Raul’s screams didn’t stop. He gripped Dak even tighter and lifted him up, struggling to his feet as he held the boy in his arms. Dak squirmed and kicked — tried to free himself — but the man was too strong.
“I don’t care what else happens,” the Amancio brother shouted over the rain and thunder and sounds of battle. “But you will die! Tonight!”
Then, with another shriek of lunacy, the man ran forward to the railing of the ship and threw Dak over the side. Screams now erupting from his own throat, Dak plummeted into the dark depths of the stormy sea.
34. Breathless
THE OCEAN swallowed him.
It was cold — like a living creature of ice that bit every part of his body at once. He was dizzy and hurt and disoriented. Everything was dark and freezing and he couldn’t tell what was up or down. His lungs screamed at him to breathe, to take in air — now, now, now! But he overpowered the urge, knew that he if he did so he’d only pull in water and drown. So he struggled, kicked, and flailed, tried to push himself to the surface, hoping that he’d naturally go in the right direction.
A pain throbbed in his skull. His insides felt as if they might explode. He scissored his legs in the thick water, pulled at it with his arms. The need for air became all powerful, an inferno that roared in his heart and through his veins, squeezing his lungs as if someone had wrapped ropes around them and were cinching them tighter and tighter. He wanted to scream, but knew that would be the end, too.
He broke through the water’s rough surface.
After sucking in a huge gulp of air, he sputtered and spit out the seawater that came in with it. Pumping his arms and legs to tread in the choppy ocean, he stuck his mouth as high as he could to breathe. Lightning still ripped white, jagged streaks in the sky above, and the rain lashed at his face. His body felt like it was stuck on a slow-motion trampoline that just wouldn’t stop, the sea moving him up and then down again, up and then down again. And the cold. He was already losing feeling in his hands and feet.
He twisted around to see that the ship was about a hundred feet away, its lanterns’ glow eerie in the midst of the storm. With the rain and the bobbing of the waves and the lightning flashes making the darkness more stark when they vanished, it was hard to tell how the battle was going. But he caught the silhouette of a man standing straight and tall at the railing, looking right at him. And he knew who it was.
Christopher Columbus.
They’d done it. They’d really done it. Too bad Dak was going to celebrate by getting eaten by sharks. Or drowning. He couldn’t decide which was worse.
“Dak!”
Impossibly, he heard a voice coming from somewhere nearby. Still treading with all of his strength, he looked around, straining to see through the darkness and pounding rain. There was another flash of lightning and he saw a small boat just a dozen feet away, its occupants rowing mightily. Sera. Riq. Eyeball, his namesake body part seeming to glow as it stared him down.
Pure elation filled Dak from top to bottom. He waved a hand into the wet air. “I’m here! Right here!”
“We know, you idiot!” Eyeball roared with a laugh.
Sera leaned forward to be heard over the storm. “We did it! Salvador is dead and his brother was thrown overboard right after you! Columbus is in charge and the battle’s over!”
Dak’s heart leapt at the news. And it had never felt so good to see his —
Someone grabbed him from behind, gripping an arm around his neck like a vice. Dak gasped, beat at the thick muscles of the forearm that had begun squeezing the life out of him.
“Dak!” Sera yelled. “Dak!” She was helpless on the boat, could do nothing but shout his name.
“I told you,” a man whispered into his ear. “I said you’d die, and now you will. You and me both.”
Raul.
Dak could barely breathe. He kicked his legs below him, trying to hit the man in the knee. He pulled and swatted at his arm, but nothing worked. He was choking, and once again his lungs begged for air.
“Down we go,” Raul said.
Then he pulled Dak under the water, just as Sera yelled his name again.
Cold water. Blackness. Pain in his neck, his head. Pain all over. No air, his chest screaming for it. The sheer desperation of it all shot a burst of adrenaline surging through his body and he went ballistic, punching and squirming like a rabid animal until he somehow got free. His head broke the surface again and he sucked in a breath, but he knew the madman would be on him again in seconds.
“Sera!” he yelled hoarsely. “Use the Infinity Ring! Take us out of here! Now!”
They were close, but not close enough to help. Sera’s face was a mask of fear as she leaned over the edge of the boat, reaching helplessly for him.
Dak felt movement behind him, a hand sliding up his back, reaching for his neck.
“Sera!” Dak shouted.
Raul pulled him back below the water. Dak barely got in another breath before it happened. An arm slipped around his neck again, squeezing even tighter than before. Dak’s eyes bulged open, but he saw nothing. Only black water. His mouth opened up and the cold liquid rushed in; he spit it out. He gripped the man’s arm with both hands but knew it was pointless now. He kicked out with his legs because he had nothing else.
Lights began to dance before his eyes. Numbness filled his chest, replacing the pain. His throat was doing funny things as he fought the urge to suck in a breath of pure salt water, which would fill his lungs and kill him.
In that moment, death waiting to take hold, he thought of his parents. He closed his eyes, and in his mind he saw that goofy look on his dad’s face when he’d unveiled a new invention. He saw the sweetness in his mom’s eyes after she’d kissed him on the forehead before saying good night. He saw that last glimpse of them he’d had before they’d been sucked into the wormhole, vanishing into time itself.
He saw them, and almost felt their presence. He decided it was time to quit fighting. He was floating now. He sensed people grabbing at his shirt, pulling on it. But it was too late. Death began to drag him down.
The last thing he saw was a whirlpool of lights.
35. Changes
BRINT SAT brooding in the tiny office of the Hystorians’ fallback shelter, staring at an old class photo hanging on the wall. He was still depressed, but he felt he had good reason to be.
They’d lost their headquarters. There was no salvaging it once the SQ had descended upon them. They’d barely survived the attack, and not without some heavy losses. The men and women that had gotten away were now regrouping here, at their hideaway across town. Thank goodness they always planned for the worst.
At least Dak, Sera, and Riq had gotten away safely, and with the Infinity Ring. Not only did it mean they had hope of Aristotle’s grand plan finding success, but the time-travel device itself was far away from the reaches of their enemy. At least in the present day.
Mari came in, a raised bruise forming on her cheek.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Well enough.” Brint looked back at the photo, not sure why it had him so mesmerized — he’d glanced at that thing a million times before. “How about you?”
“I’m fine. Why are you staring at the wall like that?”
“Huh?” His gaze moved to her. “Oh. Sorry. Just . . .”
An odd feeling came over him — pleasant but unexpected. Indescribable. He stood up and walked over to where the photo hung and took it off the nail, held it up to inspect it. Columbus High School, top of his class. It had been twenty-five years. Hard to believe.
“Did you know my school was named after Christopher Columbus?” he asked Mari.
“Of course. Who else would it be named after?”
Brint shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just having good memories of my time there. Forget it.” He put the photo back in its place, straightened it. Then he turned to face his longtime partner. “What do you think? About today?”
“I think we had some lucky breaks. And we survived to fight another day.”
“Always finding the positive, aren’t you?” Brint asked. “Well, who knows. Maybe for once time’s on our side.”
36. Time Out
SERA HAD saved her best friend from drowning. He so owed her.
She sat on the edge of an old wooden pallet, in the middle of a dark and dusty place that looked like a warehouse of some sort. It’s where she’d appeared after pulling Dak out of the ocean and warping herself, Dak, and Riq away from the storm. They lay next to her, all three of them sopping wet.
She shivered from the cold and looked around. Streams of light broke through slats and holes in the ceiling, the glowing beams full of dancing motes. The place was dank and smelled of old wine. Barrels and caskets and boxes littered countless rickety shelves.
“Where are —” Dak began to whisper, but then he cut off and scrambled to his feet. He sprinted across the dirty floor of the warehouse before Sera could ask him what he was doing. She grabbed Riq’s hand and pulled him up, then they both ran after Dak.
He’d come to a stop at the door to the place. A poster had been nailed to its surface, with an artist’s pencil drawing of a man and a woman standing side by side, staring glumly at whomever might look back. Below their picture, a phrase was scrawled in big black letters, but in another language — Sera knew it must be French.
Dak was frozen. Sera couldn’t breathe. Riq glanced back and forth between them, confused.
“Those are Dak’s parents,” Sera whispered.
“What does it . . .” Dak began to ask.
Riq’s face had gone pale. He cleared his throat. Then he translated.
“Wanted. For crimes against the Revolution.”