Page 144 of The Girl Out of Time
***
“Theo?” In the sudden darkness, Emmeline felt for his face, her fingers landing on his nose.
“I’m here.” His arms wrapped around her. Around them, desperate cries echoed through the night, and the great body of the ship groaned as if it was too tired to keep going.
It was dying.
“What happened? Why are the lights—” The floor disappeared from under her as the ship shook and the stern dipped forward. For the most terrifying few seconds, as Emmeline thought her heart would give out, they fell—deep into the night, deep into nothing—and then, with another loud groan and a splash, the ship landed, and the stern righted itself. Emmeline caught herself onto her hands, pain spreading through her wrists and knees as she plummeted to the floor.
Everything was quiet. Emmeline looked at Theo’s shadowed face, and as the stern settled, she had the brief urge to laugh.
They were okay. They were floating. They were level again—they were floating, floating—it was going to be fine after all—
And then, in another low, prolonged groan, the stern began to rise again, and she and Theo rammed against the same barrier that had kept them from sliding backward earlier. All around her were shouts, cries, and slamming sounds as people slid down the steeply rising deck.
They were going under.
“Emmeline.” Theo pulled her into his arms, perhaps trying to protect her, perhaps seeking solace. She clung to the collar of his shirt. Far above them, the stars still shone so quietly, innocently, acknowledging her neardemise with soft blinking, as if to say, “Have this last view before you go.” The stern rose steeper still until they lay on the platform as ifitwere the floor now. The ship pointed straight up, like a finger at the sky … and stopped.
Somewhere along the way, or perhaps in Emmeline’s mind, the shouts faded, and it was only the dark, endless night, the stars, and her—so small, so insignificant. A strange calm overcame her. The fear was still there, but it was somehow dulled, as if her imminent death no longer mattered. Her family was safe, and she wasn’t alone. At least, before she went, she’d had a grand, grand adventure. Like a heroine from one of Miranda’s books, she’d chased mystery and found love. Like the ship, all now was in equilibrium.
Equilibrium.
Realization blazed through her like electricity through a wire. Her ability to open portals had never been aboutonestrong surge of emotion. It had always been about balance. The good and the bad, anger and happiness, hatred and love.
When she left theTitanicand found herself on the beach, she’d been brimming with anger over her parents’ decisions—and bursting with determination, expectation, the wish to find Leon, to find herself a life she wanted. When she accidentally sent Maria back into the past, she’d been overcome with fear, but she also wanted to protect her new fantasy. When Theo kissed her and they leaped from the balcony of the burning castle, she’d been scared for her life—and still so calm, happy, because he was there, and she knew she was safe.
Every time, she only needed balance.
Home.She repeated the word to herself, over and over, and conjured up all the memories of it. It wasn’t just their house, it wasn’t this ship, it wasn’t … material. It was her family. Father teaching her how to play baseball, Mother taking her shopping, her eyes glittering as Emmeline tried on the most fashionable outfits, Tristan and Brendon laughing across the dinner table. And it was Theo, his shy smile as they rode on the cart, his firm grip as he spun her around the dance floor, his awe-struck face as she descended the stairs and he asked her to marry him. It was Sebastian, and it was Louisa, and it was everywhere, and in everyone.
The blanket of calm around her shut out the cries, and for the first time, Emmeline didn’t only feel it. She heard it; the shimmering of air as a portal opened. She looked to the side, and there was the ripple, hovering above the railing.
“Theo.” Her voice was weak at first, as if she wasn’t used to talking anymore. “Theo. I did it.”
He glanced past her shoulder, then met her eyes.
Below, water rushed up to meet them.
“Run,” he said, and she grabbed his hand, and they dashed across the platform, metal banging underneath their feet. But the platform ended before the railing, four, five feet—or more.
“Jump!” she yelled, and pulled him with her as she leaped. In the longest second of her life, she flew in an arc above the swirling dark waves beneath, to the portal. But the passage—it was strange. No beach, no sunny day, no warm embrace of her room at home. Only a dull red glow enveloped in the dark, and the faint smell of ash …
Fire.
Stop!She closed her eyes as she reached the ripple; Theo bumped against her, and there was nothing. No land beneath her feet, but no water, either, and no flames. Only a gentle rushing, more like white noise than the ocean threatening to envelop them.
She opened her eyes again. She and Theo were between each side of the portal as the air shimmered around them and a glow bounced within those ripples, like a fractured reflection of the northern lights.
Below them, the ship was gone. The ocean gulped, swallowing its meal, and calmed down.
And they were floating.
***
From a quarter a mile away, Sylvia watched theTitanicdisappear underneath the glassy sea.
The boat had already been silent in shock; now, a suffocating terror descended as the ship that should’ve been their shelter blinked out of existence, and they were left alone in the night. Alone with the stars, and alone with cries, dulled by distance, but no less horrible.
