Skyline (12 page)

“But
that’d mean—” Monroe began.

“Millions
of years,” Bill said.

“Millions
at least,” Charlotte said.

“That
doesn’t make any sense,” Bill replied. “Why bring the bomb forward to our time,
then have it keep going? Anyway, the bomb can’t have gone anywhere else. The
explosive still has to go off. Isn’t that what the Blast
is
?”

“You
said it, Bill,” Charlotte told him. She remembered standing outside Suni’s, the
space before her illuminating in white. No explosions, no heat. “You said ‘That
looked nothing like a bomb.’ Because it wasn’t. It was a time event.”

“A
time event?”

“We’ve
seen white lights before,” Charlotte explained, spreading her hands. “We’ve
seen things disappearing, almost as if they weren’t ever there. Just because
we’ve never seen something on such a grand scale as this doesn’t mean it
wasn’t
caused by a time orb.”

“So
the explosive?” Monroe asked.

“To
destroy the evidence.
This
orb”—Charlotte gestured to the half-orbs they
held—“
is
the Blast, all the circuitry extending across the Blast lines,
connecting them together.”

“A
time event,” Bill said, his voice soft with awe. Then his eyes widened,
glittering. “That means New York
wasn’t
destroyed at all! It’s not gone,
just somewhere else in time.”

“Somewhere
in time so far away that the constellations aren’t even recognizable.”

Once
again, Bill and Monroe looked at each other. But as they did, she could she
Monroe gulp down his astonishment. Could see Bill’s brow flicker downward. She
hadn’t distracted them well enough.

“Felix
gave me an idea,” Charlotte said, before they could start again. “He suggested
I talk to Leanor. Ask how to defuse the bombs. Now that I know that the bombs
exist, and know what they do, maybe she’ll tell me how to find Ana.” To Monroe,
she said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they did work together. And if they did,
Leanor will know how to stop her.”

Monroe
widened his stance. “And if I’m right that they worked in the future, as they
must
have
?”

Charlotte
sighed. How could he do this to her? Force her to take sides, particularly when
he was so off base? “You
can’t
, ’Roe.”

He
clenched his jaw. “I fucking knew you’d take his side. And Bill’s idea?”

She
gulped. Even worse than saying Monroe couldn’t go to the future was this. “I
think it’s smart. Leanor and I traveled a lot; it’s possible that I could run
into myself. Whereas Bill …”

“Fuck.
You,” Monroe said.

“’Roe!”
Charlotte couldn’t stand this. “We need you here! We need you researching the
Blast from here. Not for any idea on how to defuse bombs—Leanor could know
about that, too—but to search for signs of Ana! You’re so good at researching,
so good at—”

“Save
it.” Monroe spun around and stormed to his room. “Teach him everything; send
him through time. And when you find things changed that you don’t remember?
Don’t you dare blame me.” He slammed his door, leaving Charlotte to stare at
Bill.

It
took him only a moment to whisper, “I’m sorry we put you in that position.”

Charlotte
shook her head. “Don’t be. You were right. He’s wrong. That’s all there is to
it.” But she wished she could reject right and wrong, give Monroe what he
wanted, even if it was too dangerous. But she couldn’t risk that.

As
much as she felt like she was right to keep him safe here in this time, she was
also pretty certain that Monroe had never been farther away.

Charlotte
should’ve just gone to see Leanor before coming home. If she had, she could’ve
stopped this argument in its tracks entirely. With Leanor’s help, there’d be no
need for either Monroe or Bill to travel through time. No need to risk more of
a delay that Paris would notice.

Well,
now she would rectify that.

Still
standing only a few feet from the door, Charlotte knelt to grab her bag. Monroe
had taken one half of one of the bomb’s orbs, but that didn’t matter. The other
half would be enough to prove to Leanor that Charlotte knew what was going on.
“May I?” Charlotte said, holding out her hand to Bill.

It
took a second for Bill to realize what she needed. He hesitated, biting his
lip, then passed it over. “You’re going?”

Charlotte
sighed, placing the metal half-orb into her bag along with all the other
detritus from Ana’s bomb. “If I talk to Leanor, then maybe neither of you needs
to lift a finger. No traversing time, no researching bombs, nothing.” She
leaned her head in, meeting his green eyes, trying to make him see what she was
offering.

If
all went well, they’d do more than just find Ana, save New York, and keep
Charlie safe. The rift that had grown between Bill and Monroe would evaporate,
neither of them gaining Charlotte’s favor.

“I
guess that makes sense,” he said, his lips pulled to the right. He twisted to
check the bedroom door Monroe had disappeared through, then turned back. “And I
guess you don’t want company?”

With
a gulp, Charlotte shook her head. If Leanor was as freaked out as she had been
on the phone, seeing a bigger, shorter man would only amplify that. Even if
Bill was white and taller than Paris, the night Charlotte planned to visit
would conceal that. “But you won’t have to wait long,” she said. She’d do her
best to spare him staying in this room, muggy with tension. “I’ll just be gone
the few minutes it takes me to get out and to the alley, okay?”

He
watched her, then at last nodded. “Okay,” he said, then trudged back over to
the couch and turned on the television. But this wasn’t her failing him. This
wasn’t her pushing him away, or taking Monroe’s side. This was her trying her
hardest to repair her family.

Come
hell or high water, she’d have everyone back at her side by the end of this.

“Don’t
get too mired in that show,” Charlotte tried to joke.

Bill
didn’t turn, didn’t reply, so she left him to it. Headed out the door, down the
stairs, back into the wet evening to shift through time.

The
rain was finally slowing, just a few drops here and there. In the alley, the
wet concrete reflected her astrolabe, making it a little difficult to see the
readout. But eventually she got to the date she wanted—the exact moment that
she’d called before. The same day as her interview. She twisted time back an
hour earlier to give her time to travel, and released.

Without
someone to travel beside, it was harder to get excited about the sun strobe,
the ghostly figures. Worse still was that after seeing things move so fast,
she’d have to take the slow subway down Manhattan, and across to where Leanor
lived on the Triangle. And no matter how much she thought along the way, she
had no new ideas.

If
this didn’t work, she’d have to let Bill travel through time, which would only
infuriate Monroe. And which, now that she had time to think,
was
as
risky as Monroe said. But what other option was there? Bill was right that she
couldn’t go. And if Monroe wouldn’t join him, then there was nothing to do but
trust Bill.

If
this didn’t work.

Charlotte
stepped off the subway, and headed above ground, into the Triangle. As always,
this section of Manhattan shone brightly. Lights gleamed off of every building,
enormous signs ran the height of storefronts, tourists chatted and laughed
loudly as they wandered the waterfront. Since the Blast, the Triangle had
become a new Times Square—a place Charlotte would’ve avoided had the lab not
been here.

Despite
all the changes, the fact that the lab was still here meant something. Meant
that Leanor had still set everything up. Was still her benefactor, somehow. In
order for her to have traveled with Charlie, it meant she’d still invented the
astrolabe, still gotten the schematics from Leanor. All of that meant that
Leanor still trusted her, even if they’d never worked together.

Charlotte
turned onto a side street, and the noise level dropped. Not quite silence, but
a gentle murmur, distant enough to be ignored. A few of the brighter lights
reached into this street, but by the time she made it to the next cross street,
it was dark. Only a few dim street lamps led the way through the apartment
buildings, which had been built denser and denser, after cars were banned from
this part of Manhattan.

In
truth, Leanor could be anywhere in Manhattan tonight. At Suni’s, wandering
Central Park, drinking on some of the newly installed tour boats. But her
apartment was the best place to start. It was the only sure place that Leanor
could
be.

The
brick apartment building was five stories tall, hemmed in on either side by
more apartments. Leanor’s window shone on the top floor, two windows to the
left of the column above the door. The light was on and, when a shadow passed
by, Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.

If
Leanor hadn’t been here, Charlotte would’ve had to search all of Manhattan in a
single time.

Only
a few minutes out from the moment she would call, Charlotte stepped in the
shadows. The schematics, the lab rental, all of those must’ve been ready to
spring at the moment of Leanor’s disappearance. And if Leanor saw someone
watching from the streets below, it would make her more skittish than before.
Charlotte could lose Leanor before she even
had
her.

Then
Leanor’s shadow froze in the light of the window. She lifted her phone up.

Charlotte’s
call.

Now
Charlotte placed her phone against her ear, stepped from the shadows, and
waved. Best for Leanor to know that she was out here, waiting, instead of
worrying about Paris or Ana.

The
shadow of Leanor lifted a hand, paused, and waved it stiffly. Then she walked
away, leaving the window bright and empty. Quickly, Charlotte crossed the
distance to the apartment’s door. The key Leanor had given her long ago still
fit—which made sense; “long ago” was only months from now—and Charlotte pushed
through. Her call with Leanor would last only so long. Afterward there was no
telling what would happen.

So
Charlotte pounded up the steps, finally reaching the fifth floor where four
doors waited. One to the left, two in front, and one to the right—Leanor’s. She
pressed her ear to the door and heard Leanor’s final words, “You can do this.
Just do what I said. Everything will be okay, you hear me? You’ll make
everything okay.”

Now
the Charlotte on the other end of the phone would sputter, ask for help, and
Leanor would hang up. Well, Charlotte could make her do that now. She knocked
on the door, three booming times, just to get Leanor’s attention.

“Leanor?”
she called. “It’s Charlotte.”

She
heard a clatter from behind the door. Leanor dropping her phone? Charlotte kept
her ear pressed to the wood, but she didn’t hear anything else. Not the creak
of steps approaching. Not a flurry of activity to pack a suitcase. Not even a
voice calling back hello.

“Hello?
Leanor?” Charlotte knocked again. “I know you’re in there!”

Still
nothing.

Now
Charlotte pounded on the door. Thick booms, using all her muscles. Couldn’t
Leanor see that they
couldn’t
do this without her? That she couldn’t
make everything okay? Ana had run. Without knowing where, without knowing when
the bombs took New York, there was no way ahead.

A
twinge of guilt flickered inside, staying her hand for a moment, as she thought
of Bill and Monroe, waiting in that apartment three years from now. Leanor
wasn’t the only path forward, just faster than Bill’s plan of searching all of
time. Smarter than Monroe’s suggestion of going to the future.

This
had to work.

“Leanor!
Open
up
, goddammit!”

To
her side, behind another door, a voice asked, “What the hell?” The door opened,
a thin man with a pale face staring. “If she doesn’t want you—”

“I’m
her friend,” Charlotte said, a hand on her hip.

The
man frowned like he’d smelled a dirty sock.

Charlotte
fished around inside her pocket and pulled out the keys she’d used below.
“See?” And she fit in the other one. “Just for emergencies,” Leanor had said.
Predicting this? “Her friend.” She slotted the key in, twisted it, and swung
open the door. “Leanor? Where are you?”

“Get
out of there,” the man said. “Out, or I’ll, I’ll, I’ll call the police.”

“Go
ahead,” Charlotte said, and slammed the door behind her.

The
apartment was empty.

No
sign of Leanor. The place was surprisingly clean. The bed in the bedroom was
made. No dishes left out in the kitchen. Almost as if Leanor expected
Charlotte’s call. As if she lived her life ready to leap away from danger at
any moment.

There
was no laptop, no schematics to be seen. Wherever Leanor went, she’d taken
everything she needed and would never come back. The only thing she’d left
behind, aside from a closet full of clothes and a refrigerator of food, was the
cell phone on the floor.

Exactly
as Charlotte had heard.

“I’ve
called the police!” the man said from outside the door, but Charlotte didn’t
care. If Leanor had run through time, Charlotte could fix this. All she had to
do was be cautious with her timing. Not accidentally cross her own path and
trigger a headache.

She
pulled the astrolabe from her bag and dialed back time, taking care not to go
too far. Just the few minutes it had taken to explore the apartment. She
released, and her ghost walked back through the door, which slammed shut, and
right before her Leanor reappeared. The same woman she’d seen killed only days
ago. Years ago.

This
woman wasn’t the kind Leanor who Charlotte had known. Her white eyebrows were
knitted together. Her mouth turned down into a frown. Her hand was a fist by
her side. Not the Leanor she’d been trying to save, but someone completely
different.

A
knock at the door reminded her that she had work to do. Fast. “Leanor, we don’t
have much time.”

The
phone slid from Leanor’s hand, clattering to the floor. “Charlotte? You
shouldn’t be here.”

“I
know, but I’m here, there.” Charlotte waved behind her. “We need your help.
Please
don’t go. We can’t find Ana. We stopped one bomb, but not the others. And the
Blast. Where does it send New York? Why? And where in time would Ana place the
bombs?”

“I’m
sorry,” Leanor said, and her voice told Charlotte that she was. That the kind
person Charlotte knew wasn’t completely gone. She was in there somewhere. “But
if you’re here, they could be too.”

“You
mean Paris? Ana?” She hadn’t even considered that. Damn it, she could’ve led
him right here. But in the back of her mind, a little voice reminded Charlotte,
He didn’t need your help before
. “You’re not safe,” Charlotte said. She
had to get through to Leanor now.

“I
told you before, none of that matters.”

Charlotte
reached a hand out to grab her mentor. “I know what the Blast does. I know
about the bomber. But she’s gone, leapt away, I can’t find her. Don’t you want
me to find her?”

Behind
came a few knocks, then Charlotte’s past self arguing with the neighbor. Less
than a minute remained.

“Of
course,” Leanor said sharply, eyes fixed on the space behind Charlotte. No rush
of relief swelled through Charlotte upon learning she’d been right about Leanor’s
final words. In the silence, the sound of a key fitting into the lock
reverberated. “But you found her twice, didn’t you? You can find her again.”

“But
how? Monroe wants to try the future, Bill wants to go to the past. And Charlie,
Paris threatened Charlie.” Charlotte remembered how little Leanor knew her at
this time. Almost as little as Charlotte knew her. “My son. He’s threatened my
son.”

“He’ll
give you time,” Leanor said, stepping away from Charlotte’s grip. “I promise,
he can’t stop the bomber either. She’d never listen to him, and he’s too
impatient with the bombs. They need you; they’ll wait. I promise. I’m sorry.”

She
was going to her death; Charlotte could see it in her eyes. This woman had
fled, with or without Charlotte here. Straight into Paris’s arms. In her past,
Charlotte would witness Leanor’s death, cry over her body. “You can’t—”

But
before Charlotte could finish, Leanor placed a hand in her pocket and vanished.

There
hadn’t been any astrolabe in sight. But if Leanor had made a time device
before, she could’ve made it smaller while Charlotte worked on their prototype.
“Damn it. Damn her.” She’d fled, and without any burn marks on the floor it was
impossible to say when.