For a brief and shining moment, I’m not afraid of Chronos. Not afraid of Doug or the police or anything else the world might try to hurl at us. We’re here, the four of us, together and alive, and the clouds above us part, making way for a sliver of sunlight.
44
Of Fate, Kings, and Desperate Men
JACK
The waves call off their assault and the tide recedes, leaving Julio and Amber in a hazy patch of sunlight in water up to their knees, their drenched clothes pasted to their skin. I head for the stairs to give them some privacy, but Fleur won’t budge. She holds me captive at her side, unwilling to let them out of her sight.
Julio holds Amber’s face, looking at her between kisses as if he can’t quite believe she’s real. “How are you still alive? I thought the Guards found you.”
She shakes her head. “I saw them coming and escaped out the back doors. They were too close. I didn’t want to risk drawing them straight to you. So I led them on a wild goose chase to the other side of town. By the time I managed to find my way back, you were gone.”
He brushes back her wet hair with a look of awe. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Woody told me about this place, a long time ago,” she says. Julio looks away, his eyes wounded as they skate over the cove. “I figured you might come back here. That maybe you had things you needed to say.” She touches his cheek, turning him gently toward her. “Crazy, huh? How the people we hurt—the ones welovethe most—can be the hardest to face.”
He pulls her against his chest. “I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to your mom.”
Her eyes shine with tears. “That wasn’t the goodbye I regretted most.”
Fleur rests her head on my shoulder as Julio leans in for another kiss. “I told you we would find them,” she whispers.
“Get a room!”
Our attention snaps to the top of the bluff. Julio and Amber break into wide smiles when they spot Chill and Poppy waving from the ledge above us. Amber squeals, erupting in fresh tears when Woody appears beside them.
Marie juts her chin at Julio. She flicks the ash from her cigarette and blows a ribbon of smoke out through her nose. “You owe me ten dollars.”
He squints up at her with a crooked grin. “What for?”
“The bet we made in eighty-nine. I told you if you kept bottling everything up, you were eventually gonna pop. Andthat,” she says, leveling her cigarette at the cove, “was the most ridiculous tantrum ever.”
“Just making it easy for you to find me.”
“Me and everyone else.”
Woody hobbles down the stairs, clutching the rail, his long hair bouncing behind him. Chill guides Poppy down after him, one slow step at a time, pointing out a sea lion and the cormorants and pelicans and gulls that have begun to appear on the rocky shoreline. When they finally reach us, the sun’s so bright, it stings my cheeks. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since we were last all together. Despite what Chronos said, we’re all here, all alive, because of the choices we made. Because we were willing to take risks for each other. Maybe Lyon was right. Maybe we can change the ending.
“Where’d you crazy kids disappear off to?” Amber asks them.
Chill counts off on his fingers. “We did the whole Smithsonian, Air and Space, the International Spy Museum, all the monuments—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Julio flashes the time-out sign. “What happened to lying low and staying off the grid?”
Poppy flashes me a conspiratorial smile. “We took a few lessons from Jack. Hiding out in DC isn’t as hard as you’d think.”
I grin down at Fleur. “That depends on who’s looking for you.”
Her laugh is contagious. Between the subway system, the crowds, and all the tight security, our Handlers must have run Doug’s team ragged for days.
“I even found my brother.” We all fall silent at Woody’s quiet confession.
Fleur’s laughter dies. Julio, Fleur, and I exchange grave looks. Taking Amber to see her elderly mother was one thing. But none of us needs a boundary map to understand why reentering the lives of your friends and family after being presumed dead for fifty years is a terrible idea.
Woody withdraws a notebook from his backpack. Tucked carefully inside is a sheet of tracing paper shaded in pencil lead. He passes Amber the rubbing of a soldier’s name.
She wipes a tear from her eye before passing it back. “It’s beautiful, Woody. I’m glad you found him.”
