Behind them, Mac gave a deep, satisfied sigh. “Well. That was certainly illuminating.”

Dorothy let her eyes close for a fraction of a second.

“I’m glad you . . . enjoyed it,” said Roman, voice cool.

“Although we shouldn’t go so far next time.” Mac threw open the back door. He maneuvered his crutches out of the time machine first and then, grunting, hauled the rest of his body out, too. “Maybe just two years. I want to know exactly when this big earthquake is supposed to hit.”

From the corner of her eye, Dorothy saw Roman’s hands tighten around the Black Crow’s yoke.

He said, “Next time?”

Cackling, Mac said, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.” He winked at Dorothy and headed toward the parking garage’s back exit, crutches creaking. Neither she nor Roman had made a move to get out of the time machine.

Dorothy had never considered leaving their current time period before. But now there was a wild, unhinged part of her that wanted to grab the wheel and fly them somewhere—anywhere—else.

Paris in the 1920s. Rome at the height of its empire. Somewhere they could put an entire lifetime between themselves and the horrors of the world she’d just seen.

“We could go,” she said, thinking out loud. “If that’s—”

Roman cut her off firmly. “No. We can’t.” He kept his eyes trained on Mac’s retreating figure. It wasn’t until the parking garage door closed behind him that he tore his eyes away and added, his voice softening, “At least, I can’t leave here. This city, this time period, it’s my home. It’s the last place I . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trailing off. “But, if you wanted to go to some other time, I could always drop you off.”

Dorothy waited for him to elaborate—“the last place I” what?—but he stayed silent and, eventually, she shook her head, too. Neither of them would be running away. Roman was the only real friend she’d managed to make in over two centuries. She couldn’t just leave him here.

And Ash is here, said a voice at the back of her head. She gritted her teeth, heat rising in her cheeks. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t imagine putting a lifetime between her and Ash. Which meant that she and Roman would need to find a way to change the future they’d just seen. Somehow.

“How does it happen?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Do you know?”

“Not here,” Roman said. He looked, suddenly, very old. “I need a drink for this conversation.”

LOG ENTRY—JUNE 30, 2074

07:09 HOURS

THE WORKSHOP

There are car crashes every day and I’m going to stop one, if it’s the last thing I do.

Today’s headline: Four confirmed dead after fiery crash on I-5.

Warning the boy from yesterday didn’t work, so I’m going to take a new tactic. I’m going to delay the driver.

According to the story I found, this crash is going to occur when a semi slows for traffic, thus causing another commercial vehicle following directly behind to slam into him. I’m not going to get too emotionally involved with the victims in this one in case . . . well, in case it doesn’t work out, but if I can keep this from happening, four lives will be saved.