Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (3 page)

Straightening my shoulders, I step toward the door. Light flashes to my left and I spin. Ilif’s image materializes next to the fountain and I leap behind the hedge near the door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That’s what I get for having a sentimental moment about Constantine. I should have grabbed Aurelia the second I could. If Ilif’s here, he’s obviously not into playing nice. He’s out to win.

No chance.

I separate the branches of the hedge and glare across the small yard. Dressed in a dark-brown suit today, that superfuck straightens his tie, aligning the blue and brown stripes with the horizon. The light-brown pattern on his shirt does nothing to enhance his translucent skin. Spindly fingers smooth the gray hair at his temples, making me smile at the amount now peppering his shiny black pompadour. When he’s artfully arranged his entire countenance enough to make me gag, he moves around the back of the fountain.

Not a chance he’s going to get any closer to screwing this up.

I burst through the hedge and splash through the basin, drawing a long rope of lightning between my outstretched arms as I race toward him. Errant strands leap from my hands and ricochet off the water. He jerks away, but not before his features contort with betrayal, quickly covering a trace of awe. Fueled by his rage, I flex my knees and lunge. He flickers and ducks, but I catch him in the side of the face with my right hand.

He solidifies, and a triple fork of lightning erupts from the fountain as I flare my own. I wrap my arm around his neck, and a sharp pain spears the base of my spine as we disappear.

Blackness rips him from my grasp and tumbles me backward. The pain ebbs as a high afternoon sun blinds me. I crouch and search the flat white landscape for that scuttling cockroach, Ilif, but there’s only me.

In the distance, mountains rise from the glaring expanse of nothing. I pinch the white dirt. It’s crusty and coarse. Straightening, I study the horizon again and frown. I’m on either the Salt Flats near home in Utah or an alien planet.

Okay, so this is new. Like I need more things to figure out. I prod the muscles of my back, trying to recreate the pain, but fail. I twist and lift my shirt. No wound, not even a red mark. Whatever that weirdness was in Rome, the arc healed it. Even so, something made my lightning go haywire. All that should have happened was that my lightning created interference so it was impossible for Ilif to stay. At least that’s how it worked last time.

So where is he?

And where am I? This is a disaster. Just when I have a small grasp on my lightning and how it works—or
at least
the arcing part, I find another new component. This is such bullshit. I rub my forehead and focus on the Ilif part for now.

When we were in Spain and I used my lightning, I never bothered to figure out where the interference caused him to go… all I cared was that he wasn’t with me anymore. I’m not sure if he goes back to the same place every time, or if I’ve screwed up his life enough to keep him busy.

That would be too handy… so, no. I need to expect him back at Aurelia’s side any moment. With another quick look around at the barren plains, I open my hands and fill them with twin balls of lightning.

Blackness holds me only briefly, and the silence of the salt morphs into the roar of water. Color and the pungency of wetlands surround me as heat and sunlight become misting droplets of rain beneath a gray sky that I recognize instantly.

The river is louder than when Constantine and I arced here after Aurelia’s death. I’m at the same narrow section, flanked on either side by thick trees that make it impossible to see upstream past the sharp bend to the right. Easy to see how people could get lured into a false sense of security. The river looks peaceful, especially since the changing landscape works as a distraction. An uneasy lump forms in my stomach, and I pull a strand of lightning from my fingertips and slowly tease it longer then let it snap back and repeat the motion while I scan for something sinister.

Downstream, the trees fade quickly into reeds as the ground becomes smooth clay. The bank is sloping and beachy. A nice contrast to the cliffs and rocks at the bend beneath the tree roots, enough to make someone forget they’re basically standing in a tight canyon. People die like that every year back home, trapped in narrow canyons when the rainwater comes. Though nothing looks obviously out of place or deadly, the tall walls will make escape impossible—just like home. I snuff my lightning.

Twenty feet farther downriver stands an arched bridge. Thick with a short railing, it spans the water in a wide curve with massive supports of stone rising from the water. Roman architecture doesn’t skimp, and even here their brilliance shines through. There’s a dirt road leading up to it, but the reeds obscure parts from where I am. The cramping is back in my stomach.

I tug at my collar as raindrops slip beneath the cotton fabric of my shirt. No time to whine about the weather, I push through the reeds and stop at the edge of the road. Travelers wander along, warily skirting me and averting their gazes. Long, deserted silences stretch between the large groups as they hurry through the light rain.

If I’ve landed here now, that can only mean Aurelia’s chariot will come around the corner within the next few minutes. I need to quit with the sightseeing and make a plan that will convince her she can’t cross the river. I wince and bite my lip. If her driver is more protective than Constantine, he’s not going to be an easy sell.

As the road twists away from the river, wide expanses of barren soil flank both sides. The reeds are confined to a few feet next to the river, but otherwise, short, brittle grass grows in patches. Hugging the road’s left side, a wide hill slopes gently upward a good twenty feet, at least enough to get us out of immediate harm. It’s topped with a group of trees that flow down the side, hop the road, and continue on a parallel path to the river. Though there isn’t an actual road to the top, the grass won’t be tough to navigate. When I was here with Constantine, I realized horses are just ancient four-wheelers, so a half-decent charioteer shouldn’t have an issue, and I’m positive Constantine wouldn’t entrust Aurelia to a novice.

I jam my fists into my hips and scowl at the horizon. There has to be a reasonable way to get Aurelia and her driver off the main road and climbing up a random hill.
 

An occasional shrub dots the landscape, but nothing that can help me divert the chariot’s path. The most obvious plan is to use my lightning to scare everyone away, but I don’t trust the reaction. If I stand in the middle of the road and play the sorceress, odds are good the charioteer will just drive around me, probably with spit and well-deserved curse—most definitely a sword aimed at my head—all while inciting a complete panic and speeding Aurelia to her death.

Saving that option for last.

Thunder rumbles in the distance and the edges of the clouds darken. More pedestrians hurry along the road, and I study their paths to see if that helps me at all. They stay to the confines of the road for the most part, but big groups spread into wide swaths and overflow the road into the short grass.

I glance over my shoulder at the racing water. I swear it’s moving faster. A few more inches of reeds are beneath the surface now.

Penya’s flickering light spears the dirt next to me and I jump sideways. “Where have you been?” I wipe my hands on my pants. “Ilif was at Aurelia’s. I tried to flare my lightning to get him out, but it flung me to the Salt Flats. What’s that all about?”

“Possibly his attempts to tamper with the arc. I told you he was close, and that is why we cannot waste time trying to get me out of here. Not yet. Save Aurelia. What have you figured out?”

I rub the end of my braid across my lips. “Nothing yet. It’s not like I can flag her down and ask her to please wait by the side of the road.”

“Why not?”

I flounder, opening and closing my mouth while my brain tries to compute a snappy retort. A raindrop slips off my lip and onto my tongue.

“Stop making life so difficult. Simplicity is key.” She moves closer. “Life is the same, Evy. Yet you doubt.” She sighs and reaches for me. Her face softens and her eyes betray a pride she hasn’t revealed before now. “Life is not this complicated series of tests and struggles you seem to imagine. It is meant to be lived, not endured. How many of the struggles in your life have
you
created? Stop inventing obstacles. Stop making arcing harder than it has to be. Your alterations will continue to be massive complications if you do not start looking past the impossible.”

I shudder and my heartbeat hammers against my breastbone. Easy for her to say.

Thunder cracks, and the center of a storm cloud to the west starts a clockwise rotation. My shirt is soaked through at the shoulders now.

I inhale and consider all the possibilities. Behind my lids I envision my goal. There has to be a way to get Aurelia safe. A simple way.

“I can arc her.”

Penya’s swift inhale isn’t encouraging. “Simple, I said.”

“Work with me here.”

“Not without preparation,” she says. “I spent months with Constantine working on it, and then you prepared him well for the actual moment he traveled. Even with your disaster in the glen, he had been readied.”

“But it worked. I just need to get her out of here. I’m not teaching her to travel, so I can just grab her like I did in the glen, right? I even arced the horse, so surely I can arc a girl. I’m talking about when I arced him with my lightning—not when he traveled on his own. If she uses mine, won’t it work the same way?”

In what I’d come to know as her you’re-going-to-be-the-death-of-me gesture, Penya taps her index finger against her lips.

I cross my arms. “You said anyone could time travel.”

“Yes, but under reasonable circumstances. By trying it here, you risk much. Arcing a virgin traveler must be your last resort. And you must move with her, like Constantine.”

“How much prep does she need?”

“She is Constantine’s, which leads me to believe she will need less than most, but still… ”

“I’ll try to get them to stop, but—”

She jerks toward something over my shoulder and disappears.

I spin. A chariot crests the small hill with Aurelia in it beside a towering black man. Behind me, Penya’s voice carries down a long tunnel. “Think of all possibilities. Do not disregard what seems impossible. There is no impossible. Not for you.”

I flinch.

Splashes of water spray behind Aurelia’s chariot. At this pace, I have minutes.

Don’t disregard what seems impossible, Penya said. Well, that’s about everything. Not a lot of ways to stop a chariot.

All I have is a lot of lightning, and maybe a little luck.

They’re forced to slow behind a large group clogging the road. I glance behind me. The river has risen to cover at least another foot of reeds.

 
They would have been up and over the bridge without this latest delay. Less than a mile separates me from the chariot.

Impossible.

Unless I arc there.

“Too reckless,” I say to the damp air. Any arc I try between now and the alteration costs me. Each one will jump time forward and pull me closer to her death. And considering I’ve only managed to hit my target once out of all the times I’ve arced, this is not my best idea. Never mind that this time I’m trying to hit a moving one and not kill or maim anybody.

My heart pounds, nearly deafening me to every other sound. Thunder rumbles, and a blanket of humidity drops from the sky. I can taste the moisture. I have to try, even if the next one leaves me only seconds.

At the hint of request, twin snakes of lightning tumble from my palms and darkness blinds me.

I land ten feet behind the chariot and scare an old woman carrying a basket of greens. She screams and runs away, cursing about gods and their storm. I arc back to my starting point, jumping me forward ten seconds. Now I have less than a quarter mile to get this right, and my aim is worse than usual.

I compress another ball, keeping it tight against my belly.

This time when I land, the chariot wheel skims my shin and Aurelia’s startled face whips backward as she goes by. The driver flicks the reins, and the horse surges through the crowd then slows hard in a bottleneck.

Last chance.

No more errors. I focus every particle of thought on the horse, on feeling its warm skin beneath my hands, short slick bay coat beneath my palms. I picture weaving the wiry mane through my fingers, feeling the harness bounce beneath me.

Lightning flares into an egg shape and stretches into a jagged square. I scowl and force it into a normal ball and arc before it changes again.

My feet slip on the sweaty leather as I land on the horse’s back.
Crap. Too much movement.

I yelp like a sissy and fall forward onto the horse’s neck. Frantic, I grab a handful of mane, push up into a half crouch, and squint through the pelting rain. Since I can barely ride a horse with a saddle, I’m not sure why I thought this was a doable idea. I dig the toes of my boots under the wet harness across the base of its neck and situate myself. The horse surges ahead and bucks, not happy about me, I’m sure.

I crouch lower, drop a knee to the middle of the horse’s bouncing back, and twist around. The reins hang loose in the driver’s hand, and his mouth is frozen in shock. Aurelia peeks under his outstretched arm, more curious than scared.

Taking advantage of the slack, the horse lengthens his stride, making me lose my precious balance. I slip sideways and roll, but manage to hang on through the biting leather twisting my fingers. One boot sails over my head and through the air then smacks hard against the packed road. My legs are stretched enough to win the lead in a ballet competition, but I push my foot deeper into the harness and press my heel against the horse. Every muscle from my ankle to my hip is on fire. I bear down and force my legs together, pulling myself back on.

The driver regains his senses and yanks the horse to a stop. I pat the bay’s neck, and damp hairs stick to my hand. I wipe it on the bottom of my shirt but don’t slide off, wary of giving them any opportunity to flee.