Page 34 of Chasing Eternity

Elodie dismisses my concern with a nonchalant flick of her wrist, as if swatting away an invisible fly. “Probably.” She shrugs. “Not much gets past him, you know. But all I can say for sure is, he never asked, and I never volunteered the information.”

“But if he did know,” I press on, “don’t you think he’d be furious? I mean, after all the effort and resources he pours into the new recruits, and—”

Her voice sharpens, cutting me off. “Areyouplanning to tell him?” There’s an edge in her gaze, a hint of challenge I’m not quite willing to meet.

I shift my focus to Song, who returns the look with one of alarm. Switching back to Elodie, I say, “What would be the point? Though I am curious about the book’s origins.” I study her, seeking any flicker of emotion, no matter how small. “I mean, clearly the book works, so we know you didn’t create it on a whim.”

What I don’t say is that I saw the book during an Unraveling on my first day at Gray Wolf, when I stood before my window and watched a girl in a red cape dashing through a long-gone maze, carrying that same small leather book that now sits inside my backpack.

Elodie’s eyes flash with a rare hint of uncertainty. After a considerable pause, she admits, “I didn’t make the book. I—I found it,” she stammers, her usual confidence faltering for a moment, another anomaly I silently note.

“Anyway…” Elodie circles the desk, her movements smooth yet purposeful, and she comes to stand beside Song. “Now that it’s all out in the open, I have two bits of advice. First, be careful with using magick to Trip. It won’t end as well as you think. Second, no one’s going to tell Arthur about you, so just relax already.”

Song’s eyes narrow, her gaze fixed on the serpentine pendant at Elodie’s throat. “And I’m supposed to just trust you—take you at your word?”

“Trust me, don’t trust me.” Elodie shrugs, her indifference swirling around her like dust in an abandoned room. “It’s all the same to me. This is not my circus, and these are not my monkeys. I’m merely a tourist here. And I’m pretty sure the second I’m gone, this will get filed away with all the other insignificant events that have passed through my life.”

Song gives a small, tentative nod, a flash of relief crossing her face. Her brown eyes seek mine, searching for answers. “And Oliver and Finn? Do they hate me for leaving?”

I shake my head. “Finn thinks you left by choice, but Oliver’s convinced you were lost in time, and he’s frustrated that Arthur’s not making a better effort, or even any effort, to find you.”

A shadow of sadness darkens her gaze, her shoulders drooping under an invisible weight. She looks conflicted, torn, caught between two worlds.

“If it helps, I can pass along a message to them. Let them know that you’re safe?”

Her eyes widen. “You’re going back?” she asks, clearly not expecting that.

I nod. “It’s not like I can stay here and risk crossing my own timeline.”

Song’s brow furrows. “But do we even know if that’s true?” She glances between Elodie and me.

I look to Elodie, but she just shrugs. Turning back to Song, I say, “Are you really willing to take that chance?”

A tense hush descends upon the room, laden with unspoken questions and fears. The silence shatters when Elodie clears her throat, and says, “Now, if you could just tell us where you and Anjou Trip from, we’ll be on our way.”

I whirl toward Elodie, alarmed by her question. “Why don’t we just use the portal where we—” The words quickly fade, as the harsh light of reality smacks me hard in the face. Our portal stayed open for only two hours, an amount of time we’ve long surpassed. The next one won’t appear until tomorrow…unless Arthur has somehow managed to intervene and undo that.

Song shoots a glance between us. “You’re lucky,” she says, then pauses as a new thought dawns. “Or maybe you planned it this way. But, as it just so happens, the moon is in its waxing phase, which means there are three portals now open—the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library, the Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and a little scenic spot in Central Park, which, at this late hour, is probably the only one you can access.”

Once outside, the air between Elodie and me crackles with unspoken urgency.

“Are you sure we should go through with this?” I ask, the worry evident in my voice. “I mean, if it’s as risky as you say?”

Elodie dismisses my concern with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen the first time,” she says. “And probably not even the second or third time. It’s the repeat offenders who risk getting burned.” She gives me a sidelong glance, adding, “Or at least I think that’s the case. I can’t say for sure.”

My alarm must be visible because Elodie laughs. “So, tell me, Nat—was it worth it?”

I stare at her blankly, unsure what she’s getting at.

“Did you get what you needed?” Her probing gaze searches my face. “Reuniting with your dad”—she tugs on the sleeve of the gray Columbia University T-shirt he gave me—“and collecting souvenirs.”

A flood of memories rushes through me. That time spent with my dad will forever be one of the highlights of my life.

“Yeah,” I whisper, the word choked with emotion. “At least, I think so. Only time will tell. And you?”

“What about me?” she asks.

“You knew Song was here, didn’t you? It’s why you insisted on coming along.”

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