The Golden Spiral (22 page)

“Thanks again,” I said to Natalie, my hand on the door handle. “For everything. I’ll see you soon, okay?” I climbed out of the car and waved as Natalie drove away.

Turning toward my house, I ran up the stairs and into my mom’s open arms.

As she folded me into her embrace, I was grateful that,
despite the many things that had changed in my life, there were some things that remained constant.

***

After a belated meal with my mom, and my constant reassurance that I was okay, that everything was fine, that I was sorry for having acted so strange and run away, I made my way up to my room, my thoughts crowded and thick. I deliberately avoided Hannah’s room; I didn’t think I could handle another look at the oddly sterile guest room that should have been alive with my sister’s life.

Collapsing on my bed, I didn’t even bother to question my next move. I knew what I wanted, or rather who I wanted.

Dante.

I didn’t think it was possible to ache so deeply for another person. And as much as I wanted to see him, to touch him, I would have given anything to just hear the sound of his voice again. Was that too much to ask? Just one small breath, an exhalation, even. That’s all it would take to say my name. Longing for him was a physical pain, a moving knot of nerves and raw emotion that seemed to travel at will inside me, flaring up at unexpected times. Like now.

I pressed my hands to my eyes, welcoming the darkness that rolled over me.

“Dante.” I whispered his name, just to feel it on my lips. I conjured his face in my mind, just to see his smile.

I felt the world shift around me and dropped my hands
in surprise. It had only taken an instant and I was on the dream-side of the bank, standing on my small island while the river churned in endless ripples and waves. The sky overhead was flat black. Out of the corners of my eyes I could see the glimmer of distant stars, though they disappeared when I looked directly at them.

My stomach dropped. Worry rubbed my mind like an itch. Usually I had come here because I had intended to. Only once before had it been a surprise. And what a surprise it had been.

But this time the transition had been almost immediate. I hadn’t had to work at it at all. I hadn’t been dreaming, or even sleepy. Had the barriers between my dreams and my life started to crumble as quickly as the bank was crumbling beneath my feet? I had been worried about not being able to come back. Perhaps I should have been worried about coming back too many times.

“Hello?” I whispered, wondering whose voice I would hear in reply. If I had to be here, I didn’t want Zo to be with me; I wanted Dante.

You came back.
His soft voice drifted from behind me, curling over my shoulder like smoke.

“Of course I came back,” I said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I hoped you would come. I prayed to be able to talk to you one more time. But I didn’t dare to believe . . .
Dante’s whispering voice lifted along the curve of my neck.
Oh, Abby. My angel.

I could imagine him standing behind me, his head close to mine. I could almost feel the heat from his mouth next to my ear.

Here in the darkness, all I want to see is your face. It’s so good to hear your voice and know you are close.
He breathed a laugh.
I’ve had so many conversations with you I’ve lost count.

“Oh?” I reached out my hand through the rippling air, searching for contact. “And what have we been talking about?”

He caught my hand and lifted it to his lips.
I told you about how we once walked the hills outside the villa where I grew up. It was summertime and the ground was covered with a blanket of wildflowers. I took your hand and we raced the sun over the green hills. You picked a flower for me and I tucked it into your hair. Later, we sat under the shade of a tree and you laid your head in my lap and I told you stories until you fell asleep.

Dante’s voice painted the scene so clearly that I could almost smell the heavy fragrance of flowers in my hair, on my skin.

I told you about the night I first met you and how seeing you lit up my life like the sunrise. I told you about da Vinci and his workshop. I told you my dreams—though they were all the same dream in the end.

“What dream was that?” The familiar coldness began creeping up my arm, but I simply held onto Dante’s hand tighter.

This one. The one where you come to me and set me free.

“Well, I can’t set you free quite yet. But I know how. I have a plan to bring you home.”

Home. I hardly know what that means anymore.
Dante sighed and the air around me shivered.
Is it the villa outside of Florence in the days before Orlando left for war? Is it the corner of da Vinci’s studio, when I sketched alone until dawn, lost in my work? Or is it the small apartment in the Dungeon where I learned from Leo how to start a new life?

“It’s all of them,” I said. “Home can be more than one place, you know. More than one time.”

No,
Dante said with quiet strength.
Home is wherever you are.

A wave of warmth lifted my heart in my chest, washing through me, threatening tears.

You are my constant, Abby,
Dante said, the cold from his hand flashing across my cheek as he traced the features of my face.
You are my North Star. I can always find you. No matter how dark it is, I can close my eyes and point directly to you.
His words were soft and low.
I feel like I’ve been cut adrift. But when I’m with you, I feel like myself again. I’m whole. I can rest. I need you, Abby,
he whispered.
I want to be where you are.

I felt a breath of coldness against my lips the moment before he kissed me.

No matter what,
he breathed into my ear,
I will find a way to come home to you.

I twined my fingers with his, pressing my palm flat against his. “I miss you, Dante. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss turning around and seeing you standing there. I miss feeling so safe when you’re with me.” The tears spilled over, and with them came all the words I’d been holding in for so long. The words I couldn’t say to anyone but Dante. “I’ve been trying to be brave and strong while you’ve been gone—”

You are brave—

“But it’s been getting harder and harder to hold on to my memories and to what I know to be true when I feel so alone.”

You’re not alone. You have your family—

I interrupted him with a bitter laugh. “No, I don’t. Not anymore. That’s the thing. Zo has taken them. He’s redirected the river and erased my dad and my sister from my life. Jason’s gone too. Zo’s changed everything.”

Oh, Abby—

“They’re gone, Dante,” I whispered. “Just . . . gone. But I remember them. How is it possible that I remember someone I never met?”

I wanted more than anything to be able to feel Dante’s arms around me, but though the barriers between us were thinner, they were still strong. The best I could hope for was what little we already had: our palms pressed together and the sound of his voice in my ear and his kiss.

“I told Natalie about you and the time machine and she
might
decide to believe me about the whole crazy mess—”

She’s your friend. She’ll believe you.

“She might, but she might not, and then what?”

Have you talked to Leo?

“Yeah, I have.” I sighed. “Leo thinks he might know a way to help stop the changes to the river, but I don’t know if it will work. And even if it does, I don’t know if it will help bring anyone back. Dante, what if I can never get my family back? What if I’ve lost them forever?”

Dante squeezed my fingers so tightly that I felt the pressure despite the glove of numbness that covered my hand.
Don’t say that. Don’t think like that. You told me that together we could do anything—even the impossible. Well, this is just a little more impossible than it was before, but we can fix this, Abby. We will. Together. I promise. Don’t let the darkness of doubt take hold of you. Trust me.

My tears slowed, finally stopping.

Now, tell me your idea to bring me home.

“I think if we modify the plans you left me, we can open the door to where you are and you can come home.”

Dante was quiet for a long time.

He let go of my hand and I pulled it back through the veil separating us. I shook my fingers, hoping to drive some warmth back into my fingertips. Wiping away the remains of my tears from my eyes with my other hand, I breathed in his silence. I loved the stillness that surrounded him whenever he was deep in thought. It reminded me of a hunting lion: all the energy was on the inside, coiled tight, until it was time, and then suddenly he would spring into action, never looking back.

Yes,
he finally said.
Yes, that could work. I think I see where to make the modifications, but you’ll need help. Oh, but you said Jason was gone . . .

“V will help me.”

What?

I told him about my conversation with V and how he had chosen Valerie over Zo. “V and I made a deal. He’ll help me with the door and I’m arranging for him to see Valerie again.”

Can you trust him?

I thought back to the look in V’s eyes when he told me he loved my friend. “Yes,” I said simply, “I can. I have to.”

Dante was quiet for a moment.
All right. That’s good. Then here’s what we need to do.

As Dante walked me through the modifications that would need to be made to the blueprints, I closed my eyes to help me focus on his words. I would have to remember every step, every change, and write it down the moment I could. I didn’t want to make a single mistake. I didn’t dare.

When he was finished, he made me repeat the steps back to him to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

Good,
Dante said.
You can do this. Remember—do what you have to do. Change what has to be changed.

“And come back when I can,” I finished. “I remember. I told V we had to build this now. We can’t wait until the first day of summer. We don’t have time to lose.
You
don’t have any time to lose.”

I’ll be fine,
Dante said, but I heard the hesitation in his voice.
Don’t worry about me.

“I can’t
not
worry about you.”

You’re sweet,
he said with a lightheartedness I knew he didn’t feel. Then he sighed.
I don’t know the answer, Abby. I can’t see how to get around the timeline. The schedule for building the machine is almost as important as the machine itself. The sequence is established for a reason. It’s a ritual wrought with power. Maybe once you have the plans in front of you, you’ll be able to see a solution. Something I can’t see here in the dark.

“I’ll find a way,” I said. “I won’t let the darkness take you.”

I know.

“I won’t let Zo take you either,” I added.

I know. But you don’t have to worry about that. Yes, there are dangers here in the darkness, but Zo isn’t one of them.

I frowned, remembering the whispered conversation I’d overheard at the café. “But I heard him talking to you . . .”

I promise you, Zo hasn’t contacted me or Tony.

“Tony is still with you? That’s good.”

Dante hesitated, letting the silence spin out between us.

“Please tell me Tony is okay,” I said quietly.

Ice lined the silence, waiting for one of us to crack it open with our words.

Tony is gone,
Dante said, his voice as soft as a breeze and as quick to disappear.
At least he wasn’t in pain
anymore. There at the end.

“Are you sure?” I covered my face with my hands. V’s word returned to me—
unraveled
—and I shuddered. I hadn’t known Tony well, but no one deserved to dissolve into darkness, lost and alone.

No. But that’s what I tell myself.

I could feel the edges around me thin as I started to lose my hold on the dream. “Dante,” I said, my voice suddenly fierce, “the stories you told to me under the tree? Do you remember them?”

I remember everything about you.

“The next time I see you, I want you to sit with me under a tree and I want you to tell me all your stories,” I said. “Every last one.”

I would love to.
Dante laughed a little.
Though that might take some time.

“Once you are out of the darkness, you can have all the time you want, forever.”

Forever might not be long enough.

“Then we’ll just have to see what’s on the other side of forever, won’t we?”

It’s a date,
Dante said.
And Abby?

The dream was fading fast. I could see the outline of my bedroom door, the desk, the window, emerging through the black shadows of the dreaming bank.