Chapter Eighteen Emma Baldwin
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Emma Baldwin
“Emma,” Malcolm whispers as the city hums in the background. “Nobody has come out in hours.” His clenched fists and white knuckles show his anxiety. Of course he’s nervous. If any of my family members recognize him, his blood could be streaming down the street. But he’s still here. For me.
“You sure Grace is coming?” he whispers, his voice barely audible above the distant horse hooves on the streets.
“Yes.” I tuck a stray curl behind my ear. Squirming closer to the scratchy bush, I stare at the two Eastern redbud trees on the right side of the stairs. Their flowers drip petals on the concrete steps like blood.
Malcolm shivers, and I wonder if it’s from the cold, or if he’s battling dark urges as we wait.
He reaches for my hand. Instead of giving it to him, I force a reassuring smile.
I guess it works, because he looks away and stares at my front door.
I wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him, but I was afraid.
If his touch sparked my bloodlust here, who’s to say I wouldn’t drag him in the house and present him to my family so he could be ripped apart limb by flawless limb.
And I don’t want to hurt the only person standing by me in the fight to end this war, all the killing.
I shake the thoughts off. I need to focus on what’s important. Grace.
“I remember this day.” My voice trembles. “She’ll be here.”
My fingers graze the delicate silk of my skirt, and the material shifts and elongates into a dress that blends into the vibrant greens and yellows of the flower bed by our stairs, just below the red door.
But as I think about Grace’s coming death, a fiery red hue blooms across the fabric, matching the burning ache in my heart.
Grace’s necklace burns like a bonfire on my neck, beckoning my sister to return to me.
The door creaks open, and my heart jumps. A funnel of light pours out the door, and a small female silhouette stands in it, putting a shawl over her shoulders.
Her form sparks a longing that has me still and entranced.
I know that silhouette, those graceful movements.
It’s Grace. It’s really, truly her. Not an illusion or spell.
It’s my sister, alive and perfect. My soul feels lighter.
I remember how she moves, the arch of her eyebrow, her smile, and every bit of our past, except the week that she died.
It’s strange. Could Malcolm be right? Was my mind magically erased?
Now she’s here. Gracie’s shadow is on the porch; she’s backlit by the inside of the house. She closes the door and walks down the stairs in the dusky evening. I can’t breathe. Can’t move, joy chilling me like fresh snow. She steps under a streetlamp, and her smile melts me.
The lace on Grace’s jewel-green fitted bodice shimmers like dew-kissed spiderwebs. The high neckline complements the regal beauty of her perfectly symmetric oval face. She shifts, adjusting her shawl as it dips across her shoulders, and her glittering midnight skirt billows around her ankles.
With a rush of joy, I dash toward her, desperate for another hug and to feel the magic of sisterhood in my life again.
“Grace!” I call, my heart skipping beats as I close the distance between us.
She turns. Spiral curls frame her angular eyes; the rest of her hair is woven with a gold velvet ribbon in an elaborate updo.
She smiles with dimples like Demetri’s under the light of gas lamps.
Her shimmering skin is dark and beautiful as midnight. It must make the stars jealous.
“Emma?” Confusion shakes her voice. “But how…?”
I wrap her in my arms, my tears soaking her shawl. “I miss you so much,” I whisper, trembling. “I need you.”
Her thin arms hesitate wrapping around me. “How are you out here?” she asks, searching my face for the truth. “I just left you inside.”
“Grace,” I say, forcing myself to pull away so I can look in her dark sloping eyes. I take a deep breath, knowing what I have to say will change everything. Hopefully it changes for the better. “We’re from the future. I need to warn you.”
Her lips become a line. “Warn me?” she repeats, head tilted in confusion.
“Yes,” I reply, gripping her hands, trying to force her to believe me. “I came here to warn you … You’re going to die, Gracie,” I blurt, the truth tasting foul on my lips.
She frowns, her skin turning a chalky brown as her thin fingers smooth her updo. She’s scared; she must know I’m being honest.
“H-how?” she asks.
“On a scouting mission for the circus,” I say, memories rolling back with an ache that makes me grit my teeth.
“I sensed something was wrong before it happened. I told you—today! I woke up and ran to you, telling you about my nightmares. You gave me your lucky necklace.” I point to the necklace I’m wearing.
“You hugged me. Tried to calm me down. You said I’d be fine. But nothing is fine, Gracie!”
Grace’s angular eyes widen in terror. She stares at the cobblestone street like it will tell her how to process all of this. “We had that talk a few minutes ago. I left you upstairs crying and talking with Mom.”
There’s no right way to accept the news that you’re going to die.
So doubt, delusion, and denial are understandable.
But I don’t have time for her to process those emotions.
Pointing to the house, I say, “That Emma, the one from the past, she’s still up there.
You can check if you need to. I’m from the future.
” Tears roll down my cheeks as I think of Grace dying soon, the pain as fresh as when it happened.
Malcolm shifts beside me, and it’s then that I remember he is here. I was so wrapped up in the sight of my sister that everything else faded. But his palm on my lower back brings comfort to the chaos inside me. I sob harder.
“Emma, calm down.” Grace’s voice cracks, and her eyes fill with tears, but she stands still as a statue. “Who’s this boy?” She squints suspiciously at Malcolm when she notices his hand on me.
“A friend,” I reply. But that feels like a lie. Malcolm’s letters make my heart swell. It beats faster when he’s near me, and his touch, even now, ignites my body with flame and tingles.
“A friend,” she scoffs. “You sure? You’re talking about time travel in front of him. You know what happens in our house stays in our house.”
“Did you hear me?” I shout. “You’re in danger!”
Grace’s eyes narrow at Malcolm like he’s a home invader.
And for a moment, I see a flash of something dark and predatory in her gaze.
Is this the bloodlust? Does she recognize him?
Know he’s a Davenport? No, she can’t. She would have called for Mom and the rest of the family and been ready to fight if she knew.
My hands tremble as I reach for the clasp of the necklace Grace gave me. I desperately thrust it toward her. “Here, take this. If you wear this necklace and don’t go on any scouting missions, you should be safe.”
“Stop.” Grace pushes my hands away. “Keep the necklace,” she says.
Malcolm’s brow furrows as he quietly observes my sister and me.
He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
His lips part like he’s gonna speak, but they shut before words fall out.
Guilt is all over his face as he looks away.
He must be uncomfortable intruding on this private moment between sisters.
Grace says, “What kind of big sister would I be to strip away your protection?” She eyes Malcolm suspiciously again. “You need it.”
“But you’ll die without it!” Sobs shake me harder. “It’s my fault. I had an accident. If I wasn’t so clumsy … if I didn’t fall, we could have got there to save you in time! And if you hadn’t given your lucky necklace to me, you’d be alive in the future! Take it! Take it now! Save yourself.”
“Save myself?” Grace shakes her head, her eyes bright with tears.
“In your time, I’m already dead, sis.” Her words are sad but firm.
“Who knows what problems we could make in the timeline by undoing my death? What if the future changes and it leads to you or Mom dying in my place? I could never live with that.”
I sigh, unsure of what to say. Malcolm rubs my back again.
He must have been right. My memory must have been wiped, because there’s no way I would ever forget the last moments I shared with Grace.
She continues, “We all want a long life, a bright future.” A tear runs down her nose. “But I can’t risk breaking your future for my own selfish dreams. I love you too much.”
Tears flow down my face. “But Gracie!” I choke out, my throat tight. Her words are knives piercing my heart. Murdering my dream of a future where we can be together.
“What happened, happened,” she says regretfully. “Don’t blame yourself. Fate is an untamed ocean, so don’t drown trying, sis.”
The weight of her words crushes me, regret settling on my chest, making it hard to breathe. This was a mistake. Coming here didn’t fix the past—it reopened a wound that may never close. That’s why my parents always refused to go back and save her, no matter how much I begged.
“Your future has written me out,” Grace says.
Her fingertip touches the necklace in my open palm.
It glows golden. She looks at the Tether on my leg, and it begins to glow bright and buttery gold too.
Grace closes my palm around the necklace.
“Keep it,” she says. “Maybe the ancestors gave me this so I could give it to you. Maybe it will help you survive this cursed life.” She gives a dimpled smile through sputters and tears.
“The necklace grants one wish. Only one! So use it in a time of your greatest need. Use it for your protection, Emma.”
“Grace, I…” I look at Malcolm and remember the death match we’re supposed to fight. “I hate to ask, but I don’t know where to turn. I need answers about the Tether, too,” I confess, guilty for burdening her. “I thought if I came back, I could save you, and you could help me stop it.”
“No!” Fear and desperation radiate from Grace.
She quakes. “The witch will know. She always knows. She’ll sense the changes in time.
The magic … When she figures out what you’re up to, she’ll punish our family, kill more people to preserve her power.
And her stupid game!” Tears well up in Grace’s eyes.
“Never take that necklace off again,” she says fiercely.
“You’re Tethered. That necklace is your only protection now.
Win the game! Fight for your future.” She sobs.
“For your life. Don’t end up—” Her voice catches.
“Don’t end up like me.” Tears cling to her lashes as she says, “Live, sis. Even if it means you have to kill to survive.” With tears making her brown cheeks damp, she glares at Malcolm.
Shock makes my mouth fall wide. How could my gentle sister tell me to kill? Why is she staring at Malcolm like a lion looking at prey? “You know, don’t you?” I gasp. “You recognize him!”
She smirks, wiping her damp cheeks as air wafts through her dark curly bangs. “Keep the necklace, and keep better company, Emma. It might save your life.”
I hear Mom’s voice on the other side of the mahogany door. It gets louder, closer.
“Emma, Demetri, I’ll be right back,” she shouts. “Going to get supplies.”
Malcolm looks panicked. Mom will recognize him. And if she sees him here, she’ll think he’s come to hurt our family, so she’ll try to kill him.
“We gotta go,” Malcolm says.
I look over Grace’s shoulder at our old house and see Mom’s shadow pass a window, grab a coat off a coatrack, and walk toward the door. My chest tightens. “Grace,” I say, my heart shattering. “I love you. Forever.”
“Ditto, little sister.” She kisses my forehead, but her eyes fall to Malcolm’s ankle as we break apart. “Be brave. Be brilliant.” She glares at Malcolm. “And kick his ass!”
The front door starts to open. Malcolm and I turn and run.