Malcolm smiles his beautiful, crooked smile. And my heart melts.
“Emma,” he says, “you’re the adventure, the inspiration for every love song I sing. Being with you is magic.”
I smile, but when I see Imani’s wide-eyed nervous gaze on a tree, it starts to drop. I was so into Malcolm that I almost forgot she was here. Her fingers shake. I follow her gaze and see a nosy raven perched in a weeping willow tree overhead. The raven’s piercing red eyes lock on us.
Malcolm’s jaw tightens. “Let’s go,” he says with fake confidence. His quaking hand grabs mine as I stand up. With wide-eyed fear, he says, “I’m bored with 1903.”
We race off into the night. I cling to his hand and hold on to the joy of the moment as if it could be our last.
CHAPTER TWENTYMalcolm DavenportMANHATTAN, 2104
I gaze out from one of our towering hotel room windows, and the New York skyline glitters before me. Skyscrapers made of metal and glass stab the sky as sunlight bleeds down on everything. But beneath that beauty, this city is rife with danger.
People walk across a network of transparent skybridges that connect the towering buildings. Their faces don’t show fear—only awe at the breathtaking view of the city far below. On the sidewalk, those milling about look small from up here, like pieces on a chessboard. It’s nice to see the world like this. These glass windows offer a bird’s-eye view inside our room for the ravens, too—if they find us.
Hopefully, they won’t, because I sure can’t find a hotel in this time without windows.
Neon lights beam above as pulsating holographic dancers fight for the attention of the crowds on the street. Futuristic rap music plays, and a massive, floating, disembodied hologram of Kendrick Lamar is spitting a rap and rhyming about people who are not like us. Under him, the dancers flicker and pixelate as they spin on their heads and do backflips whilebreakdancing to mesmerize passersby. I love the way music and culture have the power to stop crowds and unite strangers. But the pulsing sound of the slick drumbeat can’t make me forget the danger we’re in.
Turning away from the window, I see Emma sleeping peacefully on the grand four-poster bed. Her curls are a hurricane around her beautiful brown face. She rests on a satin pillowcase, her body entombed in sapphire-blue silk sheets.
I pivot and ball up the pallet that I made on the floor from blankets and flimsy hotel sheets. The burgundy carpet is fluffy, but it didn’t ease my stiff back. We arrived late the night before, showered, and settled in. But I swear my belly twisted with worry all night. I stared at the plaster ceiling, trying to fight off the bloodlust that made me wonder how easy it would be to break Emma’s fingers every time I thought of my desire to hold her. I feel my body inching toward Emma now, and I force myself to step back, shaking from the effort. My fingers twitch, aching to rip her arms off, to suffocate her with a pillow. I punch my thigh with my fist, using the pain to focus. This situation is maddening. But I love Emma too deeply to hurt her, so I’ll fight the dark urges until I’m sick inside. I gotta figure what we should do. How can we beat this thing? And save ourselves?
Along with my struggle against the curse, the way I miss home at this big age is really sad. I’m torn between my longing to keep Emma safe, the fear that I could hurt her, my duty to protect family and be Ma’s soldier, and the desire to stand by Emma’s side in this dangerous world. I don’t know what the best choice is for us. We could go home, but we’ll be forced to fight one another if we do. And I can’t hurt Emma. No matter how bad the urges get. I won’t ever allow myself to do that.
We could keep running, but the thought of being on the move forever and not being there to protect my family kills me. Can we really hide from some witch and her ravens for an eternity? Or will we eventually be caught? And if we are, how awful will the punishment be? Sabine could shove us and our families in some magical jail or trap us on her plantation for all we know. I’m not as strong as my ancestors were. I couldn’t live like that. It’s freedom or death for me. The worry presses down on my body constantly, making it hard to think, let alone breathe.
My whole life, I’ve been there for my family. I don’t know what life looks like without stupid comments from Charles, Ma’s cooking and weird magical creations, or teasing my twin, Jayla, about her obsession with afro puffs, cat-eye glasses, and metallic eyeliner. Hell, I’m even starting to miss Big-Mama’s lectures. And I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Pop-Pop’s cranky self too. I can’t bear the thought of being without Imani, who always knows when I need her to show up. I need my family, all of them. But I can’t bear the thought of losing Emma either. And I sure as hell can’t have both. The thought of choosing rips my heart to bits.
Grace warned us the witch could punish us for trying to escape her Tether. And I don’t want to put Emma in greater danger. But it might be too late for that. Ma-a-an, part of me feels like I should send her home to her family and go back to mine. Then, I’d at least know that she’d be safe until the Tether. Or until I find a way to stop the Tether. But saying goodbye to Emma isn’t something I can bring myself to do. When I think of choosing between love, my family, and our safety, it seems like no matter what, I’ll lose.
Aerial cars and silver trains pass by the window as Emma yawns, her mouth stretching into an adorableO. And even as the knot in my stomach pulls itself tighter, I still can’t believe I get to see her like this.
Death feels like a cloud hanging over our future, no matter what year we run to. My heart pumps fear, knowing each breath could bring us closer to our last. But I try not to show it. Try to man up and swallow negative emotions like Pop-Pop taught me. He said a man should guide, protect, provide, and be respectful. But he’s never spared a drop of respect for a man he thought was weak. Jayla says thinking like that is toxic, that there ain’t no rules for how to be a man or a woman and that people should just be.
Sighing, I walk to the bookshelf against the wall, lined with vintage leather-bound books of the kind you find in hotel rooms of this era. I hope one of them will have something that can help us solve our problems. I stare at the volumes in a rainbow of colors, their spines worn with history and secrets I can’t wait to uncover.
Emma crawls to the edge of the bed. “Good morning, Star,” I say.
“Too early to tell,” Emma replies. She stretches, her eyes fluttering to the window.
“Pretty, huh?” I ask. I brush my fingers over a few smooth spines before pulling down a book of ancient spells. Thankfully, mysticism and curiosity about magic are on the rise in 2104, so they have titles on those topics. Determined to find answers that could save us from the witch’s grasp, I start skimming.
“Amazing,” Emma replies, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sliding down. She follows my lead and grabs a pile of books from the shelf. She sinks into the plum velvet chaise longue and leans back to read, books scattered around her chair. After flipping pages in three different tomes, she says, “This book says that killing the person who curses you can end a curse. If that’s true, killing the witch could end the Tether,” Emma muses. She holds up the page with arcane symbols and faded ink so I can read it.
“What if Sabine is the one who has to break the curse for us? If we kill her, we might be stuck with it forever.”
“Yeah, but if she’s gone, there’s no one left to enforce the Tether. It could still work,” she shoots back. “It’s a risk, but it’s the only lead we’ve got,” she replies.
“True,” I say. “The ravens we saw yesterday probably mean Sabine’s stalking us. We gotta act fast if we want to find her and end the Tether. Before she has the chance to plot punishment or revenge.”
“No, we don’t,” Emma says with a sly smile.
Confusion tilts my head.
“We can justactlike we’re going along with Sabine’s stupid game,” she says. “And then we rig the Tether.” She smiles. “Sabine would never expect it.”
“I love that!” I say, my voice way too excited. “We stick together, help each other…” Then a darker thought creeps in, wiping away some of the warmth. “But what about round three? The witch is going to want us to kill each other. She’s not going to give up that easily. I mean, other people must’ve tried to trick her before, right?”
