Dune gave a saintly sigh and motioned for all of us to gather around the coffee table. “Okay. There’s a USB, so I knew it most likely needed a charge, but I went through six cords before I figured out the right sequence to use to keep it from blowing a fuse.” He grinned at Michael. “You and Em aren’t the only ones who are electric around here.”
“It’s not electricity,” Em argued. “Or chemistry. It’s physics.”
“Anyway,” Dune continued, “I knew there was more data on it than I could see. I used the biggest external drive I could buy in town, 3TB, and I still couldn’t get it to transfer or open. So I ordered this handy-dandy one from the Internet.” He tapped the top of a shiny black box. “I still only got enough to break the encryption.”
“The what?” Em had to stand on her tiptoes to try to see over everyone else’s shoulders. Finally, she just punched Nate in the arm until he moved.
“The encryption. It makes data unreadable to anyone who doesn’t have a key or password. Skrolls are super futuristic and still in development for the masses.” He touched a button, and the screen lit up. He flipped it around so we could see it and pulled a stylus out of his pocket. “Everyone sit so you can all see, and so Em will stop punching.”
Once we did, he pushed a release button on the side of the Skroll and a flat, flexible screen slid out. It looked like it was made of silicon. Images popped up all over it, and then, with the touch of another button, the backlit screen became a holographic projector. Images, documents, diaries, maps—from the most simplistic to the most advanced—spun around in the air with one touch.
“Sweet,” Nate said under his breath.
“How does it work exactly?” Em asked.
“I shall demonstrate. But I need to come clean about something first.” Dune put down the stylus. “I’ve known about the Infinity-glass for a long time. It’s sort of an obsession. So is Chronos.”
“What?” Dune was firmly locked in logic and facts. His ability to control the tides meant he couldn’t use it without serious consequences. Like tsunamis. Something as impossible as a mythical, all-controlling hourglass didn’t seem like his thing. “How did you find out about them?”
“My dad told me stories when I was younger. And then, as I got older, I did lots of research. The Infinityglass is part of the reason I’m so good at it.” He grinned. “What I’ve learned recently is that Chronos claims that they’re widely varied in their pursuits, but the Hourglass isn’t the only group focusing on time-related abilities. Chronos has been connected to every important horological discovery in the last one hundred years, at least. Have you ever heard of horology?”
Nate giggled.
“I’m sorry. It sounds dirty. I’m not going to say anything else today. Swear.” Nate locked his lips with an imaginary key and then threw it over his shoulder.
Dune shook his head and moved on. “Horology is the science of time and the study of timekeeping devices, from the water clock to the hourglass to the pendulum and beyond. You could call the Infinityglass the ultimate timepiece in the field of horology. Some think it’s mythical, others believe it’s real. And that’s what’s on the Skroll. Information about the Infinityglass.”
“What is it?” Em asked. “What’s it supposed to do?”
“The Infinityglass was initially created for a pure purpose,” Dune said. “It was supposed to channel time-related abilities from person to person, but instead, whoever had possession of the Infinityglass could use it to steal the time-related ability of anyone he or she touched.”
Helpless. Hopeless. Em’s emotions slammed into my chest.
“The Infinityglass is the other alternative.” Emerson’s defeat had worked its way into her voice. “Jack trying to travel on his own didn’t work out, I didn’t work out, so now he’s looking for the Infinityglass. It puts all of us in danger.”
“Not if he can’t find it,” Dune said, an unmistakable look of determination on his face. “Reports of the Infinityglass dropped off around the early 1900s. It resurfaced briefly in the 1940s, and then again in the 1980s. Both times, it was rumored to be somewhere in Egypt, but then it was lost again.”
“Egypt? ” Lily and I said at the same time.
“There were rumors of it associated with a pyrami … oh hell.” Dune dropped his head.
“Well, at least half of it makes sense now,” Em said. “The headquarters of a mythical time mafia would totally be located in an abandoned pyramid in downtown Memphis.”
“That only explains the 1980s, though. Not the 1940s,” Dune said. I could almost hear him computing the information inside his head.
“Why would Teague lay down the ultimatum for us to find Jack if she didn’t think she was close to finding him or the Infinityglass?” I asked. “And if Jack was close to finding it, why would he risk so much just to show up to taunt us?”
“Who knows what Jack’s thinking,” Em said.
“There’s so much information about the Infinityglass on the Skroll that you can’t access it all.” Nate stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge. “Who put it there?”
“I’m not sure.” Dune picked up the stylus and clicked a tiny button to turn it into a laser pointer. He used it to highlight documents as he explained. “It holds years’ worth of information, and it’s all about the history—the very ancient history—of not only the Infinityglass but also Chronos. I’ve skimmed it, and I haven’t processed a quarter of it.”
“The history of Chronos?” Em questioned.
“Wait,” Michael said. “The Skroll has information about the Infinityglass and Chronos. It doesn’t belong to Chronos, or Teague should’ve been able to open it. So who does it belong to?”
“There’s another answer,” Dune said. “But I don’t like it.”
Em looked at Michael, and then me. “Jack.”
I stood. “It’s time to tell my dad about the Skroll.”
Chapter 41
I’d been keeping so much from Dad. Jack’s appearances, Lily’s ability, the Skroll. I was going to be in a world of hurt when I spilled my secrets.
Since I was pretty sure Dad was going to kill me, Em offered to take Lily home. I left her at the pool house.
After a few good-bye kisses, of course.
He wasn’t upstairs or in his office. I finally spotted him in the sunroom, his back to the glass doors. When I opened them, he jumped and clamped his fingers down on the edge of the blanket he’d wrapped around himself.
Something was way off.
Not just the stoop of his shoulders, or the way he sat still, especially without a book in his hands. Since my dad had come back home, one thing had been constant. His ache for my mother.
It was gone.
I wanted to run. Instead, I stepped around the front of the couch.
“Dad?” I asked cautiously. “What are you doing out here?”
He remained still, his expression blank. I focused on his face.
Saw that he wasn’t in there. What was left sat on the couch in front of me, fingertips picking at the threads of the blanket. I could barely breathe, barely move. I dropped to my heels and put my hands on top of his.
