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  "How long will you be gone?"

  "I won't be gone at all. For about a minute I'll look like I'm in a trance, and then I'll be back." Once in the office, Addison reached behind his back for Cameron's revolver. Jules let out a quiet gasp. "It's okay, Jules. I was in the Army, remember?" He checked the cylinder, cocked the weapon, and handed the gun to her.

  "I don't want that thing."

  "It's just a precaution." He took her hand, guiding the revolver into her grasp.

  She held it awkwardly. "What's this for?"

  "During that minute, if anyone tries to break into this office, shoot them."

  "Addison—"

  "Trust me, Jules. If I'm crazy, you don't have anything to worry about, right? But if I'm sane—and I am sane—and someone can't wait one minute for me to come back, they plan on killing me. Don't hesitate, just shoot."

  Jules, hands shaking, pointed the gun at the door. "Addison. Please."

  "I'll only be a minute or two. Oh." He reached over to flip off the safety, and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Safety's off."

  Addison pulled out the pen, placed some ink in the chamber and wrote his father's name and a date seven years in the past.

  Reunion

  Light, rushing water, the air warm and humid, the ground—no, the floor, soft underfoot. A rug. Where am I? A hand rises before me, holding a small towel to a fogged glass—a mirror set against blue ceramic tile. I'm in a bathroom. And the hand—I'm not in control. How can I not be in control? With each swipe of the cloth a piece of the image comes into focus. My father's reflection gazes at me, shaving cream covering most of his face as he pulls a razor down his cheek. He dips the razor under the tap water and strokes the blade once more. The spirit in his eyes, the power of his presence, even as a reflection in a mirror, comes over me. I reach out, just wanting to touch him.

  I know son. This must be strange for you.

  He spoke…to me? Or did I just imagine his words, wanting the connection so badly.

  "Dad?"

  Yes, Addison. I sense your presence in my consciousness. So you found the pen, I see. He looks directly at me, a warm smile on his lips.

  "I…you can hear me?"

  Yes, I can hear you.

  "Dad, I've missed you so much. When you died I…" Does he know?

  It's okay, Addison. If I hadn't died, you wouldn't be here. I know.

  "Right. Of course. Mr. Debbs gave me the envelope with your instructions and I found the pen where you left it for me."

  Beyond my control, he leans over, splashing cold water on his face, then towels off. Yes, Jack's a good man. Not the best chess player, but I knew I could count on him.

  "Dad, I've made a mess of things. I need your help."

  I'm sure you have lots of questions. We'll get to them soon.

  He's hesitating. Stalling…why?

  Yes, I'm hesitant. I didn't expect you to come to me in this particular moment. In the mirror, he looks nervous, almost embarrassed. I've got a few things to tidy up before we speak.

  "Dad, I'm an adult."

  Did we get a chance to talk before I died?

  "No. Not about the League or the pen."

  Did someone from the League contact you?

  Sort of. I discovered the pen and started inking on my own until someone from the League, Nikki, found out. She figured the horse had left the barn, I guess, and began training me."

  And how did that work out?

  "I made a mess of things. People are dying."

  I share a look with him in the mirror, my father silent, his eyes communicating a quiet resolve.

  Okay. We'll deal with it Addison. More of a challenge than I wanted you to have right out of the bag, but you have this Nikki at your side, so you'll manage it.

  "Yeah, about Nikki."

  Yes?

  "She's gone—doesn't exist anymore."

  His eyes shift, looking for something in the mirror. The nervousness returning to my father's consciousness. We'll speak of this later.

  "What's going on? Look, Dad. Given what I've been through lately, I don't think there's anything that'll surprise me."

  I move through his mind, probing to discover what he wants to keep hidden from me. He puts a hand to his head, which I feel ache right behind his eyes.

  Do you mind, Addison? I'll let you in if you'll stop the damn probing. It's a woman, okay?

  "A woman. Who? Mrs. Johnson?"

  No, not Mrs. Johnson. She's married, for God's sake.

  "Tommy?" A woman's voice, a familiar voice, calls from the bedroom.

  "Tommy?"

  Do you mind? Maya likes to call me that.

  Maya Sepulveda, the woman who keeps showing up at my door wanting to know about Pike and Waltrop? She steps into the doorway, a few years younger than I know her, completely and magnificently naked. I feel a rise we both want to avoid.

  Would you get ahold of yourself, Addison?

  Talk about a swift kick to the nuts.

  "Jesus Christ, Dad, she's…she's…"

  Beautiful. I know.

  "Tommy, what's going on?"

  "He's here, Maya. Addison's here."

  Her hands quickly move from the doorway, one arm across her breasts, the other angling between her legs. "What? Addison's here, right now?"

  "Yes, Darling. Not the one in middle school. The inked version."

  Maya stands there, frozen for a moment, which I admit I want to last. She's in her thirties, dark hair, dripping wet, and gorgeous.

  "Maybe you better dry off and put some clothes on. We have a lot to talk about with Addison and not much time."

  Walking downstairs to the living room we pass the office where, in the future, Jules stands guard over my body. Once in the den, we sit on a leather sofa by the fireplace.

  "So, you trust Maya?"

  Trust her? Without Maya all would be lost, Addison. I trust her with my life.

  Maya joins us a few minutes later, this time fully clothed in jeans and a tee. She takes a seat in a lounge chair across from us. I haven't been able to fully appreciate her beauty and confidence, given recent events, until this moment. Dad crowds out my consciousness from his memories of her. None of my business, after all, but I'm oddly proud of the old man.

  "How long have you two been together?" I intended the question for Dad, but Maya answers.

  "Your Dad and I? A couple of years. He's very dear to me."

  Dear. I'd say. More like ultimate fuck buddy. I really don't want to have these images of my own father with this woman. Dad locks eyes with her. His love, his passion for her fills me. But wait. "You can hear me?"

  "Your father is giving voice to your thoughts—"

  "Your thoughts—filtered for polite company…"

  She smiles. "Yes, I can hear you."

  Crap.

  So Addison, if you're done ogling my girlfriend, bring us up to date. I assume you've found the pen and events have led you to me."

  I fill them in on finding the pen, Cantigney, Kairos attacking me on a B-17, Nikki ripping me from the inking.

  "I'm not familiar with an Inker named Nikki."

  "When I tell you the rest of my story, you'll understand. After we trained for a few days Nikki sent us on a mission to stop an enemy agent from stealing Wright Brothers' technology."

  "Never heard of Wright Brothers Tecnologies. Must be a highly classified government contractor.

  "Uh, no. It’s a couple of bicycle mechanics who invent powered flight in another continuum.”

  Interesting…

  Yeah, well, when we returned, Nikki had no knowledge of the League. We found your safe room." I look over to Maya. "Are you sure it's okay to talk about this with her here?"

  "Yes, Addison. She’s not an Inker, but I’ve told her about the League. I trust her implicitly."

  Maya leans back in her chair, legs crossed, frowning. "Not enough to show me where his precious safe room is."

  "We've talked about this, darling. Only the keeper
of Renascentia knows the location and has access. It's part of our security protocol."

  "I know. I just hate that we have to keep secrets from each other."

  Darling? "Anyway, that's when we found out about your mission to The Great Library in Alexandria. We got the Alchi̱meía for you."

  "Well done. Now Addison, I know you're upset about this Nikki, but I think we'll find a way to rectify—"

  "You don't understand. It gets worse. A lot worse. When we died back from Alexandria, someone forced Jules to ink into a sixteenth-century girl in Peru, murdered her present-side and took her pen. I followed her by inking Pizarro, but someone, I think Kairos, stopped me. Dad, Jules is trapped there. And without a way to die back, she'll die there."

  Dad's consciousness presses against mine. He knows.

  "There's more, isn't there?"

  I tell him about the Incas, the fleet of flying airships, my failed attempt at destroying the schematics. "Because of me, Nikki no longer exists and we're fighting World War III."

  Silence grips us as Dad and Maya take a moment to comprehend the significance of my words. Maya frowns. "My God. You're responsible for the war?"

  "I didn't just want to fix my mistake by stopping Kairos. I wanted to make things better. I thought I could save the Inca people. And guess what? Not only did I save them, but they're now terrorizing the entire planet!"

  "Sounds to me like you did your best. You didn't give the Inca the technology. I imagine the Spanish would have been massacred wherever they finally encountered the Inca. You did your best. Sometimes events happen outside of your control and you just have to live with the consequences.

  "So I'm just supposed to let bad things happen?"

  "You're missing the point. Bad things happen no matter what you do."

  Bad things happen? Bullshit. "What is the point? Will you tell me please, because I've lost everything and everyone in my life. So please, what's the fucking point?"

  "The point is to maintain the original continuum. We want the good and the bad to play out there, not some manipulated continuum designed to give one person or corporation or empire control of reality."

  I can't believe what I'm hearing. "So you're okay with being murdered in the future? With Jules' consciousness trapped in an Inca girl? With Nikki dying? With the fucking world blowing up?”

  “Yes, when those events occur in the original continuum—”

  Maya shakes her head, anger rising in her voice. “Addison, you’ve shifted the continuum well beyond anything the League has ever faced. Of course your father’s not okay with it.”

  “Please, Maya.”

  She glares at me and then looks to my dad. “He’s saying you’re going to die, Tommy.”

  “I heard him. I think we've established the continuum has shifted. So to answer your question, son, no, I'm not okay with Jules' predicament or the Inker's death, and I'm certainly not okay with a global war. But the path to this point does not fall exclusively on your shoulders. We all carry the burden.”

  No matter what Dad says, I still feel like the bad guy here—or am I? "Given the continuum has shifted and we're speaking of bad things," I nod toward Maya, "you know your girlfriend has been poking around, asking about Renascentia? Cameron thinks she's the one behind all of this."

  Maya sits up. "You start World War III and then come here pointing fingers at me? That's absurd. Why would I want to shift the continuum? Besides, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  "Did you just say you met with Cameron Grimes?"

  "Yeah. He told me to be wary of her."

  "Son, Maya is not your enemy."

  "Maybe you're a little too close to the situation, Dad. Don't you think?"

  Maya inclines her head, about to speak when Dad interrupts her.

  "First of all, I can never get close enough to 'the situation', as you call Maya." He glances at her. "Other than your mother, who I loved with all my heart, Maya is both my lover and partner. She is not the enemy. Believe me."

  He's telling the truth. His passion for Mom and the emptiness of her absence haunts his consciousness. He's let Maya into his heart, hoping to fill at least some of the space. But I still don't trust her. "And you’ve told me about her, right?"

  "It's complicated."

  "You do realize adults say it's complicated when they have something to hide?"

  "Look, you're thirteen in my time. Maya thought it would be best not to complicate your life right now."

  "So this secret arrangement is Maya's idea."

  "No, I'm your father. She suggested the idea and I agreed. Once we're at a place where we both feel we want a life together, we'll tell you. That I'm dead and you don't know about my relationship with Maya, tells me we’ve made the right decision to keep us a secret."

  "So, if Maya's not the enemy, who is?"

  Maya crosses her arms, her voice flat. "Cameron."

  "Dad, she's already tried this line with me in the future of this continuum."

  "Maya's convinced he's conspiring to destroy the League and gain possession of the pens. He may even be inked by Kairos. I don't think we have sufficient evidence to prove it yet, but I would never trust him. Not after everything he's done."

  "I thought he was your best friend and my godfather?"

  "A man like Cameron has no friends or family, Addison."

  "If you don't trust him, why not change the past to take him out of the equation? You don't have to kill him. Just make him irrelevant."

  "I think you know the answer to that question. Whenever we alter the temporal flow, unanticipated effects ripple through millennia. We can't take the chance."

  "Unanticipated effects? Forget Cameron. Are you saying there's nothing I can do to fix what I've done? There's got to be a way. The world's burning down around us."

  "How many pens does the League possess in your present?"

  "We're down to three."

  Maya murmurs, “That’s…unfortunate."

  "Yes, if you had all five, there might be a way. But without all the pens—"

  "What if I get the pens back? There's something I can do with all five pens to fix this?"

  "Possibly. The Alchi̱meía does describe a reset to an alternate continuum. Mind you, a reset may open the door to global peace, or just as easily create a global nuclear holocaust."

  "Did you guys ever think that maybe you shouldn't be screwing around with this stuff to start with?"

  "All we know is what Tobias Faryndon told Ezekiah, your great-great-grandfather, at the League's inception. I know the pens appear to be the most powerful and destructive weapon in the world. However, Tobias told us they will one day be the salvation of the world.

  "If the pens are so dangerous, why did you let me have access to Renascentia before I knew what the hell was going on?"

  "Best laid plans. I thought I'd have time to explain the League and train you, but since you're here, obviously my plans fell through. When do I die?"

  "September 6, 2011. I tried to warn you when you were in Alexandria, but it didn't help."

  "Alexandria? If you warned me and I still died, there's probably a good reason."

  "Well, I'm warning you again. Don't ink to Alexandria. You'll be murdered present-side."

  Maya moves beside Dad, taking his hand in her own. He looks into her eyes as he speaks.

  "Sometimes, no matter what we do, death overtakes us. But I'll keep your warning in mind."

  "Overtakes us, huh? Great. Well, while you sit around waiting for death to overtake you, I'm going to do whatever I can to fix this mess. I'm beginning to wonder why I bothered inking you."

  "Addison, you're upset. I understand. However, before you return to present-side, you need to know what you're facing."

  "If it helps me fix things, I'm all for it."

  “Good. It's time for us to ink Ezekiah." He takes Maya's hand in his own. "I'd like to be alone with Addison, if you don't mind."

  She leans over, kissing him on his lips. "Of course. I'l
l be upstairs if you need me."

  Once Maya leaves, we pass through the study time lock to the Tempos Refúgium. Dad sits behind his desk, preparing the pen. With a sweep of my father's hand, we journey together toward Ezekiah Shaw and the truth of the pens.

  ***

  We enter Ezekiah as he sits by a fire, waiting for his guests to arrive. A recently worn black and white mourning badge adorned with President Lincoln’s image lies on the mantel, alongside a walnut box. With every knock on the door, he welcomes each guest warmly, guiding them into the sitting room where he often smokes cigars with the men after his dinner parties. The room has a yellow glow from several oil lamps and a modest fire in the hearth. With his five colleagues seated, he pours sherry in cut crystal glasses. One of the five, Ian McCullough, an up-and-coming politician in his thirties, tall with chiseled features, and an air of confidence, raises his glass, toasting to Ezekiah's health. After all take a sip, they look expectantly at him.

  "I suppose you're wondering why I have secretly gathered you here on this damp, cold Philadelphia night. You see, I have a great favor to ask, and a great opportunity to offer, this evening. We weathered a terrible War of Rebellion and the death of President Lincoln. We have struggled to keep our college vibrant and alive during very dark and difficult times."

  The oldest of the four, once a slave, now a free man, his full beard gray, Robert Koehler speaks. "Ezekiah, we are well aware of all these things. I've known you for many years, my friend. You look burdened. Please, this is a circle of trust in this room. Be plain and speak your mind."

  "Thank you, Robert. Yes, you are correct. I do carry a heavy burden tonight."

  Inoue Takahashi, a bespectacled writer with a slight paunch and a man of science in his own right, leans forward. "What is this burden, Ezekiah?"

  "I must explain. Do you recall the trip I made to Europe four years ago?"

  Several of the men utter, "Yes."

  "During that trip I met a man who claimed to be a fifteenth-century alchemist named Tobias Faryndon." He raises his hands, warding off his colleagues' skeptical nods. "I know. What I am about to share with you will sound like the babbling of an insane man. Rest assured, I have all of my faculties."

  Taylor Grimes, as strong, athletic and proud as his descendent Cameron, stands up, stepping over to the hearth to relight his pipe. Smoke billows around him, the embers glowing red in the pipe's bowl. "Fifteenth-century? Surely you must have asked him how this miracle had come to be?"