Liam spent his nights in the laboratory when he couldn’t pick up extra hours at the library. He tinkered endlessly with his stupid oscillators, those two curved metal columns that came up to his chest to generate the harmonic frequencies he sought. They should be working, if his calculations were correct. He was sure he’d unearthed the correct frequency. He’d mathematically proved the other universe’s existence, living and breathing beside him like a stranger standing too close at the bus station. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bridge that gap. Couldn’t find a way to cross over. And he was growing increasingly worried about exactly what might happen if Pitr gained access first.

Liam had just plugged in the oscillators and had begun to power them up for another futile attempt when he became aware of someone watching him from the door.

“Is that it?” Pitr asked, and Liam nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Christ. What’re you doing here?” Liam’s grease pencil slipped out from behind his ear. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Pitr stepped into the lab. As frightful as he’d looked that night in his room last winter, he looked even worse now. His hair hung in filthy clumps; sleeplessness was smeared under his eyes like oil stains. Liam could smell the musk of exhaustion and coffee on him from across the room. He looked like a balloon a week after the party ended, sagging and deflated.

“I’ve brought you something. A . . . a peace offering.”

Liam took a step back, wishing he’d locked the door.

Pitr wheeled in a dolly, wheezing with the effort. A wooden crate rested on it, hastily hammered shut. It still smelled of fresh-cut pine, the cheap resiny kind used at questionable warehouses.

The ones by the Brooklyn docks.

“No.” Liam stepped backward until he pressed up against one of the oscillators, their dual posts nearly as tall as he was. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. “Pitr, no—”

But Pitr had produced a snub-nosed pistol from within his coat. “The machine, Liam. Turn it on.” He bared grimy teeth in a desecration of a smile. “You know the frequency.”

Had Pitr been keeping tabs on Liam all spring long?

Liam clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. This was a nightmare, brought on by stress and exhaustion. Any minute now he’d wake up in his rented room, alarm screeching, ready to start another early morning at the bakery before rushing to his first exam—

Pitr aimed the pistol at Liam’s feet. “Now.”

Heart thudding in his ears, Liam fired up the oscillator.