Lightning Rider (12 page)

“Incredibly.”

“What about my time in New York?” Papi asks.

“Mere repercussions of traveling unaided. Had I been with you, your experience would have turned out much different.”

“How did you get this job?” I ask.

“Purely by accident the first time.” He lifts his chin, excited to show off his giant brain. “My research with some of Tesla’s later works led me to encounter frequencies that actually created lightning. One night, I encountered an unknown signal that originated elsewhere. I tracked it and found a lightning rider trying to create an alteration in 1200 BC. Since then, I’ve successfully guided over two hundred generations of riders.”

I choke. Holy hell, how old is he?

“Guided them, how?” Papi asks before I can figure out how Ilif isn’t dead.

“In the beginning,” Ilif says, “I worked solely as a scribe, documenting the original event and the alteration. As that rider and I learned more about the power, I assumed additional responsibility, and as the next generation of riders came into their abilities, my history with the previous one allowed me to lessen the learning curve for the new one. With my help, we were able to avoid issues . . .” He clears his throat. “Similar to yours. Riders would usually arc a few times with an uncle or father—whoever held the ability—and then I would take them under my wing.”

Papi fidgets and Ilif’s voice speeds up, too aware he’s about half a minute away from Papi throwing in the towel.

“Along the way we encountered other time travelers, but your family’s unique ability to affect events made them vastly more important.” He tips his face into the bright ray of sunlight crawling across the threadbare carpet, then presses his lips together and turns back to Papi. “Your family has saved thousands of lives over the centuries. Huge strides in every field have occurred because of someone they saved. Your ancestors—
you
—are mankind’s guardian. I understand how perplexing this must seem, but I . . .” He wrings his hands. “I’m asking for your help. There are people in danger right now who need you. Babies will die. Mothers will die. Fathers will die.”

Criminy, talk about a one-two combo.

Papi stands and paces to the sliding glass window. Hands clasped behind his back, he stares across the dew-covered grass. “And you expect me to believe my father was one of your riders? That we are?”

“Yes.” Surprisingly, Ilif skips the opportunity to cut me down. Maybe he’s not a woman-hater after all, just a little zealous about this riding stuff.

“How many?”

“Four hundred and thirty-six. Your father saved Da Vinci, El Cid, and Hitler.”

“Hitler?”

“Not all alterations are positive. They
are
, however, important. Sometimes one takes a turn and evil fills the gap. We didn’t anticipate Hitler’s . . . issues.”

“I’m still listening,” Papi says.

Ilif sits up straighter. “We documented every alteration, calculated impact, and gathered billions of bytes of data. What started with a single rider and scribe became a multibillion-dollar enterprise, employing thousands in a dozen scientific centers. At one point, I had over forty riders to guide when prolific generations overlapped. You cannot imagine the lives affected. With your family’s help, we designed a marvel of science. Our capabilities in the lab expanded every year. We refined the tracking modules until I thought we could track riders flawlessly.” A heavy sigh makes his features droop, and for a second, I believe him. “The mishap with your father proved otherwise, but I’ve been working on fixing that since relocating you.”

“And Evy,” Papi says, returning to his chair.

I’m still reeling from Ilif’s lab descriptions. For all the info he’s giving us, I feel like he’s leaving out some major points, like when he’s from, whether he hung out with Tesla, and where the shit-ton of cash came from that got dumped onto this project. That doesn’t happen altruistically. 

Ilif clears his throat, and I shelve my questions and try to focus on what he’s saying.

And what he’s not.

“About that,” he says. “The system—from the very beginning, mind you—was invented to track Rivera men by their unique DNA sequence. A woman’s is almost two percent different, and while that may not sound like a big deal, it would require changing millions of data points. I don’t anticipate there ever being another female rider, so it will be difficult to argue the expenditure of the funds required to create a new program for her.”

“I thought you were already monitoring me,” I say.

He hesitates, as if calculating the right answer. I’m pretty sure it’s “fuck off.” But I’m going again, and I don’t give a rat’s skinny dick if Ilif cares, notices, or bothers to monitor me. Whether he hates women or just doesn’t find them worthy of his time, it’s fine with me.

Finally, he answers, speaking to Papi instead of to me. “Only in that I’m aware of her as a disturbance. It’s why I inadvertently followed her to Spain.” He leans forward and puts a hand on Papi’s shoulder for a brief second. “I can’t use the full spectrum of the monitoring, including the ability to see if she’s in danger. I can neither protect nor correct her.”

Oh shit.

“What about our talismans?” I ask. “I thought you used those to track us.”

“It’s only part of the algorithm and only part of their use. The specific compound of the talisman is tied to your ability to arc. That is its main function.”

Papi leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“Once we identified your family’s DNA, it became a simple matter of instruction where the talismans and arcing were concerned, thus the books and my involvement. Part of our expansions included pushing the limits beyond simple alterations. Once we allowed certain riders the latitude to explore their abilities, we learned the eccentricities weren’t limited to affecting events. The language fluency, for example.”

Papi rubs his temples. Ilif notices and sits back, taking a breath and starting again, slower. “Apologies, occasionally my scientific side takes over.” He tugs at his jacket cuff, measuring the exposed quarter inch of shirtsleeve against the other.

“So is this a government program, then?” I force a whole lot of naïve girl into my voice.

“The program is privately funded now.”

More money, less regulation. This is quite the little project.

“I want to continue working on some of the other programs I started in the lab—with your help, of course. The last sixty years while you’ve been missing have afforded me ample thinking time, and the one thing that’s always bothered me is the government’s unrelenting focus on the money we were saving, not
who
we were saving. I studied the individual contributions of people we saved. A small selection of them influenced major ideas, patents, and programs that caused shifts in global thinking.”

“The lightning chooses to save certain people? People with special skills?” I ask.

“No. Not the lightning . . .
you
,” he says, looking at Papi and extending his hand.

Papi leaps up. “I don’t understand how that’s possible. I’ve never even saved someone from choking or pushed a person out of the way of a bus. And Rafe—”

“I think what Papi means is, how?” I say in an attempt to divert Papi’s thoughts from his memories. “How would
we
know who needs saving? How would we find those kinds of people?”

“The lightning. The lightning enhances everything about your ability, from finding the right people to knowing the perfect point of intersection with their lives, and finally, executing the alteration. Traveling via any other method makes you as limited as any time traveler.”

“There are other methods?” Papi asks.

“Certainly,” Ilif says. “Anyone can time travel, but only a rider can create alterations.”

“Wait, what?
Anyone
can time travel?”

Penya told me as much, but I lean forward to hear Ilif’s answer.

“It’s incredibly simple, but we guard the method closely, allowing us to control who goes, where they arrive, when and where they return. But all that is irrelevant to this conversation. Arcing is the only type that matters. It is the only type I will support. All other time travel is merely tourism.”

“I suppose if anyone can time travel . . .”

Come on, Papi. You’re almost there.

“Your father would have wanted you to carry on this work. His life’s work,” Ilif says.

Wow. Ballsy move.

Papi stares at me, and I keep my face impassive. We’re precariously balanced here.

“I’m not sure what other questions to ask. The information seems transparent enough. I want to go without Evy, though . . . to make sure it’s safe.”

I sag. “Come on. That’s not fair.”

Papi raises both eyebrows. On his fighter face, the look is effective.

“Well, it’s not.” I haven’t needed either of them yet, but I can’t exactly use that as an argument since I wasn’t supposed to go the last time.

“You don’t know enough,” Ilif says. “You haven’t the skill or experience to go alone, nor the resources to create an arc without me.”

I’m starting to think he spews this stuff just to piss me off. I hold my tongue and give him the benefit of the doubt for being a socially awkward scientist. However, that doesn’t mean I’m about to lie down and obey him either.

“Maybe.” Blue balls of electricity spark from my fingertips. Jagged white streaks crisscross the softball-sized surfaces.

Papi jumps back. “Evy! What are you doing?”

“Oh my,” Ilif says, stepping closer.

He flickers. I concentrate on the lightning and force them a few inches larger.

“I’ve never . . . where did you . . . this is bad.” He sets his jaw. “Turn it off.”

The balls wink out, and I jut out my chin. Take that.

“Did I jump ahead in the lesson?” I ask innocently.

“How long have you been doing that?” Ilif demands.

“Since I almost got fried by lightning two nights ago.”

“Never do that again.” Ilif turns to Papi. “This is not part of riding. Using that kind of lightning will get her killed.”

Papi cringes. “Killed?”

“Yes,” Ilif says and looks back at my hands. I’m kind of surprised he’s acting like he’s never seen lightning balls before. Surely it’s not another “first.”

“Bodies are vessels,” Ilif says, spraying me with spittle. “Only the most adept rider . . . no, not even then. Only a fool would wield lightning for any duration other than what’s necessary to ignite an arc.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“Lightning has one purpose. One.”

And now Papi’s flip-flopped back to worried.

“Evy, I want you to stay here.”

“Come on. Now you
know
I have what it takes.” I glance between them. “I’ve already gone twice without either of you, and I’ve been fine.”

“Again?” Ilif asks, his voice strained. “You cannot keep going without a guide.”

“So
teach
me.”

His lips disappear in a fine line. “Your father requires all of my attention.”

“Please.”

Papi chokes and quickly coughs to cover it up. He knows I’m up to something.

“You must tell her to stop.” Ilif shakes a finger under Papi’s nose.

Papi laughs. “Once you’ve been around Evy, you’ll realize she does what she wants. If I tell her it’s dangerous, she’ll double her efforts.”

Ilif sneers. Clearly he hasn’t dealt with many women, let alone a Latina.

“Fine. I’ll handle it,” Papi says.

“Please do.” Ilif clears his throat. “I don’t want another rider to lose a child.”

I narrow my eyes. He could use a few lessons in negotiation. Just because he lost one rider doesn’t mean we’re a couple of wimps.

Papi steps beside me. “Evy, I don’t want you to go until I can get some things sorted out, okay? I’m sure you’d be fine, but I’m going once with Ilif.”

I stop searching Ilif for motive and look at Papi. “Why? You don’t even have to worry about me. You and Ilif can do whatever you need to.”

“Please.”

I chew my lip.

“I cannot track you both,” Ilif says.

“See?” Papi says. “We’ve only traveled at the same time once, and look how that ended up.”

Crossing my arms, I huff. Twin bolts race up each arm.

Papi steps away. “I’m sure we’ll be right back.”

“Maybe,” I say, looking away.

“Your last arc took you to New York.” Ilif brushes the front of his pants. “As you didn’t complete the alteration, you’ll revisit the same time and locale. Since we’re leaving from the same place, I’ll track you by the electrical residue you leave behind, placing me about fifteen to twenty minutes behind you.”

“Ahhh . . . New York didn’t go well . . .” Papi fidgets, his attention darting around the room. “I thought we’d have a chance to dissect it before I went again.”

“I’m confident I will be able to guide you through any problems this time. While you did well on your own, having me there will make a vast difference.”

“I guess. Feels like I’m about to skydive for the first time and the instructor is a long-haired hippy saying something stupidly non-reassuring.” He sighs. “What about getting home?”

“I’ve done this a thousand times, Victor.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Papi wrings his hands and studies me. I toss him the coin but stay quiet. I’d like for him to at least
think
I’m going to obey him. And for Ilif to start ignoring me.

Slipping the coin in his pocket, Papi looks to Ilif for direction.

“Palms up, repeat after me,” Ilif says. “I am whole.”

“
Yo soy todo.
”

“I am filled with light.”

“
Estoy lleno de luz.
” Papi’s lids close. “
Nada existe más allá de este momento en el tiempo.
Las rutas son míos para hacer y deshacer. El tiempo es flexible.
”

His body relaxes, and the edges of his silhouette blur. And then nothing.

Ilif curses. “Evy, your lightning, please.”

“See? You need me,” I say.

“No, we don’t. He’ll learn to call enough of his own to arc. I’ve seen him do it. He just needs more practice. No one needs that excessive display of yours.”

While we bicker like toddlers, my lightning drips in silver pools at my feet.