Cornelius
Un-freaking-believable.
That’s all I can think as the vortex I’d been stuck in suddenly releases me, and I fall to the ground in a heap.
Cursing a blue streak, I thrash about a bit, almost enjoying my impromptu tantrum until the cursing beside me draws my focus away from my own agitation. Glancing around, I finally locate the source.
Jacob, who also quite obviously got dumped from the same vortex onto his head, if his current tirade is anything to go by.
Slowly, I force myself to stand, dusting vortex residue off my kit as I attempt to locate my weapons nonchalantly. Because vortex or not, losing your weapons is always a heckling offense. Eventually, I locate them a few feet from where I was dumped and scoop them up along with Jacob’s, which I silently hand over.
I turn my back to him, and he slaps the dust off my back without being prompted, a favor I immediately return. Then we stand there, staring at each other, both of us unsure of what to say.
Finally, after a few awkward moments of silence, Jacob says, “Well, that could’ve gone better.”
Snorting, I give up all semblance of playing it cool. “You’re telling me, Jacob. I think the only way that could’ve gone worse is if we’d been sucked into an infinity pit instead of the vortex we ended up in.”
Jacob’s eyes widen in horror. “Don’t even think it, Cornelius.”
I snap my mouth shut, glancing around nervously because he’s right. Down here, you shouldn’t even think about what could be worse, never mind voice it.
“Do you know what happened?” Jacob’s question draws my attention back to him, and I shake my head in response. Then he adds, “Do you think we’re on the wrong grid or have we switched truths?”
“Just a grid glitch,” I respond. “Gemma wouldn’t be able to alter a truth permanently. She can only temporarily manipulate situations related to those she’s not connected to.”
And thank goodness for small favors. It’s bad enough being swept up into a vortex, and shuffled through time during a normal grid shift. To have a glitch in the grid usually means more time spent wandering, and a more painful landing when grid rights itself and tosses you back onto the appropriate truth.
Jacob releases a relieved breath, then straightens, apparently feeling slightly less relieved with this news. I give him a half-smile, then motion ahead of me as I say, “Shall we start walking?”
He deflates a bit, a grimace on his face as he sputters, “I hate this part.”
Laughing, I incline my head in agreement. “Yeah, me, too. But we both know the longer we stand here like idiots, the longer we’ll have to walk.”
The biggest annoyance about the vortex, other than the dust and the fact that it sucks you in and keeps you trapped until the driving force behind it releases you, is that it then dumps you in the in-between of truths. Your immediate truth is literally right there, but you can’t see it until you eventually walk into it.
Jacob says nothing further. He just starts walking, and I fall in beside him, matching his easy stride. Because it doesn’t matter how fast you walk, it takes as long as it takes.
We walk along for a fair amount of time before Jacob’s silence starts to annoy me. Jacob isn’t usually the quiet type, so his silence now is telling that he has something on his mind. Which means he’s likely trying to find a nice way to tell me I screwed up.
Sighing, I mutter, “Just spit it out, Jacob.”
His head turns slowly, and he blinks at me a few times before finally saying, “She doesn’t freaking know.”
I frown, looking away as I respond, “You don’t know that.”
His elbow slamming into my gut catches me off guard, and I stumble forward, barely managing to right myself preventing me from falling into the dirt face-first. Getting my bearings, I keep walking, glaring at him as I say, “That was entirely unnecessary.”
Jacob snorts, and I make a face because this is not a typical response from Jacob. I slow my steps, intending on turning toward him, but he gives me a shove, his expression turning exasperated as he says, “Walk and talk, Cornelius.”
Catching myself mid-stop, I do a little hop, then shuffle a few yards as I sync my movements to match Jacob’s again. Rubbing my hands over my face, I groan in frustration before turning back to him and replying, “You know we cannot speak an inevitable truth so plainly. What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jacob responds with a sigh. “Time and circumstance. I get it.”
“I wanted to explain everything to her most explicitly,” I explain, my hands raising in front of me, a testament to the helplessness I currently feel. “But the truth will only be revealed when the truth speaks for itself. Forcing it out of turn would have dire consequences.”
Jacob nods in agreement, sighs heavily, but remains silent. He knows I’m right because he knows the rules better than anyone.
We walk along for a few more minutes, and then Jacob asks, “Was there truly no notice of her arrival?”
