“DEAR LORD.” DAD RUNS HIS HANDS THROUGH HIS HAIR, AS absolutely bewildered as anyone would be to wake up in another dimension. “How long has it been?”
“Almost a month. It’ll be a month on January fifth, so, three days from now.”
“A month gone. No, not gone. I remember it—I was aware—but it was the strangest state of being, Marguerite. The way it is in dreams sometimes, when you’re both watching the events around you and living them at the same time. It never occurred to me to wonder where I was, or why.”
Maybe this fugue state is what it’s like for most people traveling between dimensions. “You remember now,” I say, taking Dad’s hand. “And I’ve got the Firebird, so I can remind you as much as you need.”
By now we’re sitting together in the cafeteria. This late, no one else is here, and the illumination comes mostly from external lamps filtering through the windows. In the dark waters beyond, the occasional fish swims by, but the currents have become choppy as the storm front starts to come in. Even the fish are looking for safe coves now. Mom and Josie must realize Dad and I are having a heart-to-heart about something—though nobody could blame them for not guessing exactly what.
“My poor darling Sophie.” Dad closes his eyes, as though in pain. “And Josephine. My God.”
“They’ll be okay as soon as you’re home.” A broad smile spreads across my face. Home. I get to take Dad home.
“I don’t know whether to strangle Paul and Theo or thank them. Both, I think.”
“Don’t be angry, Dad. They’ve been so strong, and loyal to you, and protective of me. I never knew how amazing they were before this. Paul and Theo both love you a lot.” I want to tell my father how Paul and I feel about each other, but that can wait until we’re all back where we should be. “Was it Conley who kidnapped you?”
“No. It was someone else, someone I’d never seen before. A woman . . .” His voice trails off, and then he shakes his head. “It’s all rather murky, I’m afraid. I’d driven to the university, to find out what the devil had happened to our data, and as I got out of the car, she came toward me. I remember thinking she must be a new graduate student, or a prospective faculty member. Something about her was a little too polished, I suppose, for the average undergrad.” Dad sighs. “The next thing I knew, I was twenty thousand leagues under the sea. I had my memories for a few minutes, but no Firebird. So I knew I was stranded in this dimension, possibly forever. That was . . . difficult.”
His face shifts in a way I haven’t seen since Gran died years ago, and I realize the memory of that powerless fear has brought him close to tears. Hatred for Wyatt Conley blazes through me, and I tell myself we’ll deal with him when we get back. He has the power right now, but all his power is built on my mother’s genius and my parents’ hard work. We have Paul. We have Theo. And if I’m the ultimate weapon—they have me.
Against all of us, together? Conley doesn’t stand a chance.
Dad says, “It was like being stunned. Or drugged. I was a part of this person who was both myself and not myself, and not even aware enough to fight it. Locked in the perfect prison.” He takes a deep breath, and when he looks at me, he smiles. “Until my brave girl came and found me.”
I had thought I’d never feel this happy again. “Now we just have to get you back home.”
Although my dad is still smiling, I can sense his sadness. “Marguerite, you must have done the math by now. There are two of us, and you only have one Firebird.”
“For now,” I say. “You made one, so you can make another. When Paul and Theo get here, they can help.”
“Constructing a Firebird takes months . . . wait. Did you say Paul and Theo were coming here?”
“Theo’s already on his way. Paul might be too, but communications have been down so long, I don’t know.”
“Heading out here with a storm like this coming in? That’s madness.” Dad sighs. “Then again, jumping through dimensions to chase a dead man is madness too. I had long suspected their lunacy but this confirmation is nonetheless disquieting.”
“See? Everything’s going to be fine.”
Dad brushes my hair back from my face, the way he used to when I was a little girl who got messy playing in the backyard. “The resources to make a Firebird were difficult enough to come by. In this dimension, obtaining them might be impossible.”
“Impossible?” Then I realize what he means. One of the metals used in the Firebirds is found in only one valley in the world, and other components are rare and valuable, too. This is a world where even desalinated water is a hot commodity; nations aren’t as free with their resources any longer. Getting the materials we need will be a considerable challenge.
“If you have to go back without me,” he says quietly, “you’re to tell your mother how very much I love her. Josie too. And you must warn them about Triad. If Conley would do this, he’s capable of anything.”
“Stop it. We’re going to figure it out, okay? We will.”
Dad’s only reply is to take me back into his arms.
As I hug him tightly, looking out at the churning sea, I know I’m going to get my father back home, no matter what it takes.
Even if I have to give him my Firebird. Even if I’m the one who stays here forever.
Once we’re back in our family quarters, the night becomes a pleasant one like almost any other. Mom doesn’t pry about the father/daughter chat, and Josie’s so engrossed in watching surfing that I’m not sure she even noticed we left. I curl next to Dad on the couch the way I did when I was little, still reveling in having him back.
Yet I’m turning the situation over and over in my head.
Triad kidnapped Dad. But why? For leverage over my mother? No, because then they would have told Mom what they’d done, rather than let her think her husband was dead.
Was it—for leverage over me? If Theo and I hadn’t taken off when we did, would Wyatt Conley or someone else from Triad have come to me and made it clear that if I didn’t travel for them, do whatever they said, my father would never get to come home?
Yes. They would have.
This was all about getting to me. All the anguish Mom and Josie felt, the pain they put Theo and me through . . . it was all so Triad could control me.
My mind still can’t wrap itself around the fact that I’m at the center of all this, after years of half listening across the room while Mom, Dad, Theo, and Paul brainstormed their phenomenal technology. Yet that’s where I seem to be. I also have no idea how I’m going to stop Triad from hurting the people I love, or trying to control me.
But if I have a power Triad wants—that means I have power. And I intend to use it.
By the time I stagger to bed, I’m utterly exhausted. Yet I’m not so tired that I don’t notice the blinking light that means I’ve received a message. I dive for it, instantly rejuvenated. Communications must have cleared for a few minutes, long enough for Paul to get something through.
The message is from Paul, but it’s not video, not even audio. Probably I should have known not to expect a love letter from a guy who expresses himself through actions rather than words. He sent only three words, but they’re the only words I need: On my way.
“Put on your waterproofs,” Mom calls to me as I grope for my alarm the next morning. “There’s a break in the storm, but not much.”
Yes, even in hellacious weather conditions, the morning maintenance has to get done. My waterproofs turn out to be a neon orange parka and pants made out of plastic, so I look super hot. As I head out through our kitchen, Dad walks right past me in the front room with only a groggy smile, no acknowledgment of the night before. He’s this Henry Caine again, and my dad is merely a flicker inside him, watching without knowing.
I can get him back, I remind myself as I touch the outline of the Firebird against my chest. Anytime I want, and soon, for good.
“This is what she calls a break in the storm?” I call to Josie as we walk out onto the platform.
“C’mon, you’ve seen it worse than this!” Josie laughs.
Seriously, have I? Because this weather is dire. Gusts of wind, sharpened by salt and sea, beat against me. My baggy waterproofs flap and snap in the gales, and my hood blows back almost instantly. A little wet hair never hurt anybody, but the wind and water have made it cold, even though it’s midsummer here. Overhead the sky is low and gray with clouds in a specific rippled pattern that must mean trouble.
So I whip through the maintenance, doubly glad for my safety harness. Within minutes I’m back down and headed for the door, when I hear Josie shout, “We’ve got refugees!”
I look in her direction and see the helicopter approaching from a distance.
Josie joins a handful of other people to ready the helipad. I don’t. This is one situation I don’t intend to bluff my way through; those people need help, not me screwing things up. But I watch the others prepare to tether the chopper to the deck as soon as it lands.
The rotor blades churn the air up even more as I stand there, squinting against the rain. All around us the ocean has darkened to the color of steel. As soon as the helicopter has landed, people spring into action, attaching cables even before the rotor stops spinning. I go for the pilot’s side door to help him out. The moment I open it, the pilot holds up his hands and says, “Don’t blame me, all right? This guy insisted he’d pay me triple. Which he’d better.”
“I’m good for it, buddy. Relax.” Theo leans across him and smiles at me. “You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”
Ten minutes later, even though my belly is growling for breakfast, I’m still in the landing bay with Theo, bubbling over with everything I’ve learned. Theo, meanwhile, is still arguing.
“You’re imagining things. Anybody would, by this point. It’s been the craziest month of your life,” he says as we sit on one of the low plastic benches that stretches between the equipment lockers. “I would know, because it’s been the craziest month of my life, too, and as much as I loved Henry, he wasn’t my father.”
“Love.” I can’t stop grinning. “Present tense love. Dad’s right here.”
Theo sighs into the towel he’s using to mop his damp hair and face. “Do you not see that everything Paul’s told you is exactly what you want to hear?”
I cock my head as I study him. “I never realized before just how cynical you are.”
He’d like to argue with me, but that’s the moment when my father walks in, fixing Theo with his most piercing stare. “I hear we have some refugees from the storm,” Dad says. “But I’m most interested in exactly how it is that one of these refugees knows my daughter.”
“Sorry about this,” I say to Dad as I rise to my feet and slip the Firebird over his neck. A few clicks, one reminder that makes Dad curse in pain, and—
“Theo!” Dad laughs out loud, then immediately touches the chain of Theo’s Firebird, visible beneath his flight suit. “My God, Theo. I’m going to bloody well kill you for bringing Marguerite along. Whatever were you thinking? But first, come here, son.”
As Dad wraps his arms around Theo, Theo’s eyes go wide. “Holy crap,” he mutters. “Whoa. Whoa.”
“I told you.” I can’t help laughing.
Theo hugs Dad back, fierce and hard. “Henry. I’m glad you’re all right. You don’t know—you can’t know how much.”
Dad slaps him once on the shoulder, I guess so they can both feel like the hug is all manly. “I meant what I said. You’re in serious trouble for pulling Marguerite into this. But it looks like my daughter’s a bolder traveler than I ever realized.”
I want to protest that Theo didn’t pull me into this; given what I now understand about Triad’s real agenda, and my abilities, I know I would have been involved sooner or later. Still, first things first. “Now all Theo has to do is figure out how to make another Firebird. You rebuilt the others, so you should be able to build one from scratch, right, Theo?”
“Probably. Maybe. Wow. I gotta think.” Theo’s expression looks completely dazed, like he got hit by a truck. I can’t blame him. “It’s going to be a while before I can say anything more coherent than wow.”
“Take a few moments. Catch your breath.” Dad squints at the double-reinforced window in the landing bay door. “This is shaping up to be a decent break in the storm. We’ve had reports of another couple of refugees, via ships—looks like we’ll be able to land them. Who knows? Maybe one of them is Paul. It would be nice to all be together again.” He smiles softly, and I know the happiness within Dad’s heart is a mirror of my own.
Once Dad has gone back to running the station, Theo and I are alone again. I can’t resist. “Told you.”
“You did. You did tell me. But I had to see it for myself.” He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t believe Paul—that he figured all this out.”
“Me neither. When we get home, we have to go back to the beginning with Triad.” Then I think about how ruthless Conley is, what a risk I’m asking Theo to take. “I know it’s dangerous, taking them on. I’d never want you to get hurt. You don’t have to—”
“You’re worried about me?” Theo’s voice breaks on the final word. “You just found out they’re hunting you in multiple dimensions, and you’re trying to take care of me.”
We all have to take care of each other, I want to say, but Theo has risen to his feet, and he takes me in his arms.
“Stop it, okay?” he says as he hugs me tightly. “You’re the one who needs taking care of. Don’t waste your time worrying about me.”
We break apart, and Theo smiles as if he’s embarrassed, which coming from him is practically a first. Before I can speak, though, someone else walks into the room. I don’t remember who this guy is, if I even met him yesterday, but his coverall looks a lot like my dad’s, and he acts like he has some authority. “Ms. Caine, we need you on submersible duty. Someone’s got to go out and retrieve that fallen winch.”
Mom was talking about that this morning: a winch fell off one of the high cranes last night, buffeted by the winds. Now it’s on the ocean floor, on the not-horribly-deep shelf the Salacia occupies, but the stronger currents whipped up by the storm might push it into a deeper trench nearby.
So what exactly am I supposed to be doing? Submersible duty? What does that mean?
Then my eyes widen as I realize a submersible is an underwater craft. A submarine.
I’m on submarine duty?
“It’s a two-man vessel,” the guy says to Theo. “Your bio says you’re licensed as a pilot as well. Want to go out there with her? Make yourself useful as long as you’re here?”
“Yeah,” Theo says slowly. “Sure. Yes. I’m—very good—at, uh, at piloting submarines.”
The guy kind of stares at us, but says only, “Berth four,” before walking off, which is when Theo turns to me and mouths, Oh, shit.
“We’re supposed to be piloting a submarine? No. No way.”
“I actually ran some simulations on the way out here. This dimension’s Theo had them queued up on his computer anyway . . .”
“Theo, no.”
He gives me his best puppy-dog eyes—and believe me, his are really, really good—but finally says, “You’re no fun.”
“We can’t.”
“So what do we do?”
I run one hand through my wet hair. “We—we go to berth four, and—” And what? Say something is wrong with the sub? They’ll figure out that it’s fine and know we’re lying. “Then we call my father from there. He’ll send someone else down.”
We find berth four easily enough. The sub is not some huge, nuclear, Hunt for Red October sub; instead it’s tiny and curved, with bright white walls and smooth black touchscreen controls like a tPhone. Beyond the curved transparent dome in front is an endless expanse of dark blue water.
“Look at this,” Theo says as he studies the controls. “It’s just like the simulator. I mean, exactly like it.”
“Theo . . .”
He shrugs, but his face is lighting up in that wicked-boy way he has. “I played with it for hours on the way out here. It’s better than any video game ever.” Then Theo drums his hand on the back of one of the seats. “You don’t often get a chance to play a video game for real . . .”
“No. Uh-uh. No way.”
“Come on! I know what I’m doing!”
“Because you played a simulator game?”
“Because I logged about seven hours of practice time, and because we’re only supposed to go about half a mile before turning back around. And because this would be totally, legitimately, eternally awesome. You know in your heart I’m telling the truth.”
Eternal awesome, however elusive, is no reason to take off in a submarine. But there’s something underlying Theo’s enthusiasm, a wistfulness that betrays the sorrow inside.
He’s done so much for me on the trip. Risked his life to help my father. All he’s asking for in return is a few moments of fun. It’s not so much to ask, is it?
“If at any moment you have the slightest doubt about what you’re doing, we turn around immediately,” I say in the strictest tone I can manage. But I can’t help smiling when Theo begins drumming a hard rhythm against the seat, in celebration.
So five minutes later, we’re ready to go—and I have to admit, he actually seems to know how to handle this thing. “About to release the clamps,” he says. “Ready?”
I nod. So he flips the control panel toggle that releases this submersible from the Salacia. For a moment, we drift free, and then he turns the props on low, just enough to get us out of the underwater dock.
The front of the submersible is made of superthick glass, which means we have a perfect, panoramic view of the ocean before us. Right now it’s chalky white sand, a few fronds of fan coral jutting up from the rocks here and there, and the endless blue. Theo and I sit side by side in the front compartment, though the watertight doors to the back aren’t closed; he explained that since nobody’s going diving on this trip, we don’t have to seal it off.
That’s good, because otherwise this might feel a little too intimate. In a submersible there’s no room to spare, so Theo and I are practically thigh to thigh. I only wore a black tank top and leggings beneath my waterproofs this morning, so that’s all I’ve got on now. While Theo has on a normal white T-shirt, it’s still slightly damp from the rain. He’s not as big a guy as Paul, so sometimes I forget Theo’s pretty buff. There’s no forgetting it at the moment.
All I say is, “Uh, how do we look for the winch we’re supposed to be finding?”
“Activating sonar.” Theo’s hands move deftly on the control panel, as though he’d been doing this for a hundred years.
The green sweep of the sonar begins, and I squint down at the screen, trying to figure out which of the shapes are merely rocks, and which might be the equipment we’re looking for. “There, you think?”
I point at the shape I mean. Theo does the same. Our hands brush against each other, and I don’t think it was an accident.
“Yeah,” Theo says. He doesn’t look at me; his profile is silhouetted against the blueness. “Worth a shot.”
So he moves the submersible forward, taking us to medium speed. As we sweep forward through the dark, our spotlights illuminating the water around us, I keep glancing over at Theo, who seems to be struggling for words. Is he going to apologize for doubting Paul? Or is he going to try to kiss me again?
“You must be—” My words falter, because I don’t know what to say. “It’s good to know Paul was on the level all along. Right?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Theo opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it. He looks more tormented by this than I ever thought he would be.
Just then, Dad breaks in over the comm. “What the devil are you two doing in a submersible?”
“We’re handling it fine,” Theo insists. “And having a blast. Admit it; you’re jealous.”
“I’m worried. Also jealous, yes, but that’s about fifteen percent to worried’s eighty-five percent. How’s it going out there?”
“Fine so far,” I say, glancing up at the speaker in the roof. “We think we see the winch.”
“Brilliant. I’ll take the worried down to about fifty percent, then. Listen, one of the refugee vessels just signaled. I thought I’d patch you in.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Talk to you later.”
Then there’s a moment of static as the original call is replaced by the new one, and I hear a deep voice say, “Marguerite?”
It’s like fireworks going off. “Paul. You made it.”
“Almost. I should dock within the next ten minutes.”
“And you talked to Dad?”
“Yes. Thank God he was here. From Triad’s files I thought he would be—but I wasn’t sure, not until we spoke.”
“Now we build another Firebird and go home.” I’m grinning up at the speaker as if I could see Paul there, yet all my happiness can’t blind me to the fact that we’re not alone. “Theo’s here too.”
“Hey, little brother,” Theo says. His expression is rueful. “Looks like you’ve been one step ahead of us the whole way.”
“I should have come to you at the beginning.” It’s impossible not to envision Paul’s face as he says this—grave and repentant. “I had no idea what they would do to Henry, or I would have.”
“Water under the bridge.” Then Theo looks up at the distant glitter of the ocean surface above us and adds, “Pun not intended.”
I still can’t believe Paul made it here. “Where were you?” I ask. “Did you set out immediately, or did you need a reminder?”
“I started toward you as soon as I got here. I don’t need the reminders any longer,” Paul says.
“Don’t need them?” I frown. Next to me, Theo sits up straighter.
“In the last dimension we visited, Triad has developed a way for its spies to remain in control throughout their trips. It’s this drug—damaging, and sometimes hard to get, so it’s not a permanent solution—but it works in short doses,” Paul says. “You can make it out of ordinary chemicals, easily found in almost any dimension you’d go to. They call it Nightthief. An injectable liquid, this brilliant green color—”
Paul keeps talking. I don’t hear a word.
Slowly I look down at Theo, who is looking directly at me. He doesn’t say anything; he knows I know.
Nightthief. The green liquid I saw Theo injecting in London. They’re one and the same.
Theo would never—
No. My Theo wouldn’t.
But this is not my Theo.