Passenger (Passenger, #1)(64)

“Bloody fool,” he breathed out, rubbing a hand over his head to force down the fear. For a moment, he was at a loss as to how to proceed. There wasn’t time to go back to the tavern to collect the rest of his belongings. She could fully escape, or, worse, be injured or killed in the time it took him to return to the Dove and tell Ironwood what had happened.

Nicholas shook his head. The old man had given him explicit instructions to gain the girl’s trust and return with the astrolabe by any means, both of which seemed impossible if he were to fetch her back. She would doubt his motivations when he needed her full confidence. And he couldn’t predict what punishment Ironwood might levy on her, her mother, or both, for this.

He had signed Ironwood’s contract, and both he and Ironwood knew his punishment for failure; Nicholas would have to trust that the old man would recognize the truth of what had likely happened when he woke in a few hours to find them both gone. Besides, in the end, all that mattered to the old man was that they returned with the astrolabe in hand. What was it that Julian had always said? Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

His brother was still on his mind as he took a deep breath and walked steadily toward the passage, trying to quell his wariness as he approached. How long had it been since he’d felt a passage enclose his skin, his bones, crush the air from his lungs? Longer than a year. Long enough to force him to take a deep, steadying breath.

Come on, Nick. Julian’s voice rose on the breeze at his back. We’ve a journey to make.

And, with one last breath of his world, he stepped through, surrendering himself to the pressure and the devastating blackness as time bent around him.





ETTA CRASHED DOWN INTO AWARENESS in a symphony of shattered glass, hearing it break a split second before she felt the shards slicing through her skin. Pain stole her breath and turned the world to sand around her. Just when she was sure she’d managed to get a grip on her surroundings, the images and sensations drained to nothingness again. Her body throbbed as she fought against unconsciousness. The lingering pressure from the passage didn’t ease, not even when she threw up.

Now she knew why she couldn’t remember what had happened with Sophia—how she had traveled to the ship after arriving through the passage.

Don’t—she clung to the word, forcing her burning eyes open—don’t pass out.…

Etta was caught in between charred beams and what looked like a blown-out window frame, her body cradled in it like a doll that had been dropped from above. Carefully she shifted, twisting until her feet touched the ground. Fabric tore—her right sleeve separated at the shoulder—and in the instant before her knees collapsed under her and the world blacked out again, an unnatural chill crept under her skin and turned her blood to ice. Her cheek struck the cement, and she felt nothing at all.


IT WAS THE WARMTH SHE NOTICED FIRST; THE GENTLE PRESSURE of the touch. Her legs and back ached as they came awake, but the pain on the right side of her face was scalding, raw. The air smelled of smoke—fire—but also…Through her lashes, she saw a dark head bent over her, cleaning dirt and blood away from her right hand. Nicholas’s face was drawn, stricken, as he worked, and Etta’s throat tightened as he carefully brought her hand up to his mouth as if to kiss it, his warm breath fanning over her skin. Instead, he shook his head and carefully set her hand down to rest on her stomach. In spite of the pain rattling around inside of her, the lingering pulse of the nearby passage, Etta let herself feel a pang of regret.

And then she remembered.

Panicked, Etta tried moving her legs, shifting to get them under her. If he was here, then…she hadn’t gotten away. Ironwood would know she’d tried to slip out of their deal. And her mom…

He’s going to kill her.

She shouldn’t have left—she should have been more careful. What was the point of any of this if Cyrus turned around and killed her mom while Etta was centuries and continents away from protecting her?

I had to take the risk—I had to get ahead of him, to beat his deadline.

But when she closed her eyes, her mind was already imagining it, already seeing her mother’s lifeless eyes staring back at her.

This was better. Leaving without his permission had to be safer for her mother than waiting and ultimately running out of time. The air seemed to tick around her, counting down.

“Miss Spencer?” Nicholas said, his voice loud in her ears. “Can you hear me?”

Etta forced her eyes open all the way, taking in his face, the remnants of a broken ceiling, and the blue sky beyond. Unsure of what to say, she tried, “Hi?”

The relief in his face flashed to irritation. “Do you realize you could have been killed—or worse? What the devil were you thinking? Or were you not thinking at all?”

Irritation burned through Etta. “Mind your own…business.”

Need to move…need to find it…need to get to Mom…

But her legs were still not cooperating.

“I ought to throttle you for this,” he continued. “Is anything hurting other than your cheek and hand? I’ve cleaned your cuts as best I could—”

She shook her head. Aside from those things, she was fine. Mostly. “Dizzy.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “That is traveler’s sickness. It’ll ease with every passage. For now, I’m afraid you’ll have to bear it.”