Dedication
For three women:
Mary
Amy
Rosemary
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Part I: Fall
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The Oracle in the Desert
Part II: Winter
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Ripples
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part III: Spring
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Törökul
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part IV: Summer
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
August 23
Epilogue: Tomorrow
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Charles Soule
Copyright
About the Publisher
Part I
Fall
Chapter 1
Anything can happen, Will Dando thought. In the next five seconds, in the next five years. Anything at all.
He tipped his beer up, finishing the last few swallows. He set about the task of getting the bartender’s attention, whichlooked like it could be an ordeal. The bar hadn’t been crowded when he’d arrived three or so hours earlier, but it had filledup once the game started—Jets/Raiders.
The Jets were down by three with not much time left on the clock. Will wasn’t ordinarily much for sports. He wasn’t sure he’dever watched a football game all the way through.
This one was different, though. It was important.
It was important because its outcome was one of a hundred and eight things Will knew that hadn’t happened yet.
The bar was just a dive near his apartment, without much to recommend it other than the base level offered by every bar inthe world: drink there and you weren’t (technically) drinking alone. Will had picked the second-best seat in the house—a stoolas far away from the door as possible. Unseasonably frigid November gusted in every time anyone came in or out, sweeping alongthe bar, stirring the little puddles of spilled beer and wadded napkins.
The first-best seat in the house, the stool farthest from the door and the wind, was directly to Will’s left. It was occupiedby a truly lovely girl with chestnut-colored, slightly curly hair. She seemed to be a friend of the bartender. She certainlygot her refills more quickly than Will did, and a good two out of three seemed to be left off the tab. But there were anynumber of reasons for that, really. The hair alone.
Will had caught her name—Victoria—and he was considering saying hello to her. He had been considering it, in fact, for mostof the past three hours.
His phone buzzed. He looked down—Jorge on the ID, which meant a gig, a good one. Probably a party at some cool venue downtown, for solid money. Even the worst Jorgejob was generally a pretty good time, and on occasion they were spectacular. He had hired Will for lingerie fashion shows,postconcert after-parties packed with industry people, no-joke studio session work, even a few opening band tours. Any futureWill might have as a working bassist in New York City was tied more or less directly to Jorge Cabrera.
Will tapped the front of his phone, declining the call, just as the bartender finally worked his way down to his end of thebar.
“One more?” he asked, gesturing to Will’s empty beer bottle.
“Yeah,” Will said. “Same again.”
On an impulse, Will turned to his left and smiled at Victoria.
“Get you a drink?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the bartender pause slightly as he reached into the cooler. Maybe they were more thanjust friends, then. But so what?
Victoria turned her head to look at Will.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, just friendly enough, no more, “but I know the bartender. I drink for free.”
“Sure, right,” Will said, “but . . . just thinking out loud . . . paid for’s better than free, right?”
Victoria tilted her head slightly.
“That’s okay, thanks.”
She made a point of looking back at the television, about as emphatic a shoot-down as she could give short of changing seats.The bartender returned, skidding a cardboard coaster out in front of Will and slapping a fresh beer down, maybe a bit harderthan necessary.
The Raiders scored a touchdown and made the extra point, extending their lead to ten. Groans rolled up from most of the crowdin the bar, including Victoria.
On the bar in front of Will was a black, spiral-bound notebook, the cover creased like an old leather wallet. Spilt coffeehad stained the pages along the bottom edge a fungusy brown. Will ran a thumb down one corner, flicking through the pages.He stared at the back of the bar, at the multiple distorted reflections of himself in the bottles lined up on the long shelf.He gripped the notebook, bending it along the creases.
He thought about what he knew, and what he could do with what he knew.
Shots from inside the deli. The Lucky Corner. Two quick, then a pause, then three more, one after another. Then a long break. A held breath. Decisions were being made inside. More shots. A lot of noise. A splash against the front window of the deli, from inside. Dark at the center, tinged red at the edges where it wasn’t as thick and the sunlight could shine through it.
Will toyed with the label on his half-finished beer and considered the beers he’d already had. He thought about good decisions,and bad decisions, and how hard it could be to tell them apart.
Will turned back to Victoria.
“Jets fan?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, still watching the television.
“You want to know who’s going to win this game?” Will said.
“I think I already know,” she said.
“You might be surprised,” Will said. “The Jets will win by four.”
Victoria snorted, which still somehow managed to come out cute.
“Two touchdowns, with two minutes on the clock? Come on. Maybe I should have Sam cut you off.”
“Wait and see,” Will said.
“And how are you so sure? You the Oracle?”
Will hesitated.
“That’s right,” he said.
Victoria finally looked away from the television.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “You know how many times I’ve heard that line in the last few months? But you’re using it wrong. You’resupposed to predict that we’ll wake up together tomorrow morning.”
Will grinned.
“I don’t know about that. But the Jets will win this game.”
“By four,” Victoria said.
“That’s right.”
“If that happens, then I’m all yours. You can take me home and do whatever you want with me.”
Will’s eyes widened.
“Huh.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Victoria said.
On the second down in the Jets’ next possession, one of the New York receivers caught a thirty-yard pass and ran it all theway to the end zone. The bar erupted.
Will glanced at Victoria. She was staring at him.
“See what I’m saying?” Will said.
“Yeah,” Victoria said. “But they’ve got a long way to
