She smiles, and for the first time since my brother closed his eyes on the dusty ground, an emotion rises in my heart. One tiny flutter, no stronger than a subtle stir. And yet it has the power to change lives. Futures. Worlds.

I know it’s changed mine.

Hope.

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

I’m back in the void, floating in deep space. I must be getting better at existing in this realm, because there’s no disorientation. No flailing of limbs that don’t exist.

I have confirmation now. More explicit proof than I ever wanted that my brother is the Maker. As much as that pierces my incorporeal heart with an incessant onslaught of daggers, I need more.

How? How did we get from stopping Archie to killing Bandit? Why didn’t we dissuade him from going to Harvard? Why didn’t we prevent Mom from abandoning us?

Why didn’t we just…gulp…kill Archie himself?

I scan the images of my time stream as they slide by, faster and faster. I dip in and out of the river, and small pieces of the puzzle jump out at me.

Bandit and Cristela and I sabotaged his application to Harvard. We interrupted his mentorship with Charlie. We tried to convince Lalana to fall in love with my brother, and when that failed, we set him up with other women.

But my mom’s abandonment—we couldn’t touch. That event didn’t happen in the original time stream, Cristela explained. That branch was created by other forces, other actors from the future. For laws of science that I can’t understand, that incident is off-limits to us.

And then I see it. The scene that addresses our attempt to kill my brother. This moment, I want to understand deeply. This decision, I have to live fully.

Taking a figurative breath, I leap into the river with both metaphorical feet.

…

“I will throttle her.” I pace the tiny floor in our residential unit. My feet slap against the stone, threatening to wake Hope, whom I just got to sleep in her carved rock crib. But I can’t bring myself to care. “So help me, I will reach my hands through the black void, wrap them around my younger self’s neck, and choke her until there’s no breath left.”

“Now, now.” Bandit steps directly in my path. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. One whom I love very much. No matter how old she happens to be.”

I lower my forehead onto his chest, and for a moment, we just stand there, breathing.

“How was I ever that stubborn?” I mutter. “How did you put up with me all these years?”

“Believe me, it’s been a challenge,” he says, his lips twitching.

I smile—almost. Too much is unsettled. Too much is at stake.