But the lights were too close, too bright, too plentiful. Had she brought them that near to a city? And why did the Ionian Sea feel flat as a millpond?
The mists cleared, and Diana glimpsed another light burning high in the sky, different from the others, a vibrant yellow torch held aloft by the statue of an Amazon, her stern face framed by a crown like a sunburst, her gown hanging in gray-green folds of weathered copper. Behind her, Diana could see the lights of a vast bridge.
“This isn’t right,” Diana said, standing slowly. “This isn’t Greece.”
Alia threw her head back and laughed, a sound of pure exuberance and relief and…pride.
“No way,” Alia whispered. She spread her arms wide, as if she could take the whole city into them, as if all of these lights had been lit to greet only her. “Welcome to the greatest city in the world, Diana. This is New York.” She whooped and turned her face to the sky. “This is home!”
What have I done? The air felt strange on Diana’s skin, gritty in her lungs. She could taste it in her mouth, dank and ashy against her tongue. The lights onshore seemed less like stars now than the bright reflection of predators’ eyes, wolves waiting in the dark.
She whirled on Alia. “What did you do?”
Alia held up her hands. “You were the one steering.”
“The heartstone was steering. I thought of the spring. I focused on the coast of…” Her words trailed off as she looked at Alia’s relieved, happy face. The heartstone was supposed to heed the desires of the woman who commanded it. Apparently, Alia’s will had been greater. “You were thinking of home.” She could not keep the accusation from her voice.
Alia shrugged. “Sorry?”
“I don’t think you are.”
A horn bellowed, closer this time, as a barge passed, trailed by a rolling wake that struck the remnants of their raft. They stumbled, managed to right themselves, but the raft was taking on water fast. Think, Diana scolded herself. The heartstone could only be used to leave Themyscira or return to it. She could use it to take them back to the island, then try again, but could Diana risk bringing the Warbringer back there? Would Alia or the island survive that?
To the east, she saw the beginnings of dawn tipping the sky gray. Her eyes scanned the horizon. New York. The island of Manhattan. Diana knew the maps well enough from her studies, knew she was thousands of miles from Therapne and the spring and any kind of hope.
She released a frustrated moan. “How did this happen?”
Alia smiled slightly. “I’ve been saying that all day.”
Had it only been a day? That morning, Diana’s sole worry had been losing a race. Now she had abandoned the only home and the only life she knew, and possibly doomed the world to a bloody age of war. Apparently she had a gift for disaster.
Make a new plan, she told herself. Soldiers adapt.
“We need to get to shore,” she said decisively. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Of course, they had no mast, no sail, and no way to steer. “We’re going to have to swim.”
Alia shuddered. “First rule of New York living: Do not swim in the Hudson. Do you know how polluted this water is?”
Diana eyed the river. It was an opaque blue verging on slate. It looked nothing like the clear waters of home. Still…
“Water is water,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. The wind and sea had torn the strand of Khione’s mane from Alia’s braids, and Diana’s own braid had come loose as well. They would be visible once they left the raft, but there was nothing to be done about it. She wrapped her arm around Alia.
“I can swim!” Alia protested.
“It’s dark out. I’m not taking any chances,” said Diana. And now that they were back in the mortal world, she wasn’t entirely sure that Alia wouldn’t just paddle away on her own.
Diana plunged them both into the river, and her whole body recoiled. The cold she had expected, but the water felt wrong. It was dense and clammy, like a moist palm clenching around her.
“Hey!” Alia complained, wriggling in her grasp. “Whoa, whoa, head east, toward Manhattan. Otherwise we’ll end up in Jersey.”
Diana kicked hard, eager to get them out of this…soup as fast as possible. Suddenly, Alia stiffened in her arms.
“What is it?” Diana asked. “Are the poisons of the water affecting you?”
“I remember.”
“Remember what?”
“This. You saving me from the wreck.”
“That seems unlikely. You were unconscious.”
Alia’s back was to her, but Diana felt her small shrug. “I remember the water turning warm.” She paused. “I remember thinking everything was going to be okay.”
Diana could hear the relief in her voice, the conviction that things had turned out all right. She thinks she’s safe now, Diana realized. She thinks this is over.
“There,” Alia said, craning her neck. “Straight ahead. That’s Battery Park.”
In the gray light, Diana could just make out the hulking shape rising from the water, and as they drew closer…She squinted. “Are those cannons?”
“They used to be. There’s a war memorial.”
Her mother had told her the mortal world was pocked with memorials and monuments to loss. They build with steel and stone and promise to remember, she’d said. But they never do.
“That’s the ferry,” said Alia as they crossed the wake of a slow-moving ship. “If they see us—”
“Take a breath.”
“But—”
Diana didn’t wait for an argument. She dunked them beneath the surface, continuing to swim. She wasn’t sure how long a mortal could hold her breath, but she counted twenty seconds.
As they reemerged, Alia hauled in a long breath and spat river water. “Oh God, water up the nose,” she gasped. “You’re lucky I’m so happy to be home.”
“I’m glad you’re in such a good mood,” Diana muttered.
“I’m being crushed by a grumpy giant and I probably just swallowed toxic waste, but, yeah, I am.”
Diana eased her hold slightly. It wasn’t fair to punish Alia for her desperation to return home. But that didn’t change the predicament they were in. Hekatombaion would begin with the rise of the new moon, and it was possible that they’d lost more than just a few hours when they’d broken through to the mortal world.
Diana saw ships moored near the park, their decks and masts still lit by a glittering spangle of lights, but would a ship be fast enough to get them to Greece in time? Diana thought of the planes she and Maeve had sometimes glimpsed above Themyscira. That was what she needed. She just had no idea where to get one.
When they reached the dock, Diana shifted her grip on Alia and grabbed hold of a pylon.
“Hold on to my neck,” she instructed. She’d expected an argument, but apparently Alia’s happy mood had made her compliant. She locked her arms over Diana’s shoulders without a single complaint. Even her grip was stronger away from Themyscira. If she was faring this well away from the island, Diana could only hope Alia’s absence would have a similar effect on Maeve.
Diana climbed the pylon and hauled them up to the dock, depositing Alia on the pavement with a thud. Alia flopped onto her back and flapped her arms back and forth.
“What are you doing?” said Diana.
“Making snow angels.”
“There’s no snow.”
“Okay,” admitted Alia, “I’m celebrating.”
Diana turned her back on Alia and the slate expanse of the river, intending to declare there was absolutely nothing to celebrate about this debacle, when she got her first real look at the city.