Hourglass (Hourglass 1)

I shook off all thoughts of those lips and concentrated on the task at hand. “To travel. Duranium or whatever.”

“Duronium,” Cat corrected me.

“Yeah, that.”

“I’ve got you covered.” Kaleb fished in his pocket and pulled out a tiny ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I got it from the safe this morning.”

“I can’t take that,” I protested. “It’s your mom’s. Isn’t it?”

He reached out to catch my hand. “My mom isn’t … in a position to save my dad. You are. She’d want you to have it. This way, it’s like she’s a part of it, even if she isn’t here.”

Michael watched us from the corner. After what had happened upstairs, I expected jealousy, or at least a hint of it, but there was nothing.

I took the ring, slipped it onto my index finger, and looked up at Kaleb. “Perfect.”

“Perfect.”

The moment was interrupted when the timer on the microwave beeped.

“Okay, Emerson.” Cat bustled over and placed her hand on my back, ushering me to a seat at the table. “We’re going to give you a crash course in traveling. You’ll be with Michael, so you only need the basics, which is good. That’s all we have time for.”

“Do I need to take notes?” Nate placed the bowl of steaming popcorn on the table, and I grabbed a big handful. Comfort food. I stopped before tossing a piece into my mouth. “Can I eat this? Should I go in on an empty stomach?”

“It’s not surgery, just time travel,” Cat said.

“Just time travel,” I muttered under my breath, and then reached out with the other hand for more popcorn.

“Look around. Notice anything different?” Cat asked.

I obeyed and almost sucked a corn kernel down my throat. After Dune whacked me on the back and stopped my coughing, I pointed to a shimmering square of light hanging in the atmosphere. It was as tall as the ceiling and at least ten feet wide.

“Holy … It’s like a blanket made of water or something. And I can see it really, really clearly.”

“That’s one of the benefits of duronium. The way it interacts with your body chemistry helps you locate veils.” Michael got a can of soda from the fridge, opened it, and slid it across the table toward me. “Veils guard the entrance to bridges, and they’re kind of like a transition space or camo for travelers. Rips will stand out better for you now, too. When you’re wearing duronium, they shimmer around the edges.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff when you were explaining rips? That day at the coffeehouse?” I gave Michael a pouty face, as I popped open the can.

“Because I wasn’t ready to explain time travel. And you weren’t ready to hear it.”

“True.”

“You’ll use this veil.” Cat pointed to the one three feet away, sparkling like sunlight on the ocean. “Dune’s research uncovered that this house was unoccupied at the time of Liam’s death.”

“I still don’t understand how we get where we want to go.”

Cat frowned. “You hold the date and exact time you want to travel to in your mind and step in. My exotic matter, your travel gene, and the duronium do the rest.”

I recalled the night I’d asked Michael if it was that easy and he’d given me his standard “It’s complicated” answer. “Really, Michael?”

“So you got that part right.” He shrugged and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “But you were wrong about the other part.”

“What other part?”

“You don’t have to click your heels together three times.”

I launched the remaining popcorn in my hand toward his head.

“What about a time limit? Does time pass for you? Or us?”