Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (17 page)

“What’s with all the secrecy?”

“Patience.” He sweeps us through the front door and to the left side of the building. Ignoring both George and me, Nikola flips switches and adjusts coils and machines.

A sharp crack from the opposite end of the building makes me duck, and George takes a huge step back.

“Hold on,” Nikola shouts.

I hunch my shoulders and move closer to the outer wall, unsure what’s in store.

Another crack and the entire interior begins to glow. The random devices scattered around the room chirp and stutter, slowly coming to life like they’ve all been plugged in and turned on at the same time.

George moves closer to Nikola. “You did it?” His voice is quiet and filled with wonder.

“I did.” Nikola beams.

I straighten. “No way… ”

George spins, hands clasped together at his chest. “Free… wireless… energy… ”

I look around the room, noting the hodgepodge of items he’s put together. “None of these are plugged in?”

“Only to an adapter that extracts the energy from the atmosphere.”

One by one, the devices shudder and stop. Nikola spins a dial and flips three switches.

“How long will it last?”

“Right now, only briefly and at very short distances. With the rest of Westinghouse’s workers, and additional funding, it will be fully operational within the year. Longer distances, bigger charges… all of it, George.”

Stepping toward a small table, I run my fingers down the cord of a toaster. It’s inserted into a bundle of wires and metal plates.
 

Powered from something other than a wall outlet. Too bad the world will never have access to this during his life.

I snort. Free electricity. Total… game… changer.

George and Nikola are deep in conversation about money and men. I cross my arms and watch them.
This
should be the alteration. Nothing is more important than free power. The impact is huge. Hundreds of thousands… millions even could be affected. My heart cramps and I long for a chance to pick my own alteration.

“George, if Nikola were gone, would you know how to work this?”

He laughs. “No, heavens no.”

I address Nikola. “How many could?”

“Maybe Edison, with training, but most likely not even then.”

“What would happen if someone got a hold of this kind of technology who didn’t understand it, or who didn’t know how it worked?”

“That’s not possible. I’m the only one with the capability of inventing this. It’s taken me years.”

I hold up my hands. “No, I’m not saying that someone else could invent it, what I’m asking is what would happen if something happened to you and someone else tried to do what you just did?”

“Without proper understanding or training?”

“Yes.”

He pauses and runs a finger along one of the wires. “Do you understand why this works?”

I shake my head.

“Simply, it works in concert with the earth. Because the earth is constantly contracting and expanding, releasing the initial pulse at the wrong time could be disastrous.”

“How bad?” I ask, resisting the urge to flinch.

“Released at the wrong time, it would crack the earth.”

My eyebrows rise and my mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

His face stiffens. “I don’t jest about these things.”

Lead settles along my spine. We’re just not ready for this. Badly as we need it, badly as I want it, both for kids in the Congo, and for Nikola… we’re just not ready. So I set my own desire aside, and trust the alteration with the hope that one day soon I’ll get to meet him here again for a different reason. “No. No you don’t.”

George shuffles his feet and the tension releases.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“We finish it,” Nikola says. “Now do you understand why I was willing to use my patents as leverage against Westinghouse’s workers? It would have taken me a decade to raise enough money to complete this if I used the funds from the patents and royalties. This way, he thinks he’s manipulated me and only has to supply me with workers.” He scans the room. “Now my life’s work will be realized.”

Or not.

I keep my face blank even though the tightness in my chest nearly doubles me over. I want to at least tell him so he’s prepared when this never comes to fruition. I ache for him, that his greatest ambition is never realized because billionaire J.P. Morgan pulls his funding and Astor dies on the Titanic before this is finished, and then the fall and coma. For now, all I can do is treasure the hope that something will set up that future alteration.

“Why did you want me to hear the meeting with Westinghouse?”

Nikola pauses and takes a step closer. “How far have you come?”

I search his face. He knows I’m a time traveler. Does it matter how far my birthday is in the future? “A century.”

He nods, pondering my answer. “Yet this is a mystery to you.”

Damn.
“Yes.”

His shoulders fall. “Why?”

I glance at George. He’s leaning forward, just as eager for my answer.

I shift my attention back to Nikola and shake my head. Even with him asking me, I can’t do that to him. “I can’t.”

He sags and presses his lips together. “You’re probably right. Best I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” I stretch my hand across the space between us.

“It’s fine. Your reluctance to tell leaves me with one solution. I’ll double our efforts and ensure this succeeds.” He puffs up and brightens. “George, this means we must set up the Colorado Springs lab.”

His instant sense of purpose and pride is infectious. George beams and steps toward the door. “I’ll get started on assembling the crews and paperwork.”

I lift my fingers in a half wave.

After George slips into the front office, I turn to Nikola. Even though I don’t understand what called me here to witness the meeting or the wireless energy, there’s a sense of completeness about this trip. My lightning is tugging at me to leave and come back later. “I should probably go.”

He’s already started turning dials and scratching calculations in his notebook. “Will you return?” He sets his pen down and lifts his head. “Or is this the end of our time together?”

“Why would you say that?”

“The alteration is complete, is it not? By assisting me in understanding the importance of the Colorado Springs lab in relation to these results, you’ve successfully altered the future.”

We’ve never talked about the why of my time traveling. He can’t possibly know that I’m here to alter the history surrounding him. “How do you always know what I’m up to?”

He playfully taps his temple. “Genius.”

I laugh and my shoulders relax. There’s a lilt to his voice tonight, and a silliness about him. Clearly, hitting this milestone is a huge relief. Anything he thinks about my riding is speculation—brilliant speculation—but nothing more.

And, since I don’t have the patents, the answer to his earlier question is simple. “I’ll be back. But I’m not sure when.”

He straightens. “I will not fail.”

I force a smile. “I know.”

George calls to him from the office and we stare at each other. He gives me a curt nod and leaves me standing in the middle of a room full of genius.

With a burst of lightning, I leave it all behind.

C
HAPTER
18

A
S
MY
FLASH
of lightning recedes into the darkness of the arc, my boring townhouse comes into view. I snag a banana off the counter and curl up on the couch. I can’t help thinking I’m missing the bigger picture for this arc. At first, helping Nikola raise money made sense, and he seems to like me, but now, I feel like I’m missing something.

A beam of lightning rises from the floor a few feet away, and I toss my banana peel on the coffee table and rub my hands together briskly to get the goo off. The beam becomes Penya.

“How is your progress? I am finding things in the lab. Things we need to know.”

“Like what? I thought you agreed to stop keeping me in the dark.”

“I am trying, but there is still so much I do not know. I tell you what I can.”

“Which has been nothing. I’m starting to think this is a spa day for you. You don’t seem to care that you’re his prisoner.”

“I am making the best of a bad situation,
niña.
You would have me rail against him and get myself further locked down?”

I cross my arms. “Fine. Tell me what you found.”

“For starters, it all connects to Nikola. I think I know how Ilif manipulates the arcs.”

“Manipulates?”

“Yes. He did it to your father, and I think he is affecting this one. He really wants Nikola’s patents. I do not know which ones, but you must continue to earn Nikola’s trust. We must control all his papers. Neither the FBI or Ilif can get them.”

I think about his small notebook, and the sparseness of the Colorado lab. “I’m not sure he keeps a lot of notes.”

“Trunks go missing after his death.”

“Before or after the run-in with the FBI?”

“That I do not know, but it would not surprise me if they were involved. Has he said anything to you about where he keeps all his documents? Even now, in my time, they still surfacing as private citizens locate his hiding places.”

“Hiding places?” Nothing about that jives with the guy I’ve been hanging out with. Something must happen between Colorado Springs and his death to make him incredibly suspicious.

That nagging queasiness that I’m missing the obvious settles again in my hollow stomach. “You don’t think there’s something else about this alteration?”

“Like what?” She looks startled.

I stand and pace the room. “I don’t know. If Ilif is making changes to the alteration, isn’t there an original one beneath it?”

“I suppose it is possible.”

“So which alteration flings me home for the final time? How will I know when I’m finished?”

She shakes her head. “You will not know until that moment. For now, I continue researching on this side.”

“Helpful as always,” I mumble.

“Have you been to see your father?”

“I’ve tried,” I say, defeated.

She sighs and leans forward until our faces are inches apart. “You cannot hide from the things you fear. If you do, they manifest in darker, more sinister places. What you fear begins to control you, shapes decisions you make.… We cannot afford that kind of risk. Not until we know what Ilif is up to and until you figure out the real alteration. You must go see your father.”

“What if he blames me?”

“You
are
to blame. If you had not taken him to the river to save Rom, he would not have gotten hurt. But hiding from him does not change what happened or how he feels.”

I look away and take a step back. “I know.”

“Look at what it is doing to you. You are not yourself. You second-guessing your efforts”—she waves at a stack of things on her side I can’t discern—“the alteration. Fix it, Evy. Fix it now.”

Her image vanishes.

I flop onto the sofa. If what Tesla says about my emotions is true, then my fear may be what’s impacting the arc more than anything Ilif could do. Tears burn my eyes. I’ve done a good job until now of keeping busy, staying away, convincing myself that he was recovering and didn’t need me.

No one seems to need me. Nikola is busy with the next iteration, Penya is busy with her research and won’t let me find her, Papi is busy with work and getting better, Ilif is busy with who knows what, and even Anna is busy planning her wedding.

Constantine’s life is full of Aurelia.

I chew my lip and stroke the couch cushion, drawing abstract images in the nap. I’m
not
myself. Haven’t been since Anna’s little pep talk. I don’t like that I’ve gone from not caring what anyone thinks to caring what a whole lot of people think. I don’t understand how a lifetime of apathy becomes a need for approval. Maybe Penya’s closer to the truth than I want her to be. Maybe if I go talk to Papi everything else will fall back in place like it’s supposed to be.

My gut clenches. I’m not ready yet. Because what if he hates me?

Sparks crisscross the cushion, darkening creases in the leather.

Used to be that I had a way to work things out. Of eliminating everything until only the truth remained. I’ve been so busy trying to fit myself into everyone else’s life I’ve forgotten how I fit into my own.

I lean forward, dragging the long curl of lightning with me. With a short twist of my wrist, it folds back on itself and curls into a ball. Holding it between both hands, I stare into its depths and notice for the first time all the layers of strands, the minute color changes. It’s more complicated than I’ve given it credit for. Maybe riding is, too. Maybe it’s not always as cut-and-dried like killing Viriato or saving Aurelia. Maybe there are layers.

Blackness smothers me and I breathe in the nothingness, relish the absence of roles, responsibilities, and letdowns.

Tall trees rise on my left, my favorite Spanish training facility to the right. Overhead, the moon is high and full in an ancient sky, mimicking nights lost to me now. I don’t stuff the sorrow, or the disappointment. Instead, I let it fuel me. Twin ropes dangle from my palms, extending four feet on either side, bright and crackling. Every movement I’ve made on this field rises up in my vision, and I replay them all now in a ballet of light and raw emotion.

I drag my left rope forward and rotate it overhead like an electric bullwhip. My right hand retracts against my ribs, protective and ready, the rope shorter and thicker.

At the end of the field, two rows of targets stand ready for the archers.

With a downward flick of my wrist, I unleash a trio of bursts from the compact lighting in my right hand, and take out three targets on the left. They explode in a rainstorm of sparks, illuminating the darkness. At the apex of my swing, I snap the whip and take out a couple on the right. They collapse and smolder. The night air is thick with the roasting stench. I spin and roll, taking out another on the right.
 

With each strike, the emotion burns up, turning to ash inside me. Taking off in a run, I swing wide around the backs of the decimated targets on the right. Racing past the last row, I blast them without slowing, one by one. At the end, I somersault and come up with my hands spread wide, balls of lightning in each.