Oceana’s anger battered against the shore, waves rising and crashing above their heads. “Brother—”
But the shadow of a ship passed over them, and her sea foam gaze lifted. The ship was being knocked between waves like a plaything.
Oceana rose from the ocean floor and Aetas followed. She spread out her hands, attempting to smooth the waves she had created in her agitation. Aetas broke the surface and watched the men aboard their ship fumble for lines and call out helpless orders. The waves were too strong; Oceana would need time to calm them.
Aetas drew in the time threads around himself, the ones that dove into the water and wrapped around the ship like golden twine. A sailor fell into the angry waters below. Aetas plucked a thread, and the man shot back onto the ship’s deck as if he had never left it.
Oceana joined her brother. “Aetas,” she warned, but he ignored her and continued to weave the threads into a new pattern.
At first, the pattern appeared to work. The ship began to right itself. The waves grew smaller. But then Aetas slipped, just a fraction of a fraction, and time pulsed around him.
Suddenly, the ship was gone.
“Brother, what have you done?” Oceana regarded him as if watching the end of the world. “Where have they disappeared to?”
Aetas did not know. The sailors could be anywhere in time, or perhaps they no longer existed.
Sick and weak, Aetas dove back into the cool, dark waters. Oceana followed.
“The power is too strong,” said Aetas. “I must do this.”
And perhaps his sister knew a fraction of a fraction of Chronos’s wrath, for she dipped her head and spread her hands. “Do what you think is best, Brother. I will assist in what ways I can.”
A week passed. Danny wanted to see Colton, to warn him about what had happened to the new Maldon tower, but he couldn’t find the strength to leave the house. There were more guards around Big Ben than ever, and the Lead was tearing his hair out.
Miraculously, neither Tom nor George had made Danny’s episode in their hospital room public, though they’d given his name to the nursing staff and, for whatever reason, asked that they go easy on him. Now Danny had a fine for disturbing the peace on top of everything else.
When his mother found out about the hospital incident, she didn’t even care. The Maldon news had disturbed her on some deep level. He found her sitting in the dark kitchen one day, her face twisted in confusion, as if she’d forgotten why she was there. He made her breakfast, but she only nibbled at it.
Nightmares sank their claws into him, and most nights he woke with a scream trapped in his throat. Sometimes he dreamed he was Lucas, watching the tower explode from the inside. Other times he dreamed he was outside, watching some nameless, faceless villain throw explosives at the tower; or a shadowy crowd picking the tower apart piece by piece. His father stood in the distance, a prisoner behind glass. Danny clawed at the barrier, desperate to break through, wondering if he saw his father or only a reflection—wondering if he was the one trapped. Christopher pounded on the glass and yelled for Danny to run, but his voice was muffled, his hands leaving smears of blood that spread and covered all of Maldon with a sinister scarlet shadow.
He wandered London in a daze, staring at the homeless urchins, grimacing at the helpful automatons. The stench of coal smoke made him think the whole city had caught fire. It ensnared him like a vise. The only relief came when he closed his eyes and thought of Enfield, the chime of clean wind through tree branches and lazy sunshine on thatched roofs.
It was hard to admit life ended. It was harder still to admit it went on. His melancholy gradually turned into acceptance. The new Maldon tower was gone, and Lucas had died. There was nothing he could do about either. He had to focus on what he could do: protect Colton and keep an eye on his mother. Try to change his fate.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Cassie asked one evening in the Harts’ sitting room. She had dropped by for dinner, a regular occurrence due to her parents’ lack of culinary skills. Danny flipped through a book on his lap, though he didn’t bother reading. His mother was already in bed.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Will they try to rebuild the Maldon tower, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” He stood and shoved the book back onto the shelf. “They’ll do whatever the Lead says.”
“Danny, I want to help you. What do you need?”
He needed Colton. He needed these attacks to stop. He needed his father.
“I don’t know, Cass.”
She played with the end of her braid. “Will you go to Enfield?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if I could take a look at your auto again.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. “I have an idea I’d like to test out.”
“Oh, Lord.” Images of his auto exploding flashed through his mind.