Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (6 page)

The horse struggles in his harness, lunging and pulling against the wet leather and the current. His giant ass presses my ribs against the bucket, and I struggle to draw a deep enough breath. There is nothing remotely calm about this moment. Between the pain and whatever’s making my lightning not behave, who knows where I’ll send him. If I mess up, he’ll die. If he swims and doesn’t make it, he’ll die.

“I am a strong swimmer,” Rom says. “I’ve been swimming this river since I was a boy. I will be fine. Will you be fine?”

Not if you don’t make it.
 

Fuck!

A tremor wracks my body and the horse crashes against my floating lower leg. If I don’t get out of here now, I might never, and I still have to get Aurelia safe.

“I’ll be at the shore.” I point to the muddy spot directly east of us. “Right there.”

“Go,” he urges.

“You first. That way I can help if you don’t get clear of all this.”

Without argument, he climbs on the bay’s back, wrestles the bridle free, and yanks the harness straps he can reach. His rain-soaked hands are slippery, and a big wave slaps it from his hand. He gets one more loose, but the wet leather won’t cooperate. With a big hand on the horse’s cheek, he whispers, “Find your strength.”

He works his way back to the chariot and balances on the top rail, the water tugging at his feet. He stares at me for a long moment. “Are you sure?”

I nod and try not to puke.

He bends his knees and catapults himself away from the chariot. For a few strokes he’s immobile in the water, not gaining a single inch. Muscles bulge in his shoulders, and arms dig through the waves. Then he creeps forward and moves a few feet.

The breath I’ve been holding pours out and the chariot rocks in the rushing water, knocking me to the left. A fresh wave of pain rocks me. I wrap my fingers around the top rail but don’t take my eyes off Rom, now five feet closer to shore.

He’s going to make it.

I smack the horse’s trembling hip. He screams and lunges forward. “Go.”

Unsure what my lightning’s going to do underwater, I hold my hands high and pull a curved strand of lightning from my left palm. Three erratic strands pop and ricochet off the falling raindrops. I decrease it to a tiny strand and arc to the edge of the river, losing barely a second. Now the water is fifty feet wider than this morning and up to my knees. As my good foot settles into the clay, the water sweeps my other one from under me. I gasp as the pain intensifies.

Thunder rattles the sky, reminding me that if I arc home, I could fix my leg.

Not until Rom is safe.

I squint through the sheets of rain. Rom’s dark head moves through the water, but he’s got a hundred feet, easy.

As suddenly as it arrived, the wind dies, calming the waters. Rom looks like he’s swimming through two bodies of water, one below and one above.

Seventy feet from safety.

I lean forward, willing him closer.

Upstream, the chariot’s lip is barely visible below the churning water. The big bay fights his remaining clasps, water flowing over his back. Horror forces me to witness his struggle a few more moments before turning back to Rom. I can’t watch him drown.

Sheets of water become thick blankets, and the river rises to my knees. The cold water numbs my pain even with my broken leg bobbing like a plastic bag stuck on a tree. Lightning crosses the sky, crackling and sizzling across the clouds.

Please don’t arc me before it’s time.

Waves hurl themselves up the shore. Debris and dead bodies—some animals, some not—knock into my boots, but I’m staying right here as a marker.
 

Forty feet.

Minutes and we’ll be on our way home with Aurelia.

A movement upstream catches my eye.

I cringe. The chariot moves slow at first, the immense weight of the wet leather, soaked horse, and iron frame holding it in place. Now, with the new surge of rainwater, the iron bucket is free of the sucking clay.

Still attached to the chariot, the bay thrashes. The floating chariot lifts his rump above the water. I want him to hang on just a bit longer. Eventually, the water will recede enough and someone can free him. Until then, this is worse than watching a slow-mo car wreck.

I check Rom’s progress. Less than thirty feet. In moments, he’ll be able to touch the bottom.

The current carries him toward the bridge. He’ll come ashore right by the road leading over the bridge. I hobble six steps downriver so I can intercept him.

I glance back at the chariot. It’s moving faster now. In front, the bay’s legs thrash above the water as he tries to swim himself to safety, too.

Lightning strikes overhead again and the bridge casts an ominous shadow.

Twenty feet. I glance at the lumbering chariot again. With the bay’s attempt to swim, the entire mess is traveling faster than the water. In the time it took me to move to the bridge, the horse and chariot covered the same distance.

I stare at Rom.

Then calculate the distance from the chariot to bridge.

A perfect intersection of terror.

Even though the bridge used to rise a dozen feet above the water, now the distance between water and stone measures less than six inches.

Less than one man’s head.

Less than one horse’s.

The impending collision cements my feet. I should’ve tried arcing him. There’s no way I can swim to him and try it again.

Lightning explodes from my hands as I arc.

For a moment, evergreen limbs and twinkling lights impede my vision.

Not again. No way I screwed this up. Pushing through the branches of the Christmas tree, I step forward on a strong, healed leg.

Papi spins. “Evy!”

The sob wrenches free of my chest. “Papi! I screwed up. Bad. I need you.”

“I’m here.” He lunges forward, curling his strong fingers around my shoulders. I don’t have time to sink into his embrace.

I turn to Mami, flinching at the shock on her face. “We’ll be back.”

Knowing Papi’s turned off his own ability to arc, I ring us with lightning and vanish back to the water’s edge. Papi staggers, but otherwise, seems okay from the trip.

I grab his wrist and point to Rom. “You have to save him.” My other arm sweeps to the chariot. “It’s going to crush him.”

Papi glances between the chariot and Rom.

I look away and search for a helpful solution. The arc healed my leg, but I still can’t swim. Rom’s strong strokes fade as the rushing water saps his energy. I shouldn’t have believed him. He’ll never be able to navigate around the chariot if it traps him against the bridge. Mere feet away from him now, the chariot moves fast.

“It’s going to crush him!”

Beside me, Papi scrambles for a way to save Rom. “Send me to the chariot!”

Without a second of hesitation, I unfurl a huge whip of lightning and wrap it around his waist then extend my arm to the chariot, praying it works. His head jerks back and he’s gone.

He lands on the rail of the chariot.

I arc to Aurelia, ready to send her the second Rom is safe. She wraps her arms around me and we watch the men. The chaos of the people surrounding us only adds to the awfulness. We bob in the sea of bodies like flotsam in the churning river below.

If Papi can balance himself and grab Rom before the bucket reaches him, they have a chance. It’s a teeny one, but we’re out of options.

A leather strap floats in the water above the horse’s back. Papi reaches over and fumbles with the clasp and pulls it loose. The big horse thrashes until the harness untangles. Finally free of his prison, the horse’s head slips below the water.

We gasp and Aurelia’s grip tightens. People push past us, ignorant of our plight.

The horse surfaces and moves toward the water’s edge. He trots in the water, hooves in clay, gaining purchase with each step. He whinnies his thanks as he exits the water near the bridge.

I turn back to Rom and Papi.

With the horse out of the way, Papi has more room to maneuver and make this work.
 

Aurelia’s arms squeeze the air from my lungs. We lean forward as one body.

As the chariot nears Rom, Papi cups his mouth and shouts to gain Rom’s attention.

A clap of thunder roars across the sky, obscuring his words, and lightning strikes the bridge, making my hair stand on end.

In the chariot, small blue tendrils of static electricity race along the top and sides. My heartbeat races and I clench my fists.
Not yet, not yet.

Papi shouts again as the lightning bolt recedes. I will Rom to hear him, and then he glances over his shoulder between strokes. He jerks in surprise at the chariot and man bearing down on him, but then adjusts his stroke to bring his trajectory closer.

Papi leans forward and extends his arm.

The bridge looms a few feet away. Water rushes over it, unable to pass beneath.

Another bolt of white-hot lightning strikes as Papi reaches for Rom.

The chariot slams the bridge and Papi stumbles, but manages to stay upright. He clasps Rom’s hand between his and holds on, muscles bulging. Rom grabs the rail to raise himself, but his arms collapse beneath the strain.

Boots still jammed in the chariot rail, Papi drags Rom across the bucket’s rim, even now with the top of the bridge.

Rushing water presses against their bodies, tugging and resisting their efforts. Rom manages to pull his feet to the top of the rail and climb onto the bridge. He slips and Papi loses his grip. Rom falls into the foot of water crossing the bridge’s surface, and Papi wavers unsteadily.

Rom reaches for him and struggles to kneel.

Another bolt strikes.

The rain dies.

“
No
,” I scream and lunge forward. Aurelia holds me tight.

Papi’s body arches backward, bent in an impossible bow. The lightning leaps and sizzles across the ironwork at his feet.

Rom pushes himself up and spreads his legs wide to brace himself against the rushing water.

My chest heaves and I reach for Papi. He falls forward, his body limp and unresponsive.

Rom catches him and struggles to maintain his hold. The river rips at Papi’s lifeless body, desperate to pull it downstream. The terrifying odors of burned flesh and singed hair now mingle with the ozone-rich air.

The water recedes a few inches, still boiling and frothing over the lip of the bridge. Rom staggers beneath the weight of Papi and his knees buckle. They crash to the bridge and Papi slips from Rom’s grasp, pitching forward onto the wet bridge like an unloved doll. The water rolls him over, but it’s no longer strong enough to drag him away.

I spin and choke back my horror then pull Aurelia close and turn her chin, forcing her gaze away from the river. Ignoring Penya’s warning, I do what I must to save us all. “You have to trust me like you’ve never trusted anyone in your life.”

Aurelia nods, her eyes wide and frightful. “I will.”

“You must do exactly as I say. Do not waver, do not falter.”

“But Rom… and—”

“Is safe.” I cut her off, refusing to consider what just happened.

She swallows and tears fill her eyes.

“I’m going to send you.” Down the hill, a scream pierces the air, but I soldier on. “To your father. I’m sending you to your father.”

Aurelia’s eyes glass over. “Yes. I want to go home.”

I shake her. “
Sending
you, Aurelia! Like I sent myself to stand on the horse! Like I saved that mother and her babies. With my lightning!”

She pales.

“Aurelia, I want you to think of Constantine.” My voice catches. “Close your eyes right now and picture him somewhere in your house. Picture his war room, the maps. Visualize what he’s doing right now, hold tight to it. See him studying his maps, leaning over the big table.”

While I talk, I make long whips of lightning, viewing the images in tandem as I describe them to Aurelia. I turn us until I’m facing the river. As I throw one whip of lightning toward Papi, I slide the other around Aurelia and send her through time.

C
HAPTER
5

D
OCTORS
AND
NURSES
shove me out of the way and lift Papi to a gurney. Then he’s gone through glass doors and I’m left outside to suck down icy gulps of air. Arms help me inside and I squint into the bright lights. More arms wrap a blanket around my cold shoulders and guide me to a line of hard plastic chairs. Words of comfort mumble against my ear. My fingers clutch at the edges of the thin blanket until my wet clothes soak through the wool.
 

I am adrift, lost in a hurricane of sensory overload. I focus on the scratch of the wool in my fist and block everything else.

I can only survive now.

Mami shows up and I vaguely remember a white coat asking me for her number, but I can’t remember calling her. She pats my head and rushes to the nurse’s station.

After a while, she comes to sit beside me and pulls me to her chest, rocking me and smoothing my dripping head. She sings my favorite lullaby, but it doesn’t soothe my fears. I can’t stop shivering. She must know what they’re doing to Papi because no one comes to tell us what’s going on. I have no idea how long we sit there, next to the sliding glass doors that keep belching icy air on us, but finally, she rubs my back and tells me to go home.

I manage to sit up and look at her, even though the pain in her eyes nearly guts me. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“You’re shivering,” she says, sticking to facts like she always does in a crisis. My pillar of strength, even now. She’s always been the strong one. Stoic and unflappable. Outsiders must see her as uncaring, but the rest of us are emotional hair triggers, so she grounds us. “Go change, and come back. He’s stable. They’ll know more in an hour. Bring me an overnight bag.”

Tears stream down my face and I twist my fingers together.

She caresses my cheek, wiping at the wetness. “Everything will be fine,
mija
.”

I cringe. I should be the one apologizing, comforting her for trying to kill her husband.

Another sob wells up in my throat, but I quench it. “Okay. But call me if they tell you anything while I’m gone.”