Chapter 39
Sometime in the night, Sumner leaves without notice. I wake up to a text saying he’s ensuring everything’s under control. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to believe it.
We have a plan. The Space Weather Prediction Center website expects a significant geomagnetic storm tonight—that hasn’t changed—but we won’t know if our area will witness an aurora display until hours in advance.
This will likely happen sometime after midnight, based on previous patterns.
Since the isoborometer is directly dependent on the geomagnetically induced current, we’ll need to place it within the strongest point of the vortex.
Then, when geomagnetic activity reaches its strongest point, we’ll make sure William is within range of the current in order to reverse the time path.
In the meantime, Sumner and Lionel will measure the parameters, set up the isoborometer, and then join William and me at the gala. When it ends, we’ll send him back. Everything will return to how it was before.
Hopefully.
My hand feels emptier without my dad’s ring, but I try not to fixate on it.
I also try not to fixate on other things that may have disappeared without me noticing.
I’ll see my mom and Mads later. They got on a plane this morning.
That’s all that matters right now. Nothing about tonight can go wrong.
I’m busy with gala preparations for the rest of the afternoon.
Because of the unprecedented turnout from our community and alumni, Ivernia has opted to utilize the gym instead of the Langley Center, which means there’s more square footage to decorate.
I help set up silver-and-white balloon arches with Sabine and Inessa, who ask twelve dozen more questions about William when no one else is around.
Once we’re done, Mrs. Vidar-Tett waves us away to get ready.
All the presenting seniors utilize the athletic center’s locker rooms to prepare for the evening, so we don’t have to hustle from the houses in the snow.
Anticipatory chatter echoes through the space, underpinned with clacking heels, spritzes of perfume, and occasional squeals of laughter.
Bodies in formal wear slide by and claim space in front of mirrors.
Lip gloss and oil-blotting sheets and curling irons are everywhere.
I’ve kept my hair down and straight—simple—mostly because the dress Mads sent me doesn’t need overpowering.
Silk drapes over me, lying nicely over my hips and transforming into the detailed, shimmering gradient as it cascades down my legs.
My heart pounds. I haven’t felt ready until this very moment.
“Delaney?”
I set my lipstick on the counter as Mrs. Vidar-Tett strides toward me, concern prevalent on her face. She beckons me out of the locker room. When I turn to Sabine and Inessa, they only shrug.
Once we’re in the hall, she gives me a strained smile. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” I glance around. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the school is dealing with a delicate situation involving Enzo. I’m afraid he won’t escort you this evening.”
My stomach cinches under waves of anxiety. “What—why?”
Her expression falters. “Nothing you should stress about right now. Let me focus on what to do from here, okay?” She’s already moving away from me, heading toward the gym. “We’re still set to begin in thirty minutes.”
Dread, hot and panicked, sinks into my bones. They found out about the Enzo situation. It’s the only explanation. But how? And where is William?
My hands lunge for my phone; then I remember I’ve left it in the locker room. I’m about to dart inside when someone else calls my name.
Analiese.
Built-up frustration morphs into simmering anger. “Did you do this?”
She looks taken aback. “I wasn’t going to publish the article,” she says, approaching me slowly.
“I swear, Delaney. We pulled it, but then Mr. Volpone asked Tyler why I abandoned a piece I’d been working on all semester, and Tyler sent him the draft.
And then it just—it escalated.” Sympathy flickers across her face. “Enzo’s in Ellerby’s office.”
There are many well-known scientific laws that help explain our physical connection within the world.
Newton’s laws of motion. Kepler’s laws. The law of inertia.
And then there is Murphy’s law, which states, Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.
It may not be rooted in science, but it doesn’t mean you cannot feel it in full force when it’s happening to you.
Now is one of those times.
This is not how tonight was supposed to go. Even if the universe gave us a miracle, we can’t set things right without William. There’s no way they’ll allow him to remain on campus, will they? Not when he was pretending to be someone else this entire time. And what happens then?
The gala doesn’t matter now. I have to find William.
The door creaks open. A second later, Inessa and Sabine emerge.
“We heard everything,” Inessa blurts, tossing me my phone.
I stare at the blank screen. Take a deep breath. “Okay,” I say, thinking as I fire off a rapid SOS text to Sumner and Lionel. “We can fix this, right?”
“Let me help.” There’s a begging look in Analiese’s eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
My teeth pull at my bottom lip. The most important part right now is William.
“We need a diversion,” I say to Sabine and Inessa. “Big enough to get Ellerby out of her office.”
“Done,” Sabine says, tugging Inessa’s arm through hers. “If Capture prepared us for anything, it’s this.”
I hope she’s right.
As they sprint down the hall, I address Analiese. “I need you here. Delay the gala.”
She goes white. “Delay—how?”
But I’m already disappearing inside the locker room. “You’ll think of something!”
Before anyone can ask what I’m doing, I throw on my coat, yank on my sneakers, and exit through the back before sprinting toward the administration building. My shoes kick up snow, cold air slicing through my lungs.
And then I see it.
Illuminated ribbons of violet and emerald shift across the darkened sky like tendrils of smoke.
My heart ricochets against my ribs. The geomagnetic storm. Solar particles interacting with our atmosphere. No—this can’t be happening now. We’re supposed to have more time.
I run faster, nearly colliding with the door before swinging it open. Then I sprint down the hall. Wet squeaks sound from my shoes as I round the corner, where I almost slam into another body.
Lionel is equally out of breath, raising both hands as if to say it’s just me.
“Thank god,” I say.
He shoves his phone toward me. “They’ve tracked a flare. The flare.”
My heartbeat accelerates as I read. X40 SOLAR FLARE WITH EARTH-DIRECTED CME. At 7:04 UTC, the Space Weather Prediction Center monitored a complex eruption with an active coronal mass ejection that has a high probability of interacting with our magnetic field.
“It’s identical to the one William witnessed during the Carrington Event,” he gets out. “They’re alerting the power grid and taking precautions. And they’re predicting it could enter our atmosphere in the next twenty minutes.”
My mouth falls open. None of this is coincidental. We have to do this tonight.
Urgency courses through my veins. “Let’s get William.”
We bound down the hall, racing toward Ellerby’s office. I’m wondering if we’re going to have to cause a diversion of our own when we hear it. A series of high-pitched screams coming from the courtyard. Lionel’s brows draw together, confused, but I’m already charging toward the window.
Outside, the sprinkler system has chugged to life.
The jets spray long streams of freezing water at anyone in its path.
Parents and alumni moseying around the courtyard shield themselves with their coats and scarves, ducking and running to drier ground.
The ruckus is enough to draw Ellerby from her office, so panicked she doesn’t register the two of us standing there.
We take advantage of this distraction. As I throw myself through the office door, Lionel at my heels, I come to a sudden halt. Mr. Whelehan sits next to William, head snapping up from the paperwork in front of him. An acrimonious expression crosses his face as he sets down the pen.
“You both should be at the gala,” he admonishes, rising to his feet. “We’re dealing with a pressing matter in here.”
William gives me a pleading look.
“I—” Excuses scramble through my head. “I need to talk to you.”
“It can wait.” He shoos us toward the exit, moving to shut the door.
“It can’t!” I insist. “Because—it’s an emergency!”
His eyes widen with concern. And, as if on cue, an agonized, high-pitched wail sounds from down the hall.
What the hell?
Mr. Whelehan barges between Lionel and me, rushing out to find Sabine theatrically collapsed on the floor, clutching her ankle.
Her performance is over-the-top, but Mr. Whelehan doesn’t notice.
As her fake shrieks grow louder and more dramatic, he races toward her, abandoning William in the empty office.
This is our chance.
I send a silent thank-you to Sabine as we burst back inside. William leaps from his chair. He’s dressed identically to the first time we met, cravat and all, looking extremely relieved.
“We’ve got to go!” Lionel exclaims. “Now!”
William doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s by our side in seconds. “I apologize for this inconvenient timing.”
“Not your fault,” I say. “But hurry. We don’t have much time.”
As we scramble from the office, Mr. Whelehan shouts a stern, “Hey! Stop!” from down the hall. But he’s too far away, still preoccupied with Sabine, and we’re quick to scurry out the exit.