Skyline (17 page)

“Okay,”
Charlotte said. “Here we go.” Before the police got any closer, Charlotte sped
them through time.

Boats
crisscrossed in front of them, slow at first, then gaining speed into an
ever-present blur. A bridge was built spontaneously, and buildings grew along
the edges like a re-creation of the collapsed London Bridge. To their sides,
buildings were torn down and replaced with giant skyscrapers. The pavement was
swept away and replaced with cobblestone in one breath. Trees sprouted
everywhere, in front and on top of every building within sight. Soon the
skyline looked fuzzy with green leaves blowing in the wind. The sun rose and
fell, the skyline changing every moment.

Time
slowed, evening fell, but the surrounding street was bright, illuminated by the
neon glow of hundreds of signs installed along the Mid River. Suni’s bar had
become “Sonny’s!” now marked in enormous pink cursive. The bridge to the
opposite shore was dimmer, warm light pouring from open stores onto a
meandering crowd.

Only
the moon looked familiar, blinking down on this strange new vista.

The
air was chill, biting at the skin Charlotte hadn’t thought to cover. Before she
could suggest heading indoors, Ana appeared before them. Exactly where she had
stood two hundred years ago. When they still didn’t know anything about her.
She tucked her mesh astrolabe into a bag of her own and turned, smiling. “There
you are,” she said. “All of you.”

Charlotte
squinted, trying to see Leanor inside this woman. The blue eyes were there, but
harsher than what Charlotte had once described as “infinitely wise.” The hair
was shorter than Leanor’s had been, but Charlotte could see now that once it
grew, it would be just as curly. Without the lines on her face, without the
stark white hair, without the conservative red cardigan, it was hard to see
this woman as the person Charlotte had been trying to save for the past few
days.

Days
.

Instead
of stepping toward them—explaining how she knew they’d come, explaining what
they should do next, explaining why she didn’t seem to be worried about Paris
at all—Ana walked toward the bridge that hadn’t existed two hundred years ago.
She paused, glanced backward. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

This
was what Charlotte wanted, wasn’t it? To stop the Blast, to keep Charlie from
danger, to get her mentor back?

Well,
if that’s what she wanted, this was how it would have to be. She wouldn’t get
the Leanor she thought she’d known—the kind yet enigmatic elderly woman. She’d
get the true Leanor.

Someone
who kept secrets.

Someone
who demanded that Charlotte follow without telling her everything.

Someone
who, truth told, Charlotte didn’t even know.

Ana—despite
knowing who she’d become, it didn’t feel right to refer to her as “Leanor”
yet—led the way up the bridge that had appeared over the past two hundred
years. As she passed the shops lining the way, warmth lit her face, her
platinum hair turning golden. Revelers passed by, arms cluttered with bright
red and green packages.

While
Charlotte felt Monroe and Bill lag behind to stare, she couldn’t. She caught up
with Ana, who asked without looking, “It is you, isn’t it? You’re the woman who
stopped my bomb?”

“How—?”
Charlotte shook herself. That was the wrong question. “Of
course
I am.”

Ana
stopped. Bill and Monroe caught up as she stared Charlotte down, eyes noting
her clothing, her face, her shoes. “Not of course,” Ana said at last. “Only
seconds ago, this one thought I was going to fight him. Took a bit of
convincing.”

“It’s
us,” Charlotte said. “But the rest of your bombs are too well hidden. We
haven’t been able to find you. Your past self, I mean.”

“Just
wanted to make sure,” Ana said. She twisted on her heel, pausing slightly as
she caught Bill in her sight. “You’ve made a few improvements. That’ll help.”
She finished her twist and led them over the highest spot on the bridge and
down into the area Charlotte had known as the Triangle. “When I saw you at the
World Trade Center, I was so worried. Now I know you’re not with them. You can
help. When I saw you again, twice, beside the Blast, I thought, ‘This is my
chance.’ We can fix this all here. Now.”

“Exactly,”
Charlotte said, breathless. She cast a glance to Monroe before saying, “That’s
why we came. To get information from you. To learn how we can stop the Blast
once and for all.”

“Yes,”
Ana said. “Precisely.” She didn’t stop walking to explain, to provide that
information. She turned at the bridge’s end and led them along the shoreline,
south toward some unknown destination.

“Then
where are we going?” Charlotte asked. Leanor usually gave a hint of her plan.

“Wait.”
Monroe came up beside Charlotte, a hand on Ana’s sleeve. “How did you know we’d
stopped you? How could you tell? Did you remember? How can you remember when we
never remember changes to our own past?”

Ana
glanced his way. “I can tell by looking that you’re
time
travelers
now. Not just spinning wheels. And as for memory …” She shrugged. “Think of it
like this: you changed my past, and here’s the automatic effect. I remember
seeing you at Pier Fifty-four. But if you met me three years from now, maybe I
wouldn’t remember this.”

Monroe
stopped. “Why?”

“Because
timelines are a tricky business. But whatever you make happen, still happens.
Barring the headache, I could always go back in time and rewatch my past to
find changes. Anything that happens outside of time
happens
, unless it
gets specifically changed by another time traveler.”

Explanations
about memory, about time, those weren’t important. “Why are we in such a rush?”
Charlotte asked instead. “What’s going on?”

“Is
that …” Bill said from behind, his voice a bare whisper. “It’s not glass, but
it’s a wall …” When Charlotte looked, he was reaching a hand out to a
shimmering storefront. He was right. The brick wall was somehow see-through,
towering displays of soap visible inside. “And the cars? Is the Triangle still
car free? Or are cars nonexistent?”

Charlotte
shook herself. Gripped Ana’s shoulder. “
Where
are we going?”

Ana
ducked her shoulder down, bent it around until Charlotte’s hand fell. Almost
the exact move she’d used inside the Octagon. “Where do you think?” She peered
at Charlotte, but kept walking. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You want me
stopped; so do I. Where do you
think
I’m taking you?”

Charlotte
inhaled. “The next bomb is here?” If they were going to see Ana’s past self, to
stop the next bomb, she had to go. Had to get Charlie and Felix; make sure that
black-haired boy and his drawings were always a part of her life.

“Don’t
be absurd.” Ana waved the idea away. “That would be far too risky, hoping that
the city would rebuild, or that the bomb would fall. No, no, no. Far simpler to
put them in the past. Anyway, it gave me a chance to explore New York’s
history.”

Charlotte
allowed herself to exhale. To listen as Bill said, “But I tried that.” His arm
was still out to feel the passing buildings, but his focus was on Ana. “I
looked all through history, every important moment. I talked to dozens,
hundreds of people to amass my list. And found
nothing
. Where were you?”

Ana
shrugged. “That’s not important. Where I was before and after I set each bomb?”
She waved a hand, as if the idea were a pungent smell. “Here.” She turned from
the shoreline and wound her way into a darker alley.

Just
like when Charlotte had visited Leanor’s apartment, the bright lights from the
waterfront faded, only the neon light pollution in the sky showing that they
were still in the future. The buildings around weren’t composed of the same
shimmering brick. There were no bright pinks, greens, blues illuminating
everything. No crowds. The alleyway was empty. Dirt clogged the cobblestone
street. The single streetlight placed over a handleless door flickered between
off and somewhat lit. No matter how much time passed, how many people lived
here now, or what inventions were commonplace, the grit of New York couldn’t be
washed away.

“C’mon,”
Ana said, her voice now dropped to a low whisper. “Up here.” From a normal
brick wall, she pulled out metal piping that Charlotte hadn’t seen before. A
way of decluttering the alley, perhaps. “Hurry.” She scaled the ladder, and
Charlotte followed.

What
other choice did she have?

Bill
and Monroe joined them at the top, cramming onto a small balcony twenty feet
above the cobblestone alleyway.

“Now
will—”

Ana
shushed Charlotte.

Whispering
now, Charlotte asked, “Why are we here?”

Ana
nodded, crouching down. “I have a little time to explain. Not much.”

“What
d’you mean, a little time?” Monroe asked, one ear leaned toward Ana. “Can’t we
just … ?” He spun an invisible astrolabe in his hands, then released. “Right?”

“They’ll
be here soon.”

“They?”
Charlotte asked.

“Paris,”
Bill said. “Who else?”

Staring
into the shadows below, Ana pressed herself against the brick wall, still
crouching. “The Council,” she whispered. “Alek, Cora, and—yes—Paris.”

As
Charlotte watched, three figures appeared in the alleyway below. She recognized
the short, squat shape of Paris instantly. Beside him was a taller man with
pale skin that reflected the light above. And on his opposite side, a woman
with bloodred hair.

Charlotte
snaked a hand out, clutched whatever she grabbed of Ana’s clothes. “Why are we
here?” she asked once more, her voice now hoarse, fearful. They couldn’t change
too much. Shouldn’t mess with the very people who would take Charlie.

In
a quick whisper, Ana said, “I thought I was free. I’d escaped their prison,
jumped through time. No matter how far I ran, they followed. Soon I’ll appear
right between them. They won’t let me be. They won’t allow me to breathe, to
rest, to
live
. The only way I’ll get away from them is when I destroy my
time device. By then it’ll be too late.”

Charlotte
tried to listen. Tried to imagine three people chasing Ana all her life. Three
people who wanted to stop her. Wasn’t that what she, Bill, and Monroe had
become? What made this “Council” below any different? But while these facts
were interesting, they didn’t seem to answer her question. Why had Ana brought
them here instead of offering information?

“Prison?”
Monroe asked.

“We
didn’t come for this,” Charlotte hissed. “We came because we can’t find you.”

Ana
squinted at her. “I know. That’s why I brought you here.” She shook her head.
“All this time you’ve been chasing me, trying to stop the Blast. But
this
is how. If you fight the Council, distract them, then I’ll get away clean. If
they leave me be, then I’ll have no reason to stop them. I won’t set off the
Blast. Right now? I’ve had enough. In our time …” Ana glanced to the waiting
Council below, then focused on Monroe. “I discovered time travel. I gave it to
my people. My
time
. To free them from the Council’s tyranny. But the
moment it was released, suddenly, it had always been the Council’s device. I
was in jail, my device stolen and now selling to each person for their last
ounce of money. Once everyone had a device of their own, once they went
sightseeing on their first trip, the Council set off an EMP through time. They
stranded them. Anyone they hadn’t jailed was left in time.”

Beside
Charlotte, Bill took Ana’s fist, spread it open. Clung to it. Monroe snaked a
hand across Ana’s shoulders. But Charlotte couldn’t comfort the woman. If
this
—whatever
Ana meant by that—was the way to stop the Blast, then they shouldn’t be here.
Or, rather, Charlie and Felix should be, too.

“Then?”
Bill whispered.

“My
people—now trapped in time—retaliated somehow. Changed our history.” With her
free hand, Ana made unfinished shapes in the air. “Endless snow came, ruining
our age. With no one left, with the atmosphere ruined, the Council fled.
Abandoned our time. But when they did, I got free. I traveled through time
myself, but they were ready.
There
.” Again she nodded down to the
street.

With
a flash, another figure appeared, this one dressed not in a sleek suit, like
the Council, but in rags. Even two stories below in the flickering dark,
Charlotte saw burns spiraling up Ana’s—the Ana below—arms. Stained lines of
blood ran across the back of her tattered shirt.

Ana’s
story had caught up with them. Charlotte’s fingers twitched at her side,
feeling the glass orb within her bag. She could run now, grab Charlie and
Felix, return. But not without jumping down. Not without the Council—without
Paris—seeing her.

“Please,”
Ana begged. “
This
is the crossroads. If you
save me here, tell me to destroy the device, I’ll get away from them.” She
watched them, her brow furrowing deeper. “You don’t know, do you? What the
Blast did, you don’t know.”

Bill
crossed his arms. “Sent millions of New Yorkers through time.”

Ana
shook her head. “
No
. I mean, yes, it did. But the point was to take
them
through time.” She nodded down to the three figures closing in on the Ana in
rags. “I found the moment they entered history—
your
time—and I stopped
them.”

“So
the Blast,” Charlotte said, “was for three people?” She couldn’t help but
glance at Bill as bile rose in her throat.

“I
didn’t mean for it to be so big,” Ana said, but then her eyes flicked back up,
alight with fire. “But if you stop them here,
save me
here, then I won’t
resent them. I won’t make the Blast. Everything can change
here
. No
bombs to defuse at all. Don’t you see?”

“You
said time traveler’s actions
stay
in time,” Monroe said.

“Not
if another time traveler interferes.
Now
, please.”

Could
this have been what Leanor wanted a few days—hundreds of years—ago? Was this
what Charlotte was meant to do all along—come here, stop Ana from being
tortured? But why encourage Charlotte to learn the technology? Why have her
create the astrolabe? Why not find some cops, someone who—

Bill
slammed the ladder from its hiding spot. He slid down the side pipe, his legs
barely keeping him from falling the entire distance. Monroe was right behind
him, clambering down instead of gracefully falling like Bill.

“No,”
Charlotte told Ana, her voice quavering. “My son. I’ll lose him and—”

“
This
is why I brought you here,” Ana said, her teeth gritted together. “I thought
you
wanted
to save New York?” There was something odd in her eyes. A
fervor, a desperation that Charlotte had never seen in her mentor, even that
day in her apartment. That woman was cautious. She was wise. Her plan must’ve
been something she’d worked on for decades. Finding the right people, trusting
Charlotte.

Below,
Monroe called up, “Char! We need you!”

“I
can fix this,” Charlotte murmured to herself. “I can do both.”

“Who
the fuck are you?” came Paris’s snarl as Charlotte hefted herself over the
balcony. One last glance showed that Ana had gone, content that she’d set the
course right.

Even
if this
wasn’t
what Leanor had intended, what was the harm? She was
right. This was—or at least
could be
—a way of preventing the Blast. Now
that Charlotte knew who Ana truly was, stopping her here would likely stop her
from dying. She could change her timeline right now.

Charlotte
slammed to the ground, her hand already in her bag. “Be back in a sec,” she
told Monroe, whose eyes widened. Lights glittered from her bag as she hefted
the orb, spinning back, back, back, to their time.