The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(95)

“Is there, uh . . . is there anything else from the future I should know?”

With a flustered sigh, Mia looked down at the fresh new dispatch in her hand. Yeah. There was something else.





EIGHTEEN




Nobody knew what to make of Peter Pendergen. The Silvers convened in one motel room, debating all the revelations and implications of his letter. When they didn’t talk over each other, they fell into a pensive silence, one so deep they could hear the slow drip from the showerhead.

Hannah dumped the empty plates and wrappers of their takeout dinner into the trash, then reclaimed her spot on Zack’s bed. She peeked over his shoulder as he sketched a man’s face on motel stationery.

“I don’t trust him,” she uttered.

“Me neither,” Amanda said from the desk chair. She kept an eye on the muted lumivision. The nine o’clock news would begin in five minutes. She fully expected to be the top story.

“I don’t think any of us are ready to marry the guy,” Zack replied, “but are you both suggesting we avoid him completely?”

Zack had made it clear that he was very much in favor of meeting Peter. He admitted that his vote was influenced by his desire to go to New York and search for his brother. It also didn’t hurt that Brooklyn was 2,500 miles away from the site of their police standoff.

Amanda flicked her hand. “I don’t know. It just feels like a trap to me.”

“What are you basing that on?” David asked.

“Azral let us go. Maybe this is the reason why. After everything we learned about Dr. Quint today, is it really such a stretch to believe that Peter’s also working for the Pelletiers?”

David shook his head. “I think you’re being overly paranoid.”

“I think she makes a damn good point,” Hannah said. “I also find it weird that he didn’t include a way for us to contact him. No phone number. No e-mail.”

“Well, keep in mind this letter’s from Future Peter,” Zack said, aware of how silly he sounded. “Maybe the current Peter isn’t in a position to hear from us. It might put him at risk somehow. Or put us at risk.”

The sisters crossed their arms in synch, wearing the same dubious frown.

“I don’t buy it,” said Hannah.

“Me neither,” said Amanda.

“And what about the fact that Mia got a warning flat-out telling her not to trust him?”

Mia sighed from the foot of David’s bed. She’d spent an uncomfortable amount of time in the hot seat tonight, answering numerous questions on behalf of her future selves. She knew she couldn’t talk about Peter without mentioning the two conflicting messages she’d received about him five weeks ago:

Don’t trust Peter. He’s not who he says he is.

Disregard that first note. I was just testing something. Peter’s good. He’s great, actually.

After reading the messages aloud, Mia had glanced up to five dim and bewildered faces. “Yeah. Now you know what I’ve been dealing with.”

Sadly, there was nothing in this latest parcel to clarify the confusion. On the flip side of Peter’s letter, Future Mia addressed the matter with a virtual shrug.

I wish I could explain those notes, but I still don’t know why we got them. All I can tell you is that I’ve known Peter for six months now and I trust him with my life. He’s a good man. He’s not half as funny as he thinks he is, but he’s a good man.

Below her passage, Peter scribbled a brief retort. I am very funny.

“I’m honestly not sure what to think about him,” Mia said. “But if he is who he says he is, if he really does have shelter and safety to offer us, then I’d hate for us to blow our chance because I got a bad message.”

David nodded vigorously. “Exactly. This is an opportunity. I can’t speak for the rest of you, but I still want the answers that Quint and Czerny promised us. Maybe Peter can provide them. On top of that, there’s also the matter of that second Cataclysm. If Peter’s right—”

“—then we’ll be walking right into it,” Hannah griped.

“He didn’t say it was happening in New York,” David replied. “He just said it was happening. He also said we’re potentially part of the solution. Don’t you think that’s worth investigating? Isn’t that a better way to spend our days than aimless wandering?”

Once again, the discussion hit a weary lull. Theo sat cross-legged on the desk, staring out the window at a municipal impound lot.

“Theo?”

He glanced up at Zack. “Huh?”

“You’ve been Johnny Tightlips over there. What are you thinking?”

There was no safe way to answer truthfully. From the moment Mia revealed her surprise cash endowment, Theo’s dark inner demon had snapped awake in its cage. It eyed the money hungrily, calculating the sheer amount of liquid solace that $1,500 could purchase. It would carry Theo for miles, all the way to the next world.

“I don’t know. I mean I understand what David’s saying. I respect it.”

“But?”

“But this is our first day out in the world. We’re still flailing around like newborns. And now you’re talking about crossing the country to help some stranger stop a Cataclysm? That’s not just ambitious. It’s nuts.”