What was going on?
I placed my hands on the floor beneath me, hissing at the ice cold that burned my skin. Pushing myself up, I hit my head against something low that curved over me. Dropping to the floor again, I rolled onto my back and looked up at the thin shell that arched over me, completely encasing me like a butterfly in a glass jar. The realization of what had happened dawned in my tired mind. Just like the last time I’d fallen through the river, I’d brought some of the bank’s timelessness back with me.
But unlike last time, I wasn’t trapped in a flicker of midnight while the day dawned around me. This time I was frozen in a breath of ice while the Dungeon burned around me in an inferno of fire.
~
Panic shot through me. I could see the flames flickering next to me, but I couldn’t hear the crackling sound or feel the burning heat as they raced across the floor. I could see the black smoke billowing up, blocking out the ceiling like a thunderhead on a stormy day, but the air inside my shell was clean and crisp.
I pulled my knees to my chest, afraid to touch the edges of my cocoon in case it shattered and left me vulnerable to the fire’s hungry touch. I didn’t dare breathe.
I watched helplessly as the flames ransacked the room like destructive animals. They devoured Dante’s small collection of books. They jumped on his bed, burning holes in his blankets and his pillow. They darted beneath the closet door, eager to rip through his clothes.
It wasn’t enough that Dante was lost to me forever; now I had to lose what he’d left behind as well? It wasn’t fair. A wave of hurt and anger and sorrow built up inside me. I kicked out against the shell that protected me, hoping it would shatter and set me free, but I didn’t so much as smudge the clear curve. The panic I had originally felt deepened into something approaching terror. How was I supposed to get out? Leo knew I was upstairs, but was he trapped in the fire too? Or had he already looked for me and left while I was still on the bank? It was bad enough to be alone, trapped in a burning building. It was worse to be alone, frozen in time, and trapped in a burning building.
I kicked again, this time with both feet, but the recoil shook my ankles and knees.
I couldn’t hear anything but my frantic breathing, my racing blood. How long could I survive? Would the building burn to the ground and leave me still alive and well in the wreckage? I had a sudden vision of a group of firefighters swinging their axes against the shell of time, trying to save me, only to see the axe heads bounce off the seemingly empty air around me. A hysterical giggle burst out, and I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep the rest of them inside.
I felt tears trickling over my hands and I closed my eyes. I heard a low tone rumbling through the shell and groaned. If this was the end, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it happening up close and personal.
“Abby!”
My eyes flew open and I saw Leo crouching on the floor next to me.
“Stay still!”
He reached out and touched the shell. His face tightened. I could see the muscles in his arms quivering with strain.
The cold began melting away, replaced with a blistering heat. I could hear the hissing and spitting of the flames.
Leo clamped down on his jaw, the veins in his neck popping under his skin.
A crack sounded close to my ear. I looked up at the shell. Thin lines arched above me, branching out from Leo’s touch like tiny rivers of darkness. I watched them zigzag in random patterns, racing each other from one side to the other. When a crack touched the floor, the entire shell quivered. The space inside shook like a struck bell.
Leo’s groan turned into a roar. He compressed his outstretched hand into a fist, and, in an instant, the shell around me vanished as completely as if it had never been.
Leo fell to his hands and knees, his head hanging down as he gasped for breath.
I could see a bright blue shimmer arc around him like heat lightning. It flashed hot, then disappeared. The heat remained in his eyes, though, turning them electric blue.
The fire increased in light and heat, circling ever closer to us now that the final barrier was gone. I felt the heat singe my hair, the prickling of impending pain on my scalp.
Grabbing my hand, Leo hauled me into his arms. He got to his feet, bending over to shield my body, and bolted for the door, kicking through the burning wood into the hallway beyond.
The fire was even hotter outside Dante’s room. I coughed, the smoke burning trails in my lungs. I couldn’t see anything but red. The color of destruction.
Tears ran down my face, evaporating in the blistering inferno around us.
I clung to Leo as he tripped down the stairs, ran through the common room of the Dungeon, and crashed through the door to the outside.
The cold air hit me like a fist, reaching into my body to pull out my breath. A wave of dizziness washed over me. Flashing lights rotated in my vision—redyellowred. I heard voices calling out, screaming orders. Distantly I registered the outline of a firefighter in a yellow coat running past us, heading for the burning red mouth of the Dungeon’s door.
Even though we stood in the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by cars, trucks, and people, it felt like we were invisible to outside eyes.
“The Dungeon,” I croaked. My mind felt sluggish, mesmerized by the hungry flames I could see over Leo’s shoulder.
Leo didn’t bother turning around. “Zo’s work. He—”
I felt my eyelids flutter, blinking to keep out the darkness that brushed at the edges of my mind like wings. My head lolled back on my neck.
“Abby? Stay with me, Abby,” Leo said, gently patting my face. He stood me on my own feet, wrapping his large hands around my shoulders. “Hold on for just one more minute, please. You’ll be safe, but I need you to stay with me.”
I clutched at Leo’s forearms, swaying with the effort of keeping my balance. I could feel my body twisting into knots, trying to regain its equilibrium. The darkness pushed closer; I could almost feel the black wind breathing inside my head. My stomach churned as though I could vomit up the timelessness I’d brought back with me from the bank. I had to sit down. I had to lie down.
But Leo wouldn’t let me.
“Tell me what happened, Abby. What happened to Dante?”
His name ripped through me like a cry. “He’s gone,” I said numbly.
“Did he go through the door?”
I nodded. My tears slid down my cheeks and into my mouth. The salt tasted like loss. Bitter, endless loss.
Leo relaxed, the worry in his eyes melting away. “Good,” he breathed. He pulled me into a tight hug. “Grazie, mia donna di luce. Grazie.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling the charred, bitter smell of smoke that embraced us both. My nose itched with the scent of blackness.
“Leo, I’m tired,” I mumbled into his shirt. “Can I go home now?”
“Of course, of course,” he said, stroking my hair. “Go home and sleep. You’ll need to find your balance again.”
“Will you be there when I wake up?” I asked, ready to welcome the oblivion the darkness promised, but not wanting to let go of Leo. He was my last link to Dante.
The darkness didn’t care what I wanted.
I heard Leo say, “No, but I’ll see you soon,” and then my vision flashed to white. But instead of seeing a glimpse of the future, all I saw was blackness, like the smoke from a burnt home, like the hourglass door freestanding in a barren void.
When I thought of the door, a brittle sharpness cut through my mind and I thought I heard the sound of shattering glass.
And then I didn’t hear anything anymore.
~
When I woke, it was to the sight of white. White walls, white sheets, white tiles. A white machine sat next to my hospital bed, keeping careful count of my heartbeat, my breathing. An IV tube ran into my arm, slowly dripping clear fluids into my veins.
My mouth felt like it had been coated with cotton. I blinked the grit from my eyes. I felt scoured to the bone.
My throat hurt inside and out. I reached up weakly and felt cotton gauze bandages taped over my collarbone and around the back of my neck.
A figure was sitting in a chair next to my bed. I squinted in the hospital half-light.
“Mom?” I croaked through a dry throat.
“Abby?” Hope sounded bright in Mom’s voice. She stood up from her chair and pressed my hand with both of hers. “Abby, you’re awake! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” She brushed back my hair and kissed my forehead.
“M’ok,” I mumbled, still trying to find my bearings. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Four days,” Mom said, wiping away tears from her cheeks.
I felt my breath hiccup in my chest. That long? No wonder I was in the hospital. I couldn’t pass this off as a twenty-four-hour flu bug. I wondered if the effects of my adventures with time had shown up on any of the doctors’ tests. Hopefully not. Hopefully they had just chalked it up to exhaustion from almost dying in a burning building and the effects of smoke inhalation.
Which reminded me.
“What about Leo? Is he okay?”
“Abby, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. Let’s just concentrate on getting you better.”
“He saved me from the Dungeon. I want to know what happened.”
Mom sighed. “Leo is fine. The firefighters said he was a hero, bringing you out of the fire like that. But the Dungeon was a total loss.”
“Can I see him?” I wondered how Leo felt about being called a hero again.
“No, honey, I’m sorry. He stopped by yesterday morning to drop off a package for you and to say good-bye.” Mom gestured to a thick, sealed envelope resting on the bedside table.
Leo’s gone? Just like that?
“He said he’d been planning to travel, and with the Dungeon gone, he said he didn’t have any reason to stay.”
What about me? I thought, closing my eyes. I’m not a good enough reason?
Mom hesitated. “He said he and Dante would miss you.”
Hearing his name forced the tears from beneath my closed lids.
“Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry. I know you and Dante were pretty serious. I didn’t realize you’d broken up.”
My heart ripped in my chest. How could I tell my mom I hadn’t broken up with Dante, that in truth he’d gone back in time to stop Zo? And that having crossed the door a second time, he had become like Zo was—a master of time. It sounded unbelievable to me, and I’d been there. My memory kept replaying that last moment, that last declaration of love. I held on to that memory, tucking the hope that we would see each other again deep inside my heart.
I kept my mouth shut, turning my face to the window, letting the tears flow unchecked.
Mom stroked my hair for a while in silence.
I finally pushed past my emotions, locking out the diamond-hard pain of loss and doing my best to throw away the key. Someone else had been there on the bank. Someone else I hoped was okay.
“Have you heard from Valerie?” I asked quietly.
Mom’s hand stopped moving.
I turned my head, sure I didn’t want to hear the answer, knowing I had to. I saw it in Mom’s eyes.
“She’s not okay, is she?”
Mom shook her head.
I only heard part of what she said. Mental institution. Undergoing treatment.
“I was talking to her mother and she said Valerie had gone out with that boy—from the band you like—one night, and then . . .” Mom shook her head. “It was just so fast. The doctors can’t explain it. The police are looking for him and his friends, but they seemed to have skipped town.”
They’ve skipped more than that, I thought bitterly. I asked Mom if I could be alone for a while. I knew she didn’t want to leave me, but in the end she placed one more kiss on my forehead and left, saying she was going to call Dad to tell him I’d woken up.
As the door closed behind her, I dropped my head back onto my pillows. Everything was so messed up. Dante was gone. Leo was gone. Even Zo and his band mates were gone.
I ground my teeth thinking about that last one. They deserved to pay for what they’d done to Valerie. I closed my eyes and wished Dante success in his hunt through time.
I wondered how soon it would be before problems with the river would start to show up. Would there be any warning, or would things just change? Would I even notice?
My eyes fell on the package Leo had left for me. I reached over and could just snag the envelope with my fingers. Pulling it toward me, I saw my name written on the outside. Not Dante’s hand; Leo’s. Beneath my name were the words: “Dante asked me to give this to you.”
Opening the flap, I extracted a stack of papers clipped together at the top. The first page was a letter.
Abby,
If you are reading this, then it means I am gone.
I wish I could be there to explain in person, but hopefully Leo will be there to answer your questions. I trust him like a brother and I know you can trust him too.
My heart constricted a little at that. There hadn’t been time to tell Dante the truth about Leo. Now I feared the chance was gone for good.
You know that I can see events in the river—events that are to come. For a long time, all the ripples led to the same point: a confrontation at the door. But then the images stopped and I didn’t know what would happen. I was blind. Everything hinged on your choice. Would you open the door? Would you let me go through the door?
If you are reading this, then you chose to open the door, chose to let me go. And I know this, you made the right choice.
I know you are worried about Zo and his friends. I know you want to protect the integrity of the river. And I know it seems crazy—that the only way to stop Zo is to let him go—but trust me, your choice is the only thing that will give us a chance for success against him.
I knew you had to make this choice on your own. It’s why I couldn’t tell you what I was seeing in the river. It’s why I gave you the key as early as I did. So that, when the time came, you would have everything you needed to make the choice. And I knew Icould trust you to do the right thing—no matter the cost.
I hope I was able to return Valerie to you. The ripples around her are murky and complicated. I hope she survived this intact.
I hope you survived intact as well—your heart, I mean. I know how painful it is to lose someone you love, to let someone go, to leave someone behind. Hold on to me, Abby, to my memory, to the time we spent together and the dreams of the future we shared. That way, a part of me will still be alive with you wherever—and whenever—we are.
I promise you, Abby, I will stop Zo. I’ll protect you. And I know we’ll be together again. I promise.
I take comfort knowing that in all the variations I saw, one thing remained constant—my love for you.
I do love you, Abigail Beatrice Edmunds. I love you through all the twists and turns of the river. I love you beyond the borders of the bank and back.
Do you remember when I told you about the poet Dante and how he survived the circles of hell and the tiers of purgatory and ascended to heaven to catch a glimpse of his Beatrice? When it was time for them to part, he offered one last prayer to his beloved. A prayer that rings true for me as well.
O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength,
you who, for my salvation, have allowed
your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all
the things that I have seen, I recognize
the grace and benefit that I, depending
upon your power and goodness, have received.
You drew me out from slavery to freedom
by all those paths, by all those means that were
within your power. Do, in me, preserve
your generosity, so that my soul,
which you have healed, when it is set loose from
my body, be a soul that you will welcome.
I don’t know exactly what the river holds for me now, but if this letter is a list
of things-Dante-knows, then this much I know for sure: It was worth it to catch a glimpse of you.
All my love,
Forever,
Dante
I read the letter again. And again. The tears flowed faster each time. I could hear Dante’s voice in my head, quiet and confident, and I missed him to my core. I may have made the right choice, but that didn’t mean I felt good about it.
Eventually, I set the letter aside to look at the other papers Dante had left for me in the envelope.
I gasped.
My tears stopped instantly.
The rest of the pages were drawings. I recognized Dante’s strong hand in the delicate lines that covered the paper. My eyes flew over the straight lines, the curved lines. Arrows pointing in all directions. Labels next to everything.
Page after page of illustrated gears, wires, springs.
Page after page of detailed instructions.
Blueprints for a door—one that could be freestanding in its frame.
Patterns to trace—a spiral shell; a half-sun, half-moon circle; a musical staff. A wave, a maze, an hourglass. A heart with a tiny keyhole in the center.
Plans for a brass, three-pronged hinge—three carved notches jutting out from a solid back like a capital letter E.
I set the papers down on my lap, the pages fluttering around me like angel wings, whispering like wishes.
Here was da Vinci’s greatest and most terrible invention.
I read everything. Every label, every note, every instruction. Hardly any of it made sense. I’d never been good with measurements or visualizing three-dimensional objects from a two-dimensional drawing, but I couldn’t stop looking at the blueprints. I savored every word Dante had written, every line he’d drawn, imagining the pen in his hand, flowing, dancing over the blank pages until they were filled to the edges with his memories.