Raven Rise (10 page)

“I do.”

They danced for a few more moments, then Courtney asked somberly, “Do you think we're going to spend the rest of our lives in the past?”

“I don't know. But if we do, I'm glad we're together.”

The two held each other even closer and let the music become their world, if only for a few minutes longer. For that one short magical moment, Courtney liked the music too.

The next day was filled with a whirlwind of activity. The
Queen Mary
had docked in New York, and the romance of being on board had worn off for the nearly twenty-five hundred passengers. They were all about getting packed up and off the great liner. It was organized bedlam.

Courtney, Dodger, and the Dimonds gathered in the Dimonds' stateroom, waiting for the crowds to thin. Their luggage had already been sent ahead to the Manhattan Tower Hotel. Dodger saw to that.

“I got rooms for all of you,” Dodger said. “Good rate, too. You can stay at the hotel for as long as it takes to find someplace to settle in permanent. Courtney can bunk in Gunny's apartment. The Dimonds have adjoining suites. It's all very cush.”

“Who died and made you manager?” Courtney asked.

“I told you, we bellhops run the place. We know where all the skeletons are buried.”

Courtney quipped, “From what I've heard of that hotel, that's no figure of speech.”

“Yeah, real funny. Everybody ready?”

Everyone exchanged glances. Mark broke the silence. “Let's go home.”

They made their way along the passageway and up to the Promenade Deck, where the gangway off the ship was waiting for them. As a group they stepped onto the bridge and off the deck of the ship that had been their home, more or less, for many days. Nobody was sorry to say good-bye. Dodger hailed them a cab, and they all crowded in the back together.

“Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Dodger announced. Then added, “Wait.” He reached through the partition that separated the front seat from the back, grabbed the cabbie's chin, and turned him to face the group.

“Hey!” the cabbie protested.

“Relax, pal,” Dodger ordered, and faced the others. “This guy look familiar to anybody?”

Everyone shook their heads. Dodger let go of the cabbie and said, “Good. Let's go.”

Courtney laughed. She knew exactly what Dodger was thinking. The last time they were in a cab together, the driver turned out to be Saint Dane, and they were both nearly killed. Dodger wasn't taking any chances.

Traffic was light, and they made it uptown to the posh Manhattan Tower Hotel in no time. The cabbie rolled off Park Avenue, into the circular driveway, and up to the wide stairs that led to the front door.

“All ashore!” Dodger announced. He paid the cabbie and said, “Thanks, pal. There's a little something extra for your trouble.”

The cabbie took the cash while glaring at Dodger. He didn't like the cocky bellhop, but he didn't mind taking his money.

As everyone piled out of the cab, Dodger said, “I'll check on the bags. Meet you all in the lobby.” He didn't wait for an acknowledgment and bounded up the stairs, throwing greetings to all his pals. Dodger was back on familiar turf. Mr. and Mrs. Dimond followed close behind, with Mrs. Dimond mumbling something about needing to use the ladies' room.

The cab charged off, leaving Mark and Courtney alone at the curb. Mark looked up at the tall, pink-colored hotel in awe.

“Just like Bobby described, isn't it?” Courtney asked.

“It's like stepping into the pages of a book,” Mark said softly. “Or a journal.”

“It's pretty cool. Old, but cool. I'll show you around.”

The two were about to walk up the steps when they heard a man's voice call from behind them.

“Courtney?”

They both heard it, but neither thought it involved them. Nobody knew Courtney in 1937. It had to be a different Courtney. They kept walking.

“Courtney Chetwynde?” the voice called, more adamantly.

Mark and Courtney froze, then slowly turned. Apparently someone
did
know her.

The man stood in the garden that was beyond the far edge of the circular driveway, across from the front door of the hotel. The first thought that came to Mark's mind was
haunted
. The guy looked haunted. He stood stock still. His clothes were a mess, like he'd been in a fight. His face didn't look much better. He had a scratch on his cheek, with dried blood caked beneath it. Stranger still, his clothes didn't look like they belonged on First Earth. He wore a simple, black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His dark hair straggled over his ears. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, as if he hadn't slept in years.

Neither Mark nor Courtney knew who he was.

“I didn't know where else to go,” the guy stammered without moving. He seemed on the verge of breaking down. He was definitely on edge. “I waited here, hoping you'd come back. I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to talk to.”

Though the guy gave Courtney the creeps, she walked slowly toward him. Mark grabbed her arm.

“Whoa, wait,” he cautioned.

“It's okay,” Courtney said calmly.

She walked closer to the man. Mark was right with her.

“I'm sorry,” she said soothingly to the stranger. “I don't think I know you.”

The man chuckled, though not because he thought anything was funny. “I'm not surprised,” he said. “I haven't been myself. I'm not so sure I'd recognize me either.”

“Who are you?” Mark asked.

“It's all changed, Courtney,” the man said. “Nothing is as it was. We have to find out why.”

Courtney and Mark didn't know what to say.

“Maybe this will jog your memory,” he said, lifting up his right hand. On his third finger was a ring—a Traveler ring.

For Courtney, it clicked. She looked at the guy's face, stunned.

“Patrick?” she gasped.

Patrick smiled. He'd made contact. They knew who he was. The rush of relief was too much for him, and the Traveler from Third Earth passed out cold, right in front of the Manhattan Tower Hotel.

(CONTINUED)

Patrick slowly opened his eyes.
It was dark—too dark to understand where he was. For a moment he wondered if all that had happened to him had been a dream. Was he in his own bed far below the grassy plains of Manhattan? Was there no longer a giant green statue outside the window, peering in at him? Was everything back to normal?

No.

“Hey, you okay?” Courtney asked him.

Reality quickly flooded back for Patrick. “I was until I heard your voice.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe you don't want the water I brought you.”

Patrick struggled to sit up. He was dizzy. His head hurt. Nothing was right. “No, I'm thirsty.”

Courtney helped him sit up and offered him a tall glass of ice water. “Drink slowly.”

Patrick took a sip. The water tasted good. Patrick thought it was the only good thing that had happened to him since the horrible day began.

“You're in Gunny Van Dyke's apartment in the Manhattan Tower Hotel,” Mark Dimond offered.

Patrick focused and saw that Mark was sitting in the cushy easy chair across from the bed in the one-room, basement apartment that belonged to the Traveler from First Earth. “I'm Mark Dimond, one of Bobby's acolytes.”

Patrick did a double take. “The dados really do look just like you.”

“What?” Mark shouted, aghast.

“It's cool,” Courtney said with a chuckle. “The dados on Third Earth were made to look like you. You're their daddy, after all.”

Mark frowned. “There's nothing even remotely cool about that.”

“You're right. Sorry,” Courtney added quickly. “But the resemblance really is amazing.”

“Stop!” Mark scolded.

“Good to meet you, Mark,” Patrick said warmly. “I've heard a lot about you. I'm glad you're not dead.”

“That's pretty okay with me, too,” Mark agreed.

Patrick took another sip of water and surveyed the room, scrutinizing every ancient touch of Gunny's life on First Earth.

“Weird, huh?” Courtney said, reading his thoughts. “You ever been away from Third Earth before?”

Patrick nodded. “I've been here before. With Gunny. It's still disconcerting.”

“That's one way of putting it,” Courtney added.

Mark and Courtney watched Patrick with curiosity. Mark thought the guy looked dazed. He'd obviously been through something traumatic. They didn't press him for details. They wanted him to get his head back on straight first. Finally, Patrick took one last gulp of water, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked at Mark and Courtney.

“The future isn't what it used to be,” he declared solemnly.

Courtney and Mark exchanged glances.

“I have no idea what that means,” Mark replied.

“It means Third Earth has changed.”

“Yeah, I told him about the Mark-looking dados,” Courtney said.

Patrick laughed ironically. “I wish that were the biggest change.”

He went on to explain in detail what had happened to him since he woke up on a different Third Earth. From inside his shirt he pulled out the mysterious, torn book cover with the star symbol. He had been holding it next to his heart, protecting it. Mark and Courtney examined the cover with awe.

“It's the symbol that marks the gates.” Mark gasped.

Patrick nodded. “When I couldn't contact Pendragon, I went back inside the library. I needed to learn more. Richard, the librarian, was my only link to reality, if that's what you can call it.”

Patrick wiped his eyes nervously. It was clear to both Mark and Courtney that what happened next wasn't good.

“I heard shouting coming from the room where Richard had given me the book cover. I ran down the corridor and stopped short of the door when I heard a crash come from inside. It sounded like something had been knocked over.”

Patrick stopped talking, as if the memory choked him up. Mark and Courtney waited patiently. They knew Patrick would tell the tale as best he could.

“When I looked inside I saw that most of the books had been pulled down from the shelves. The floor was littered with them. There were four men wearing dark red clothes. I can't tell you what any of them looked like other than they all had their hair cut very short. They were”—Patrick stopped again and took a gulp of water before continuing—“they were pushing Richard around, taking turns throwing him against the bookshelves. He was an old man. He couldn't defend himself. I was about to jump in to help him when one of them got in Richard's face and shouted, ‘Where is it?'”

Mark held up the book cover. “This what they were looking for?”

Patrick nodded. “The hidden panel where Richard kept the cover was open. I don't know how they knew it existed, but they knew. What they didn't know was that it was gone. Richard had given it to me. He wouldn't tell them either. For that he took a horrible beating. I'd never seen anything like it. He was so frail. One of the men lashed out and hit him with the back of his hand. Richard's glasses flew off and his nose bled, but he didn't say a word. I—I wanted to help him but—”

“But they would have gotten the cover,” Courtney said, finishing Patrick's thought.

“That's what I thought, honestly,” Patrick concurred. “That cover was the only physical link to the past. I couldn't let them have it. I hope I was right, because that brave man paid a terrible price.”

“So you took off?” Mark asked.

“No!” Patrick answered, anguished. “I couldn't even do that! I stood there, paralyzed. I didn't know what to do. I'm not a coward. I'm not. But I'd never seen anything like that before. I was just…stunned.”

“We get it,” Courtney said reassuringly.

“Do you? It was horrible! They threw Richard against the wall. The poor man crumpled like a rag doll. When he hit the floor, he looked up and saw me. One of the men noticed and followed his look. He saw me standing there like an idiot, but he didn't react. The others turned to look at me too. None of them reacted. It was chilling.”

“Were they dados?” Courtney asked.

“I don't think so. They weren't identical. The one who spotted me pointed to Richard and said, ‘This man is a criminal. It is forbidden to possess banned documents.'”

Patrick swallowed hard and continued. “When he pointed to Richard, I saw something on his forearm. It looked like a green tattoo about two inches across.”

“A tattoo of what?” Courtney asked, her eyes wide.

Patrick pointed to the book cover on Mark's lap.

“The star?” Mark gasped. “He had a tattoo of this star on his arm? The star from the g-gates?”

Patrick nodded.

Courtney exclaimed, “That must have been what Richard was looking for when he inspected your arm. He wanted to know if you were one of them…whoever
they
are.”

“He knew they were watching him, and he wanted to protect this book cover,” Patrick answered. “To protect history. Whoever these thugs are, they're trying to erase that history. I couldn't let that happen. So I ran.”

“To where?” Courtney demanded.

“Anywhere. Away. It didn't matter so long as they didn't get the cover. I ran deeper into the library, dodging broken tables and scattered books. I had no idea where I was going, but I couldn't stop because they were right behind me. I jumped down a stairwell and ran through an emergency exit that led to the derelict park behind the library. I skirted decaying statues and huge chunks of fallen walls, playing cat and mouse with my pursuers. They weren't smart. They didn't divide up to chase me. I eventually lost them in the maze and hid under a slab of crumbling cement. I stayed there for at least an hour. I think I'd still be there if not for what happened next.”

“What was it?” Mark asked.

“When I finally got the nerve to peer out from my hiding place, I saw black smoke billowing from the library.”

“Fire.” Courtney gasped.

“It was coming from the same area where I'd left Richard. Seeing that put me over the edge. I didn't care about the book cover anymore. I had to go back. I retraced my steps into the building and found the central corridor, thick with smoke. I could barely see, but I found the room. The four men were gone. Richard wasn't. He lay there unconscious, surrounded by burning books. They'd left him to die. I dragged him out of the burning room and pulled him up onto my shoulder. It wasn't hard. He was so light. I made my way back to the front entrance of the library and out onto the steps. A crowd of people had gathered, but nobody made a move to help me. They were far more interested in the burning building. I expected a fire truck to come and battle the blaze. It didn't. I'm not even sure if fire trucks exist on Third Earth anymore.”

“What about Richard?” Mark asked with trepidation.

“He was battered, but alive. I sat beneath the stone lion, holding his head in my lap. He looked up at me with cloudy eyes and smiled. He actually smiled and said, ‘Find the truth, Teacher. It's what they fear.'”

Patrick was doing all he could to control his emotions as he added, “He looked back at the library. Flames were leaping from every window. Richard looked pained, and it wasn't because of the beating he took. He turned away, not wanting to see any more, and said, ‘Our history is all we have left. Don't let them destroy it.'”

Patrick fell silent, letting the horror of his story sink in. Or maybe it was to take a break from having to relive it.

“Some people finally showed up who said they would take Richard to a hospital, but I didn't have much confidence in that. Who knows what hospitals are like now on Third Earth? But I had to trust them, because I couldn't take Richard with me. Not with what I had to do.”

“What was that?” Courtney asked.

Patrick sat up in bed and looked straight at her. “I had to find Pendragon. He had to know what happened. He still does. The last I heard he had gone to Ibara, but when I tried to contact him through my ring, it wouldn't work. I left Richard and found my way to the flume and tried to travel to Ibara myself, but the flume wouldn't let me. My only other choice was to come here.” Patrick was getting worked up. “This is where the two of you came when you left Third Earth. It was the only place I could think of coming. What is wrong with the flume? Why can't we contact Ibara? Where is Pendragon?”

Courtney took a deep breath. She knew that what she was about to tell Patrick wouldn't make him feel any better, but he had to know. She filled him in quickly about what happened on Ibara and the dado battle for Rayne. For Veelox. She told him about the origin of dados on First Earth and Mark's Forge technology. She ended the story by telling him how Bobby had destroyed the flume on Ibara, trapping himself and Saint Dane…which was probably why Ibara was cut off.

Mark listened without adding anything until the end, when he told Patrick how he had given his Traveler ring to Nevva Winter in exchange for his parents' life. He said he thought it wouldn't matter because he would still be able to communicate with Bobby through Dodger's ring, but Dodger's ring didn't work—just as Patrick's ring didn't work.

Patrick listened to it all, his shoulders growing heavier with each new revelation. “Why won't the rings work?” he asked.

“They
do
work,” Courtney corrected. “They just won't let us contact Bobby on Ibara.”

Mark said, “The real mystery is why Nevva wanted the ring. I can't help but think it has something to do with the events that led up to those changes on Third Earth.”

“Gee, you think?” Courtney asked with a trace of sarcasm.

“I'll tell you what I think,” Mark announced, standing up. “I think it's finally time.”

“For what?” Courtney asked.

“For the event we've been fearing from the very beginning. Everything points to it.”

“To what?” Patrick asked, confused.

“Third Earth has changed. Again. Patrick, you ran into some guys who were trying to destroy all evidence of specific events that happened during the first part of the twenty-first century. Second Earth. That can't be a coincidence.”

“My god…,” Courtney whispered, the realization hitting her.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Whatever happened on Second Earth must have led to the horrible changes on Third Earth.”

“So it's finally here,” Courtney gasped.

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “The battle for Second Earth.”

“It's on, Courtney,” Mark said with finality. “We've got to go home.”

“But we can't use the flume without a Traveler,” Courtney countered.

Mark looked at Patrick. “Good thing we've got one.”

Mark called another family meeting in his parents' suite at the hotel. That family included Dodger and Courtney. He and Courtney laid out all that Patrick had told them. Every last disturbing detail. He said how he still wanted his parents to stay on First Earth, not only because of the danger with Nevva, but to stay in touch with KEM. There was still the hope of scuttling the dados. Dodger would be their guide to the past. Mark added that they would all get a good night's sleep, if possible, and then leave first thing in the morning for the flume. Mark had it all figured out, except for one thing: In spite of all that he had been through, in his mother's eyes he was still her little boy. Hearing what he was about to jump back into, no matter how logical it might seem, was too much for her. She started to cry.