“And that’s the truth of it,” Phoebe interjected. “Could’ve smashed them to pulp had he not been so gentle.”
“All of a sudden,” Doug said, “this tiny creature comes wading into the crowd, braids flying, yellow lunch box swinging in a mad arc. Let’s just say some of those brats lost their milk teeth that day.”
He smiled at me over her head. “She passed me a note in class the next day. It said ‘Will you marry me? Check yes or no.’ Of course, I checked yes so hard it tore the paper.”
“Made you fall in love with me, though, didn’t I?” Phoebe said.
“Aye.” He tugged her into his lap. “I guess you did at that.”
They giggled together, their warmth so genuine, it flowed over me like a summer wind. I turned away, knowing I’d never experience a love like that. One built on that kind of shared history.
My mind flipped back to those moments at the river when Bran Cameron and I had said goodbye. The entire ride down the mountain, I’d felt like an idiot for being disappointed. I mean, why on earth would someone like Bran Cameron kiss me? He was just being nice because I’d helped him. That was it. Still, when we parted, he’d stared down at me with an odd look I was still trying to interpret.
The next day, Lucinda, Mac, and Moira left for Edinburgh on some business they wouldn’t share, while Phoebe and Doug traipsed down to the village for lunch and some alone time. Collum? Who knew where he was. Probably eviscerating some poor, innocent target dummy with his big, shiny sword.
Just before they left, Lucinda had entered the library, where I lay sprawled on the tatty leather sofa, idly skimming through yet another description of the coronation of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine.
“Here,” she’d said, placing a stack of leather-bound books on the long table. “Read through these while we’re gone. I believe they may answer some of your questions and give you a better background on what the early Viators faced.”
When she was gone, I realized my aunt looked even worse than before. Drawn, and so, so pale.
Unsettled, I moved to the table and began thumbing through the journals. They began with Jonathan Carlyle, son of the Viators’ founder, and my mom’s great-grandfather. Though difficult to follow at first, I was soon tearing through the looping Victorian script.
January 1895. Tesla’s machines are a marvel. To think technology could come so far. Julia understands it better than I. My darling bride has an acute mind, while mine is that of a plodding historian. Nikola believes his alternating current disrupts the strange power flowing through the cavern below, causing the cyclonic rift. He is less certain of the opal’s significance. Yet after MacPherson’s illness, we dare not travel without one.
Had we only known. I can hardly bear to render this account. I do so now only to warn future travelers.
My father, Dr. Alvarez, and Julia’s brother, Luis, were due back. Three days is all the time this majestic power will lend. I was almost to the cavern when I heard the cries and the rush of the dark cyclone.
As I entered the cave, the sight before me was unimaginable. My father, on his knees with a rucksack clenched in one hand, weeping like a child. Julia’s father, on his feet, Luis clasped to his breast. And I—I can barely put to page what I saw next.
I’m ashamed to admit my knees went weak. For though Julia’s father held on to his son desperately as he howled his grief, from the waist down my beloved’s brother was simply gone, as if a cosmic force had ripped him in half. Blood rained down from Luis’s lifeless torso. And, as I looked on in utter horror, his entrails slithered out upon the tiles. I heard Julia’s tread upon the stair, heavy with our first child. I could not let her see such a terrible thing. I could scarcely stand it myself. What awful power do we play with?
I frowned as I turned to the next entry, dated five years later. From what I could tell, Dr. Alvarez had already left the group, who now called themselves Viators. Julia’s idea, and something of a joke to the early travelers. At first, Jonathan spoke only of the advancements his friend Tesla had made with the machines. A ticker tape now sprouted from the back of one of the mechanisms, which displayed the pulses in the lines of power. Matching the pulses with a log of their previous travels, they could determine the general place and era in which they would arrive.
I skimmed through several volumes. Jonathan eventually regained his sense of humor and wonder at the sights they encountered, and I fell again under his spell as he described what they’d seen and the riches they brought back.