didn’t create the astrolabe to
save myself. That was never the purpose.”
“Then
what—”
“The
Blast,” Leanor said. “That’s all that matters.”
Monroe
was watching her, mouthing something that Charlotte couldn’t understand. No
idea he had would help her convince Leanor; that much she knew. Once Leanor had
a plan, she didn’t sway. Now, for some insane reason, she had to die tomorrow.
“At
least tell me!” Charlotte shouted. A few passersby glanced at her. A cop down
the way frowned. “Tell me who they are. That woman you knew we’d meet. The man
who’ll kill you.”
“You’ll
figure it out. You’ll have to make a choice, but … Charlotte, I hired you for a
reason. Because I saw me in you. Because of your history-loving brother. I knew
you were perfect from the moment you mentioned him. Now it’s up to you; do you
understand?”
She
didn’t. Leanor wouldn’t help her. Leanor wouldn’t explain. She was clinging to
her secrets, taking them to her death. How could Charlotte ever figure any of
this out, when she had no idea what to do next?
“You
can do this, Charlotte. Go to the Blast. Everything will be okay; you hear me?
You’ll make everything okay.”
“Everything?”
Everything except reversing Leanor’s death. Charlotte gritted her teeth and
asked, “But what do we do at the Blast?”
The
pay phone was silent. After a few seconds, it beeped three times. Leanor had
hung up.
Just
as she had during their first year together, Leanor was leaving Charlotte to
her own devices.
Charlotte
set the phone on the cradle, clenching her teeth together. “She didn’t listen,”
she said to Monroe and Bill behind her. “Didn’t care that she was going to
die.” Charlotte couldn’t know for sure without going back in time to watch
Leanor die again, but it didn’t feel like she had succeeded. If anything, it
seemed like Leanor was resolute in rushing toward her own death.
She
felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Monroe asked, “What did she say?”
Charlotte
turned herself away from the phone. This call should’ve confirmed that time
could be changed. But she couldn’t help feel like she’d already lost her
mentor. She’d left Leanor lying on the ground, thousands of years ago. But who
was that woman? Who was this woman that she’d just called? Not the woman she’d
known. “She said she hired me for a reason. Told me to go to the Blast. That I’d
make everything okay, but she didn’t explain what ‘everything’ meant.”
Monroe
attempted a smile. “Then maybe everything will be okay.”
“Sure,”
she said.
Bill
and Monroe watched her, waiting for her to speak. There was nothing more to
tell. Nothing more that Leanor had relayed, aside from confirming that she’d
been lying all this time. She’d had plans for Charlotte from the beginning.
Plans she’d never mentioned until the moment of her death.
“So,”
Bill said at last, tugging the long tendrils of his beard, “what d’we do?”
Charlotte
shook her head. “She won’t listen, even if we went to her apartment. She
wouldn’t save herself, so: the Blast. That’s all we have left.”
“Did
she answer you?” Monroe asked, eyebrows up. “What do we do at the
Blast?”
Charlotte
lifted her hands. It was impossible to say. But Leanor had called a visit to
the World Trade Center “perfect,” somehow knowing that they’d meet that
anachronistic woman. What was this but another vague instruction?
“We
go to the Blast,” Charlotte replied at last. “And see if anything jumps out at
us.”
Maybe
Leanor had been right that “everything” that would be better. Maybe, in her own
way, Leanor was giving them the tools to save her from certain death. Or,
knowing Leanor, she was sending them on some other errand, trusting that
Charlotte would innovate.
Monroe
bit his bottom lip, his eyes staring through her. But he didn’t say what was on
his mind.
“It
was her dying wish,” Charlotte said. “We have to
save myself. That was never the purpose.”
“Then
what—”
“The
Blast,” Leanor said. “That’s all that matters.”
Monroe
was watching her, mouthing something that Charlotte couldn’t understand. No
idea he had would help her convince Leanor; that much she knew. Once Leanor had
a plan, she didn’t sway. Now, for some insane reason, she had to die tomorrow.
“At
least tell me!” Charlotte shouted. A few passersby glanced at her. A cop down
the way frowned. “Tell me who they are. That woman you knew we’d meet. The man
who’ll kill you.”
“You’ll
figure it out. You’ll have to make a choice, but … Charlotte, I hired you for a
reason. Because I saw me in you. Because of your history-loving brother. I knew
you were perfect from the moment you mentioned him. Now it’s up to you; do you
understand?”
She
didn’t. Leanor wouldn’t help her. Leanor wouldn’t explain. She was clinging to
her secrets, taking them to her death. How could Charlotte ever figure any of
this out, when she had no idea what to do next?
“You
can do this, Charlotte. Go to the Blast. Everything will be okay; you hear me?
You’ll make everything okay.”
“Everything?”
Everything except reversing Leanor’s death. Charlotte gritted her teeth and
asked, “But what do we do at the Blast?”
The
pay phone was silent. After a few seconds, it beeped three times. Leanor had
hung up.
Just
as she had during their first year together, Leanor was leaving Charlotte to
her own devices.
Charlotte
set the phone on the cradle, clenching her teeth together. “She didn’t listen,”
she said to Monroe and Bill behind her. “Didn’t care that she was going to
die.” Charlotte couldn’t know for sure without going back in time to watch
Leanor die again, but it didn’t feel like she had succeeded. If anything, it
seemed like Leanor was resolute in rushing toward her own death.
She
felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Monroe asked, “What did she say?”
Charlotte
turned herself away from the phone. This call should’ve confirmed that time
could be changed. But she couldn’t help feel like she’d already lost her
mentor. She’d left Leanor lying on the ground, thousands of years ago. But who
was that woman? Who was this woman that she’d just called? Not the woman she’d
known. “She said she hired me for a reason. Told me to go to the Blast. That I’d
make everything okay, but she didn’t explain what ‘everything’ meant.”
Monroe
attempted a smile. “Then maybe everything will be okay.”
“Sure,”
she said.
Bill
and Monroe watched her, waiting for her to speak. There was nothing more to
tell. Nothing more that Leanor had relayed, aside from confirming that she’d
been lying all this time. She’d had plans for Charlotte from the beginning.
Plans she’d never mentioned until the moment of her death.
“So,”
Bill said at last, tugging the long tendrils of his beard, “what d’we do?”
Charlotte
shook her head. “She won’t listen, even if we went to her apartment. She
wouldn’t save herself, so: the Blast. That’s all we have left.”
“Did
she answer you?” Monroe asked, eyebrows up. “What do we do at the
Blast?”
Charlotte
lifted her hands. It was impossible to say. But Leanor had called a visit to
the World Trade Center “perfect,” somehow knowing that they’d meet that
anachronistic woman. What was this but another vague instruction?
“We
go to the Blast,” Charlotte replied at last. “And see if anything jumps out at
us.”
Maybe
Leanor had been right that “everything” that would be better. Maybe, in her own
way, Leanor was giving them the tools to save her from certain death. Or,
knowing Leanor, she was sending them on some other errand, trusting that
Charlotte would innovate.
Monroe
bit his bottom lip, his eyes staring through her. But he didn’t say what was on
his mind.
“It
was her dying wish,” Charlotte said. “We have to
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