The Hourglass Door (41 page)

“What have you done to her?”

“Oh, it’s not what we’ve done to her, it’s what the
bank
has done to her.” Tony shrugged. “It turns out not everyone is as well suited to visiting here as you are. Valerie’s mind seems to have cracked under the pressure.”

This must have been the “slight snag” Zo had mentioned so casually. I felt my hate for him flare up in a welcome pain. I would make him pay for this. For everything.

I shook free of V’s grip and took a step toward Valerie, unsure of what I could do to help, but knowing I couldn’t stand to see her like this.

A sharp report cracked behind me and I turned to see Zo standing on the bank. Fury surrounded him like a storm. Heat fairly crackled off his skin. He rubbed his jaw, and I suspected it had already healed from the blow Leo had given him.

My heart sank. I had almost made it. I’d beaten him to the bank, but not fast enough.

Without breaking his gaze from me, Zo barked something in Italian to V, who nodded and grabbed Valerie by her arm.

“Oh, are we going to a party?” she asked. “I like parties. Should I bring my dolly?”

V walked her to the edge of the river and shoved her in. She was gone midword.

I hoped she landed somewhere—some
when
—safe.

“There. That’s done. Now we can get down to business.” Zo stepped to the side.

I finally saw Dante. He was crouched on his knees, his hands covering his face, shaking with barely controlled emotion. Rage? Sorrow? Fear? It was hard to tell.

“Dante!” His name burst from my lips automatically. I took a step toward him, but Tony grabbed me and held me back. His hand cut off the circulation to my fingers.

“He can’t hear you, Abby.” Zo walked toward me, a dark light in his eyes, his casual cruelty replaced with something more focused. “In fact, he can’t do anything here. Not unless I say so.”

“Let him go!” I demanded.

“We all have our little tricks here,” Zo said, ignoring me. “Did you know Dante can see the future? It’s too bad he didn’t see this coming. V has an uncanny sense of direction here. And Tony swears he can hear echoes of the past.” He smiled coldly at me. “My little talent here is that I can enhance emotions—grant pleasure or pain.”

Zo pointed a finger at Dante and then flicked it upright. Dante’s head snapped back as though it had been tied to a string. Zo curled his finger and Dante’s neck bent backward, straining to obey Zo’s command even though he couldn’t move another inch.

I shivered to see Dante’s throat so exposed, so vulnerable.

Zo dropped his hand, and Dante’s head followed suit.

I tried to catch his eye, to make sure he knew I was there, but Dante wouldn’t—or couldn’t—look at me. He hid his face behind his hands, his black chains stark against his pale skin.

I gasped as I realized I’d seen Dante like this before. The first time I had traveled to the bank, the first time I had looked in the river, I had seen this exact moment. Was it possible? Had I really seen the future back then? I ground my teeth in frustration. If only I had looked a little further downstream, maybe I’d have seen how to stop Zo.

“What do you want?”

Zo grinned over sharp teeth. “I want my life back. And lucky for me,
you
are the one who can give it to me.”

“I can’t—” I started, but then stars sparked in my vision as Zo slapped me across the face. I felt my lips start to swell and tasted blood in the corner of my mouth. The ringing in my ears sounded even louder in the deafening silence around me.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s you. It’s always been you.” Zo trailed his fingertip down my cheek. “Because you, sweet Abby, are special.” He shook his head sadly. “All that time wasted on your useless friend, when I should have been pursuing you.”

I recoiled from his touch, turning my head away.

Zo glanced at Tony, who immediately stepped to flank V, who was guarding Dante at the edge of the riverbank behind us. Zo moved closer, intimate. “I’m surprised Dante didn’t figure it out. Or maybe he did, but it was too late. You bring part of the river with you wherever you go. Even here. But of course, there’s no time here on the bank, is there?” Zo spoke to me like I was a small child and I bristled at his tone. He saw my discomfort and grinned. “It’s like oil and water—the river and the bank will never mix. But here you are, sweet Abby, with your special touch of time, and something’s got to give.”

A light bloomed in Zo’s dark eyes, and I turned to see what had entranced him.

A slender bridge spanned the river. The path lacked railings or supports of any kind; I wondered if anyone could realistically cross that narrow walkway without falling off. The bridge arched high above the river, and I shuddered to think of falling from that height. I followed the curve to where it ended on the other side of the river and my breath froze in my body.

At the foot of the bridge was a flat black door, freestanding in the void. Even from here I could see the markings on the door: stars, a wave, a shell. An hourglass in the middle, the top bulb empty while a mound of sand completely filled the bottom bulb. Three narrow slots where the hinges would pivot, allowing the door to open to the past or the future.

The void shimmered along the edges of the door frame like water. I couldn’t concentrate on it for long without my eyes starting to well up against the unnaturalness of it all.

My whole body flashed cold. My teeth started to chatter and I shook so hard I could feel myself vibrating in Zo’s hand. I had seen this door somewhere before.

“Ah, Abby,” Zo murmured, “it’s perfect.”

I shook my head and looked away. “It’s horrible.”

“It’s the way home,” he said.

Tony and V exchanged a hungry grin above Dante’s head.

“You can’t go back. You were sent through the time machine for a reason and you can’t go back. Any of you.” I knew I was babbling, mixing truth with lies, but I couldn’t seem to stop the words from spilling out. Anything to keep from looking at the door.

“Leo may have said that, but we both know he has been keeping secrets.”

I looked helplessly at Dante, wishing he would stand up and stop Zo, but if he knew the door was there and what Zo planned to do, he gave no sign.

“You can’t open it,” I blurted. “The door is missing a piece—”

Zo tightened his grip around my arm, a feral smile peeling back his lips. “You mean this piece?” He held out his hand, and Tony placed the three-pronged brass machine into his palm.

He gripped the two ends of the machine and pulled. The long side grew longer like a blade being unsheathed. Longer and longer the hinge unfolded until, instead of a compact letter
E,
the hinge had expanded to be tall enough to fit the empty notches carved into the door.

No one else seemed to hear the clear high note that shivered like a bell in the flat air of the bank. I heard the beginning of a quiet melody playing deep in my ear. It was a melody Ialmost recognized, a shiver just on the edge of my memory. I was sure I had heard it before. But where? When?

“Do you have any idea how special you are, my sweet Abby? You can come to the bank alone; you can summon the bridge; and I think
you
can open the door.” Zo neatly telescoped the machine back into its small, portable size.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and trying to take a step back. “I won’t do it.”

In a flash, Zo whipped me around, pinning me against his body, forcing me to look at the bridge and the horrible black door. “You will because I say you will. And here, you have to do what I say.” He pushed the hinge into my hands and the music increased in tempo and volume.

I felt a jolt at the base of my spine, sharp and electric. All my joints felt loose, somehow disconnected from the rest of my body. Fire raced along my nerves, tingling in the pads of my fingertips, in the soles of my feet. A warm languor rose up inside me, then a calm fog that filled my mind with a sweet certainty.

Why wouldn’t I want to open the door if Zo asked me to? He wouldn’t ask me to do anything that would hurt me or Dante, would he? Of course not. All he was asking was for me to skip across the bridge and open a silly little door. That was all. It wouldn’t take more than a minute. The melody of the door wound its way through my ears, soft as moonrise, gentle as a kiss.

Suddenly I wanted to see what was on the other side of the door. I took a step toward the bridge.

“Abby.” Dante’s voice was a husk, a shell, a fragment of a whisper, but it was enough to snare my attention.

“Be quiet, Dante,” Zo said.

I felt his hand at the small of my back. The smallest pressure of his long fingers propelled me another step. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

“That’s right, Abby. The door will open for you, won’t it?”

As soon as he said it, I knew it was true. There wasn’t a handle on the door, but I knew if I touched it, if I placed the hinge into the empty slots along the edge, the carved door would swing open, and then . . .

No. That was wrong. There was something else. Something missing before the door would open.

And if the door opened, something bad would happen. Wouldn’t it?

“Abigail.” Dante’s voice buzzed in my ear. I waved it away. I didn’t want to be interrupted. I was so close. Just a few more steps . . .

“I’m warning you.” Zo’s voice hardened. A strangled groan rumbled from Dante’s throat before the sound was cut in two.

The vastness spread out around me like a blanket, an ocean that lifted me step after step, wave after wave, drawing me inexorably toward the door. I couldn’t feel my breath in my lungs anymore. I couldn’t even hear my own heart beating.

The bridge held firm under my steps; it was stronger than it looked. The river rushed in silver streaks beneath me, the flow of time spinning like stars in the night sky. I glided across the narrow path effortlessly. All that remained was to open the door. I reached out my hand. Almost. Almost.

“Abigail Beatrice Edmunds.” Dante’s voice rang in the void, loud and powerful—a clarion call I couldn’t ignore. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hesitated, the door singing in my head, my fingers almost brushing against the carved hourglass. Everything in me wanted to lean forward and marry the bright brass hinges with the dark black wood. Almost everything. Dante’s voice echoed inside of me, a sibilant breath against the inside of my skin, a dark harmonic counterpart twining around the shimmering melody. Slowly I turned away from the door, the movement tearing at my soul, my mind.

The comfortable fog shrouding my mind evaporated. Zo’s hold over me disappeared between one breath and the next.

“I warned you!” Zo barked. “You will not speak!” He pointed a long finger at Dante’s forehead like a gun. Then he clenched his fist and twisted his wrist in a quick, violent motion like snapping a lock into place.

Dante screamed, clutching his head with his hands as though Zo had ripped something from him. His body tightened, quivering with tension and pain. Harsh lines delineated the angles of his face; shadows pooled under his eyes, in the hollow of his cheeks and his throat.

Zo was killing him, strangling him with pain.

“No!” I dropped the hinge at the base of the door. I set my foot back on the bridge, ready to dart across, but fear gripped me, freezing me in place. The bridge seemed to arch even higher than I remembered. How had I ever crossed this in the first place?

“Dante!” I screamed out desperately.

Zo’s fist squeezed tighter and tighter, his knuckles white with pressure. The shadows painting Dante’s face darkened to purple, then black.

“Do it, Abby!” Zo roared. “Open the door and I’ll let him go.”

I looked at the brass hinge and then at the door. I saw where the three prongs were supposed to go. All I had to do was pick up the brass hinge and slot it into place. But it wouldn’t be enough. Dante said that the door was locked, that the lock required a key.

And without the key, I was as helpless as Zo.

Desperately, I looked from Zo to Dante, searching for a sign, a hint of what I should do.

Despite the agony etched on Dante’s face, his eyes were clear and lucid.

“Open the locket, Abby,” he whispered, and somehow I heard him across the vastness of the river and the void. “It’s time.”

I closed my hand around the silver locket at my throat. Dante had said it held the key to his heart.

With trembling fingers, I reached up and opened the cover of the locket. A small silver key fell out into my hand. I stared at it in disbelief. All this time I had been wearing the key around my neck. I couldn’t decide if it was the smartest thing Dante could have done or the most dangerous.

“Stop wasting time, Abby. Open the door!”

Frantic, I ran my eyes over the door, searching for the keyhole. There. There it was. A tiny keyhole in the center of a heart tucked into the wild patterns surrounding the hourglass carving.

“Please,” I begged, the small, sharp teeth of the key biting into my hand. “Please don’t kill him.”

Zo lifted his fist and Dante jerked to his feet, standing on unsteady legs. “Don’t worry, sweet Abby, I won’t kill him—much as I’d like to. No, all you have to do is open the door and I’ll let him go. Otherwise, he’ll stay right where he is—on the bank. Forever.” Zo spared a glance for me, pinning me with his dark eyes. “And you know what happens to us if we stay here for too long, don’t you?”