Outside the anil. Midnight, it read.

53

Dorothy

NOVEMBER 10, 2077, NEW SEATTLE

Dorothy landed the Black Crow in the Fairmont garage and cut the engine. Her eyes moved restlessly over the clouded windows and rusted pipes. It seemed strange, she thought, that this place should look so normal and familiar when everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Woodenly, she began to fumble with her seat belt. She wanted to be back in her room, alone, so she could finally break down, but she couldn’t seem to make her fingers work fast enough. The buckle felt large and foreign in her hands, and she was all too aware of Mac’s gun, still pointed at her.

And then they weren’t alone, anymore. Cirkus Freaks had begun to gather around the time machine, seeming to crawl out of the woodwork like cockroaches. Her fingers went still.

Had Mac been telling the truth, before? Had they all turned their backs on her?

Was she alone, again?

“It’s good that they’re here,” Mac said, pushing his door open. “They’ll want to know what happened to their comrade, won’t they?”

He holstered his gun, and Dorothy inhaled, her nose filling with the city’s familiar smell of salt and mold. Steeling herself, she exited the time machine.

“Where’s Roman?” The question came before the door had even slammed shut behind her. Eliza was pushing her way to the front of the crowd of Freaks, eyeing Dorothy’s blood-soaked cloak with great suspicion. “Didn’t he come back with you?”

“He . . .” Dorothy opened her mouth to explain, and found that she couldn’t speak. She heard the crack of a gunshot, saw Roman’s body spinning in place, and then falling to the ground.

She closed her mouth and pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard. She couldn’t say it.

She was vaguely aware of Mac lifting his hands to quiet the crowd. She looked up at him, wondering how he planned to explain Roman’s death. Did he honestly think he could tell them the truth, hoping their allegiance would protect him?

They’ll tear you apart, she thought, savage. And she found that she was anticipating this. Roman had been well liked. The Freaks would be furious once they’d learned what had happened to him.

“Friends,” Mac said in a grave voice, “I am sorry to report that there has been a great tragedy in our midst today. Our Crow, Roman Estrada, has been murdered.”

Whispers erupted like wildfire. Dorothy’s face suddenly felt very hot.

“We cannot let this stand,” continued Mac, his gaze tracking over the crowd. “And so I am offering a reward to anyone who brings me Roman’s murderer.”

Murderer? Dorothy felt the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. Did he really plan to pretend he hadn’t been the one who pulled the trigger?

She felt a sudden chill and realized what he was going to say a second before the words left his mouth.

“Jonathan Asher killed Roman Estrada.”