“You,” he said. “Only you. And you have my word on that, not that it holds much worth anymore.”
I didn’t say anything. He had probably brought House Black with him, or Silver or Orange or whoever he was working with now.
“Do you want to know what I see when I touch you?” Left Ned asked as they walked up to the mouth of the alley and looked right at me.
There was no use hiding anymore.
I moved out into the light. “What do you see?”
“I see this,” Right Ned said. “Always this one moment. I ask you to trust me. I tell you I’m going to take you home with your brother and Abraham. I tell your brother I know what’s in that journal because whenever I’ve touched your grandma, I’ve seen the things rattling in that old head of hers. The time loop. The Wings of Mercury project, how she knits up time with those ridiculous little sheep. I know we have only a couple days to get you all back home.”
“And what do I say?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Right Ned said.
Left Ned was silent, but he wasn’t scowling. If anything, he looked worried, just like Right Ned looked worried.
I’d known those boys for some time now. They’d lied to me. But right here, right now, they were not lying.
“You know about the time loop?”
“I know what your grandmother knows,” Right Ned said. “Most of it anyway.”
“Did you tell anyone? Helen Eleventh? Your boss at House Silver?”
“No,” Left Ned answered. “I was spying on you at the start, Matilda. Then when I got to know you, well . . . neither of us have said a word about this to anyone. Time isn’t something we think the Houses should rule.”
“I’d be a fool to trust you,” I said. “Again.”
“We know,” Right Ned said.
“Maybe I should have sent you packing when you first showed up on my land,” I said.
“Always told you strangers weren’t nothing but trouble,” Left Ned said.
“Strangers, maybe,” I said. “But not you, Neds Harris.”
They waited.
“Her trust was broken, and now it’s mended,” Quinten said as he stepped out of the shadows. “Can we settle this while we’re running for our lives? You did say you had a car?”
“Yes,” Left Ned said. “You must be Quinten?”
“I am. Help me with Abraham.” He and Neds got to work carrying Abraham, and I picked up my duffel, glanced through it—everything was there, including my handgun and Quinten’s watch.
“You decided I trusted him?” I said to Quinten.
“You would have gotten there eventually.” He flashed me a smile as he and Neds carefully deposited Abraham into the backseat of a car with just enough room for him to lie in.
“Best if you drive, Mr. Harris,” Quinten said ducking in the back. “Since you don’t have a price on your head. Either of them.”
Neds got into the front, and I got in next to Quinten.
“He’s not going to make it,” Quinten said as Neds drove the car down the alley, toward another street and the airport. “His stitches are dissolving.”
“Here,” I said. “Try this.” I dug a jar of scale jelly out of my duffel and handed it to my brother.
He grinned. “You are such a clever girl, Matilda. Have I told you that lately?” He unscrewed the lid and applied jelly to Abraham’s stitches.
