The lobby was a glossy ensemble of stainless-steel fixtures with gla.s.s accents and leather couches. Asymmetric artwork and company photos completed the funky urban loft appeal. Silver doors with a sensor pad blocked the way to the rest of the building. A large mirror with the entwined S's formed a backdrop to the room.

"Now what?" asked Abbey.

Simon settled onto a couch and looked at Caleb. "Now we wait. You go to the parking lot and see if the blue Jag is there. Abbey, try to look like you're waiting for someone else."

Caleb raised his eyebrow at Abbey, his only reaction to Simon's suddenly officious manner, but headed back out into the rain.

Abbey went to look at some of the photos on the walls. They were mostly company shots, in which no individuals were distinguishable amongst the sea of faces. But one individual shot caught her attention. It looked like an awards ceremony. A tall man stood with his back to the photographer, receiving a plaque from older man with gla.s.ses and wild hair. The caption on the photo read: Sylvain Salvador gives scholarship donation to Dr. Paul Ford of Coventry College. Abbey studied Sylvain Salvador's back. He was tall for sure, dwarfing the doctor who was presenting him with the degree, and Salvador had silvery hair like Mantis, although in this photo his hair was short. Still, Salvador could be Mantis. Next to the photo of Salvador was a framed column from a magazine named Bytes. Quentin Steinam: Industry Prophet Reaps Profit, read the t.i.tle.

The silver door opened and a young man with a goatee emerged.

Simon stood and extended his hand. The man drew back in what appeared to be horror. Lobby stalkers were clearly not common at Salvador Systems.

Simon spoke in hushed tones. Abbey was too far away to hear. She moved away to stare out the window at the grayness beyond. A stream of water ran down the side of the road to pool in a murky ma.s.s at the curb. She heard voices behind her. The goateed man had apparently not decided Simon was a raving lunatic-not yet anyway. She relaxed her tensed muscles fractionally. Her stomach growled. She checked her watch. It was 12:42. They'd have to grab lunch soon.

Abbey glanced up just in time to see the silver blue Jag driving past the building. Mantis was behind the wheel, eyes focused straight ahead, a sweep of white hair falling to his shoulder. In the pa.s.senger seat, looking at her with wide eyes, sat Caleb. The Jag continued on past the building and turned left at the lights.

Abbey stifled a scream and ran-walked to Simon.

She yanked his sleeve. "We have to go."

"I'm in the middle of the interview, Ab." Simon rolled his eyes at the goateed man. "My a.s.sistant," he said.

Abbey tried to keep her voice calm. "Caleb has gone for a drive in the blue Jag."

Simon looked at her, his eyebrows raised, his forehead creased into furrows. He turned back to the goateed man. "My other a.s.sistant. Looks like I have to go. Thanks for all your help."

"Sure thing," the man said. "A blue Jag, huh? Sounds like he managed to scoop an interview with Sylvain. That's a first." The man continued out the front door.

"What did you tell him?" Abbey hissed.

"I said we were junior reporters from Wired, doing a story on the quantum computer. What do you mean, Caleb has gone for a drive in a Jag?"

"I saw Mantis drive by with Caleb in the front seat. Caleb's been kidnapped." Abbey spoke slowly and clearly, even though she wanted to shake Simon.

Simon started running toward the door. "Where were they going?"

Abbey tried to keep her voice from going all thin. "How would I know? They turned left at the light. What if we never see him again?"

"Don't panic, Ab. There could be a reasonable explanation." Simon's words were calm, but his face had a sickly undertone that reminded Abbey of chlorine at room temperature. They looked up and down the street for any sign of the Jag. A heavy fog had descended. Cars moved up and down the side street slowly, the spray of their tires creating a constant hum. But no Jag.

"Why don't we call his cell phone?"

"What if calling him makes it worse?" Abbey asked.

"Text him."

"Caleb left my cell phone in the sand dunes, remember?" she said.

Simon tossed her his black iPhone, and with shaking hands she typed in < u="" ok=""> and hit send.

Abbey tried to control her breathing while they waited for Caleb to reply. "What did that guy mean when he said Caleb scooped an interview with Sylvain?"

"I'm a.s.suming Salvador drives a blue Jag, which means he's probably Mantis."

Abbey pulled Simon by his shirt sleeve to the photo of the tall man with the curly-haired man. "Look at this picture."

Simon studied the picture of Sylvain Salvador's back with tensed lips. "I don't know. I've never seen Mantis. Remember?"

Simon's text tone-Jason Mraz singing something about being a curbside prophet-made Abbey jump. Abbey frantically checked the text message inbox. Caleb's letters appeared. < am="" ok.="" helping="" ss=""> Abbey typed furiously. < what?="" get="" out="" of="" car=""> The text took a few moments to come back. < no.="" am="" ok.="" deal="" with="" 3rd="" picture.="" crypt="" 2:30=""> Crypt-the name for the bas.e.m.e.nt only the three of them used. It was Caleb's way of telling her that it was indeed him texting, not Mantis.

Abbey stared at the screen until Simon grabbed the phone and examined the message himself.

Abbey bit into her fingernail until it hurt. "What should we do? What does he mean he's helping SS? Is he telling us to get Mark? We can't just let Mantis drive off with Caleb. What about all the emails?"

Simon turned away from Abbey, his head bent forward, the thumb and forefinger of his hand on either temple. He turned back.

"We get Mark, go home, and meet Caleb. If Caleb says he's okay, we have to trust him. There's no point in hanging around here. If Mantis wants Mark, it's because Mark knows something. And I'm pretty sure the third drawing of the praying mantis attacking Mark was Mrs. Forrester trying to tell us to keep Mantis away from Mark. We'd better head to the bus stop."

Abbey fretted on the bus. Caleb often thought things were all well when they weren't. Once, when he was seven, he'd tried to bike to their Grandma's and had been lost for hours. When he was nine, he'd gone white-water rafting alone on the Colorado River on their family camping trip and had been thrown from the raft. Going for a drive with a potential killer evidently was not setting off sufficient alarm bells in his head. He hadn't texted her back, despite her repeated texted entreaties that he get out of the car immediately. And meanwhile, she and Simon were heading off to collect a large and unpredictable autistic man. They should probably just call 911 and report an abduction.

The gray, run-down buildings of Granton gave way to the eclectic charm of Coventry City. The houses became quirkier and more colorful, and the trees lining the streets sported brilliant fall plumage. Abbey examined her drawing again. The object around the man's neck did indeed look like a stethoscope, and the phone was to the right of the man. Abbey wondered if it was a message. Phone Dr. Bed Truck. That didn't make sense.

Simon was also examining his drawing. She heard him muttering, "two wharves in water, a pair of wharves, a couple of wharves, two docks, side by side docks, floating squares..."

They departed the bus a few blocks from the Blue Moon Halfway House. Abbey and Simon walked down the street slowly. She wondered if Simon felt as unsure as she did without Caleb's boldness to buoy them. Caleb would have some plan for how to spring Mark, or at least the confidence to pretend he did. Simon was so much harder to read, and yet he'd surprised her again and again over the last few days with his ability to handle things. He increased his pace, and Abbey had to trot to keep up with his long stride.

Three women and a man perched on the stairs outside the halfway house smoking. Their pinched faces, rough features, and sallow complexions made Abbey cringe as she walked past them and into the building. She trailed behind Simon as they approached the front desk in the lobby, where a military-looking man in a ball cap sat sizing them up. The stench of cigarette smoke, age, and the sweat and grime of countless bodies a.s.saulted her. Posters about not drinking during pregnancy, quitting smoking, and AA meetings covered the light blue wall to the left of the door. A life-size statue of Jesus with large red droplets of blood streaming from his hands and eyes stood in a cabinet to the right. Jesus, The True Prophet, read the caption underneath.

"We're looking for Mark Forrester. He was brought in this morning," said Simon.

The man flicked his head in the direction of the hall. "Room nine."

Abbey found her voice. "Can we take him with us?"

The man shrugged. "He's an adult. Social Services is coming back to talk to him about his options. But we don't keep people here against their will."

The dark wood floor groaned as they made their way down the dimly lit hallway. Simon located the door marked with a faded turquoise nine and knocked gently.

Silence followed the knock, and then the sound of leaden footsteps crossing the room. The door opened to reveal Mark's hulking form, his face puffy and red.

Mark's eyes widened when he saw them. He made a high-pitched moaning sound and retreated back into the room-a small rectangle with tan walls and a single bed and chair.

Simon and Abbey followed.

Mark sat on the chair and started rocking back and forth-more like bobbing really, as if he were a goose or duck. The bed was strewn with hand-drawn maps scribbled on pieces of white computer paper.

Abbey gingerly approached the bed.

Simon stood at the foot.

"We went to see your Mom, Mark," Abbey said. "I'm so sorry about what happened. That must have been very scary for you."

Mark didn't reply.

"We know you know about the stones. We need your help right away. Caleb is with Mantis. We think Mantis is up to something. We need you to tell us what you know...and we need you to come with us."

Mark stiffened and stopped bobbing. "The stones and Mantis are very bad."

"So, you've been across the stones before?" Abbey asked.

Mark shook his head wildly and refused to make eye contact.

"Why do you think they're bad, then?"

"They're just bad. There's only one day left. Only one day."

"One day before what, Mark?" Simon asked, his voice low.

Mark's hand came out of nowhere and grabbed Abbey's arm. She tried to contain her shriek. "A very bad future. Very bad. It's your sweater. Your sweater. And I don't know how to fix it." Mark trailed off and started to weep big, quivering tears.

Simon inserted himself between Abbey and Mark with a grim expression.

Mark dropped Abbey's arm and looked at the wall, his face stormy.

"Tell us what you saw. Now," Simon said.

Mark clenched his fists. "I have to go home and check on my maps, and Ocean, and brush my teeth. I have to go home."

"Mark. Stop," Abbey ordered. "You can't go home alone. Mantis is looking for you. Tell us what you saw, and we'll take you with us."

Mark hiccupped and stared at the wall silently for several seconds. Then he started talking, his eyes downcast. "When I was fifteen and nine months and three days, I snuck out to look for the stones." He turned his eyes to Abbey for a second. "I chose that age because it is lucky because of all the threes. I had heard my mother talk about the stones with her visitors. Two men and a woman used to come. But they came late at night. I never got to meet them, but I could hear their voices. They don't come anymore, except for Mantis. He still comes. My mother used to take me to the stones when I was a toddler and we would just sit in the woods near them for hours. She had lots of fights about the stones with her visitors. Something about shutting them down or keeping them open for Sandra. I didn't understand, but I did know that the stones showed the future, and I wanted to see what the oceans and streams and lakes would look like in the future." Mark stopped and shifted his gaze to the small dusty window.

"I went up the Hill one night with my Mag Charger flashlight and stepped on the stones, and it all went dark like that very bad s.p.a.ce Mountain ride at Disneyland. When I opened my eyes, I was in some woods and I couldn't find the stones and I was really scared. I walked along this path, but then I felt really sick. I threw up all over my new Adidas Pro Model 2G shoes. I had to take them off. Then I heard screaming, so I hid under some bushes. It was a full moon, so I could see. And I saw you, older yous, well older than you were then, but the same age as you are now, with Mantis and a whole bunch of other guys, and me, an older me, with a spear, by this pond and everyone was shooting arrows, and people were getting hit, and there was blood. All sorts of awful blood." Mark covered his eyes and stopped talking and sat rocking on the bed for what seemed like an interminable period.

Abbey widened her eyes at Simon. Blood and arrows. How were they going to stop that? Other than never using the cursed stones again.

Simon placed a hand on Mark's shoulder, and surprisingly, the older man didn't flinch away. "And then what happened, Mark? It's very important that you tell us."

Mark blew out several exaggerated puffs and then continued talking in his strange monotone. "The blood was bad. Very bad. Then one of the men grabbed the old me and screamed, 'paradox.' And I saw the old me drop something. Then the man and I disappeared, the old me. Then there was more fighting and then everyone disappeared. Well, some left, but some disappeared. And then everyone was gone, so I crawled out of the bush to see what the old me had dropped. It was a watch." Mark stopped and pointed to his wrist. "It was this watch. My Garmin Forerunner 405 with GPS that I got for my twenty-first birthday, except I didn't know that then. The screen was set on the date not the time. That's how I always set my watches because dates can be lucky." Mark's eyes lifted to Abbey's again. "The watch said 10-22-12. Then I tried to make my way back to where I came from and somehow I ended up back in the woods on Coventry Hill. But the watch was gone."

Abbey looked at Simon. "10-22-12. That's tomorrow."

Simon pulled Mrs. Forrester's crinkled drawing of the squares surrounded by waves out of his pocket. "Paradox...paradox. A pair of docks. Mrs. Forrester drew a pair of docks. Is she saying paradox?"

Abbey's stomach clenched. The older Caleb's words echoed through her head. "The timelines are very sensitive. If you change the timeline from this side of the stones, you will be at risk." But paradox usually involved changing the past in a way that negated the future. Abbey tried to clear her mind. None of this was making any sense.

Abbey looked at her watch. They had to meet Caleb in twenty-seven minutes. "We have to go," she said to Simon.

"You need to come with us, Mark," Simon said. "Mantis is looking for you."

Mark pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "What is your means of transport?"

"What?" Simon said, and then, "We took the bus."

"I do not use public transport," Mark said. "Very germy. No seatbelts. Very unsafe."

"You can't stay here. Mantis could be here any second. We'll find a place to hide you. But we have to go." Simon cupped his hand under Mark's elbow as if to guide him along.

Mark dropped to the floor, covered his hands with his ears, and started to moan.

A car roared up the street outside. They all recognized the sound of that engine by now.

Mark exploded into the air like a firework. He flapped at them and then seemed like he might trample them as they all raced to the door. But at the threshold, Mark shoved them in the opposite direction from which they had come and Abbey saw the red glow of an exit sign at the end of the hall. They ran down the hall to the back door and flung themselves out into the littered back alley of the halfway house. Mark's breath came in stuttered pants from the run. The car noise had stopped. Abbey felt her heart wrench. Caleb could still be in that car.

"Keep going," she said. "I'm going to check for Caleb. I'll meet you at the bus."

Simon stepped in front of her. "No way, Abbey. I'll go. You look too much like Caleb." He pulled his hood over his head and slunk away.

"I do not take public transit," repeated Mark. "Too many germs."

"Just keep your hands in your pockets," Abbey said as they trotted down the alley. Mark's face was already covered in a sheen of sweat.

Simon caught up with them a few blocks away. "Caleb isn't in the car. That bus better hurry, 'cause it isn't going to take Mantis long to figure out where we've gone."

Not in the car. What if Caleb was dead and in the trunk? She s.n.a.t.c.hed Simon's iPhone and texted as she ran. < where="" are="" u=""> < am="" ok.="" at="" school=""> came the reply.

<> she texted back. < how="" do="" i="" kno="" its="" u=""> < see="" u="" in="" the="" bas.e.m.e.nt=""> Abbey let herself feel a small sliver of hope. Only Caleb would know the reference to the crypt in the earlier message meant bas.e.m.e.nt.

At the bus stop, Mark shoved himself into the corner of a doorway with his hands deep in his pockets.

The bus rounded the corner and stopped. Mark eyeballed it with suspicion and appeared as though he might bolt. But Simon put his hand on Mark's arm and guided him onto the bus. Mark sat awkwardly-without the use of his hands-and Abbey and Simon flanked him on either side. They rode in silence for a few minutes. Abbey tried to rea.s.sure herself that they could avoid Mark's future by simply never using the stones again. This had gone too far. They would turn Mark over to their parents, tell their parents about Mantis, and everything would be fine.

Mark spoke suddenly. "Mantis wanted to take me home. He said he would take care of me while my mom was in the hospital. I screamed and the nurses made him go away."

"Is your mom friends with Mantis?" Abbey asked.

"They used to be friends. The four of them. When I was young. But then there was the fight. Now they do not come. Only Mantis comes."

"Who were the other two?" Simon said.

Mark's hair stood in greasy gelled tufts. "I don't know. I never saw them up close. They came after dark. They called Mom 'Betty.' But that is not her name."

"And does Mantis have another name?" Simon pressed.

Mark shook his head. "I don't know. I think I'm going to pa.s.s out. I'm supposed to put my head between my legs when I'm going to pa.s.s out." He ducked his head awkwardly down toward the seat, nearly falling on the floor as he did so. Simon grabbed Mark's arm to stop him from tumbling.

Abbey almost asked about Mark's dad. Where he'd gone and who he'd been. She wondered if they shouldn't perhaps be calling him-if he was still alive. But she didn't want to upset Mark further, and he already had his head down between his knees.