The Golden Spiral (24 page)

“Zo happened,” I said shortly. I wondered if the bridge would appear like it had the last time I had been on the bank, but there was nothing to disturb the flat expanse all the way to the horizon. Maybe since the original door had been destroyed, the bridge was gone too. I wondered if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Let’s hurry.” A muscle jumped in Leo’s jaw as he looked at the polluted river. “I don’t want you to be here any longer than you absolutely have to.”

I felt the same way.

“This is bad,” V said. “If Zo did this . . .”

Turning to V, I took a deep breath. “You said that you were blocked from entering the river at any point since January, right? You were denied direct access to my timeline.”

“Is that what this island is?” Leo asked me. “Are you protecting this part of the river?”

“I think so,” I said. “That’s why we had to come to the bank together.” I smiled at V. “You brought me to the bank, but I brought you to my island. And now that you’re here, you’re part of my timeline. Do you see? This island is the key that unlocks the door to my timeline. And when you step back into the river, you should be able to access last March without any problem.”

Leo placed his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Are you sure about this, Abby? I mean, are you sure you want to allow him access to your past like this?”

“Yes, Leo. I’m sure. I know it’s a risk, but no greater than the other risks I’ve taken. And if I have to make hard choices, I want to make the choice that will bring Dante back to me.”

Leo glanced over my shoulder at V. “What if he does something—?”

“I won’t,” V said, his back straight and steel in his eyes. “I promised Abby if she could get me to March, I would build her the door. We had a deal.”

“It’ll be okay, Leo,” I said quietly. “We can trust him.”

“When you go back,” Leo said to V, “you’ll be dealing with overlapping timelines. I don’t have any idea what will happen with two of you in the river at the same time, so make sure you stay out of everyone’s way—especially your own. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t do anything except build the door, and don’t build it where anyone will find it.”

“Where do you suggest?” he asked. “It’s a pretty big machine. It’s not like I can work on it just anywhere.”

The three of us looked at each other for a moment.

And then I asked almost casually, “Leo, did the Dungeon have a basement?”

“Yes, but—” He stopped and shook his head. “No. Not there. We’ll think of somewhere else.”

“Why not, Leo? It’s perfect.” I counted the points off on my fingers. “It’d be secluded and private. No one from Zero Hour ever went down there, did they?” I turned to V for confirmation and he shook his head. “There’d be enough space for the structure, right? And when V’s done, we’ll know right where the door is.”

Leo frowned. “What about the noise? No matter how good you are, no one could build a machine like that without drawing some attention.”

“The Dungeon was a noisy place, especially on Friday nights,” I pointed out. “And what about all those days when the Dungeon was closed, or when you and Dante were on the bank? I bet there would be plenty of downtime when V could make as much noise as he wanted and no one would notice.”

“What about supplies?” Leo countered. “Not only will you have to gather all the equipment and supplies, but you’ll have to smuggle them into the basement without my knowledge.”

“Do you still have the keys to the Dungeon?” I asked Leo.

“Of course.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key ring, displaying the small silver keys on his palm.

“What if you gave V the key to the basement?” I asked, eyeing the keys thoughtfully. “Then he could come and go as he pleased.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” V said. “As long as I stay out of your way, I should be able to get it done.”

“But that’s just the thing,” Leo said, shoving the keys back into his pocket. “How can V build it in the basement if the version of me from March didn’t know anything about it? I was down in the basement at least once a week. If he goes back, if he does this, I would have known about it because I would have discovered him there. There’s no way around that fact.”

Once again the three of us looked at each other, searching for an answer.

“You’re right, Leo,” I said slowly, my brain churning through options and possibilities. “You would have known about it. You’d have to in order to keep it a secret.”

The blood drained from Leo’s face. “No, Abby, please.” His voice was ragged. “Don’t ask this of me.”

“What?” V asked, looking between me and Leo.

Leo spoke to V, but his eyes never left mine. “She’s suggesting that when you go back, you tell me what you’re doing. She’s suggesting that I help you build the door. And that I keep it secret from everyone. Including Dante. Including her.”

“What’s wrong with that? I could use all the help I can get,” V said. “And you’re good at keeping secrets. What’s one more?”

“Please, Leo,” I said quietly, searching his face. “I know you were unhappy that Dante gave me the plans. I know you were glad to see the door destroyed and that you hate the idea of me building another one. But, don’t you see? There’s no other way. I’ll lose him otherwise. We both will.”

After a timeless moment, his shoulders curved in surrender. I saw a deep, unbearable pain cross his face as though he were aging before my eyes. But we were on the bank, and I knew such things were impossible.

“Bisogna chiudere il cerchio,”
he said in Italian.
“Faró quello che é necessario.”

“Was that a yes?” I asked softly.

He nodded once.

I exhaled as best I could with the pressure of the bank weighing me down. “Good. Thank you, Leo.” I leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry.”

The pain I thought was gone from his face returned tenfold and my heart ached to see such anguish.

Leo fixed his gaze on V, who straightened to attention like a soldier. “When you go back, find the night of March fourth. Dante had gone to visit Abby and give her that locket. I closed the Dungeon early. Knock on the back door. I doubt I’ll be glad to see you, but when you see me, tell me . . .” He swallowed and a note of emotion trembled in his voice. “Tell me that the lady of light has sent you. Tell me that it is time to honor my vow.”

My mouth opened in surprise, but Leo deliberately didn’t look at me.

“That should be enough to get you inside. What you do after that is up to you.”

V nodded. “The lady of light sent me and it’s time to honor your vow,” he repeated.

Leo was all business, his words coming fast and clipped. “If you’re there on the fourth, it should give you—us—plenty of time to gather the materials for the door and start construction on the twentieth. You can live in the basement; I’ll bring you groceries or something so you can stay hidden.” He raised an eyebrow in V’s direction. “You’ll be there almost two and a half months. Can you handle that?”

V squared his broad shoulders. “Absolutely. I’ll be fine.”

Leo looked down at me. “What about you?”

“What about me?” I replied.

“Are you ready?”

I looked from Leo to V and felt my own determination rise up like a flare. “I’m beyond ready.”

Stepping back, Leo gestured to the murky river in an invitation. “The river is yours, V.”

V stepped to the edge of the island and held the binder close to his chest. The space around him stilled and seemed to thicken.

I watched as a small gap appeared in the flow of the river, right beneath V’s toes. It looked as narrow as a thread of black ink, but it was enough.

V stepped back into the river and vanished, the air where he’d been standing rippling ever so slightly.

I exhaled, suddenly exhausted. It was done. Now it only remained to be seen if it worked.

Chapter

17

I watched as the thin thread of black widened and thickened, branching back upstream into my past like an unchecked virus. I shivered at the idea.

“Will you take me home now?” I asked Leo. I was tired of being on the bank and feeling like I had to fight for every breath. And the sooner I got back, the sooner I would know if my plan had worked. And the sooner Dante would be back.

As I turned to face Leo, I swayed and my knees threatened to buckle beneath me. My eyes suddenly refused to focus.

Before I toppled over into the river, Leo swept me up in his arms, cradling me to his chest like he had done on another night, so long ago.

I felt the vibrations of his voice in his chest more than I heard his words. “Rest, Abby. Rest and know the hardest part is done.”

Closing my eyes, I surrendered myself to the sound of Leo’s voice and the strength of his arms.

***

New memories pushed into my mind, shoving out the old ones. I could almost hear them shouting at me as they were reshaped, rerouted in my brain.

I remembered the night Dante gave me my locket, but now running parallel to that was a flash of another memory—somehow not entirely mine: V standing at the back door of the Dungeon, the streetlight sparking off the gold bands around his wrists.

I remembered all the Friday nights Dante and I danced at the Dungeon, but now woven into the pulsing backbeat were other memories of V laboring away beneath my feet. The door appeared in flashes, each one revealing more and more of the final shape. There was the tall, narrow frame. There was the long, straight tunnel, like a hallway with no windows. The carvings seemed to draw themselves as my memories unspooled in new pathways: the swirling nautilus, the rising tide. Circles, crescents, and stars. The hourglass emerged from the wood in one single, curved line.

I remembered the day Dante and I went to the Dungeon and discovered the hinge had been stolen, replaced with a fake by Zo. I saw Leo standing by the door, his arms full of groceries, his eyes as ferocious as a lion’s. But now I saw more: V sitting on a cot in the basement corner, a plate of food balanced on his crossed legs. A brass hinge next to his knee with a half-sun, half-moon circle already inscribed on the first prong. He leaned his head against the wall, looking out a rectangular window by the ceiling. A fading ray of sunlight touched his hair.

My memories shivered like chimes in the wind.

I remembered the night Zo came to the Dungeon looking for me—and how my whole world changed.

I remembered more: the bank, the door, saying good-bye to Dante.

And then fire consumed them all.

***

A hot wind blew ashes into my face. I opened my eyes, squinting in the bright light. I was lying on my side in the dirt, but I felt strangely energized, as awake and alert as if I’d slept a whole day away.

Leo knelt on the ground next to me, his hands pressed to his temples and a halo of electric blue fire fading around him like an afterglow.

I sat up and touched his arm. “Leo? Are you okay?”

He nodded and then winced. “I’d rather not do that again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“With luck, we won’t have to.”

Leo rubbed his eyes one last time and then lowered his hands. “It’s strange. I have all these new memories—and I know they’re new—but at the same time I know I’ve always had them,” he said.

“I know what you mean.” I put a hand to my forehead. “My head feels . . . full.”

“Is this how you felt when Zo changed elements of your life?”

“Not exactly. The other times were a lot more painful. Maybe it’s because I asked for it this time.”

“I guess that means V did his job.”

I looked around the rubble of the Dungeon. “Then where is the door?”

Leo pushed himself to his feet, dusting his hands off against his legs. The color started to return to his face. “Probably still in the basement. That’s where the fire started, after all.”

I paused, trying to remember if I had known that before now. My memories of that night were already fragmented, outlined mostly by color: red flames, yellow sparks, black shadows. “I thought you said Zo burned down the Dungeon,” I said, frowning.

“Zo did—the first time. But you’ve changed things. And this time V started the fire.”

“But why?” I asked, my memories fighting each other inside my mind, each one claiming to be the true one.

“Because you asked him to,” Leo said quietly. He didn’t look at me, but I heard the pain in his voice. “And so I let him.”

“I did?” I didn’t remember telling V anything of the sort. I told him to build the door, not burn down the Dungeon. But I also remembered sitting next to Jason on my back porch, watching him write a note in the margins of the plans. There had been something important about that note. Something worth remembering.

“You said the door had to be started on the first day of spring,” Leo said.

“Right.”

“And how long did it take V to build the door?”

“Eight weeks,” I said. “The plans were very specific about the timing.”

Leo smiled sadly. “So what happened eight weeks after the first day of spring?”

I thought back, counting the days, trying to line up the timeline with my spotty memory.