Page 88 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
One of the journalists near us called up to him. “Sir, didyousend us the letters?”
“What do you know about Mr. Glass’s magic?” another asked.
“Can he heal himself? Or does he travel through time?”
“Bloody hell,” Alex muttered. “This has gone too far. I’ll stop him.”
“Wait.”
As Gabe said it, Stanley’s gaze fell on our little group. Heads turned our way again as questions were thrown at Gabe.
“Did he invite you, too?”
“Will you display your magic for us, Mr. Glass?”
“I asked you here to bear witness,” Stanley said, his voice rising above the traffic noise. “In a moment, I’m going to throw myself off this bridge.”
Gasps burst from the crowd. One woman screamed. The constable called for everyone to calm down, then edged forward. He appeared to be trying to talk Stanley out of his decision, but we were too far away to hear what he was saying.
We pushed through the retreating crowd, moving against the tide. I shifted the stack of letterhead from one hip to the other as it grew heavy. None of us spoke. We didn’t need to speculate about his sincerity or reason, or whether he would actually go through with it. We knew Stanley was deadly serious.
“You want us to witness your suicide?” one of the journalists called up. “There are ladies present!”
Several voices rose in accord, some pleading with Stanley not to take his own life.
“I’m going to throw myself off this bridge, but I won’t die. My friend Gabriel Glass will save me with his magic, just like he saved me countless times in the war.”
The gasps turned to murmurs of speculation and wonder. I overheard more than one onlooker say they thought as much all along. Others, however, suggested Stanley shouldn’t put his life in peril to prove such a wild theory.
Gabe was one of them. “Stanley, don’t!” he called up. “Ican’tsave you.”
Stanley’s foot slipped off the rail. The crowd gasped again, but he managed to regain his balance. “If my theory is correct, and you are able to save your life and the lives of your friends by altering time, then this will work. We’re friends. You saved my life before and I believe you will do so again. Your magic isspecial, Gabe. The world should know how special so that it can be examined and understood.”
This time, even more voices chimed in for him not to test his theory in such a dangerous way.
But Gabe’s wasn’t one of them. Nor was Willie’s, Alex’s or mine. We all knew that Stanley was prepared to die. Indeed, he planned on it. By announcing his theory about Gabe’s magic in front of witnesses and telling them that Gabe had saved lives by using his magic in the war, he’d put into everyone’s minds that Gabe would repeat the incredible feat here and now. Yet Stanley knew that he’d lost Gabe’s high regard after the abduction, a fact he was deliberately leaving out. Gabe’s magic wouldn’t engage to save Stanley, and Stanley wanted the world to witness that failure. The journalists and onlookers would see for themselves that Gabe couldn’t alter time after all, or he would have done it to save a friend. With the theory disproved, the press would lose interest in Gabe and leave him alone.
And Stanley would be dead.
He was sacrificing his life to give Gabe his freedom.
That’s why he hadn’t described his plan in the letter. He knew Gabe wouldn’t show if he did, because simply being here would lead to Stanley’s death.
The surrounding noises seemed to close in. Engines of passing vehicles revved, a train pulled into the station in a squeal of brakes and hiss of steam. Above it all rose the voices. Members of the crowd shouted, pleading with Stanley or begging Gabe to act. The constable on the viaduct nearest Stanley blew his whistle, trying to keep the onlookers back. Motorcars and lorries on the viaduct had stopped altogether. Another constable cleared an area on Farringdon Street below, which only caused the traffic problems to worsen.
Amidst it all, Gabe’s pleas to Stanley got lost.
There was only one thing in his power to do. He pushed through the throng, heading for the stairs. Willie and Alex followed, ever protective. I remained where I was, the stack of papers weighing heavily in my hands. I had thought I might need them to protect Gabe, but it seemed not. He was safe in this crowd.
From his vantage point on the railing, Stanley watched Gabe until he disappeared into the pavilion housing the stairwell. He readjusted his grip on the lamppost and kept his gaze on the stairwell exit on the viaduct itself. I couldn’t see it, but I knew the moment Gabe emerged. The crowd on the viaduct stirred as it spat him out.
Stanley squared his shoulders. If he harbored any doubt about his plan, I couldn’t detect it from where I stood, some sixty feet below. I got as close as the constable allowed.
But being closer wouldn’t be of any use. I needed to be quick. I needed to speak faster than I ever had. And I needed to focus.
Stanley lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave. It was that simple motion that saved him.
It gave me precious seconds. As if it were a signal, I threw the sheets in the air and chanted the flying paper spell.
