“Yes, I’m coming,” Dante said. “But I can get where we’re going myself.”
“Oh, that’s right. Big bad Master of Time can come and go as he pleases,” Valerie teased.
Dante laughed. “I’m going wherever Abby is going.”
“Where are we going?” Valerie asked.
“Back to the Dungeon. It’s where we left from; it’s where we’ll return to.” I looked across the river to the opposite side. I hadn’t realized I had bitten my lip until Dante spoke quietly.
“The bridge isn’t coming,” he said quietly. “Neither is the door.”
“I know. But I can’t help wondering . . .” I sighed, my eyes scanning the empty bank one last time. “It’s just that you’re a Master of Time—and I’m not. And I won’t be.”
“Things will work out, Abby. You’ll see.” His small smile lit up his eyes.
“So, is there a magic word you have to say?” Valerie asked me. “Open sesame, or abracadabra?” She waved her hand in front of her with a flourish.
I laughed. “Nothing so grand, I’m afraid.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” she asked.
“This,” I said. I took Valerie’s hand in mine and spoke a single word: home.
And then we both stepped into the river of light.
• • •
I noticed the smell first. A faint whiff of old smoke. The smell of something that had burned and long since fallen to ash.
“Abby?”
I turned around at the sound of Leo’s voice.
Leo stood on the bottom step of the Dungeon, his face alight with joy.
Seeing him there gave me a sudden shift of déjà vu. It hadn’t been that long ago that I had been in this very same Dungeon with Leo, saying good-bye to him before I walked through the door into the past. And it had been just a heartbeat ago when I had said good-bye to Orlando before I returned home to my future. And yet, after all the winding ways of the river, here he was, a little older, a little more worn, but still the same man. The same blue eyes, the same smile.
His eyes went immediately from me to Valerie to Dante. Without a word, he crossed the basement, heedless of the remaining debris that still littered the floor, and pulled his brother into an embrace.
I felt tears in my eyes, grateful that both men had survived their impossible journeys through the hourglass door.
They both carried scars—some visible, some invisible—but there were no more secrets between them. Now they were just two brothers, reunited after centuries apart, ready to face the future together as family.
Valerie sniffed a little as well, wiping away tears from her own eyes.
Leo turned to us, but he kept his arm slung around Dante’s shoulders. “I’m glad to see that you are okay—both of you.”
“It’s good to be home,” Valerie said. “And back to being myself. Though it will also be good to actually be home.” She touched me on the arm and smiled. “Call me later? There’s a hot shower and a long nap I’ve been neglecting for far too long.” She lifted the hem of Caterina’s green dress and headed for the stairs, pausing only long enough to give Dante a hug and kiss Leo on the cheek. “Dante, darling, can you give me a ride home?” she asked. “I’d rather not walk if I don’t have to.”
Dante glanced at me, and I nodded. “Bring back the plans, if you can. I’d like to take care of this as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” he said, gesturing for her to lead the way out of the basement.
As they disappeared up the stairs, I heard Valerie’s voice singing back down, “What the Pirate King caught, isn’t what the Pirate King thought, and we all have escaped from the Pirate King’s plot.” Her laughter was free and easy, and it made me smile to hear it.
“Is she going to be all right?” Leo asked.
“I think she will be just fine,” I said.
Leo cleared away a space on the block of white-and-gold marble that remained beneath the high window. We sat down together; I kicked my heels against the stone, trying not to look at the door in the center of the room, but it was hard to ignore. The second time machine door. The one both Valerie and I had passed through—the only one still standing. The last of its kind.
“It’s good to see you again, Abby,” Leo said quietly. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not that long,” I said. “Considering.”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve both been able to speak without secrets. Back then, you knew my future, but couldn’t tell me about it. And, for a time here, I knew your future, but couldn’t tell you about it.”
“You knew I would go through the door? That when I went back in time, I would meet you on the bank? How?”
He nodded. “Because I remembered meeting you there.”
“But you said you wanted to forget. And Dante’s poem . . .” I furrowed my brow, thinking, and then understanding dawned. “Dante’s poem was selective. Like you wanted.”
“I remembered forgiveness,” Leo said. “And you. I always remembered you.”
“So, you’ve known all along what was waiting for me?”
“No, not everything. And not all at once.” Leo looked down at his hands. “My memories came back slowly, over time. Usually, when important events happened—when I found Dante on the bank, when you asked me to fulfill my vow—I would remember other pieces of the puzzle. I couldn’t always see how they fit together, or what kind of picture they would make, but I always knew that somehow, some way, you would be there on the bank when I needed you.” He finally looked up at me, his blue eyes calm and steady. “Just as Dante needed to see you at the dungeon door, I needed to meet you on the bank. You have done more good than you know, Abby. For both of us.”
A lump surfaced in my throat. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long before I could say thank you. For everything.”
Leo’s smile was a little crooked. “What’s five hundred years or so between friends?”
I didn’t want to ask it, but I had to. “What about Zo? I saw him be unraveled from time, but I still remember him.”
Leo nodded as though he had expected to have this conversation with me. “I remember him too. That’s because what happened with Zo once before still happened this time too. All of it. Zero Hour. The door. His efforts to destroy the river. It all happened.”
“The good and the bad,” I murmured.
“Exactly.” Leo took my hand. “Zo may still be a part of your past, but he will no longer need to be part of your future. That is the good that came from closing the loop. Know that, whatever Zo did, it was his choices that led him to that final moment of destruction on the bank. He’s gone. And you and Dante are not. Your future is your own again. And I consider that to be a happy ending to the story.”
I agreed. I looked up as Dante descended the staircase into the basement.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t back sooner. Your mom wasn’t quite sure what to make of my request.” Dante held up the scuffed binders containing the time machine blueprints. “I told her it was for a project we were working on.”
My heart ached to see my family, but I needed to take care of this one thing first. I turned to Leo, answering the question on his face with a smile. “Then I think we’re ready.”
The three of us gathered around the blackened door frame. The time machine door hadn’t changed, but I had. I ran my eyes over the frame, lingering over the markings that both V and Dante had made.
“Are you sure about this?” Dante asked me. “It’s your door, after all.”
“Positive. It has to go.”
“Once it’s destroyed, no one will be able to travel through time.” I knew Dante wasn’t advocating keeping the door; he only wanted to make sure I knew the ramifications of my actions. He didn’t need to worry, though, because in this case, I knew exactly what I was doing.
For this to work, everything had to go.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“And speaking of plans,” Dante started. He se
t the binders against the door. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a matchbook, which he handed to me.
I nodded and accepted the matches, and the responsibility. Dante was right: this was my door. Crouching down, I struck the first match and lit the edge of the papers. The flame caught immediately, the paper turning black and curling into hot ash.
The three of us stepped back as the entire set of blueprints burned red-gold.
The flames spread to the door, racing up the frame and along the front. Heat crackled out toward us in waves. I expected the room to fill with smoke, but the fire seemed to burn inward, consuming and claiming the wood.
I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the light.
The fire flashed white-hot, then burned out into blackness.
I lowered my hand, blinking until my vision returned.
The markings on the door had been burned away. The air smelled charred, but also clean. I could hear the distant sound of chimes ringing softly, slowly, before they drifted away into silence.
I closed my eyes and listened to my heart. The sound was even and regular. I took in a deep breath, feeling free from any lingering pressure in my lungs, my blood, my body. I could feel my hope turn to joy.
“Is that it?” Leo asked.
I touched his arm. “How do you feel?”
“Honestly? I’m relieved.” He kicked at a lump of gray ash. “I’m glad it’s dead.”
“No.” I increased the pressure on his arm. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t understand,” Leo said, glancing over at Dante.
“What are you driving at, Abby?” Dante’s eyes were curious.
“When we were at the beginning of the river, you asked me to make a wish.”
Dante nodded. “I thought it was so that you and Valerie could come home.”
“It was a little more than that.”
“Was it to close the loop?”
“That was part of it,” I hedged.
“What did you wish for?” Leo asked, a tremor in his voice.
I turned to look at him, my eyes catching his and holding steady. “I wished that, once the doors were destroyed and the river was safe, those of us who were bound to the bank would be released. That we would be returned to the river.”
All the blood drained from Leo’s face, leaving his skin as white as his hair.
“Abby—” Dante started.
“The pressure, Leo. The pressure that tied you to the bank. It’s gone. Can’t you tell?”
Leo covered his eyes with his hands. His shoulders shook with his ragged breathing.
Dante went to his brother’s side. “Leo?” he said, his voice low. Then he cleared his throat. “Orlando?”
At the sound of his true name, Orlando di Alessandro Casella looked up at me with tears in his eyes. He pressed his hand to his heart, then brushed his fingers to his lips and held out his hand to me, palm up. “I have done what you have asked. I waited and watched. I have honored my vow, my lady.”
I stepped forward and placed my palm on his. “You have done all I have asked of you and more. Your vow is fulfilled.”
Orlando drew in a shuddering breath, one that shook him all the way to his toes.
“No more needing to move between the river and the bank,” I said. “No more needing to keep the balance. No more rules. Not for you or me or Valerie. No more endless years of being alone or saying good-bye. We are free from the bank. Free to live our lives like normal people again.”
He couldn’t speak. He simply swept me into his arms, his tears streaming down his cheek and onto mine.
“Your future is your own again too,” I whispered in his ear. “You can live your life, Orlando. The way it was meant to be.”
Dante looked at me, a little awed. “Thank you, Abby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for setting my brother free.”
Chapter 32
The backyard was filled with the noise of joy. I closed my eyes and let the sounds wash over me: the wind through the trees, birds singing. A car driving past, the stereo thumping out the familiar bass notes of a Darwin Glass song. The high giggle of kids, followed by the rhythmic running of footsteps along the sidewalk. A sprinkler clicking on in the neighbor’s yard and water hissing into the air.
I opened my eyes and slowly turned in a circle, taking in a sight that I had feared I would never see again. My family, together again, together forever.
Dad stood by the grill, tending to a row of hamburgers and a trio of hot dogs with a pair of silver tongs in one hand and a bottle of cream soda in the other. He was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron that made appearances only for backyard barbecues.
Mom and Cindy Kimball were relaxing together on a picnic bench, talking while a swarm of children—mostly from the Kimball clan—played a spirited game of hide-and-seek. Hannah and her friends Cori and McKenna were sitting back-to-back-to-back under a tree, swapping books and arguing about who was the best Brontë sister: Charlotte, Emily, or Anne.
Jason had brought Natalie to the party, but he seemed reluctant to leave her side for very long or even let go of her hand. She beamed under his constant attention, and it made me smile to see them so comfortable together. Valerie had gathered a lapful of flowers and was teaching Jason’s younger sister, Bethany, how to make a daisy chain to wear in her hair.
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t quite believe it. After all this time, I was back home. Back where I belonged.
The summer light felt so good on my face. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You look happy,” Dante commented, coming up behind me and sliding his hands around my waist.
“I am happy,” I said. “We started the party without you, though; you’re late.”
He pressed a kiss behind my ear. “Sorry.”
I turned in Dante’s arms and looked up into his face. His gray eyes were clear and bright. A smile tugged at his lips. He wore a pair of jeans and a crisp, new T-shirt with the word CREW written across the front. He looked surprisingly comfortable and casual. He looked like he belonged to this time and place now. Like he belonged with me.
“Fancy shirt. Where’d you get it?”
“This?” He looked down at his chest. “Oh, the community theater is staging Hamlet at the end of the summer and I signed up to help build the sets.” He shrugged. “I do have some experience with building things.”
“And with live theater,” I reminded him. “Do they need any backstage help?”
“Maybe. I saw Valerie had signed up to audition for the role of Ophelia. Do you think she can handle it?”
“Probably better than anyone else I know,” I said.
Dante surveyed the crowd with a smile. “Looks like everyone is here.”
I looked around at the happy chaos. “They don’t remember,” I said softly. “It’s been almost a whole week since we got back and no one knows that anything strange happened.”
He traced a gentle finger across the thin scar that marked my cheek—a remnant of our final confrontation with Zo. “Of course not. Why would they? As far as anyone here knows, the river has always been flowing straight and true. Which is exactly how it should be.”
I leaned into his embrace. “How can I ever thank you, Dante?”
He grinned and tightened his hold on me. “You can start by joining me for lunch. I’m starving.”
• • •
That night I dreamed of the bank. It wasn’t a traveling sort of dream; it was more like a memory, or maybe even a wish. In my dream, I stood in the center of a wide open plain. I could almost feel the sand beneath my bare feet. The sky still felt unnaturally close but less oppressive than usual. I felt oddly protected instead of threatened.
The light no longer carried the weird shade of all-time and no-time. Now it reminded me of the moment just before the night decided to transform into dawn. I could almost feel the possibility of a sunrise on the horizon.
Almost. Almost.
I could hear the sou
nd of the river roaring and crashing and hurling forward on its unstoppable journey. It sounded like the ocean, like blood, like breath.
It sounded like music.
A shadow rose in the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw a black door, freestanding in its frame, appear on the bank. It was the only spot of color for miles around. It looked like a hole cut into the world. Though I knew the door was closed, the blackness seemed to open wide, a yawning mouth of endless night waiting in this strange place of endless time to swallow the unwary traveler.