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Blood seeped into the neckline of Em’s white sweater before spreading like the ocean across the sand, darkening everything it touched. Even though Poe held her up, she listed to the left, her feet dangling like a small child’s. Red liquid pooled in the hollow above her collarbone.
plastic spider hanging from a fake web in the corner fell to the ground with a thud. We both jumped.
It was time to put the truth out on the table. She could do whatever she wanted with it. “Michael and I were like brothers, because Dad wishes Michael were his son.”
Em started to respond, but I caught sight of movement by the dining patio and held up one finger. I looked up, expecting another spider to fall, or for one of the scarecrows in the corner to be wobbling on its bamboo stake. Then I sensed emotion.
I signaled to Em to keep quiet again and peered through the dim light. Fearlessness and determination.
A guy I’d never seen before stepped inside the building.
A quick flash of light reflected off the knife in his hand.
I stood up on the stage in front of Emerson when he started toward us. Shorter than me by four or five inches, his shoulders were as wide as mine. His nose curved slightly to the left, as if he’d broken it in a fight and set it himself afterward.
“No one’s supposed to be in here. The police made everyone leave,” I said, pulling myself up to my full height. I inclined my head toward the front of the Phone Company. “They’re right outside if you’re looking for them.”
“I’m not.” He had an accent—either British or Australian— I could never tell them apart. He kept his tone low, regulated. Controlled.
“How can I help you?” I hoped Em would keep quiet and not draw attention to herself. I heard her climb to her feet, and stopped hoping.
“You’re Kaleb Ballard.” He climbed the stairs to the stage, stopping just in front of the veil.
Squinting at him in the dark, I tried to remember if I’d seen him somewhere before. He didn’t look much older than me, but there was a weird air of maturity about him. “Who’re you?”
“Call me Poe.” He scanned my costume, and I pulled at the strings of the pirate shirt. “You need to pass on a message.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do I look like an envelope?”
He didn’t laugh, and from the way his body stiffened, the efforts to keep his temper restrained were considerable. “The space time continuum is compromised.”
“Thanks.” My muscles tensed, too. “I’ll alert Doctor Who.”
Em’s fingers closed over my wrist. She was staring at Poe’s right hand. The knife. Her fear made me bite down on my tongue to stop any more smart aleck responses.
“The continuum is compromised because of the choices those associated with the Hourglass have made.” He sounded muffled through the veil.
I didn’t respond. The first rule of Hourglass is that you don’t talk about Hourglass. Like Fight Club, but without the merciless beatings.
Em let go of my wrist and took a step closer to Poe. “What if those associated with it didn’t understand their choices?”
I gritted my teeth. She’d given us away.
“Ignorance of the law is not an excuse.” He spoke in a creepy monotone, as if he were some kind of puppet. The anger inside him didn’t match his voice at all.
“The law?” Em snorted. “I guess you’re the sheriff?”
Her response snapped a tenuous thread. Instead of acknowledging her, Poe stared directly into my eyes and smiled. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
It didn’t happen in slow motion, more like stop motion. I felt no fear or anxiety coming from Poe at all, just a dark resolve as he lunged, knife pointed directly at me.
Emerson jumped forward to block him. Before I could react, he grabbed her upper arm and jerked her into the veil.
The same one Jack Landers had used.
Em kicked to find leverage so she could do damage, but Poe was holding her off the ground. She growled with the effort, her fury hot. I kept my eyes on the knife. “Let her go.”
When he shook his head, I launched myself at the veil.
