Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 70

“To keep Triad from expanding their power and taking over every world we could possibly reach.” Paul walks slowly around me, assessing me. Judging. “We know they brought you here deliberately.”
“They’re trying to recruit me. They’re going to fail.” I step forward, breaking his orbit; he’s not the only one who decides whether we go forward here.
“But you did their dirty work,” Theo says. “Apparently the other version of me told everyone that, before he went under.”
“Then he also told you why. I did what I had to do to save you both. And at least once I was able to figure out how to turn Conley’s plan against him.”
Paul gives Theo a look, like, You should’ve remembered that. “You’re right. If we’re going to defeat Triad, we’ll have to work together. As a perfect traveler, you should be able to fight off our Marguerite, if she ever came to your world—”
“Which she won’t, because it wouldn’t be any fun for her, entering a body she couldn’t steal,” Theo says. For once I don’t mind the smug tone of his voice; I’m too relieved to hear that the wicked Marguerite won’t be knocking around in my head.
“We work together,” Paul says, a little louder, an obvious hint to Theo that he shouldn’t interrupt again. “That may mean you come here to interfere with our Marguerite’s plans—even though they’ll be on the lookout for you.”
“Fine. But how am I going to know when we should meet? Or where?” Our secret rendezvous could take place anywhere in the entire multiverse.
After a moment, Paul says, “How do you think your Paul Markov would react to my entering your dimension for brief periods of time, only to communicate our plans?”
Let my Paul be taken over by this one? I have no right to make that kind of deal. But if this is truly the only way . . . “I’m giving you permission to come once. When you do, I’ll let you know whether Paul has consented.”
Paul’s expression shifts slightly, into something that might even be respect. “Agreed.”
We can do this. Finally, we’re one step ahead of the Home Office—
Realization sweeps through me, wrenching and terrible. The other Marguerites I leap into remember everything that happened while I’m within them. Right now, I’m inside a Marguerite who’s on Triad’s side.
When I tell Paul this, however, he’s unfazed. “It doesn’t matter. You had no other way of reaching out to us, and Conley would’ve suspected we’d try something like this anyway. We’ll change locations immediately after you leave.”
“That’s enough to protect you?” I ask.
“We’re as safe as we were before. Which is to say—not much, but enough.” Paul shakes his head, perhaps in wonder. “You actually care.”
“I always care about you.” Lieutenant Markov’s words flicker in my memory—and despite everything I’ve seen on this journey, I can say them back to Paul now and mean them. “I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Anyone who didn’t know him as well as I do would think he’s unmoved. Instead, he’s both touched and doubtful. “You don’t love me in this one.”
Not yet? Not ever? I say the only thing I absolutely believe to be true. “I could love you, then.”
Paul breathes out heavily, as though he were weary. He doesn’t contradict me, though, and I know he recognizes the same thing I do—the potential. The eternal possibility. The kindling only awaiting a spark to burst into flame.
Hope brightens inside me. Three dimensions, three versions of Wyatt Conley are conspiring against me and my family. Now, finally, we have a conspiracy of our own. We have sources in the Home Office, and maybe beyond. The Conleys won’t always be one step ahead of us anymore.
Whatever else he’s planning—we’ll get a chance to stop him.
“You can ask my version for permission to visit his dimension right now, I guess.” Theo steadies himself as he holds up the Firebird. “Go on. Do it.”
He’s speaking to Paul, but I’m closer. So I duck down, take the Firebird from Theo’s hands, and hit the reminder sequence before he can protest. Although I manage to drop the Firebird just in time, some of the jolt burns my fingers. Theo winces and pushes back, his chair scraping on the floor—but when he looks up at me, he’s my Theo once more.
“Whoa.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, to let the rush pass through him. “If I remember the last few minutes correctly—first, I was being a jackass. Sorry about that.”
I attempt a smile. “Apparently neither of us is much fun to hang out with in this dimension.”
Paul’s tone changes when he’s speaking to my Theo; it’s more polite, yet more distant. “Do you recall our proposed plan?”
“I think so. Work together. Two dimensions united against Triad. Which means letting this world’s Theo periodically take over my body.” Theo looks sheepish. “Seeing as how I’m in his body at the moment, I have to admit it’s a fair trade.”
Why only two dimensions? The Warverse might help, if we asked . . .
But I abandon this idea. How could we possibly get every world to cooperate? We’d have to visit back and forth so much that we’d hardly ever know who we were speaking to, and it would be easy for our ranks to be infiltrated by still other versions of ourselves.
Conspiracies make my head hurt.
I focus instead on the best part of this. Between our two worlds, we might have the information and access needed to take Triad down, once and for all. It would be a relief, if it weren’t for Paul’s dark hint about my parents’ true agenda.
Turning to Theo, I say, “Do you remember what this world’s Theo knows about my parents? What they’re up to?”
He shakes his head. “What they say and do is a lot more memorable than what they think. You get—emotional impressions, more than a recording of what’s going on in the cranium.”
So much for that plan. “Then we have to go to them and make them tell us.”
“No,” Paul says sharply. “Not Theo. If your version leaps out and strands our version there—where he can be tracked—Triad will have him in jail within the half hour.”
“I’ll go on my own, then. Though I actually don’t know where I live in this dimension.”
“I can give you the address,” Paul says. “We have that information.”
Theo gets up from the chair; even the way he stands is different. He’s steadier, more confident, but not as wary. “I don’t like this. You’re sending her alone, so her parents can tell her something you know but oh-so-conveniently won’t share.”
“I’ll tell you now,” Paul says. “But as I said before, neither of you will believe me. Marguerite won’t rest until she hears it from them.”
I step closer to him. “Try me.”
He pauses, and I wonder if we’ve caught this Paul Markov in a lie. Then I realize he’s hesitating before the words because he thinks they’ll hurt me. “Your parents—” Paul takes a deep breath, then finishes. “They don’t just want to visit Josie in other dimensions. They want her back in our world, for good.”