March sat with me on the floor, our backs against the wall, our eyes on the Timekeeper.
“What doyouthink?” I asked at one point because he was the only one besides me who refused to participate in the argument.
March said, “I think he knows something. He’s just…unable to say it.”
Yes—unablewas very much a word I’d use for Calren Hock.
To think that we’d met his sister.
To think that he’d been locked down there, in that room without even a window, for Time knew how long.
To think that he’d been out here doingthis,slamming onto that wall for weeks.
My mind spun and spun, and I spiraled in and out of control every few seconds. I half heard the others, half heard my own self, half replayed everything they’d said since we met. Since we came down here.
Unable to say it, said March, and he was sure that the Timekeeper knew something.
But I wasn’t sure what I believed. He was obviously trying to get out of here—yet he refused to even move toward the corridor that would get him out. I believedthat. I believed hedidn’t wantto be slamming against walls.
Except it wasn’twalls, was it?
Just that wall. That specific wall, that same spot, over and over again. I looked at the others—not a single blood stain, old or new. Just that one wall.
Slowly, I stood up from the floor and went a little closer, squatted in front of his feet. His attention didn’t waver, though. His wide brown eyes were focused ahead.
“Why?” I whispered while the others still talked, like I really thought he might give me an answer. “Why that wall? Why are you hurting yourself like this?”
Through,he said.Through,like he really thought that he’d set himself free or something if he broke the wall and went through.
But the wall wouldn’t break.
There was nothing there—just the concrete…or was it?
I stood up again, my mind chaotic, not a single sensible thought in my head. I went to the wall, thinking maybe I should try that, too. Maybe I should justslamagainst it to see what the Timekeeper saw. MaybethenI’d understand.
Good thing I thought totouch itfirst, though.
Because the second my palm pressed against the wall stained with dry blood, I felt it.
It was barely there, but it buzzed against the center of my hand like it was alive, even if barely.
Magic—only not like the one that hung around this place. Not aswildas the one inside the room with the bars, not like the magic the Timekeeper had used to blast the metal door off.
This was different, but it was there.
“Can you…can you guys feel this?” I asked, and they all stopped talking for a moment.
A few stood up and came to me, watched me with their brows raised, then reached out their hands and touched the wall, too. March, Russ, Mimi and Anika.
They closed their eyes and held their breaths, and I waited, sure they’d confirm it, my mind already searching for options, when…
“Nope. There’s nothing there,” Anika said first.
“Nothing. Just a wall.” Russ.
“No, I don’t feel anything.” Mimi.
March looked down at me, his hand right next to mine, our pinkies almost touching. “What doyoufeel?”
