84
“You shouldn’t be here,” the man says. His expression is menacing, his voice a snarl.
I stand before him, my knees shaking, a scream rising up the back of my throat that I’m quick to swallow right down. I need to stay quiet, keep a clear head. I can’t afford to draw any more attention to myself than I already have.
“You’ve made a terrible mistake.” His fingers clamp down on my arm, squeezing tight as a vise, and before I can do anything to try to stop him, he’s dragging me clear across the gravel pathway.
I dig in my heels and insist he let go. When that doesn’t work, I purposely throw my weight forward and stumble toward the ground, using the momentum to reach for the holster strapped under my gown.
The man mutters under his breath, jerks my arm hard, and forces me back to my feet, only to gape in surprise as I pull my dagger from its sheath.
“Do not make me use this,” I hiss, my breath shallow and stunted, my heart thrashing wildly in my chest. I track the flash of shock that crosses his face and Braxton’s warning repeats in my head:If you’re going to pull your dagger, you must be willing to use it.
And while I really hope it won’t come to that, I brandish my blade like any other knife-wielding maniac from every slasher movie I’ve ever seen. A far cry from the sort of elegant moves Braxton taught me.
The man lifts his calloused hands in surrender and drops the tarot cards to his feet. Though his cunning gaze fixes on mine, daring me to retrieve them.
I glance between the cards and him, weighing my odds. But with only sixteen seconds now left on the clock, I spin on my heel and sprint through the gardens with all that I’ve got.
In the distance, I spot Jago and Elodie standing in the glowing doorway, hands clasped and ready. To any nearby onlooker, they give the appearance of a young couple who’ve broken free of the crowd to enjoy a romantic moment.
To my eyes, they look like they’ve jointly decided to take off without me.
“Wait!” I croak, gasping for air as a flaming spear of pain spirals hot and bright through my side. “Please—don’t go! I-I’m almost there!”
It’s only when Jago turns, eyes wide with alarm, that I become aware of the rasp of ragged breath, and the crunch of gravel underfoot sounding from somewhere nearby.
The man has given chase, and he’s only a few steps away.
Jago extends an arm past the portal and calls for me to hurry.
My lungs about to burst, I push my legs harder, faster. Watching as the green hologram arrow that flickers before me continues to shrink with every step I gain, as the countdown clock just above burns through time as if to say:sure, you’re getting closer, but you’re never going to make it.
00.00.12.
I switch my focus to Elodie, watching her lips draw tight as her fingers reach for the jewel in her ear.
00.00.11.
My left foot kicks up behind me as the right one shoots forward, aiming for solid ground, only to have my heel catch on a jagged bit of rock, knocking my ankle in one direction, while my body bends in another.
I teeter precariously, falling through space with my arms pinwheeling wildly.
A startled cry rings loudly into the night, as my body slams forward, landing hard on my palms. The blow so sudden, it jolts the air clean out of my lungs.
00.00.09.
Wheezing for breath, I stagger forward, desperately clawing my way to the portal. My hand reaches for Jago’s, my fingers grazing his, as the man lunges, grabs a fistful of my poufy blue dress, and wrenches me back so abruptly, my neck snaps hard and my vision turns fuzzy.
00.00.07.
Frantically, I peer through the blizzard of tiny white and gray spots now dancing before me like static on an old-time TV. I scramble to my knees, send an arm swinging wildly. In an instant, my ears fill with the sickening sound of shredding silk, a grotesque cracking of bone under flesh that’s soon met by a muffled curse when the man realizes my elbow’s laid waste to his nose.
“Hurry!” Jago cries, as Elodie stands before me, fingers pinching closer, ready to push the clicker and leave me stranded forever.
00.00.04.
I struggle to my feet and hurl my body forward, clumsily reaching for Jago, only to crash hard into his side, inadvertently dragging the man along with me. The funk of his sharp scent blasts up my nose, as a gush of blood streams off his chin and onto my dress, leaving a grisly crime scene of a mess.
00.00.03.
Jago grasps hold of me, then kicks the man so hard, he doubles over in pain and tumbles right out of the circle of light.
00.00.02.
His face contorted with rage, the man leaps to his feet and charges straight toward us, as Elodie sighs, grabs hold of my hand, and says, “Seriously, Nat? Caught by the groundskeeper?”
And with a derisive shake of her head and a single snap of the clicker, the three of us soar forward in time.