Matt checked on his family, still asleep around him. They were all sleeping in Gaga’s basement. The window wells provided very little light, and it was still dark outside anyway, but there was a night-light plugged into the wall. It cast a weak glow over the room so Matt could see everyone well enough. Corey was sprawled on top of his cot, arms and legs dangling off the sides, a bit of drool hanging from his open mouth. Ruby slept tucked neatly inside her sleeping bag with her hands placed under her cheek like a princess. A warrior princess, that is, as Matt noticed the sword handle sticking out from beneath her pillow. Jia slept on one end of the ratty plaid couch, her black hair cascading over the side. Pike was on the other end, curled up like a kitten, hands clutching her knotted rope. His parents were sleeping behind the couch. He could see the outline of his mom and hear his dad’s heaving-breathing-almost-snoring.
They’d been sleeping like this for the last four nights in a row, cots and sleeping bags crammed together. Gaga thought it was adorable, a “giant family slumber party” she called it. She didn’t know that it wasn’t for fun so much as a survival instinct, though Matt wasn’t sure that sleeping all in one room was any kind of protection against Captain Vincent now.
The nightmares only added to his anxiety. It was the same nightmare he used to have as a child. Almost every night it was the same. He and his family are having a picnic, or sometimes they were playing a game of baseball, or just walking down the street together. In the nightmare he’d just had they were picking grapes together in the vineyard. Whatever the setting, they are always all together, his mom, his dad, Corey, Ruby, and him, and they are happy. Then the sky darkens. Suddenly a strong wind rushes through. Something is coming. His mother tells them all to run. And they do. They all run. Except Matt. He can’t seem to run. He’s treading mud. And then his family starts to disappear. One by one they fade into nothing, or get sucked into the sky, or fall into some bottomless chasm. And then Matt wakes up, heart racing, drenched in sweat.
It’s not that the dream felt particularly real. He knew it was a dream. It’s just that it felt so possible now, like a warning, a premonition.
Matt reached for his compass tucked beneath his T-shirt. The Obsidian Compass, the time-traveling device that he himself had invented. Just a few turns of the dials and within seconds he could be not only on another continent but also in a different century. In the past few months alone, Matt had traveled all over the world, thousands of years into the past, and even once into his future. At first it had all seemed a grand adventure, but in reality the compass had caused a great deal of trouble, even destroyed lives, and who knew how many more lives it would destroy? Matt was starting to wonder if he’d made a mistake in building it at all. He’d had good intentions, but many a disaster can start with good intentions, he was learning.
But if he hadn’t built the compass, he wouldn’t even be here, nor would his mother, and therefore his father or Corey or Ruby or Jia and Pike. Or perhaps they would have all existed, but in very separate lives, not together. Either way, he didn’t like to imagine his world without them, and they were all together because of the Obsidian Compass that he built. In that way, he reasoned, many good things can come from disaster. But would they be able to stay together? This was the unspoken question that hung over all their heads like a dark cloud, ready to burst at any moment.
Matt circled his fingers in rhythm over his compass, his mind going in loops and spirals. He’d gone over it again and again. Thirty-six hours ago, Matt and his family had stood on the shores of Asilah, Morocco, in the year 1772. He’d gone there with such hope, such confidence, to fix everything. But everything had gone wrong.
Matt lifted his hands to his face. He could barely see in the weak dawn light, but still the rootlike scars on his right hand were starkly visible. Thirty-six hours ago he’d seen identical scarring on the same hand of Marius Quine. That’s when he knew without a doubt that he and Quine were the same person, just at different points in their timeline. When their hands had connected, they had erupted with such force and heat and power, Matt felt he would explode. He did, in fact. Both of them. But miraculously they didn’t die, and when he was put back together, Matt was holding a black stone in the center of his palm. The Aeternum. The object that granted its possessor immortality and the power to manipulate time and events however they wished. As it happened, Matt had been in possession of the Aeternum all along and never knew it. It had been the stone in his bracelet that he’d worn since the age of six. Granted, it had been inactive until that moment he and Quine had grasped hands, but still, it had been in his possession.
No longer. Captain Vincent had the Aeternum now. Matt had watched as Captain Vincent had been altered, immortalized with unfathomable power to manipulate time, past, present, and future. Matt was honestly surprised they were still here at all, even now. There had been several discussions in the past two days (or arguments) about what they should do, whether they should stay or flee or try to do something to defeat Vincent before it was too late, but no one could agree on anything, mostly because they didn’t know exactly what had happened three days ago in Asilah.
Everyone had been pestering Matt for answers and
