The Golden Spiral (20 page)

“She said no,” Natalie said, shoving V hard in the shoulder. “Leave us alone.”

“It’s too dangerous—” The words poured out of V in a low stream of urgency. His dark eyes were ringed with a wild flicker of light. “He doesn’t know I’m here, not yet, but he’ll find out. He’ll find me here. It’s a lodestone location. We have to
go. Now.
”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said. I rested my hand lightly atop my table knife. I knew V was more powerful now that he’d been through the door a second time—my wrist still ached from Zo’s grip—and a cut probably wouldn’t slow him down, but maybe, if I surprised him, it would give us enough time to get away. I tried to catch Natalie’s eye, let her know what I was thinking.

I would have to time it perfectly. I only had one chance . . .

A tremor shuddered through V’s body, leaving a frozen stillness in its wake. “The streams are converging. The choices narrowing. The paths that lead away—” V’s eyes flickered right and left, as though skimming a page of instructions only he could see.

I scanned the café again, scouting for the fastest route to the door. I might not have a better opportunity than right now, while he was distracted. In the instant my hand moved, V’s own hand shot out and snaked the knife away from under my fingers.

I heard Natalie echo my gasp at his speed.

“And now there is only one path,” V said. He stood up slowly from the table, slipping the knife into his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to do that, but he’s coming. And you
cannot
be here when he arrives.”

“Who?” Natalie demanded. “Who is coming? I don’t understand—”

V merely touched two fingers to his wrist hidden beneath his jacket cuff and I knew. And worse, I knew V was right. If Zo was coming here, then I didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when he arrived. I’d already met him once today and that was enough. I slid to the edge of the booth.

“C’mon, Natalie, let’s go.”

“What? Why?” Natalie frowned, but she followed my lead, picking up her bag and reaching inside. “Do you have cash? We can’t just leave.”

V reached into his pocket and grabbed a handful of bills, tossing them on the table. Then he turned and started for the front door.

Natalie paused, her hand in her bag, and then looked from V’s broad back to me and back again. “Gee, thanks.”

I heard a faint rustling, like leaves being tossed by a hot wind. The voices were back, but garbled, broken up and stuttering.

I’ll follow you . . . I’ll stop you . . .

But then, through the lumps of sound, three words rose to the surface:
She’ll be mine . . .

“Hurry up, Natalie,” I whispered, feeling the room start to close around me. I had never been claustrophobic before, and now certainly wasn’t the time to start.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, turning me to face the door and gently pushing on my shoulders. “Let’s go, then. But I don’t see what the big rush is.”

V was already at the door, his hand resting on the bar, his fingers tapping a fast rhythm on the metal. As we approached, he pushed open the door and let us walk past him. He seemed to radiate a strange energy, and when I brushed against his jacket, I caught the acrid scent of burnt electricity. Like lightning had just struck—or was just about to.

“We’re still too close,” V said, walking across the parking lot with fast, wide strides.

I took a step after him, but Natalie grabbed my hand.

“Abby, what are you doing? You can’t go with him. Let’s get out of here.”

I sighed. All the words were there, right there behind my teeth, words that would explain everything. But I couldn’t say any of them. Not yet. Instead I said, “It’s okay. I know him. Just . . . trust me, okay?”

Natalie hesitated and I took the opening. As much as I didn’t want to involve her in this madness, or put her at risk, I also didn’t want to go with V all alone. I squeezed her hand, offered her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and then pulled her behind me as I followed in V’s wake.

V had stopped by Natalie’s car, frowning in impatience. “Open it. We have to go.”

“I have a name, you know,” she said.

V shook his head. “Names are dangerous. He’s listening for them.”

“He can hear us?” I looked around as though Zo were already standing behind me.

“Not exactly. It’s more like . . . vibrations. I’ll explain later.”

I touched Natalie’s arm. “Would you drive?”

She reached into her bag and withdrew her keys, jangling them in her fingers. She twisted her mouth. “Do I have a choice?”

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Oh, I know you will,” she said. “Just promise me that you’ll tell me what’s going on. The truth. The whole truth. Everything.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Promise.”

“Okay.” Natalie unlocked the driver’s side door and popped the locks on the other doors. “Then get in and let’s go.”

“About time,” V muttered as he climbed into the backseat.

“Where to?” Natalie asked as I joined her in the front and she turned the key.

I glanced at V, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. The idea that Zo was listening to us made silence an attractive option.

“It doesn’t matter—just someplace new. Somewhere you don’t usually go. The sooner we get lost, the better.”

I looked at Natalie and took a chance that this version of Natalie remembered the same things I did. “The alphabet game?”

Grinning, she nodded. “Good idea.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and buckled my seat belt.

Long before any of us could drive, Natalie, Valerie, and I would ride our bikes around the neighborhood. The summer of our fifth-grade year, Natalie had become obsessed with maps and mazes. She drew up a plan of the entire neighborhood, marking the fastest routes to various destinations—the school, the church, each of our houses—often finding rarely traveled, winding back roads. That was the summer she also invented the alphabet game. We would ride our bikes to an intersection, and if the cross street started with a letter A through J, we’d turn right; K through S, we’d go straight through; and T through Z, we’d turn left. At the next street, we’d rotate the rules.

We once spent a whole Saturday playing the game until we ended up at least a half mile from home at a small place none of us had ever heard of before: Phillips Park. It turned out there was a much shorter, more direct route to the park, and once Natalie had mapped it for us, Phillips Park became our destination of choice for long summer afternoons.

Natalie stopped at the corner. “Bluebell Avenue,” she read, and flipped the blinker before turning right.

We drove in silence for a while, Natalie making the turns as the game required. I tried to marshal my thoughts and questions into some kind of order. I had so many, it was hard to choose, so I started with what I thought was the most important one.

I twisted in my seat, pinning V with a hard gaze. “What are you doing here?”

He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder as though we were being followed.

“How did you find me?” I tried another one.

He pressed his lips together, clearly unwilling to answer.

“What do you want?”

At that, V’s face closed with a hard snap of repressed anger. His dark eyes seemed even darker and a flush crept up the sides of his neck.

I glanced at Natalie, who was turning left on Tulip Court, and saw a small local strip mall up ahead. I pointed to the parking lot of a tanning salon. “Pull in there.”

She did, sliding her car into a space by the curb. She turned the car off and unbuckled her seat belt. I reached over and pushed the automatic locks; the resulting click sounded loud in the silent car. We both turned to V.

“We’re here,” I said, “at a totally random place we’ve never been before because you wanted to get away from Zo.”

V’s jaw tightened at the name, the flush spreading like a wound.

“We’re as hidden as we can be, I guess. And you said we had to talk. So start talking.”

V looked out the window, down and away. Tension coiled around him like a whip, taut and thick. He clenched his hands into fists and swallowed hard.

After a long silence, I spoke again. “Fine. Be that way.” I turned around in my seat and rebuckled my seat belt. “Let’s go, Nat. This is obviously some kind of game for him.”

“No, wait—” V grabbed my shoulder.

I cocked my head to let him know I was listening.

“I’ll talk.”

I exchanged a glance with Natalie.

“Hey, do what you want. I’m just the driver.” She shrugged. “I won’t interrupt.”

I turned around to face V. “Let’s start with an easy one. What did you mean when you said Helen’s was a lodestone location?”

V sighed, slumping in his seat. The tension was gone, replaced by a visible weariness. “Places where you spend a lot of time are brighter, easier to see from the other side. So are places where you have strong memories or emotional ties. We are drawn to those places—like Helen’s Café—because they provide the easiest access to your specific timeline.”

Natalie leaned forward, but I didn’t look at her. I didn’t have time to answer her questions or try to explain.

“Tell me why Zo is targeting my specific timeline.”

“Stop saying his name,” V growled. “I told you—it’s dangerous.”

I remembered how upset Valerie had been when I’d said Zo’s name and I felt a shiver run through me.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Tell me why
he
is targeting me specifically.”

V shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he needs you.”

I wanted to slap him. Zo had said the same thing to me in the park. I’d had enough of riddles and strange Italian men with their mysterious ways and cryptic comments. I wanted answers. And I wanted them now.

“What does he want? What is he planning to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar,” I snapped. “You’ve been working with him. You do everything he says.”

“Not anymore,” V said.

I drew in a sharp breath. Zo hadn’t mentioned this change. “Why should I believe you?”

V whipped his head back to me. “He ruined my life.”

“Join the club.”

“I suppose I deserve that,” V said, “considering.”

“Considering what? You’ve been doing
his
bidding all this time and now you want me to talk to you—to trust you—and I’m still not sure I can do either one.”

“I know. It was a gamble to contact you, but the streams were pretty clear. If I wanted to see her again, I had to go through you.”

“See who?”

A smile crossed his face for the first time all day and a softness entered his eyes. “Valerie.”

“You want to see her again?” I asked in disbelief, hearing a soft gasp of amazement from Natalie. “After what you did to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her—”

“As I recall,
you
were the one who pushed her into the river,” I pointed out.

“You know what he can do on the bank. You were there. You know. You remember.”

I did remember—that loose-limbed sense of well-being, the urge of instant obedience, the gratitude at being able to serve—and I shivered a little inside.

“I didn’t have a choice,” V said, a muscle tightening along his jaw.

“And if you did have a choice?” I asked. “What then? What would you have done?”

“I would have gone with her.” V’s voice was low and confidential. “I would have taken her away from all . . . this. I would have protected her.”

“The way you protected her before? You knew what kind of person you were dealing with. You knew what he was planning. You must have known there was the chance Valerie wouldn’t survive—” My voice broke, but I forced myself to continue. “And now she’s his—body and soul . . . and what mind she has left.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

“Then what was it supposed to be like? What was your big plan, if not to take her to the bank like you did?”

“The plan was always to go back. All we wanted was to go home. And he said Valerie wouldn’t get hurt.”

“And you believed him?” I rocked back in my seat from sheer astonishment.

“
You
went to the bank and nothing bad happened to you,” he retorted. “It was a reasonable promise to believe.”

“Nothing bad happened to me on the bank?” I repeated. “My whole life changed there—and not all for the better.”

“But some of it did change for the better, right? It wasn’t
all
bad—not like for Valerie.”

“Stop saying her name.” My voice shook in my throat. “You’re not her friend. You don’t know anything about her—”

“I know I loved her,” he said quietly. “I know I would give anything to take back that moment. If it meant she would be well again . . . I’d do whatever I could to make it right.”

“You couldn’t have loved her. You hardly knew her,” I
stammered. I risked a glance at Natalie, but she was as surprised as I was by the news. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and I cast about for something solid to hang my swirling thoughts on. “She was his girl . . .”