Traveler (Traveler #1)(61)

I’m scrambling eggs when a knock sounds at the door.

“Long time, no see,” I say, smiling at Finn as I open the door.

“I waited till they were gone,” he says, stepping inside.

“Are you hungry? I’m making breakfast.”

“Yeah.” His eyes light up. “I’d love some breakfast.”

“It’s only eggs and toast.”

“Sounds delicious.”

I wonder when Finn last had a home-cooked meal. The thought of the life he’s probably lived squeezes at my heart.

“You ready to be a fugitive?” he asks, as I scoop out a large portion of eggs onto his plate.

“Truthfully? No.” I grab the toast and put it on a plate in front of him before I sit down to join him at the table.

“It’ll be fine, Jessa. You’ll still be here, you know. Your parents and Danny won’t suspect a thing.”

“I’m not so sure about Danny,” I say. “And what happens if this Traveler finds the other me? I’ll never see my family again.”

“It’s not like he can go after you every hour or something,” Finn explains. “He has to arrange events that end badly for you but have the least number of ripples as a consequence. The Traveler can’t just assume getting rid of you takes care of everything. He’s got to get rid of you the right way.”

“Is that why he’s been using you?” I ask.

“Probably. My guess is he’s trying to frame me to throw suspicion off him. Only that didn’t work so well when it was obvious I kept trying to protect you.”

“Really?” I wonder why Mario didn’t tell me that. If the killer is after Finn, too, or doing his best to put the burden of my death on Finn, then Mario knows I’m going to do my best to prevent that. That is, if I can see it coming.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, reaching out to take my hand.

“I’m thinking that Mario didn’t tell me that because he knows I’ll try to protect you.”

I take his now-empty plate and walk it over to the dishwasher, and he gets up to follow me.

“That’s not your job, Jessa,” he says. “I can take care of myself.”

“Me too.”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m going to watch out for you anyway.”

“Me too—for you,” I answer stubbornly.

“There’s no point in trying to talk you out of it, is there?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Come on,” he sighs. “It’s nearly nine.”

I give him a nod. “Let’s do this.”

He grasps my hand and leads me up to my bedroom to stand in front of the mirror.

“Remember,” he says. “We’re in this together.”

“Together,” I repeat, and the word causes a spreading warmth within me. Whatever is waiting for me on the other side of the mirror, I can face it. We can face it.

Together.





34

Silent

We transfer through into her bathroom. I mean my bathroom. The first thing I notice is that it’s cold. The second thing hits me a moment later, and I stand frozen in the middle of the bathroom, my feet rooted to the floor in shock.

Finn grabs me by the arms, instantly sensing something is very wrong.

I have the memories now. I struggle to find my voice, but it’s not something this Jessa’s brain does easily.

“Finn.” My mouth struggles to make the words. “I’m deaf.”

He’s startled. I can see it on his face even though I can’t hear a word he’s saying as he replies to me. I make out my name as he says it, but that’s all. I nod my head and say it again.

“I’m deaf.”

It really is hard to speak, even though I know how to do it. This Jessa’s brain has no use for speech, so it’s like trying to use a door that’s rusted shut at the hinges. I shake my head at Finn, letting him know I don’t know what he’s saying.

And then he surprises me. Finn knows sign language. And apparently, so do I, because I understand perfectly what he’s trying to say to me.

You understand me? he signs.

Yes.

Smart Mario. The Traveler would never think to look here.

I would never think to come here.

Where are we?

I look around. In a bathroom.

I know. He rolls his eyes. Is that snow?

I look past him, out the window. Yes.

We make our way out into the bedroom and cautiously down the stairs. It’s odd, trying to be stealthy when you have nothing to judge by. No footsteps to tell you if you’re being too loud, no sounds from another room to tip you off—it’s kind of freaking me out.

Finn holds up a hand and signs, I hear Danny.

We turn off the staircase into a living room that’s a lot nicer than mine. The furniture is new and there is all sorts of fancy artwork on the walls. The room is lovely, but it looks like it’s being used as a toddler playground at the moment. There are toys scattered everywhere, and Danny sits in front of the TV, rocking.

I walk around between him and the TV and try to sign. We taught our Danny some sign language when he was younger and not as verbal. Maybe we did the same here.

He pushes me away angrily and goes back to rocking. And rocking. And rocking.