Timepiece

Michael’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. “I still think there were limitations because of the exotic matter formula. Remember how much he’d aged when he came out of the veil in Liam’s office? I was shocked he was healthy tonight.”

“I can’t stop thinking about something Cat said.” Em stared at the floor. “That Jack piggybacked my travel gene to get out of the bridge when he was stuck. I know only travelers can move through time, but the continuum is so screwed up now. He could still be manipulating it.”

“That could mean …” I stopped cold and waited for Em to finish.

“If Jack could piggyback a gene to get out of a bridge, could he piggyback to get into one? And if he can get into a bridge, can he use it to time travel?”

The massive oak doors to the Phone Company swung inward to admit my dad, putting a quick end to our theorizing.

He picked his way through glass and overturned furniture to the stage. He kissed Em’s cheek and gave Michael a long look. My ribs gave another twinge before he turned his attention to me. “Show me.”

Keeping my eyes on the far wall, I lifted my shirt just enough for him to see the beginnings of a nasty blue bruise starting where my ribs had caught the stage.

“Do you think they’re broken?” He tapped the pocket of his brown tweed jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses.

I still didn’t look at him. “I don’t even think they’re cracked.”

He slid the glasses on and leaned in closer, furrowing his brows in concern. “You wouldn’t tell me if they were.”

I shrugged and dropped the shirt. There were lots of things I didn’t tell him. From the way he’d looked at Michael, he had secrets of his own.

Dad straightened and removed the glasses, dropping them back into his pocket. His eyes fixed on the exact spot where Jack had appeared and disappeared.

“A veil,” he murmured. “Is that where Jack showed up?”

“And where he disappeared.” Em shuddered. “Wonder when he’ll be back. And what he wants this time.”

Dad and Michael exchanged a look over Em’s head. I knew what they were thinking.

Jack wanted her.

“You can’t worry about that,” Dad said to her, with a gentleness he used to reserve for my mom, or me when I was a lot younger. “We can’t anticipate Jack’s every move.”

“We can anticipate that he doesn’t care about the continuum,” Em said, “or all the ways he can screw it up.”

I knew what was coming next, and not just from Em’s pointed stare at me. Bossypants.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Dad asked.

Coerced and trapped. “I saw a rip today. I know it was a rip, because Em was with me.”

He didn’t say anything, just rubbed his beard the way he always did when approaching a problem.

“Why aren’t you surprised?” I asked, the uneasiness growing in my gut.

“Because it’s not a surprise.” He dropped his hand and sighed deeply. “I didn’t have to call Nate and Dune to come and stay with your mom. They were already at the house, along with Ava. They’ve all seen rips, too.”

Chapter 3

I stared at Dad, thrown by the implications.

“From what I can gather, anyone with the time gene can see rips now. Dune, Nate, and Ava were all alone in different public places, and yes, it’s happened more than once to each of them.”

“Do you think that means they can travel, too?” Michael asked, uncertainty drawing his voice taut.

“I don’t know.” Dad shrugged. “But without exotic matter, there’s no way to test it. I’m not interested in taking any risks.”

The sound of Thomas’s black boots hitting the floor made us all jump when he entered from the kitchen. His footsteps echoed as he stalked toward us, his anxiety preceding him.

“Thomas. I’m sorry for the mess and the trouble,” Dad said with regret. “I’ll be glad to cover anything your insurance won’t.”

“Absolutely not. You aren’t responsible. But I have a few questions about the ass—man who is.” His slicked-back Gomez Addams hairdo and drawn-on, pencil-thin mustache were at odds with the fierceness in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best to answer,” Dad said.

Thomas directed his words toward Dad but pegged Michael with an accusing stare. “I’d like to speak with you two outside.”

“Why can’t you just ask your questions here?” Em argued, her anger at being left out obvious.

“I can get any information I need from you later.” He gave Em a parental look when she made a sound of protest. “This is an adult conversation.”

Em’s spark of fury told me Thomas would pay for that comment later. I knew she was fighting hard to hold her tongue.

“Lead the way.” Dad gestured toward the doors with his head, and he and Michael followed Thomas outside.

Em watched them walk away. The second they were out of earshot, she let out a truly impressive stream of curse words and took out a couple of fall decorations with her fists, finally punching a plastic pumpkin to the ground and kicking it across the room.

Even though I was tempted, I knew laughing would prove deadly. “Are you picturing Thomas’s face on that pumpkin?”

“In my mind’s eye, his nose is bleeding.”

“At least he acknowledged you. My dad thinks I’m completely useless.”

“Don’t say that.” She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage. “You aren’t useless.”

We were quiet for a few seconds, long enough for me to realize she was trying to figure out the best way to say something.

“Spill it, Em.” I grinned at her. “No need to sugarcoat.”

She uttered a sound of frustration. “Stop reading me.”

“You know I can’t help it.”

“Since it’s just you and me,”—she patted the stage beside her—“sit.”

I leaned back, putting all my weight on my arms before sliding carefully into a sitting position. It was rare we were alone together, and her nerves were skipping around like live electrical wires. “What is it?”

“I wish … you and Michael could … make up.”

“I didn’t know we were in a fight,” I lied, as smoothly as I could. “What’s it about? You?”

Her immediate blush confirmed it. “I’ve already capped my awkward quota for the year, and it’s only October.”

“I don’t hold back, Em. You and Mike both know where I stand when it comes to you.”

She stared down at her hands. “And you know where I stand.”

“Maybe we should arm wrestle for you,” I said, trying to make a joke. Failing.

“Stop.” Her voice was sharp and loud, the usual smooth edges disappearing in her anger. “I’m not a thing, and I’m not joking around. I care about you both.”

“One of us more than the other.” There was no reason to bother trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“You aren’t being fair. I don’t want to be the thing that ends your friendship. You two used to be like brothers.”

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