Skyline (32 page)

“Only”—Monroe’s
heart thumped—“you need all of us. I can’t do this on my own.”

Alek’s
eyes narrowed. “Fine. Cora, release them. Paris? You know what to do.”

Before
he could shout, pain coursed up Monroe’s arm, acrid smoke leaking from where
the metal touched his skin. Choking, retching, Monroe crumpled to the ground.
But as he heard the containment cell door click open, relief washed through
him, despite his burning arm.

He’d
saved Charlotte and Bill.

Charlotte’s
nose was pressed against the glass when the door to the containment cell
clicked. All she’d been able to make out were four blurry figures, one falling
to the floor seconds ago. As the door to the cell swung wide, the barren room
was flooded with screams.

Whoever
had gone down had been hurt badly.

“The
fuck?” Charlotte whispered.

Bill
lifted his eyebrows, just as confused. “A trap?”

It
didn’t really sound like a trap. They’d been confused when they appeared inside
the cell;
that
felt like a trap. But a scream? “Maybe it’s Ana?” That’s
the only thing Charlotte could think.

Staying
in a crouch, she tiptoed to the doorway, pushed it open a little farther, and
poked her head out. Then she saw Monroe.

She
raced to him, cradling his head in her lap as she sat. “’Roe, ’Roe! What
happened?” She’d held Leanor like this, too.

Her
brother’s body twitched as he clutched his arm. His face contorted as he
screamed, but occasionally a smile flickered there. When his eyes focused on
her, his scream cut off, but she could tell by his shivering limbs that he was
still in pain. “You’re safe,” he said. “They are too. Charlie and Felix. With
Bill.”

Charlotte
frowned, looked over as Bill joined her.

“With
. . .” he began. Then his eyes widened. “In the past.”

Monroe
jerked his head down—a nod.

Charlotte
looked from her brother to the three people who had brought her here. “We
trusted you,” she said. Why had she grabbed Cora’s hand?

“Well,”
said Alek, picking lint from his suit, “perhaps you shouldn’t have. You’ll be
happy to know that, thanks to this man’s arrival, your path has changed
course.”

His
ease, his indifference, his veiled irritation stung more than his words. They’d
never had any intention of working with Charlotte and Bill. Monroe wouldn’t
have come if they had. If they’d worked together, Monroe would never have known
they were in danger.

“Then
why are you torturing him?” came Bill’s voice from behind. Charlotte didn’t
need to look to know he’d stood, balled his fists up. She’d seen him at every
bomb site, heard that tone before.

“Oh,
right. Paris?”

The
squat, blue-haired man brought up a box and twisted a dial. Monroe’s body went
limp, and he sighed, his smile growing.

This
wasn’t like holding Leanor at all. Monroe was in control; Monroe was strong.
When had he become so strong?

“Come,”
Alek said. “We have work to do.”

Charlotte
clung to Monroe’s shoulder, helping him to his feet as she stood. “You’re crazy
if you think—”

“Come
or don’t,” Alek said, sweeping past her, through an open door, and across a
hallway.

“G-go,”
Monroe coughed. He shuffled a foot forward.

All
the time she and Bill had peered through the dim glass, they’d murmured about
why the Council would imprison them. Asked who the fourth shape could be.
Wondered at their future. All that time, Monroe had been working to change it.

She
had to honor the work he’d done.

Through
the hallway, an elevator stood open. For the little that Charlotte had seen of
this world, she was surprised at how normal it was. Wooden paneling on the
lower half, burnished metal above. Buttons that lit up when pressed.

They
joined the Council—Bill under one of Monroe’s arms and Charlotte supporting the
other—and Alek smirked. “As I thought.”

Paris
released a button marked, “Door open.”

Charlotte
blinked at the English words. The Council really had prepared. How long had
they planned to abandon this time? According to Ana, the weather had shifted
once everyone became trapped. How long ago was
that
? Long enough to
prepare this much? Or had the Council known what would happen?

The
doors slid closed, and the interior of the elevator flashed white. Only a
second after the doors had closed, they opened again, showing a different floor
entirely. Charlotte shook herself. Moving through space within seconds—that was
exactly how the Council had brought her and Bill here.

What
did that mean, that they added English words to their insane technology? Charlotte
shivered.

They
were going to wield their technology in New York exactly as they had here.

“Cora?
The memory.”

“I
know, Alek,” she said, and slipped off the elevator. “And I have a little
theory to check on.” She glanced back, her eyes flicking between Charlotte and
Monroe. But she didn’t explain. The doors slid shut as Charlotte opened her
mouth to ask.

With
a flash, they were on a different floor—the highest, according to the display
above. The doors slid open, daylight washing over Paris as he walked away. “The
orb. I know, Alek.”

“What
are we doing?” Charlotte asked, stepping forward. She’d imagined another trap,
cells or some technology waiting to betray them. Instead, the room contained
hundreds or thousands of different plants. The entire ceiling was composed of
warm orange lights. The clouds outside were visible through wraparound windows,
but seemed distant, impossible. Birdsong lilted everywhere, even though there
were no birds in sight. To Monroe, Charlotte asked, “What did you tell them?
What’s the plan?”

He
shook his head, eyes still closed as he scratched his arm. A metal spiral
wrapped around it, Monroe’s skin raw at the edges.

“What
is this?” she asked, but he yanked his arm away from her touch. This was the
source of his scream.

“We’re
here; we’re following,” Bill said. “Can’t you remove that thing?”

Alek
tutted. “You hardly came with us of your own volition. Think of it as, ah …” He
turned to Paris.

“An
incentive,” came the response, but Paris didn’t look up from his spot on the
opposite side of the room.

Goose
bumps prickled up Charlotte’s arms.

“Yes,
incentive. I’m certain Leanor told you some lies about us, yes? I saw it in
your eyes on the street. It’s even clearer now. What did she tell you? We
enslaved our people? We were responsible for every ill of our time?”

“We
know what she did to New York City.” But Charlotte could see Alek wasn’t buying
that. She’d have to tell him a little of the truth. “You tortured her.”
Charlotte had seen lashes on her back when she’d appeared in rags. And, looking
at Monroe’s arm, Charlotte remembered that Leanor always wore long sleeves.

“Ah,
yes, that old gem. Did she tell you how we caught her initially? Those bombs
weren’t her first attempt at stopping us. No. See, one evening, our alarms let
us know there was a break-in. She sneaked in—presumably the same way she did
today—and was about to travel back in time when we caught her. Where do you
think she was headed? Back in time to give money to the masses? Forward to get
help? No, no. She wanted to go back to the moment before she’d invented time
travel.”

He
paused, letting Charlotte figure out what that would mean. It was a familiar
enough story. What had Leanor trained Charlotte for? “She wanted to stop
herself.”

“Perhaps.
Stop herself, stop us. We never figured out which, though we each have our
theories.”

Paris
snorted, and Charlotte looked his way. He was at a stone pedestal, tapping away
at the top. Working fast on something. Monroe’s plan? Or some new trap?

Charlotte
shook herself, focusing on Alek. “Wouldn’t stopping her invention solve
everything?” Monroe felt stronger beside her, so she let him stand on his own,
looking his way. Looking to Bill for his sci-fi expertise. “Without time
travel, your world would go back to the way it was.”

Alek
tilted his head. “Would it? Think—if you return to
your
era and find
that you have not invented time travel, will you still have traveled? Will you
have your memories? Most important, would you still have your time device?”

They’d
talked about this with Leanor—in the future. If something happens out of time,
it stays out of time. That way paradoxes were avoided. But if they returned,
what then? Their actions remained, but would they be unchanged? Or would that
drastic a change affect them?

Before
Charlotte could hazard a guess, Bill said, “We would.” Turning to Monroe and
Charlotte, he whispered, “Think. Where are Charlie and Felix? They’re with me
in the past. But I
died
.”

“Exactly.
You would. So would our people. Except”—Alek held up a finger—“we would lose
any way of tracking them.”

Charlotte
gulped. Ana had said that the stranded time travelers had destroyed this world.
She must have thought this was a way to stop it before it happened, but she was
wrong. She hadn’t thought of the actual consequences, just blindly stabbed at a
plan.

Just
like her bombs in New York City. Just like her plan to save herself in the
future. Until she grew old, Leanor would never learn to think before acting.

But
Monroe was scratching at his arm, his lips pulled into a grimace, even as his
breathing slowed. The Council didn’t think before acting either. They’d been
about to imprison Charlotte and Bill; they’d slapped that cuff on Monroe and
refused to take it off.

“So
what’s the plan?”

The
elevator dinged behind them, and Alek nodded to Cora as she strode over. “Cora.
Perfect timing.”

“I
was
right
, Alek. They’re—”

“The
memory?”

“Here.”
Cora tossed a small object through the air to him, touched her ear, and began
gabbling in their foreign language. Sharing a secret that seemed to amuse Alek.
Paris turned at her words, glanced at Charlotte and Monroe. Smiled, but not his
usual predatory smile. It was something else. It almost reminded Charlotte of
his odd look when he’d returned Charlie. He continued working at his pedestal.

There
were too many secrets. Leanor hadn’t told Charlotte the truth, but she’d
expected Charlotte to figure it out. The Council would never explain
themselves.

How
had Monroe trusted them?

“Your
brother,” Alek said, his hand on his ear, “helped us realize we’ve been focusing
on the wrong aspect of Leanor. Perhaps we were wrong to torture her. Perhaps we
shouldn’t have treated her as an unfeeling enemy. He claims there’s a much
easier way to stop her. See if you agree.”

He
held out his palm, which contained what Cora had tossed over—a small marble. It
didn’t look special. Just a simple multicolored glass orb. But then, at first
glance, Charlotte’s astrolabe didn’t look too special either. So she watched
and waited.

Alek
rolled the marble onto his fingers, held it between his thumb and forefinger,
then pinched. Light burst forth, not just illuminating their surroundings, but
changing them.

Gone
was the ceiling with its warm lights, replaced by an impossibly blue sky. 
Charlotte stepped through the plants toward the room’s edge, now ringed in an
ornate golden railing instead of glass. Below, hundreds of buildings sprawled
out. The streets zigged and zagged around, their pattern ridiculous in
comparison to New York’s grid. Bright green trees covered every building, and
between the leaves Charlotte saw people.

Leanor’s
people.

Eating,
drinking, chatting and laughing as if nothing were wrong. As if their world had
never been ruined by time travel and ice. Birds wheeled through the air. Nearby
a chipmunk sprinted across an open space between the plants.

Everything
clicked into place. This wasn’t just Monroe’s plan for how to stop the bombs.
It was so much more than that. So much goddamn more. He was doing precisely
what Charlotte had wanted to do once she realized who Ana was. Who Ana could
become. Monroe had convinced the Council to get her to
regret
.

The
lights flickered off, and the room was once more encased in glass walls and a
lit ceiling. But after the memory, this room seemed gloomy. A mere shadow of
what it had once been.

“You
see?” Alek said. Charlotte turned and saw Monroe look at her, nod—grimace
slightly—then grin. “Good. Just a little recalculation, and we’ll send you on
your way.” He lofted the marble across the room to Paris, who fitted the tiny
sphere into the pedestal and kept typing.

“What’s
he doing?” Charlotte asked, stepping closer.

“As
I said”—Alek stepped in front of her—“recalculating. No need to scare the
locals with a bizarre vista. Paris is making sure that only you three and
Leanor will see the memory.”

Charlotte
glanced at Bill, who lifted his shoulders. She looked at Monroe, and he ever so
slightly shook his head. This wasn’t a part of his plan. Wasn’t something that
they should trust.

“Fair
enough,” Charlotte said, but her heart sank. If whatever they were doing
diminished the view of Leanor’s city, she wouldn’t be affected. Monroe’s great
plan, his perfect method of stopping Ana once and for all—of turning her into
the Leanor they knew—would fail.