not like this . . .”

“We have no choice,” David said. “We’ll have to fight our way through.”

Amanda eyed him with dark concern. “There has to be a better way.”

“Here it comes . . .”

As she lifted her knapsacks, Mia felt a familiar twinge in the back of her mind. Oh no . . .

The doors opened to an empty elevator. “Come on!” Theo yelled. “Hurry!”

They rushed into the lift. Mia dropped her bags and propped a door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Theo asked.

“I’m getting a note!”

A small bead of light floated a foot above the carpet, an arm’s length outside the elevator. Theo looked to the display across the hall. The other elevator was at Floor 7.

“Forget it! We don’t have time!”

“It could be important!”

“Mia, I’m almost positive there are six security guards in that other elevator . . .”

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d seen my other note! I’m not making that mistake again!”

David pressed the hold button. “I got this. Move your hand.”

Mia pulled her arm inside. David ghosted a pair of closed elevator doors just as a chime issued from across the hall. The Silvers stood frozen behind their illusive cover, listening to the gruff voices and heavy footsteps just ten feet away.

The clamor quickly moved down the hall. David breathed a whisper at Mia. “Be careful.”

She dropped to the ground and crawled through the ghost doors. Once she plucked the note from the carpet, she glanced down the hall. Theo was right. Six armed guards now stood outside the Baronessa Suite. They didn’t bother to knock before keying into the room.

With a deep exhale, she backed into the lift. The real doors closed over the ghosted ones. Mia read the note with bulging eyes, then pressed the emergency stop.

“What are you doing, Mia?”

“We can’t go down. We have to go up.”

David blinked at her. “Are you insane?”

“What’s the message?” Theo asked.

“‘You won’t make it to the garage without hitting cops. Go up to Suite 1255. It’s being repainted but nobody will touch it until Monday. Hide in there until things quiet down.’”

She pushed the cancel button until the lobby light went dark, then reset their course for the top floor.

David shook his head. “I don’t like this. In a matter of hours, this place will be crawling with Deps. They have ghost drills. They’ll track us.”

Amanda felt ill at the thought of federal agents watching a spectral reenactment of her balcony attack. If that didn’t put her on their Ten Most Wanted list, nothing would.

“They need warrants to use ghost drills on private property,” Mia told him. “We have at least forty-eight hours before they start.”

“Yes, I read the same book you did. The law could have changed since that was written.”

“David, why would I send that note from the future if the plan didn’t work?”

“Because there’s more than one future! Why haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Mia looked to David with wide-eyed hurt. He lowered his head.

“Let’s just go there,” Zack said, through a pained wince. “At least until Hannah wakes up.”

They scanned the hall for witnesses, then made a run for Suite 1255. In Zack’s impaired condition, it took him four tries to reverse the door lock.

Their new hideout was just a quarter the size of the Baronessa Suite, with only two beds and one bathroom. Half the furniture had been stowed in a bedroom while the other half was covered in spattered sheets.

The smell of new paint made Amanda light-headed. She wobbled toward Theo.

“Put her down on the couch. I need to check her head. Mia, get me some hand towels from the bathroom. Soak one in cold water.”

David held her arm. “I think you need to rest.”

“Someone has to sneak out to a pharmacy. I’ll make a list. We need bandages . . . We need . . .”

Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. Her legs turned to jelly. David caught her in mid-faint.

—

She woke up in bed, grimacing. An awful taste filled her mouth, like cardboard dipped in sour milk. She touched her forehead, surprised to feel adhesive bandages over her cuts.

Hannah lay unconscious on the other side of the bed. Someone had wrapped a long gauze strip around her skull, securing a folded towel to the back of her head.

Mia watched her from the doorway. “You all right?”

Amanda dazedly blinked at her. “How long was I out?”

“A while. It’s almost four o’clock now.”

“Did you do the bandages?”

“Yeah. I hope they’re okay.”

“They’re fine. Who got the supplies?”

“David. He was careful. He brought back a little food too, if you feel like eating.”

The thought made Amanda queasy. She tested Hannah’s vitals. “If she doesn’t wake up soon, I’m taking her to a hospital.”

“You know you can’t do that.”

“I’m not going to lose her.”

“You’ll lose her to the Deps if you take her to a hospital. You’ll never see her again.”

Amanda pressed her palms to her bleary face. Mia hesitated before throwing the next issue at her.

“Listen, I only gave Zack an epallay. I wasn’t sure how to do the rest.”

“What do you mean? I thought he was okay.”

Mia sighed, focusing hard on the Amanda who saved Zack and not the one who hurt him.

“I think you should go see him.”

—

The second bedroom was a miniature labyrinth of stacked wooden furniture. In the center of the maze was a full-size bed, in the center of the bed was a stretched-out man, and in the center of the man was a cruel and jagged problem.

Zack bit his lower lip, swallowing his cries while Amanda tested each rib for damage.

“This one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Hold still.”

Mia sat on a dresser, feeling more and more like a voyeur as she watched Amanda place adhesive tape on Zack’s chest. There was something uncomfortably sensual about the way Amanda touched Zack’s shoulder whenever she reached for a new strand, the way he stared at her neck as she worked on him. Once Mia felt sufficiently educated about the treatment process, she left the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Amanda ran a taut finger along another rib. “This one?”

“No.”

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I have no reason to lie about it.”

“You also have no reason to act macho around me.”

“I think the last thing either of us needs today—”

He sucked a sharp breath when she found the next cracked rib. Amanda peeled a new strip of tape. Her mouth quivered in tight suppression.

“Can you please just yell at me a little bit so I feel less awful?”

“I told you—”

“I know. I was drugged. I wasn’t responsible. Everyone keeps saying that. But be honest. Would you accept that excuse if you had rifted me today?”

“Probably not,” Zack admitted. “But if I had unrifted you immediately afterward, I’d go a lot easier on myself.”

She shot a sardonic grunt at his bandages. “Right. No harm done.”

“I still can’t believe you caught me.”

“Me neither. It was insane. I didn’t have a single thought in my head. It’s like the tempis just took over.”

“Well, I’m glad the tempis likes me.”

“It likes you,” she sighed. “There’s no question of that.”

In the center of Zack’s cruel and jagged problem was a hot new urge. He wanted to run his hands all over Amanda, explore her with his fingers like a blind man would. He assumed whatever drug Evan had slipped him was still floating around in his veins, eating away at his formidable inhibitions.

Amanda finished mending him, then helped him slide his shirt back on. She told him that he’d have to take it easy for the next few weeks. Zack humored her as if such a thing were possible.

After clearing away the bandage debris, she finally met his stare with deep green sadness.

“She’ll wake up,” Zack assured her. “I know it.”

“How? How can you be sure about anything? It seems like no matter what we do—”

“Amanda . . .”

“It’s just going to get worse.”

“Hey.” He reached for her golden cross necklace and squeezed it between his fingers. “Whatever happened to the woman of faith?”

“Today happened. Now where’s the agnostic with no answers?”

“He was saved,” Zack replied, with a dark and feeble smirk.

Amanda placed a soft hand on his cheek. Her sister’s angry words still stuck in her thoughts like a bee’s broken stinger. You’ve been a widow for eight weeks! Eight weeks, and this is how you act!

She pulled away. “Don’t sleep on your side. And force a few coughs to break up the fluid in your lungs.”

“Amanda . . .”

“I’ll check on you later.”

She fled the room without looking back. Zack watched her depart, then groaned his way back to the mattress. Though he folded his hands over his chest like a serene cadaver, his eyes danced with life and uncertainty.

—

While Hannah and Zack convalesced, the others passed the time in the small living area. Amanda and Theo sat on the couch like waiting room strangers—staring at walls, avoiding each other’s gaze. They both had Hannah on their minds, a hanging mobile of worries that would only spin faster if they acknowledged each other.

At seven o’clock, David made everything worse by turning on the lumivision.

“Sorry, Amanda. We need to know.”

As they feared, their awful brunch had become a top story nationwide. More than a hundred photographs had been snapped during the eighty-eight seconds Zack dangled in a great tempic arm. Most of the pictures were worm’s-eye shots from the grotto, distant enough to obscure his features. Mia balked at the most damning photo—a crystal-clear image of Zack that had been shot through a telephoto lens. One reporter remarked that he looked like a mouse being crushed by a python, an observation that sent the python to tears.

Mia rubbed Amanda’s back. “This isn’t your fault. It’s Evan’s.”

“It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s going to recognize Zack now.”

David tilted his head at the image. “No they won’t. Unless he finds another way to float horizontally with a contorted expression of pain, no one will make the connection.”

Soon the news report transitioned to a live Q&A with the lead Dep on scene, shot downstairs in the lobby. Andy Cahill was a leathery codger who delivered curt words through a bushy mustache and a sandy baritone. His whiskers curled in a patient smile as he indulged the reporter’s questions. Are the people involved still at large? Yes. Do you believe they’re foreign terrorists? Doesn’t seem likely. Do you think the shooting death of the hotel manager is somehow connected? That does seem likely. Anything you can tell us about the tempic device that was used today? Nope.

When teasingly asked if he considered the possibility of Gothams, Cahill chuckled softly and told the reporter she watched too many movies.

All throughout the interview, Theo sat forward in rapt attention, fixing his gaze on a female agent in the background. Though she moved too fast to provide a decent look, her dark skin and flowing dreadlocks were enough to ring every bell in Theo’s head. His thoughts screamed with recognition, as if she’d been a crucial part of his life from the moment he first drew breath.

Once the scene changed, he snapped out of his trance and flipped his mirrored senses. It wasn’t the past he knew her from. She was a towering presence to come. That dark and faceless woman loomed over every corner of his future.

—

Propriety went out the window at bedtime, when Mia crawled under the covers with Zack, and David asked Amanda for permission to sleep with her sister.

“I’m not a beagle,” the boy declared. “I can’t just doze on some couch or rug. I need a bed. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. And I’ll wake you right away if Hannah’s condition changes.”

Amanda traded a dim look with Theo, then gave David an acquiescent shrug. She raised a worried eyebrow when he closed the door behind him.

“Did I just make an awful mistake?”

Theo smirked. “Even if she was conscious, Hannah wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean if he shares a bed with her or if he tries something?”

“Yes.”

She covered her laugh with a hand, feeling guilty to be glib under the circumstances. She slipped out of her sweaty T-shirt and into a tank top, stunning Theo with her sudden lack of inhibition. What a strange unit the six of them had become. He already felt more at home with the Silvers than he ever did with the Maranans.

Amanda turned off the light and stretched out on the long sofa. Theo had curled up in the love seat, his bandaged thigh dangling awkwardly over the edge. She asked him if he’d be okay like that. He assured her he was quite the beagle.

At dawn, a shrill electronic chirp blared throughout the suite. Zack’s eyelids fluttered in jarring disruption. He dazedly processed the teenage girl in his bed, then plucked his ringing handphone from the dresser.

Mia rolled over and opened a groggy eye. “What time is it?”

“Early.”

“Who’s calling?”

“Well, that’s the weird thing.”

He held the phone in front of her. She squinted at the screen. Mia Calling.

For a brief disturbing moment, Mia wondered if her future self had discovered a new venue. Once the ringing stopped, she stumbled onto the saner theory.

“Someone found my phone. The one I threw away.”

Zack had a strong idea who it was. When the phone rang a second time, he painfully scuttled out of bed. Mia sat up in worry.

“Wait. You’re not going to answer that, are you?”

“I’ll be all right.”

“But it could be—”

Before she could finish, Zack pressed the phone to his ear and heaved a sigh into the speaker.

“Hello and up yours, Evan.”

From the airy balcony of his newest suite, Evan laughed. This was his fifth trip through their conversation. Zack always started the same way.

“Good morning,” he said, with sunny cheer. “How are the new digs?”

“Spiffy,” he’ll say, and then inquire my purpose in calling.

“Spiffy,” Zack said. “Are you calling to gloat or is there another reason?”

“For you, my friend, I’m all rainbows and kittens. Come outside. Let’s talk privately.”

Beyond the sliding glass door, two naked corpses bled out on the bed. This suite’s balcony was the only place Evan could get a decent view of the Silvers’ new hideout. Tragically, the room had been occupied by a pair of young newlyweds who were light sleepers and loud screamers. Evan had to rewind twelve times before he was able to murder them quietly. It didn’t help that he’d invaded their room in a smiling gray goblin mask.

Evan pressed binoculars to his eyeholes, waiting for Zack to emerge onto the patio.

“By the way, I’m sorry about the mimosa prank. I only wanted the sisters to shriek and pull some hair. I didn’t expect a full tempic smackdown. Jesus.”

Zack stepped outside and slid the door shut. He scanned Tower Two, the only spire within view.

“Over here,” said Evan. “Top floor.”

Zack squinted across the distance at the tiny waving goblin. “You’re wearing a mask.”

“No. This is just how I look in the morning.”

“Why the mask? I’ve already seen your face.”

“It’s for the Deps and their damn ghost drills,” Evan explained. “They can be a real hassle when they’ve got your mug in their system, as you’ll soon discover. The woman on your tail is particularly smart. In fact, I’d say she’s your next big problem.”

“I’m still stuck on the current one.”

Evan sighed. “I know. I’m a handful. Look, you took this call because you’re hoping to reason with me, to convince me to leave you guys alone. The good news is that there’s a way. Let’s just . . . Whoops. Here comes the concern brigade.”

Mia, Amanda, and Theo stood at the glass door, all watching Zack with leery caution. Theo and Amanda backed off at the sight of Zack’s assuring palm. Mia kept her nervous vigil.

Evan chuckled. “Ah, that Farisi. Such a little sweetheart. Enjoy it now before she changes.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I mean all teenagers are wet clay, but Mia really takes a different shape. Sometimes she becomes a thin and pretty slut-tease, the Third Little Given. Other times she hardens into a fat and angry ass-kicker. That’s when she’s really fun.”

“Evan . . .”

“Most of the time, she just dies. It’s weird. She’s like the team’s cannon fodder. She rarely makes it to Year Two.”

Zack’s empty stomach churned. “You’re obviously trying to upset me.”

“No. If I wanted to upset you, I’d tell you how David turns out.”

He’d called Zack at the crack of dawn in the hope of dulling his sharp edge. And yet in the first four run-throughs of the conversation, Zack kept finding new and clever ways to gain the upper hand. Evan was determined to keep him off balance in Round 5.

“Why do you hate us so much?” Zack asked. “What did we ever do to you?”

Evan exhaled impatiently. It was like living in a world full of senile people. They never remembered.

“It’s not worth getting into. Just know that I only really have it in for the Givens. Theo and the kids? Meh. Take them or leave them. But you, mein Freund, I can never stay mad at. Truth be told, I really miss our chats.”

He grinned at Zack’s furrowed perplexity. “Strains the brain, doesn’t it? Once upon a time warp, I was part of the gang. We started out as an eight-piece band. You guys, me, and Jury Curado.”

“You mean the guy on the driver’s license.”

Evan laughed. “You’re lucky that’s all you know him from. You should be thanking me. He was a real asshole. Always yelling. Always convinced he was right. He was decent enough to the womenfolk, especially Hannah. He wasn’t so nice to us beta males, especially me.”

“So why don’t I remember any of this?”

“Because the story changed. I changed it.”

“How?”

Evan waved a curt hand. “Ah, I’m sick of talking about it. Let’s talk about culture.”

“Why don’t you just get to the—”

“I know you weren’t crazy about your old life. I hated mine. But man, do I miss the culture. You must have noticed how bad it is here. The shit that passes for entertainment.”

Zack sighed with forced amenity. “The movies are pretty bad.”

“It’s all bad. You know why? No foreign geniuses to shake things up. No Charlie Chaplins or Alfred Hitchcocks or Sergio Leones. Foreign films are illegal here. You think George Lucas would have come up with Star Wars if he hadn’t been able to see The Seven Samurai? Of course not. But they sealed the doors and nailed the curtains shut. So now all we have are five hundred brands of American vanilla.”

“I do miss Star Wars,” Zack admitted.

“God, I’d kill to see the original trilogy again. I’d only maim for the prequels.”

Zack was amazed to find himself smiling. “If I had known what was coming, I would have packed a portable movie player and a suitcase full of discs.”

“You and me both, brother. It kills me that I only had a few minutes to prepare. I think about all the things I could have grabbed from my room. Even the cheapest piece of crap would have been a treasure to me now. But oh no. Azral, King of Time, was running late and had to rush me.”

Zack tapped the railing, debating whether or not to press Evan for intel. Could his information be trusted?

“I’m guessing you know a lot more about him than I do.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things I know, Zacky. I’ve seen this tale from start to finish. You really want to know about the Pelletiers?”

“Tell me.”

Evan took a deep breath. He knew he was sailing into dangerous waters now.

“They’re Gothams,” he explained. “But from way the hell in the future. Distant descendants of Peter Pendergen’s people. Fiftieth generation, hundredth—I have no idea. I just know they’re insanely powerful. They’re one family you don’t want to mess with. And yet you always do.”

“How many are there?”

“There are three. Papa Bear’s on special assignment. He’ll rear his ugly head next year. That won’t be a fun day for any of you.”

Zack thought back to the scary man in the tempic mask, the one who gave him his silver bracelet.

“What do they want with us?”

Evan cracked a dark laugh. “If I told you that, they’d come down on me like the Monty Python foot. They don’t want you knowing yet. All I can say is that we share a rare quirk in our DNA. Nothing that ever made us stand out from the crowd, though we do tend to fall on the brainy side. Even Hannah’s got some wattage in the noggin, though it sure did take a thumping, didn’t it?”

Zack slitted his eyes at Evan, swallowing his wrath. “How many of us did they bring over?”

“They gave out ninety-nine bracelets in ten different cities. Not sure how many of us are still breathing. Our group lost two. The Violets are down five.”

“The Violets?”

“Pelletier lingo. They like to call us by the color of our bracelets. Isn’t that cute? The Violets are the London folk. The ones in Osaka are the Rubies. The Pearls of Guadalajara are my favorites. All-girl group. Eight Mexicans and one hot Cuban.”

Zack remembered what the masked Pelletier had whispered, shortly after sealing the bracelet around his wrist. Any other weekend, you’d be one of the Golds.

His heart lurched. “There’s a New York group . . .”

“Yep. Motley bunch. Their Sterling Quint’s a Chinese woman. Some big-name biology professor. Easy on the eyes, but not the nicest gal. I know what you’re about to ask, by the way.”

“My brother’s from New York. If the Pelletiers are picking siblings—”

“Now, Zack—”

“Is my brother alive?!”

Evan scratched the skin beneath his mask. “We have reached the end of the ‘free information’ portion of our discussion—”

“Goddamn it! Just tell me!”

“—and have now commenced the part in which you need to be careful. There are things you want. You won’t be able to shout them out of me.”

As Zack struggled to compose himself, Evan grinned behind his mask. He knew this would be the final take of their discussion. Round 5 was a keeper.

“You realize you’re getting worked up over a guy you weren’t that close with. I mean when it comes to being different, the Trillingers make the Givens look like Siamese twins.”

“Who told you that?” Zack asked.

“You did. I’m stealing your own joke.”

“He’s still my brother.”

“Is it him you really need right now? Or are you just looking for a quest?”

The cartoonist turned away in clenched fury. Evan softened up.

“Listen, Zack, I know what you’re going through. You survived an apocalypse. You learned just how nasty the universe can be and now you’re scrambling to give your life meaning. And since you’re too smart to cram Jesus into the equation, you’ve fit everything into a neat Hollywood structure. In your mind, you’re on a hero’s journey, with allies and riddles and big epic quests. You even have a love interest, an uptight hottie who’s slowly warming up to your wisecracking ways. Better than being a speck of dust in a senseless world, am I right?”

Zack gritted his teeth. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I do. And please don’t think I’m judging you. I used to be the exact same way. I thought I had all the same things you did. I went to Brooklyn and listened to Peter Pendergen. That man . . . God, what a prick. He dominated our lives with big ideas and Holy Grail quests, and we ate it up with a spoon because we needed to believe it. You want to know how it all turned out?”

“No.”

“Good,” Evan said. “That’s why I called. I want to spare you from all that. There’s no need to throw your life away on a wild-goose chase. Screw it. Ditch the Silvers. Come join me.”

Zack looked up from the railing. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all. You and I, we’re nerds of a feather. I’m more of a brother than your brother ever was. We could have fun together. Reminisce about pop culture. Buy the attentions of hot and shallow women.”

“Buy them with what?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about money, Zacky. I’ve got bundles. While you were all futzing around in Terra Vista, I hit the casinos. With power like mine, you can’t even call it gambling. It’s more like synchronized winning.”

“What is your power, exactly?”

“Come with me and I’ll tell you. I’ll answer any question you have. You’ll get every spoiler about Rebel, Azral, Peter, Amanda. Trust me. It’ll be better to hear it all secondhand than to live it.”

“And you’ll leave the others alone?”

“Zack, if you come with me, none of them will ever hear from me again. I swear it.”

Evan was mostly sincere in his promise, though he knew there was an opportunity coming up soon, a rare and golden chance to shatter both sisters at once. If Zack joined him, Evan would have to sneak out for an evening.

“I need some time to think about this.”

“Okay,” Evan replied, with a cautious leer.

“But there are two things you could do to help convince me—”

Evan pounded his fist on the railing. “Oh, goddamn it!”

“What?”

“You keep forgetting that I know you, Zack! If you were really considering my offer, you would have drowned me in a dozen more questions. But no, you jump right to the demands.”

“That’s not necessarily—”

“Let me guess. You want me to promise to leave you guys alone for a week. Or two weeks. Or until you get to New York. Just as a good faith token. Am I right?”

Zack hissed an inner curse. That was exactly the angle he’d planned.

“And then you were going to press me about your brother again. So you could get something out of me before turning me down. Clever, Trillinger. Always the clever one.”

Zack hunched over his railing, his face an angry mask. “Did you really think I’d come with you? You’ve harassed us. You’ve poisoned us—”

“Oh, now you drop the ruse.”

“Hannah could still die because of you!”

“She won’t die. Azral won’t let her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No, no, no. You don’t get any more info. You blew it. I mean, shit, Zack. I really thought I could convince you this time.”

“Evan, listen to me—”

“Well, you’ll find out the hard way that the universe doesn’t care about your three-act structure. There’s no epic saga. No Holy Grail to find. You don’t even get your love interest. That’s another thing Peter takes from you. See, he’s a spiritual man, unlike you. With a better face and body. In a perfect world, the looks wouldn’t matter. But Amanda’s a woman. She’s a Given. It matters.”

Evan chuckled at Zack’s frozen expression, caught between despair and distrust.

“That’s okay. Don’t believe me. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. It’s just one of the many pains that await you, my friend. When you see tomorrow’s paper, you should clip that photo of you getting squeezed by the big tempic fist. Because that is you for the rest of your pathetic life.”

Evan leaned forward, hissing a whisper. “Oh, and by the way? Your brother’s dead. He was here. He was a Gold. But Rebel got him three days ago. Oops. So much for that quest.”

All the blood fled Zack’s face. The world outside faded away to a swirling haze. He dropped his phone over the railing, then returned inside without so much as a look at the goblin in the tower.

Screaming, Evan overturned the patio table. He raised a chair to throw through the glass, then froze at the sight of a tall couple in the bedroom. He had no trouble recognizing them.

“Shit . . .”

Azral curled a long white finger, sternly beckoning him. Esis stood at his side and shook her head in reproach. Evan knew there was nothing he could do to allay their displeasure. No matter where he rewound, the Pelletiers would be there, still aware of all events. Still angry.

He dropped his chair and removed the mask. There was no point in wearing it now. The Deps wouldn’t see a thing with their ghost drills.

His heart jackhammered as he joined the Pelletiers in the bedroom. When he’d first witnessed Azral’s wrath, centuries ago, he wet himself in terror. Never again. He’d never again show his fear to these people.

He plopped himself down in the overstuffed easy chair and forced a chirpy smirk.

“So. Is this a lecture or a spanking?”

—

Amanda stared at her tense reflection in the lumivision glass, pondering her next steps. Zack had traipsed back to his room with barely a word. She’d never seen him so distraught.

After five anxious minutes, she cautiously followed him into his room.

Zack leaned against a dresser, keeping a crossed-arm vigil at the window. She knew it was a painful position for a man with cracked ribs. He didn’t budge an inch at her approach.

“I asked you all to give me some space.”

“I know, Zack. I just—”

“Did you think you were an exception?”

“I was kind of hoping I was.”

Now he turned to face her. His eyes were gray and cold, the color of knives.

“You’re not.”

Amanda took a pained step back, then retreated from the room. The cartoonist resumed his window stance. He stood for two hours like a stone figurine, lost in the pain of his many new fractures.