99. Shadows & Eddies

Ava wanted to kill him. She really did. She’d never wanted something so viscerally in her entire life. Nanny Russo watched her, her eyes still red from crying. She said something in Italian.

“She wonders if perhaps you doubt her story?” the priest translated lazily.

They weren’t real, Ava reminded herself. The people in this timepiece didn't exist this way. The actual story had gone differently. So they were just shadows, stuck in a swirling eddy of history’s timeline until Ava could untangle them. The nanny started speaking in Italian again, but Ava interrupted her.

“I believe you,” she said heavily. “I believe you.” She waited while the priest translated. “I’m so sorry for your loss. That man--” she glanced over her shoulder back at the castle-- “is the guilty one.” She couldn’t absolve him now. It was obvious: He strangled the boy--a toddler--in a frantic rage. The little lord wasn’t even two years old. Ava’s chest felt tight at the thought of it. Afterwards, he simply blamed it on the nanny, because--why wouldn’t he? Who would believe a woman over a man of the cloth?

Ava’s grandfather did. He’d saved the grieving woman from execution and, like the conquering hero he was, brought the guilty party to justice. Unfortunately, justice aside, that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He’d messed with an Unchangeable, and that was why the timepiece formed in the first place.

Hot, weary rage boiled inside her. It was exhausting and infuriating. How many more of the timepieces were going to be like this? How many more innocent people was she going to have to hurt?

But they weren’t real people, she reminded herself yet again. They were just shadows.

So maybe it wouldn’t matter if she killed him. Just once--just this time around--just to make herself feel better...

98. The Smoking Gun

He had to leave--he had to find Cece. There was plenty of time, surely. Abe glanced back over his shoulder at the arched doorway where Ava had disappeared. He would need to be back in--he checked his watch--exactly thirty-eight minutes. Fine. But he couldn’t just stay there! Not when Cece had taken his gun and then presumably fired three shots in the woods.

He stepped over a fallen branch and pushed leaves from his face. His ears still rang with the sound of the gun -- it couldn’t be that far off. Problem was, not much moonlight was able to push through trees. And since he was too nervous to turn on his flashlight, it was slow going. With each step he listened carefully, trying to figure out whether--

“You have no choice, Celine,” a deep voice came from Abe’s left. He turned quickly, searching, willing his eyes to become more acquainted with the dark. There! He could just barely see two figures about fifteen feet ahead, facing each other in the night.

“Funny, that’s what I was going to say to you, Monseiur.” As Abe crept closer, he saw that Cece and her opponent each pointed a gun towards the other, neither able to move for fear of drawing fire.

Abe heard a moan--there were two men lying on the ground nearby.

“Your men are going to bleed out if you don’t do something,” Cece continued sweetly. “Kneecap wounds can be fatal, you know.”

97. Smeared

“She won’t come.” The priest had been gone for nearly half an hour trying to find the nanny. Now he returned with this weak excuse?

"Let me go to her!” she cried in frustration. She was running out of time. “Please,” she added off of the head priest’s disapproving glare. He paused, but finally gave in and nodded. The priest who had just entered shrugged and motioned for her to follow.

Outside, the afternoon sun was bright and clear. He took her to a long, well-kept garden that was brimming with dahlias and chrysanthemums. Across the way, Ava saw her: a young woman walking, staring at the flowers, wearing a simple black dress that could have been a nightgown. Her face was red with crying, her hair undone, and--

Ava gasped. For a moment--just a moment--the woman’s face had disappeared. It had been wiped right off of her by a light breeze--her whole self, in fact, looked like the wind was trying to smear her from existence, like--

But then she was there, whole, and didn’t even seem to notice anything strange. Ava turned to the priest, who gave her a confused look.

“Are you going to question her or not?” he asked contemptuously. 

96. Three Shots.

Abe wanted to slap himself. How could he have been such an idiot? Stammering like a schoolboy at that horrible woman’s advances--acting like a complete fool--and now she was gone! With the gun! He paced nervously in the dark. The crows on the roof’s edges muttered, as though anxious at the sudden turn of events.

He couldn’t leave. He’d learned his lesson on that, hadn’t he? He couldn’t leave the entrance, no matter how much time he thought he had. Because once you left, you didn’t know how far you’d go--what might hold you up--what might distract you--no, he insisted to himself, stolen gun or not, he had to stay here. He had to be resolute.

Why had she bothered stealing it, anyway? At least--why now? If she was such an accomplished thief, as she never tired of reminding them, why did she have to wait until they were out in the middle of nowhere in the dark? Couldn’t she have taken it at the hotel, then hopped on a train back to Paris? For that matter, couldn’t she have just done the deed before they’d left? He shook his head. It didn’t make sense.

Unless--a nervous realization overtook him--unless there was a reason she needed the gun here. Now. Unless she hadn’t planned to before, and something had happened--but what? They’d been together. There was no threat. What on earth could possibly have--

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three sudden, painfully loud gunshots echoed across the otherwise silent night. 

95. In The Hole.

 “The stranger was a liar,” Ava said, interrupting an argument between two of the brothers at the table. They again looked at her like she was from outer space--and she may as well have been. “I know him,” she continued. “I was trying to catch him when I arrived. He’s a notorious liar.”

Brother Antonio was frantic with happiness. “Yes!” he cried. “See? A liar! A terrible liar!”

A dark-eyed priest who hadn’t yet spoken eyed Ava with obvious distaste. His low voice growled a question as though it were an accusation:

"And why should we trust you?”

His fellow priest agreed. “A shabby looking woman--who can’t even hold her tongue!”

Ava hesitated. She felt like she was at the bottom of a dark hole: the solution was so close, it felt like it should be obvious, but she had no way to reach it.

“At least let me talk to this nanny.” She strained to keep the desperation out of her voice. “The man you’re speaking of causes trouble wherever he goes. You can trust me because I’ve seen it before. I’m always left to clean up his mess!” That part, at least, wasn’t a lie.

The priests murmured to each other skeptically. She checked her watch. She’d been in the timepiece about twenty minutes now. If her grandfather had gotten this priest convicted, maybe delaying the conviction long enough would do the trick. Maybe she just had to stall.

And, of course, not get herself killed.

“Please,” she interrupted the priests’ hushed conversation. “Please, just let me question the nanny. I may be able to discover something you couldn’t. Isn’t justice worth a little delay?”

The dark-eyed priest looked like he was on the verge of a smile. “Well-spoken.” He nodded to the priest on his left. “Go and fetch Nanny Russo to us, brother.”