The Forgotten Locket (15 page)

I picked up Dante’s tattered bandage and handed it to him.

Looking at Valerie, I said to Dante, “We have to take her with us back through the river—you know that, right? We can’t leave her here.”

“I know,” he said without hesitation, knotting the cloth around his eyes once more.

“Will you be able to keep her calm?”

Now he hesitated. “I’ll do my best.”

I nodded wearily. It was all I could ask for. But when it came to Dante, his best was better than anyone else’s.

Chapter 11

The sunlight was blazing white after the flat gray of the bank. I blinked away my light-blindness, my eyes watering as my vision cleared. The pressure from the bank that had been building inside me snapped and slithered away. I wondered how long my sense of freedom would last this time.

We were standing outside the apothecary shop, which struck me as a little odd since Orlando and I had originally left for the bank from inside the shop. Then I thought about how unstable the river was; were things already changing? I hoped not. Of course, one change I didn’t mind was that this time Dante was next to me, holding Valerie in his arms. She stirred a little in her sleep, readjusting her position and nestling her face closer to the curve of Dante’s neck. I felt a deep sense of relief that she hadn’t woken up during our return trip through the river.

“We’re here,” I said softly to Dante. “We should take her inside. The door should still be unlocked. Let me help.” I pushed the door open, holding it so Dante could slip past me into the shop.

I helped Dante set Valerie down on the makeshift bed in the corner. She mumbled a little in her sleep but didn’t wake.

I glanced around the shop, expecting to see Orlando, but the room was empty except for the three of us.

Empty? Where was Orlando? He should be around here somewhere.

“Wait here,” I said to Dante, touching his arm.

Stepping back outside, I let the door swing shut behind me and turned in a tight circle outside the shop, studying every inch, every alley, every building around me.

A slight movement in the shadow of the building across the way caught my attention. I hurried over with quick steps.

“Orlando?”

He flinched away from me, his face pale. “Impossible,” he whispered.

I glanced over my shoulder, but we were alone. Dante was still inside with Valerie. “No. No, it’s all right. It’s me. I’m back.”

He swallowed hard. “You . . .” He drew a hand over his face. “It’s impossible,” he said again.

Too much about this situation—about my new life—was impossible. I touched Orlando’s arm. “It’s all right,” I said again, trying to make myself believe it too.

I wasn’t sure he heard me. His attention hovered past my shoulder and when he gently pushed me to the side, I turned, already knowing what he was looking at—or, in this case, whom.

Dante closed the door to the apothecary shop behind him, standing for a moment in a patch of sunlight. He removed his bandage, letting the strip of fabric dangle from his fingertips. He tilted his face up, his eyes closed to catch the warmth of the sun.

“Dante?” Orlando reached out his hand partway and then changed his mind, rubbing at his eyes with the edge of his wrist. He stepped out of the shadows, his stride uneven as he stumbled forward.

At the sound of his name, Dante spun on his heel, immediately balling up the bandage in his fist and hiding his hands behind his back. His eyes found mine and a strange mix of panic and relief flickered across his face. If I hadn’t been watching, I would have missed it.

“What are you doing here?” Orlando asked in confusion, drawing closer to his brother. “Why aren’t you with da Vinci? Is something wrong?”

I trailed after Orlando, wondering if I should say something. I even opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. In my other life—my life before I crossed through the door—Dante and I had talked about many things, but never about what to do when we faced overlapping timelines. Here, in this time, there was only one of me and only one of Orlando. But there were two Dantes: the one standing before us with the scar across his eyes and the gold chains across his skin, and the one crouching in a dark corner of a dungeon cell, unmarked, untested, and already counting down to the end of the world.

I knew instinctively that it was important to keep the two Dantes separate, to keep their timelines pure and parallel. But what about this? Dante and Orlando were face-to-face, with too many of the wrong questions waiting to be answered.

“Hello, Orlando,” Dante said, his voice husky. His eyes never left his brother’s face, though I knew he could only see Orlando in his memory. “I’ve been given leave to come home for a time.”

I drew alongside Orlando, who spared a moment to glance at me, a question in his eyes. “But I saw him on the bank . . .” he said to me.

“It’s all right,” I said with quiet confidence. I seemed to be saying that a lot, but I wasn’t sure I believed it myself yet. I could feel the pause in the flow of the river as time debated what to change, and how. I felt like I was standing on a bridge, holding a rock out over the edge, wondering when the rock would slip free and how big the splash would be when it did.

“What happened to your eyes?” Orlando asked Dante, a touch of horror in his voice.

Dante hesitated. “A fight I couldn’t avoid. I’m all right, but my sight is . . . compromised.”

“But you’ll get better?” Orlando said, and it was less a worried question than a hopeful statement.

“Eventually.” But Dante didn’t look at me when he said it. His expression closed, making it clear that that line of conversation was over. He cleared his throat. “Have you been home? Have you spoken to Mother and Father?”

Orlando faltered, and his eyes darkened with anxiety. He shook his head. He scratched at his arm, then, glancing down, quickly stopped. “If . . . when you speak to them . . . don’t tell them about me. Please?”

My heart hurt to hear the sadness in his voice.

Dante swallowed and I saw his body start to tremble. The muscles in his arms tightened as he gripped his wrists behind his back, trying to stay in control. “Why not? Don’t you want them to know that you’re safe? That you’re well?”

“Of course I do,” Orlando said automatically. “It’s . . . it’s complicated. It’s best if they don’t know where I am.” He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture so familiar to me, my mouth went dry. I’d seen Dante do it himself a thousand times before.

I looked between them both. They shared so much—the same hair and face and mannerisms, the same family. Now they shared the same secret, though Orlando didn’t know that yet. And, I realized with a rising sense of panic, he
couldn’t
know.

“You shouldn’t know where I am either,” Orlando said to Dante suddenly. “It’s not safe.”

That was the truth. Orlando had told me the story of how he hadn’t seen Dante at all between leaving him at da Vinci’s studio and finding him on the bank all those years later. My heart stuttered. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe this meeting had already changed things.

The rock was slipping free; the river was flexing.

I touched Orlando’s arm with a quick hand. “Wait here.” I closed the short distance between me and Dante, grabbing his arm and pulling him around the corner of the building.

“I’m sorry. I’d hoped he would be here when we returned, but I didn’t think . . . What should we do? How can we fix this?” I said fast and low; I didn’t want Orlando to hear me.

Dante drew in a deep breath. He reached his hands around to grasp mine, their touch cool and steady. He pressed his bandage into my hands and, after a quick squeeze, he let me go. Then very slowly, very deliberately, he folded his sleeves back, revealing the chains he had kept hidden. First one, then the other.

“Dante,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”

“What needs to be done,” he said quietly, his eyes clouding over.

“No. It’s too dangerous. For him. For everyone.” I glanced around the corner to see Orlando slumped against the wall, stripping thorns from the stalks of the rosebushes growing next to the sign. He kept glancing up, anxious for our return, wary of passing strangers and the possibility of being identified as a fugitive.

My heart sank under the weight of all the new questions I was sure he was dying to ask.

The river shivered and shifted, bending around this unexpected encounter.

“Why did you come back here, Abby?” Dante asked.

“What? You know why.”

“
I
know. But do you?”

I exhaled in frustration. “Of course
I
know why. I came back to close the loop, to stand in front of the dungeon doorway before you—the other you—traveled through the door. I’m here to protect the river and get it back on track. And keep it on track.”

Dante nodded. “And?”

“And if I can do that, then I can save my family as well. Restore them to the time and place where they belong.”

He relaxed. “Exactly,” he breathed. “That’s all I want to do too.”

“But how will telling Orlando the truth—about his past, his future, about
everything
—help restore my family?”

His eyes met mine, and I thought I saw a storm of light pass through them like lightning behind a cloud. “Because it can also restore
my
family.”

Understanding flooded through me. “Oh, Dante.” The words barely had shape or tone, just a sigh of empathy and love.

“I lost him once. I don’t want to lose him again.”

I slipped my hand back into Dante’s, our fingers automatically folding together.

“He’s my brother. How can I keep this secret from him? If I can help him, prepare him for what is coming . . .” Dante shrugged eloquently. “He would do it for me. He
did
do it for me.”

“But what about the river?” I asked. “What will happen now?”

“I don’t know. But the river is designed to accommodate change—it
is
change. And what did we come here for if not to change things? Fix things? Set things right?” He squeezed my hand in his. “I have to do it now. Once the door closes behind me—the other me—it’ll be too late. Whatever we have changed—or not changed—will be locked into place.”

He was right, and we both knew it. The rock was falling and there was no way to call it back. No way of telling how far the ripples would spread.

“Will you help me save my family?” he asked me.

“Of course I will.”

“Thank you.” He brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. “We should probably go back inside the shop.”

“Is that a good idea?” I asked. “I mean, Valerie is in there, isn’t she?”

Dante hesitated. “I don’t want to leave her alone for too long. It’ll be better if we’re all together—less dangerous for everyone. And if she needs help when she wakes up, I’ll be there.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Will you help me?”

“Yes.” I could feel the nervous energy crackling off him. I pressed his bandage back into his hand, but instead of covering his eyes with it, he shoved it into his pocket.

“Are you sure?” I asked, surprised.

He nodded, and I gave his hand a quick squeeze before leading him around the corner of the shop.

Orlando looked up as we approached, his eyebrows lifting at the sight of me holding hands with Dante.

“We need to talk,” I said. “All of us.”

“What’s going on?” Orlando asked me in a low voice. “How do you know my brother? He’s not even supposed to be here. Are your memories back? How . . . ?” He exhaled slowly, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “I don’t understand.”

“I know how you feel,” I said with a faint smile. “There’s a lot
to
understand, and all of it a little strange. And yes, my memories are back. Thanks to Dante. Come inside and we’ll answer all your questions. We’ll talk about everything.”

I could see his uncertainty battling with hope across his face. But in the end, I knew he would come. I knew hope would win. Dante was his brother, and Orlando always came through for his brother.

We entered the shop together, and I immediately looked at Valerie. She was still asleep and quiet. I hoped she would stay that way.

I helped Dante sit in the chair next to the window, then stepped back, close enough to help if he needed me, but far enough away to not intrude on the conversation.

Orlando sat down in the opposite chair. Tension hummed from his body. “Dante? What’s going on?”

Dante was silent for a long moment. Then he carefully pulled his folded sleeves even higher up his arms. The golden chains around his wrists were bright in the sunlight that fell through the window. He simply held out his arms . . . and waited.

Orlando sucked in a breath, his eyes flashing to me.

I half shrugged. “It’s okay,” I said, hoping that those small words would be enough to set him at ease.