CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“TUB?” Juliette asks. “What’s TUB?”

I pull her to her feet. Out of the corner of my eye, the TUB agent tucks his pamphlet into his jacket.

“You’re going to have to trust me on this one,” I say. “We have to lose him.”

How did he find us anyway? Has he been trailing us since Saginaw, just waiting in the shadows for an opportunity? I think back to our actions over the past days—the train tickets we bought, the guest book we signed at Mrs. Rosebloom’s, the flyers we’ve been half-heartedly handing out throughout the day—all ways that someone in the future could track us to this time and place.

“Is this part of the game?” Juliette asks, her expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

I still can’t figure out how to answer her. It’d be easy to tell her that it’s a game, make her believe the danger is only an illusion, but would that be fair? I hate the thought of lying to her.

Together we dash down the wooded pathway toward the bridge leading off the island. We have to get back to the rest of the fair, where we can melt into the bustling crowds and disappear.

“Chandler? What’s going on?” Juliette asks, struggling to keep up. “Does this have to do with… with where you’re from?”

“Afraid so.”

“Why? Who is he? What does he want with us?”

“I’ll explain later.” I stop and look around. The Women’s Building looms before us, and beyond that, Ferris’s wheel rises up like an enormous bicycle tire on the midway. The midway. We can lose the man among the crowd. “This way.”

One thing’s for certain, the midway is busy—a chaotic jumble of entertainers and spectators, of colorful flags and exotic costumes, of scents and sights and music and dancing. Even if we weren’t evading a homicidal time traveler, it’d still be a struggle to stay together in the dense crowd.

We rush down the street, passing the nursery exhibits, the log cabin, the Irish village, the Dutch settlement, until finally I pull Juliette into the shadows of a German castle. All around its courtyard, people meander about, taking in the sights. An orchestra plays in the grandstand. Couples are bowling in horseshoe-shaped alleys, and the scent of beer is sharp and heavy in the air.

Inside the stone arches of the castle, it’s darker and quieter, but I still don’t feel safe. Music echoes around us, and Juliette leans in close—so close that I’m momentarily overwhelmed by the scent of lavender. She whispers in my ear.

“Tell me. Please. Why is that man after you?”

I hesitate. I’m not going to lie, but I have to say something. “I don’t know him personally, but he’s part of a dangerous organization—”

“From your time?”

“Yes, one that I’ve had some trouble with before.” No need to mention that I worked for the scumbags. “They’re not people to take lightly. You must promise me that if you see him again, you’ll get out. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, just run.”

“What do they want with you?”

When had I taken her hands? I’m lost for a moment in their warmth, their texture, the smoothness of each curved nail. It’s strange that I can have such a strong desire—such a need—to protect this woman whom I’ve only known a few weeks, who was born a century before my time, but I do.

“What do they want?” Juliette repeats, pulling me from my mind’s wild ramblings.

“I promise someday I’ll tell you—”

Juliette raises her eyebrows, and I bite my tongue. What am I doing, making promises to her? I don’t even know how long I’ll be able to stay here. I never asked Dr. Wells how I’d know when Juliette is truly safe. Even if I get rid of this guy, how can I ensure TUB won’t send another agent after her? And another? And another?

“We need to get back to Mrs. Rosebloom’s,” I say. I have to talk to Dr. Wells, to tell this version of the man everything, including where to find the journal page with the instructions he needs, which I’d tucked away in my suitcase beneath my bed in the boarding house. I can’t do this on my own, not anymore. I’d thought that bringing Juliette to Chicago would be safer, but if TUB’s followed us here, I’ve obviously underestimated them. Again.

“But what about these?” Juliette holds up the flyers. “If we don’t hand them out today, we’ll just have to come back tomorrow.”

“Right. Here’s what we’ll do.” I gather a handful of the ads. “We’ll find someone else to distribute them for us. There’s got to be some young boys running around here, eager to make a few dollars.”

“A few dollars?” Juliette’s eyes widen. “How much do you intend to pay them?”

How much is a dollar worth in 1893? I must have grossly misestimated to illicit that sort of response, but I don’t have time to deal with mathematical conversions, at least not right now.

“Or a quarter or two,” I say hurriedly. “Do you think that would be enough?”

“Plenty. Look, what about them?” She gestures toward the bowling alley, where a trio of boys about Dodge’s age are playing around with the pins and heckling one another.

Dodge. Another reason to end this thing sooner rather than later.

“Stay here,” I say. Leaving Juliette in the shadows, I pull my hat low over my eyes and casually approach the boys. Fortunately, these 19th century kids aren’t all too different from Dodge and his friends in the 22st century, and it doesn’t take much to convince them to set aside their horseplay for an hour or so to find the nearest magic show—“or the Brothers Houdini, if you can find it”—and hand out flyers to the audience. In exchange, I offer them each two shiny quarters, which ought to be more than enough compensation.

They rush out of the German village, clutching their money in one hand and the flyers in the other. Hopefully they won’t just chuck the flyers into the nearest waste bin as soon as they’re out of sight. Even so, we’d still have Dr. Wells’s newspaper advertisements. In fact, maybe we could send Dr. Wells back to the fair in the following days, and Juliette and I can pick up where he left off with the newspapers. Somehow, that seems safer.

I turn back to the castle, expecting to see her slim figure in the shadows of the entrance, but the archway is empty. My gut flips and I glance around. Did she see the TUB agent and slip inside, deeper into the castle’s protection? The man’s nowhere to be seen, but then again, neither is Juliette.

“Juliette?” I call out. Fairgoers bustle around me, but none with her familiar bright smile, none with her shining eyes. My vision adjusts to the darkness of the castle, but her face doesn’t greet me. She’s gone.