“See?” he says, like nothing at all weird has happened.
“So you’re in charge? Except for the times he showed up at the house and here to kill me on the spot?”
“An accident. I was distracted, and he gets impatient sometimes. Your deaths are inevitable now. Nature is always about balance. Once it happened the first time, it was always going to happen again. But if it takes too long, sometimes he slips his leash to speed things along. Every reset makes him a little stronger, I think, just like her, but I’m still in charge. I can reel him back in. Nothing to worry about.”
I am so, so worried. What does he mean my deaths were inevitable? My fingers prickle with power, with the desire to freeze him to the floor and smash him like I did Walter Wolfe. But he’s talking for a change instead of feigning care and ignorance like he has since I started remembering. If I think of this as a data-gathering mission, not a suicide one, maybe I can finally get the answers I need.
“What about us? Me and Jasper. What do we have to do with anything?”
“It’s all energy,” he says, like it’s the simplest explanation in history. “All of it. Climate. Storms. Travel is moving your molecules through and around others that stay in place. Life and death. She was still there, Morgan. We couldn’t see her, but you don’t cease to exist in death. Your energy only goes somewhere else. All I had to do was find it, anchor it to something compatible, and bring her back.”
I have a sinking feeling. “Compatible?”
His smile is once again compassionate. Fatherly. “She loved you a lot. You’re so similar. Stubborn. Brave. She would be soproud of how hard you’ve worked. So who else could I have used to call her back? Once we had the machine assembled, it was easy.”
“Easy as me dying?” Like I’ve become some kind of superhero homing beacon. The last few years have been filled with so much purpose, but it was all a sham. Lies to keep me from guessing what was really going on.
Ezekiel moves toward me, reaching out like he might comfort me. Slim chance of that. I can already see Indigo trying to creep out from Ezekiel’s sleeves again, as well as from the neck of the fine collared shirt he’s wearing. The ink swirls around Ezekiel’s throat, and he doesn’t seem to know.
“It’s a balance. Death releases so much energy,” he says. “How could she not come back for that? Of course, her energy returned in very small amounts every time, but that’s why you weren’t supposed to remember. Our minds aren’t built to understand the repetition of time. We want so much to see it as linear. But I needed more of it, so I built the loop.”
And trapped us for years. Over and over without our knowledge or consent. I don’t think I can ever forgive him for that. For what he’s done to Jasper. And what he’s describing goes beyond finding a needle in the cosmic haystack. Even if that’s how death worked, it’s not the same as finding change on the sidewalk. You can’t vacuum her up, sort through the bits, and reassemble her puzzle pieces to make a living, breathing human being.
Though as I look down at her, floating in the machine’s radiant embrace, I have to admit somehow, he seems to have done it. But at what cost?
“If we keep going in this timeline, Jasper will die,” I say, trying to appeal to any shred of humanity he has left.
He nods, making me hope he understands, until he says, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t consider what the long-term effects might be. Without powers or a legacy like you and your mother have, it was inevitable he would die. Every reset scrambles things a little. I can’t believe he lasted as long as he has, to be honest. But I thought you might enjoy spending time with him. That’s why I picked tonight to repeat. I saw it when we were working. You were so isolated. I figured if we needed to buy time until your mother came back, at least you could have some company. You seemed comfortable enough with him when you came to see me at the office. Didn’t you like him?”
The mental gymnastics going on inside my head better win me a medal when this is done. He’s saying that our date was some kind of matchmaking distraction. Poor oblivious Morgan won’t notice he’s died a thousand times because he’ll be too busy gazing into Jasper’s speckled eyes. And worse, that Jasper is only collateral damage. That my mother’s life matters more than his. Why? Because she might save people and he won’t? Only because he never had a chance. He could have helped so many people as a doctor if he hadn’t been caught up in Walter Wolfe’s traps... and Ezekiel’s.
I look up at the machine. The thick wires dangle from the ceiling, out of reach.
“Turn it off,” I say.
Ezekiel blinks, looking confused. “What?”
“The machine. Turn it off. The experiment is over.” I reach for the closest cord. No idea what it does. It might electrocute me with the voltage of a small power station or make me burst into a ball of flames. Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry Ezekiel’s grief has pulled him so far under, but that doesn’t justify what he’s done. Who’s to say he’d only use it this one time? He might get my mother back and decide to resurrect other great heroes from the past. Or he’s vastly overestimated his control over Indigo. If Indigo wins, he might trap so many people and their deaths inthe machine for his own profit. Even in a world with powerful heroes and villains, there are limits to what can be allowed.
“Stop.” Ezekiel grabs me. The glow in the room gets brighter. My emotions are rising and my control is slipping. If I could get a hand on the components inside, I could freeze them enough the whole thing would probably short-circuit. Even the most powerful flow of energy stops if you drop the temperature enough. I’ll sink this place to absolute zero if I have to.
For a split second, my gaze drops to my mother. I think her eyelids might flicker, like she’s dreaming. If she is real and actually here, I hope she can’t hear what Ezekiel’s done. He may think it’s justified, but I don’t think she would ever forgive him.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
I twist, breaking Ezekiel’s hold and plunge my hand into the glowing field until my fingers tangle with my mother’s. Then I find the switch inside me. I flip it, focusing on the not-quite-alive weight of her hand in mine. There’s something there. Ezekiel is right. She’s so close to coming back. I don’t know how he did it. Better if I never know. The sacrifice is too high.
So instead, I close my eyes and focus on pulling the something inside of her out.
Absorbing it.
Making it mine.
It’s a lot. I expect her to go cold. Turn icy like the thugs in the penthouse. Maybe she’s close enough to living that she’s fighting me. My hand is freezing and hers is burning hot. I frown as I take the heat, letting it slip inside me. It’s like frost thawing on a windshield. The warmth wins the battle, travelling up my arm, lighting my heart on fire.
Around me, the sounds of the machine and Ezekiel’s protests vanish. There is only me and my mother. For a second, she opens her eyes.
“Morgan,” she says.
