How could she have been so stupid?

Eliza unfolded the pages, her lips quirking. “Diary entries? Have you been keeping a diary, Quinn? How sweet.”

Dorothy had to work hard to keep her smile in place. Her only hope now was that Eliza might not realize how important those pages were.

Throw them away, she prayed, silently. They’re nothing.

“As a matter of fact, I have been keeping a diary, yes.” Dorothy did her best to keep her voice light, trying for a wobbly smile. “Dear Diary, today this horrible girl who I used to work with got a bit mouthy with me, so I slit her—”

Eliza brought the back of her hand down, hard, across Dorothy’s face. Knuckles bit into her cheek, smashing the inside of her mouth right up against her teeth. Her head whipped to the side, pain flaring up her neck. For a few minutes, she saw stars.

When her vision cleared, Dorothy stretched her jaw and spat, cringing when she saw blood hit the floor. Eliza had nearly knocked out one of her teeth.

And the diversion hadn’t worked, anyway. Eliza was frowning down at the journal pages, now, the skin between her brows creased in concentration.

“This looks like something you might be interested in, sir,” she said, waving the journal entries at Mac.

Dorothy felt panic rising inside of her. It was like a bad dream. Things kept getting worse and there was nothing she could do, no way to stop it.

Mac crossed the room and ripped the pages from Eliza’s hands. There was a moment of silence as he read over them, lips moving to help him make sense of the longer, more difficult words.

After several moments, he lifted his eyes to her, one eyebrow cocked. There was a look on his face that Dorothy could only describe as glee. Once again, she’d made this terrible man happy.

“Is this true?” he asked, pointing the pages at her. When Dorothy didn’t answer, he came closer and grabbed the collar of her cloak in one meaty hand. His face was close to hers, now, and she could inhale the stink of his breath. Cigarette smoke and whatever he’d had for lunch. Tuna fish, from the smell of it.

He said, “Are you telling me I could’ve been traveling through time all along, without a bleeding pilot, without a time machine, just by sticking some of this . . . this stuff into my body?”

Dorothy said, through gritted teeth, “Give me a dagger and we can experiment, if you like.”

Mac let her go and took a sudden step backward, excitement glinting in his black eyes. “That’s how he did it, isn’t it? Your friend Asher, that’s how he got to the future with us. He figured this thing out, didn’t he.”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Dorothy said.