Into the Dim (Into the Dim, #1)(100)

“There’s a problem with the Tesla device,” Doug said. “The diagnostics show some damage. I can’t know for sure. I think it’ll go for a couple more voyages, but nothing is certain.”

Phoebe raised herself up on an elbow and looked at me, her small, freckled face so serious. “Cheese an’ crackers, Hope. When you did that—gave up your lodestone—I’ve never been so scared,” she said. “I don’t know that I could’ve done it.”

“Reckless.” Collum rose and moved to the edge of the bed. “Stupid. Rash.” A ghost of a smile flickered over his mouth as he reached down to squeeze my hand. “And the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”





Lucinda was waiting for me at the kitchen table when Mac brought me home to Christopher Manor.

“Sit,” she said. “Please.”

Strangely numb, I shuffled over and slid onto the wooden bench across from her. Deep purple ringed her eyes beneath a matching plum-colored turban. Her face seemed thinner, the skin tinged yellow and pulled tight across her broad cheekbones.

Two days earlier, Mac, perched quietly in a straight-backed chair by my hospital bed, had finally told us what was ailing my aunt. “Lu don’t want a fuss made, mind,” he said, “so keep your opinions to yerself.”

Apparently, while on a trip to the thirteenth century, Lucinda had picked up a blood disorder that had no modern equivalent. Akin to a rare kind of leukemia, it did not respond to any known treatment. They’d researched all they could, but there was little information to find. A dear friend of Lucinda’s, a doctor in Edinburgh, knew all about the Viators and was doing all she could. But at this point, Mac said, only frequent blood transfusions were staving off the inevitable.

“I want you to know that I was quite impressed with the job you did,” my aunt said. “This mission was a success, in no small part due to your efforts. You protected the members of your team. You brought your mother back. And you’ve kept the Nonius Stone out of Celia’s hands.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw pride skim over her features. “In quite a unique fashion, I must say.”

Frowning, I remembered the moment the Nonius had slipped from Bran’s fingers and tumbled away into the Dim.

“You must realize, however, that it’s likely the stone will reenter the timeline somewhere,” Lucinda went on.

I nodded. I’d already thought of that, wondered about it.

“Celia’s clever,” Lucinda said. “She’ll realize it soon enough. And she’s brought in some hard men who will stop at nothing to locate the stone. Her mind, you see, is warped by jealousy. We tried to help her once, to make her feel part of us, but she just couldn’t accept it.”

Lucinda sat straighter in her chair. “Our task now is to ensure that the Timeslippers never get their hands on the Nonius Stone. For without our interference, I fear they may alter the timeline in ways we cannot imagine.”

Silence fell between us as I remembered the little Carlyle girls, lost forever by one thoughtless act. Yes, Celia had to be stopped.

Lucinda was watching me carefully. “Hope,” she said, “you have proven your abilities beyond anything we expected. I have spoken with your mother, and though it frightens her, she believes it is your right to make up your own mind.”

“About what?”

“We could use someone with your knowledge and unique gifts.” Lucinda’s blunt fingers gripped the edge of the table. “I’m asking you to join the Viators, Hope.”

I stared down at the table. The offer spun before me, tantalizing and horrifying all at once. Could I actually go through that hell again? What kind of insane person would even think of choosing such a life?

Without waiting for a response, Aunt Lucinda slid off the bench. “I’ll give you some time to think it over.” At the door, she turned. “But might I make a suggestion?” She glanced at the silvery glass of the kitchen window. “The river is especially lovely by moonlight. Perhaps you should consider taking a ride.”





Ethel and I were breathless when we reined up at the riverbank. All around me, the Highlands looked like another world. In the daytime, the moors and mountains seemed like a fairyland untouched by time. Now the river had transformed into a brilliant ribbon of light, every leaf of heather and gorse frosted in a million shades of glorious silver, like a child’s dream.

The rush of the river. The perfume of heather. The mist that swirled up from the ground. It all matched how I felt. Ghost-like. Insubstantial. One foot in each time, but belonging to neither.

I picked my way to the exact spot where I’d first tumbled down the bank and, closing my eyes, wished I had it to do all over again. This time, I’d tell him I knew his face. I’d make him tell me everything. I’d beg him to stay with us. And if he refused, I’d drag him back to the manor if I had to. Anything to keep him safe. To keep him here.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered, cursing under my breath.

“Really, Hope.” The voice echoed weirdly in the fog. “Such language.”

Heart leaping into my throat, I spun in a circle, trying to locate the source. As if I’d conjured him from the mist, Bran Cameron stepped over the edge of the riverbank, leading his horse.

“Hello,” he said.