JULIAN ELLIS
I don’t know who that is.
TYLER FERTIG
Oh, but I do know who that is. These are files on us. On Annum Guard members. Am I in there, or have they already taken me out, burned my contents, and tossed the empty file?
I flip past JEREMY GREER, followed by four MASTERS, which is weird. How can there be four? Intermarriage? There are three MCKAYS next in line, and then, there it is.
AMANDA OBERMANN. I’m still here. I pluck the file out of the cabinet, and my heart skips a beat.
Literally.
Skips a beat.
There’s another file behind mine.
MITCHELL OBERMANN
My dad.
My hands shake as I lift the file from the cabinet. But there’s another one behind it. WALTER OBERMANN. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
I lay all three files on the desk, pushing Alpha’s Moleskine notebook out of the way. I don’t breathe as I flip open Walter Obermann’s file. And then I do. Because the first thing I see is that Walter Obermann was Four. A founding member of Annum Guard. That means—
I flip open my dad’s file. DELTA screams from the page. My father was second-generation Annum Guard. There’s a picture paper-clipped to the front page. My dad stares up at me. He can’t be more than twenty-one. So young. So handsome. He’s smiling at me, and I smile back.
“Dad,” I whisper. I touch the photograph. Then I grab my photograph—I recognize the shot as the one Peel snapped of me my first day of freshman year—and compare them. Our eyes are identical.
I was born into this, too. I have the genetic makeup. The full force of the situation hits me. There is no secret government trial going on. No one took my DNA and inserted it into the machine. There’s no solitary. No Feds waiting to arrest me. I’ve been able to project since the day I was born. Alpha lied to me. They all lied to me. Zeta, Blue, Indigo, all of them.
They knew.
And they lied.
Why?
There are footsteps outside the door.
I scramble as the code is being entered into the door. My picture falls to the floor, and I don’t have time to grab it as the door swings open. Alpha’s eyes pop out when he sees me.
“Iris!” His tone is one of shock.
I narrow my eyes. “You lied to me.”
His eyes dart between the file cabinet and the open folders on his desk and then fly to the notebook I pushed out of the way. His face is panicked. He knows I’ve caught him.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he says calmly.
“My father was Delta? My grandfather was Four? There is no government program, is there? And there aren’t any agents coming for me.”
Alpha holds up both of his hands. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. And I’m getting the hell out of here. Away from you, away from everyone.”
Alpha backs toward the door. “No, you’re not. You’re not going anywhere.” He glances at the notebook again. “Let me explain it to you.”
“I’m not going to believe a word you say!” I yell. “Ever! You basically ordered me to assassinate an innocent man. You’re using me because of my connection to the Stenders. Why?”
“Because—”
“Don’t answer!” I swipe my hand through the air to bat him away, even though he hasn’t reached for me. “I don’t care what you have to say. I told you I’m leaving, and I’m going. Now.”
Alpha stands up straight and grits his teeth. “And I told you that you’re not going anywhere.” He stares at me with cold, hard eyes, as if daring me to try to get past him.
But I don’t have to try to get past him. In one motion, I grab the three files off the desk as well as Alpha’s Moleskine notebook, then I whip open my watch necklace and spin the year dial. I’m not even counting the ticks. I don’t care where I go. I just have to get out of here.
“Iris, no!” Alpha yells.
He leaps at me. His hand closes on my wrist. I twist away and snap the watch lid shut.
Alpha’s office dissolves from view as I’m ripped away. The physical pain of projecting without the gravity chamber is intense, but the emotional pain is worse. My head stretches and pulls, and I hug the files and the notebook to my chest and scream.
I’m falling.
Still falling.
Still falling.
This won’t end. I’m going to die. Inside my chest my heart is exploding, and I’m not going to make it.
And then it stops. I stop. I open my eyes, expecting to be standing in the same office, some years earlier. But I’m not. I’m in the middle of a forest.
CHAPTER 18
I whip around. Forest, as far as the eye can see. Holy shit. How far back did I go? When was Boston founded? Sixteen hundred . . . something. Oh no.
My mind flashes to what they told me before, about how the farther back you go, the more time elapses in the present. A minute four hundred years ago really passes two days in the present. Fifteen minutes is a month. What if I’m five hundred years back? Six hundred? I choke.
I open the watch face again and turn the year dial forward. I give it two full turns. That’s a hundred and twenty years. I turn again when—
POP!
What was that? I drop the watch, and the pendant thunks to my chest. I whip around, hugging the stolen files tight.
It’s Green.
I gasp. The tracker! They’re tracking me!
Green holds up a taser. “Don’t move!” he yells.
My hand fumbles for the chain of the necklace. I find the watch and snap it shut.
Green disappears, and I’m plunged into darkness. My body is yanked apart again as I fly up into the future. I scream. It hurts. It hurts so much.
I land again and open my eyes. Where am I?
I’m not in a forest. I’m in Boston. Colonial Boston. It has to be. It looks exactly like it did when Zeta and I went to the Boston Massacre. I’m even standing in front of Hancock Manor. I have to be sometime in the eighteenth century.
Why am I standing here? I have to move! I tear across a dirt-covered Beacon Street into Boston Common while already turning the year dial.
POP!
Here we go again!
I whip my head around as I run. It’s Violet.
“Iris, stop!” she yells.
“Screw you!” I slam the watch shut.
I hear Violet’s voice screaming, “You can’t run forever!” as I fly through darkness. Pain rips at my entire body.
I’m in Boston Common again. It doesn’t look that different. There are a few more buildings and more people around, and—oh no. People around. They’re screaming. Why are they screaming? And then I realize. It’s me. They’re screaming at me. Because I’m wearing clothes from 1962 and have just materialized out of thin air.
I keep running with my head down. People jump out of my way. They’re afraid of me.
POP!
No! Not again!
I look back as I run. Orange is on my trail, and he’s fast. He’s too fast. I pop open the watch face and spin the year dial. I need to get closer to the present! I don’t fit in here.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Orange yells behind me.
I snap the watch shut. I didn’t turn it nearly enough. I’m only going a few years. I fly for a few seconds. My body barely has time to register the pain when it stops.
I gasp when I land. The Boston before me hasn’t changed that much, but there are even more people now. They scream. A woman faints. I throw myself out of Boston Common and onto Tremont Street. There are horses clomping through the cobblestone streets.