Extracted by Tyler H. Jolley & Sherry D. Ficklin
EMBER
I will not die in this hideous dress. That’s my only desire today. Everything else is negotiable—icing on the cake.
Ignoring the too-tight bodice and itchy lace hem, I take a deep breath, drawing my focus inward until I feel razor sharp. Now, I’m no longer part of the crowd milling through the Fair, but above it, outside it. The faces spin around me, but I’m disconnected from them. Searching. Slowly, the hyperawareness fades as my heartbeat calms and my breathing regulates.
“Tesla,” Ethan calls out. “Time and date verification.”
The thick, not-quite-mechanical voice of our leader responds through the communication devices in each of our ears, “Location verified. Six point nineteen, eighteen and ninety-three, nine hundred hours.”
“Target verification?” Kara asks, wiggling her pinky in her ear like there’s water in it before shaking out her auburn hair.
“Target verified,” he answers. “Dr. Klaus VonWeitter. Assignment: prevent theft of Solara Project designs.”
“Tesla, are you sure about this?” Ethan asks, scanning the crowds around us. “I don’t see any Hollows here.”
“Confirmed. The timeline alteration algorithm has traced the ripples back to this event. They are here, somewhere. The timeline has been altered.”
Ethan nods, looking over at me. I have to admit, he looks ridiculously handsome in his costume today. The black-striped slacks and the long grey jacket that trails down his back make him look older than usual. The grey is drab, but his blue eyes are startlingly bright. He’s also wearing a matching bowler hat and carrying a cane, which is the only accessory I’ve ever seen him demand. I reach up to adjust his bone-white bowtie.
“Bowties are sexy,” he says with a wicked grin.
“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true,” I respond, no humor in my voice. Normally, his quips make me smile, but not today. I’m on edge, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe my historically accurate panties are in a bunch.
This isn’t my first mission. In fact, it’s not even a particularly difficult one. The Solara plans aren’t exactly nuclear launch codes. I’m not sure why the Hollows want them so badly, except to create chaos. What could be so special about a rough solar collector? Nothing—it’s the rush, the thrill of the chase. They’re little better than feral cats. Still, if they want it, we can’t let them have it. Our job is as simple as that. But the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. The air around me feels thick, as if the world is holding its breath. Glancing over at Kara, I wonder if she feels it too. Her expression is serene, if a little pale. The light dusting of freckles over her nose is more noticeable than normal, and her eyes are rimmed with red. Late night training again, no doubt.
Somewhere in the back of my head, a version of my own voice reminds me that this might very well be my last mission. The Trial is coming up, and it’s either pass or die. We’ve all been logging extra time in the gym and on the books. Well, everyone but Ethan. I wish I had half of his confidence. He’ll pass even if none of the rest of us do. I’m sure of that, although not fully comforted by it somehow.
I shove the thought away, fighting to stay focused. Doubt never accomplishes anything, as Mistress Catherine likes to say. Draping one arm over my shoulder, Ethan gives me a quick, reassuring hug. “Relax, Ember. We aren’t defusing a nuclear bomb. We’re just here to keep one nerdy scientist safe. How hard can it possibly be?”
I sigh. “I really hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?” he asks innocently.
Read my mind. “Beg for trouble.”
He grins widely as a pair of elderly gentlemen brush past us and shoot Ethan a glance that clearly screams “inappropriate behavior.” For a moment, even I’d forgotten how far back we’d traveled—how far away from our home back at the Tesla Institute. No, in this time, people simply didn’t show amusement or familiarity. It was rude. The way Ethan steps back from me, cooling his expression, makes me eager to leave 1893 in the rearview mirror.
He shakes his head, falling back into mission mode. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. Are you ready, Kara?”
“I think this dress is trying to kill me,” Kara complains, tripping forward as she steps on the long skirt.
I can’t help smirking. “Be thankful they aren’t wearing the bustles anymore. Good luck getting off a decent roundhouse kick in one of those.”
She smooths her hands down the front of her pink-and-brown dress, then smacks at the puffy sleeves. I withhold a snicker.
Squaring my shoulders, I raise my chin to the bright midday sun. It’s cool today for mid-June, and a light breeze caresses my face. That’s a good thing. These dresses are heavy, tight, and not at all like our usual clothes. Beside me, Kara curses and fights to tuck stray wisps of hair back into its coil at the back of her neck.
“So, where do we find this guy?” Kara asks, glancing around.
“Current location unknown,” Tesla’s voice cuts in again.
“Oh, great. Some super computer you are,” she mumbles under her breath. Then, louder, she asks, “Where’s Flynn? I feel the need for some serious adult supervision.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Ethan takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my gut.”
“Is that intuition or heartburn? You did just eat your weight in chili dogs,” I say, though I know better than to question his gut. It tends to be dead right.
“Chicago Dogs,” Kara corrects me.
Yes. The taste of peppers lingers somewhere in the back of my mouth, making me wish I’d smuggled in some gum. Still, it’s probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. The Institute has us on strict diets of protein powder and gross, organic, tofu-based foods. Various food vendors lined the entrance to the Fair, so when we saw the dog cart, no way were any of us going to pass them up. The fact we aren’t still glutting ourselves is a testament to our self-control. If everything goes well, we might just make a pit stop before we rift back home.
“Focus. Get on point,” Tesla commands through the earbuds.
Kara and I exchange a frown before the three of us shift to stand back to back and scan the crowd. Beside me, I feel Ethan tense. The way he can transition from lighthearted, playful Ethan into leader Ethan is unsettling and as quick as snapping your fingers. His entire demeanor changes when he’s on point—even his voice, which drops to a deep monotone.
“Let’s split up,” Ethan decides, pointing. “Kara, you head over to his booth at the main convention center. I’ll take the east side. Ember, you take the west. We’ll meet up by the pier. Anyone runs into trouble, have Tesla put out a call to the rest of the team.”
I don’t like it. I’m feeling jumpy, which isn’t like me at all. Maybe it’s just nerves, or maybe I just don’t like the idea of being separated from them. Either way, I don’t say anything. Ethan and Kara have been with me over a year—since the day I was recruited—and I trust them with my life a hundred times over.
Without a word, we go our separate ways. I’m weaving through the crowd when I spot something—a girl about my age in a tall, black top hat and a long leather trench coat. I catch a glimpse of her as she moves past the Zoopraxographical Hall. Her dark hair is tucked up into the hat, exposing a trail of green tattoos down the back of her neck. I bite my lip.
She’s one of them. A Hollow.
The man at the ticket booth, next to the theater entrance, can’t take his eyes off her. Staring, he continues to issue tickets from behind a glass window to the showing on the small screen. Glue-plastered announcements on the exterior brick walls advertise the moving picture as The Science of Animal Locomotion. The top hat girl has her back to me and is leaning against the doorjamb, her arms folded across her chest.
She’s pretty, if not a bit overdone. Her eyes are ringed in dark kohl liner, and her lips are a deep red. She has tight black pants on under the jacket, and there
I glance around, looking for more Hollows, but I don’t see any. That’s strange. They normally travel in packs. Maybe, if she hasn’t made me out as a Rifter, I can just follow her and she’ll lead me to the others. It seems like the smartest plan. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut.
“Nice costume,” she mutters, not looking at me.
So much for being stealthy.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I hope it’s not a rental.”
Before I can react, she’s spinning. The heel of her boot connects with my lower back and sends me sprawling to the earth. She’s on top of me in a heartbeat, pressing my face to the ground.
She leans forward and whispers, “Tesla is here, did you know that? Not your Tesla, of course, but the Tesla from this time. He’s fifty yards away, giving a demonstration of his brilliant little coils. It would be so easy for me. The flip of a switch, a misplaced bucket of water. I could end this whole thing right now.”
I can hear the smile in her voice as she grinds my face in the dirt. “Oh. But don’t worry. I won’t. Not this time. That’s not what we’re here for.”
She is quick to her feet. Lifting me up by my hair, she hurls me forward into the theater. We surge through the doors to a chorus of shushing. But, as soon as the people turn to see the commotion, they are fixated on her. It’s not just the strange wardrobe that has people spellbound. She is radiating power and deadly beauty. It’s almost hypnotic. Even I can feel it.
I am so out of my league.
Standing in the aisle, I spit out the blood pooling in my mouth. I look at our audience and wipe my mouth on my sleeve, earning me a look of disgust from the people who are staring.
The crowd lets out a gasp.
“You mean you can’t kill Tesla,” I counter, my voice barely more than a whisper. “You
can’t because you’d risk unraveling your own timeline.” I crouch down. She kicks me and I manage to block the blow, but the momentum sends me back to the ground with a sharp pain in my forearm.
“Sometimes, I think it might be worth it,” she says, her voice dripping with bitterness as she makes her way over to me. People are standing now, demanding she stop. The women are ushering the children to the opposite exit. One man puts a hand on her shoulder, but she grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back with a loud snap before tossing him aside. “So, are we going to do this the hard way, or—who am I kidding? There’s really just the hard way.”
I leap forward, catching her off guard with a punch to the face. A satisfying crunch tells me I’ve broken her nose. She stumbles backward but doesn’t fall. The back few rows of people are abandoning their seats and running past us.
She smiles, and the blood runs down her lip into her mouth, turning her teeth pink.
She lunges. This time, I’m better prepared for it and manage to duck the blow while coming up and landing a blow of my own to her ribs. She gasps, but she spins again and kicks out at me. I roll backward and spring to my feet.
“You’ve got some moves. I’ll give you that, Tesla Girl,” she says, readjusting her hat.
“How is that thing still on your head?” I blurt out, gasping for breath.
She lifts the hat off her head and brings it to her chest with a sarcastic bow before stuffing it back on.
Okay. That’s kind of impressive, I admit to myself.
Nearly everyone is staring at us now. Some are wondering aloud if it’s part of the show, while others are threatening to get the police.
She grabs an oil lamp from the wall and hurls it at me. I duck, and it hits the wall behind
me in an explosion of light that catches the rug and the bottom of the white screen. The crowd that had been watching us runs wildly out of the theater.
Turning to look at the flames is my mistake, but I can’t help it—the urge to look is impossible to resist. As soon as the flames register in my brain, my legs turn to mush. The Hollows girl is on me again before I can move, her fist meeting my jaw with the force of a freight train.
I fall to my hands and knees. Grasping her ankle, I pull. She falls onto her backside. I roll on top of her and draw back to punch, but before I can, she wraps her leg around my neck and pulls me off her. She twists, and lightning pain shoots up my neck.
For a few breaths, I can’t move. Slowly, the feeling returns to my fingertips. When I can sit up, she’s gone, and the room around me is full of rolling smoke. I cough. My chest constricts, refusing to take in air.
I can see the door and the daylight beyond even through the dense, black clouds. I want to run. Every nerve in my body is an electric current, driving me out of the path of the flames. My insides are screaming. Behind me, the screen falls in ragged sheets, sending embers and smoke into the air.
Then, I hear the scream.
I follow the sound, pressing myself as close to the ground as I can manage. In the far corner, a boy is curled into a ball with tears rolling down his cheeks.
Beside me, a piece of ceiling falls, fraying my nerves. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. The fear is paralyzing, spreading, and it clogs my veins like concrete. My body and mind are at war. Suddenly, I’m back in my nightmare. I’m in a bedroom, but not mine. There’s someone there with me—a boy whose face I can’t quite see. He’s yelling something. I’m trying to run to him, but my legs are weak. It feels like running through quicksand. I scream, cry, and pound the ground with my fists, but it’s no use.
“Help, please!”
I open my eyes, and I’m back in the theater. The little boy is right in front of me. I can hear and see him. When I scream against the fear, it shatters like glass. I can move again. Relief floods me, driving me forward. I’m not going to die here, my mind tells me. As I crawl toward the boy, another voice echoes in my head.
“Ember. Leave the boy,” Tesla demands.
I shake my head and cough. “I can’t.”
“Ember. Leave the boy. That’s an order.”
I’m still coughing, my body doubled over in convulsions. I don’t have much time before the smoke and flames eat me alive, but I know I can’t leave him. My body is moving on its own now.
“I can save him! I can save him this time!” This time. I’ve had this dream before with another boy. In my dreams, he dies—or maybe we both die in the end—but they never seem to get that far. I know the outcome, though, even if I’ve never made it that far in the dream. This isn’t a dream—this is real. And today, here, now, I can save us both.
Tesla’s voice echoes again, louder now. “That is an order. Leave the boy and get to your team now. They are engaged at the wharf.”
The order makes me pause. I’m so used to following every order Tesla gives me that it’s as natural as breathing. But this feels wrong. “I can’t,” I whisper hoarsely.
“It’s not your job to interfere with this. Get to your team now. Leave the boy.”
I can’t pry my eyes off the boy. He can’t be a day over eight years old, I decide as he
reaches up, clutches the collar of his shirt, and begins to chew on the lapel.
The gesture is familiar. Not the same exactly, but something in the back of my mind makes enough of a connection that my hesitation snaps like an overstretched rubber band.
“I’m going to be in so much trouble for this,” I say to myself as I lunge for the boy, wrap my arms around him, and press his face into my neck.
“Can you climb onto my back?” I ask. He nods limply. I wrap his arms around my neck and crawl for the door.
It feels like hours before a dozen pairs of hands grab us, some pulling the boy away from me, some dragging me forward. The hem of my dress is on fire. Someone stomps on it. I he
Looking over, I see the boy clinging to his mother’s skirt as she holds him, tears of relief running down both their faces. My eyes lock onto his. The look he gives me isn’t one of relief or thanks. It’s fear. As if, somewhere in his small mind, he knows I’m different. Not right. I look away because it’s true. Even among freaks, I’m a freak.
I struggle to my feet, pushing away the hands trying to help me. Anger boils inside me. Memories of the nightmares hover like ghosts on the edges of my mind, struggling to make themselves clear. But I don’t have time for that now, so I let them fade away. My team needs me. I stumble into a run toward the expo hall, praying my legs won’t give out on me before I get there.
I tap my ear. “Which way?”
“Left,” Tesla responds.
Ethan’s voice breaks in. “Ember? If you aren’t too busy, we could really use a hand here.”
He sounds winded and hurt. I wince. My concern for my friends—my family—overwhelms everything else. There’s no such thing as pain now. I’m light on the balls of my feet. Around me, the air thins, faces blur, and noises blend into one, indistinguishable cry.
I run for them, praying I’m not too late.