They were both silent, staring at the dreadful silver watch.

Anna said, “What if I stayed behind, found him and trained him . . .”

“You know full well I need you with me, Anna. I need your skills. I need the magic you’ve inherited. I can’t make it all happen without you.” Josef stared at the powerful object on his palm. “We need each other. We have to remain together. If we do it right, he won’t be caught.”

“Maybe not caught in time, but caught by them,” Anna said, her voice rising. “When they realize who he is, if they discover him before he knows how to protect himself. Because we won’t be there to protect him.”

Josef chewed his lip. “It’s a risk. But it’s our only choice. We have to trust in him.”

Tears sprang into Anna’s eyes. “Then, after that, we might never see him again?”

Josef said, “There’s one other artifact I’ve also set aside. But, yes. That is a possibility.”

After a moment Anna looked at Josef and nodded.

“We must believe that he can do this.”

Anna nodded again.

Josef held out his hand. “Hold on tight,” he breathed to Anna as their eyes met, and she clung to his arm.

Josef Wolf, turning the crown on the top of the watch, set the time machine in motion.

CHAPTER 4

Isaac

1942

For a full three weeks, the memory of home kept Isaac fighting to survive.

Surviving in a dark alley in Dresden where he huddled until he was fetched by yet another stranger. Surviving as he ran through rain-soaked woods, pushing to keep up with a silent smuggler. The smugglers were different with every passing day and sometimes more often than that.

Isaac wanted to go home. To Prague, his Prague, not the Nazi Prague. He wanted to be back with his friends and he wanted his friends to be back with him, safe, happy, and well, as if they’d all simply been off on a long holiday . . .

Isaac wanted to be with his mother and father.

He wanted to walk down to the river and watch the boats and throw bread for the swans and cross the Charles Bridge and stare up at the magnificent castle as it was before it had been taken by the Nazis and become home to the Reichsprotektor—as if that evil man were any kind of king. He wanted to eat the flaky jablečný závin and listen to the music of Dvořák and Strauss, the music that was everywhere when he was little. He wanted to again be allowed inside the Old-New Synagogue, as he had been with his grandfather before the occupation had closed it.

He tugged at the memories as if they were a lifeline keeping him afloat in swirling dark waters.