The next morning, they thanked the Daleys for their kindness and wished them and Sarah goodbye before hopping into a coach headed to Winchester. Waiting inside the coach were the supplies Cira had promised them: trunks full of clothing, medicine, and other basic necessities. There was also a sealed envelope and two boarding passes for the boat Edgar Allan Poe would board on September twenty-seventh, 1849. In the envelope was a letter, which, according to the agency's projections, would get Sam and JB a four-night stay in a home just outside of Richmond, Virginia on September twenty-third, a sunday. Apparently it was too risky to travel to the exact date that Poe left Richmond, so the plan was to stay with a local family for four days, then follow Poe onto the boat and intercept whomever derailed his journey to Philadelphia.
Along with the trunks and the envelope, they found a sack of what appeared to be gold coins. JB took one glance at them and shook his head, eyes wide. "Time must be in dire shape if Cira's giving us all this," he said. "These will change into whatever currency we need in whatever time we're in, and this amount could easily buy us twelve houses anywhere in the world if we wanted—not that we're going to do that," he added just as Sam opened her mouth to ask how many castles it could buy. "Cira's always talking about the Agency's budget restrictions and reminding me how much I 'wasted' on my last mission. If she's giving us this much money, it must mean she's worried about our elucidator completely shutting off."
This should have scared her, but she had more important concerns—like the time traveling serial killer who had her on a hit list. Yet, even that grew less terrifying by the hour. There was something almost freeing about the idea that her worst fears could be realized any day. People thought that her obsession with murder mysteries and true crime was what made her so paranoid, but they were wrong. Sam had always felt the need to check over her shoulder, long before she discovered crime documentaries. Her books and podcasts did not spark the whirlpool of anxiety in her mind; they provided a lifeline to shore. In educating herself about the worst, she could learn how to use her fear as a weapon.
But now everything was different. No amount of anxiety or preparation could prevent what was coming. The hooded man held all the cards, and if he came for her tomorrow, there was no stopping him. After the initial devastation and pure terror had passed, Sam experienced an alien sense of relief. There was still a chance the agency would find a way to protect her, but that was not under her control either. For the first time, she was free of responsibility.
When the coachman stopped to switch horses in between Birmingham and Winchester, Sam and JB took their opportunity to slip away. They left behind a stack of coins and a note for the coachman apologizing for their sudden departure. JB pointed his elucidator at the trunks, which vanished, then he locked eyes with Sam. "Ready?"
"I'm ready." She reached for his hand, but was pleasantly surprised when he instead locked his arms around her waist. Gravity swallowed them into limbo and outer time swirled around them as they spiraled further into its depths. On Sam's first journey through this void, JB had warned her about time sickness, but she wasn't worried about that now. Her first landing wasn't even that bad, just some pins and needles as though she'd sat on her leg for too long and it had fallen asleep—except all over her body. Annoying, but nothing debilitating. Besides, JB's grip on her was strong and assuring. She knew she would land on her feet.
Of course, their proximity to each other made it difficult not to notice little things like the tiny freckle at the tip of his nose. She wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked, and immediately felt mortified for letting the thought even cross her mind. What was she, fifteen years old? No, she was in her thirties with two master's degrees and a PhD. This was pathetic. Even if she were to interpret his clutch as anything more than a safety measure, she'd be kidding herself. JB came from a period that was probably centuries after her death. He wouldn't be interested in someone so far removed from his own time. In fact, he probably already had a girlfriend, or at least someone he was interested in, who surely had way more in common with him than a dorky twenty-first century historian.
It suddenly occurred to her that she still knew very little about JB apart from what he'd told her about his experience rescuing history's missing children. Rather than continue to stare at him awkwardly, she took the opportunity to break the silence and asked the first question that popped into her head. "Which Hogwarts house do you think you'd be in?"
He blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Really, Sam. That was your best question? She cleared her throat. "Um, I was just wondering. You know, since you have all those files on me and my life, it's only fair that I do some research on you."
"And part of that research involves you pegging me as a Harry Potter nerd?" The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.
She made a show of rolling her eyes and said, "Okay, forget it. You're probably in Hufflepuff anyway."
"How dare you? I'm a Ravenclaw, thank you very much." He was smiling now.
"So you do like Harry Potter!"
He shrugged. "I know my classic literature, yes. I mean, it's no Les Misérables, but the series is a fun read."
That was the second time he'd brought up Les Mis to her. Did he love it as much as she did or had he made a point to remember one of her favorite books? She liked the idea of either scenario. "I mean, if you raise the bar to Les Mis, you kick lots of great books out of the playing field," she said. "And by the way, there's nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs. I'm a Ravenclaw too, but I think I have some Huffelpuff tendencies."
"Hey, I thought we were talking about me," he teased.
"We are, we are!" she assured him. "Okay, um…favorite historical figure?"
"Elizabeth Woodville."
"Didn't have to think long about that one, did you?"
He breathed a short laugh. "Well, she was just a history crush in high school, but I appreciate her more now as a quick-witted and underrated figure in Medieval Europe."
"History crush?" She grinned. "Wow, you really are a Ravenclaw."
"Oh, don't pretend you've never had one."
"A history crush? Of course I have. Funnily enough, Edgar Allan Poe was one of them. I mean, you try reading 'Annabel Lee' without swooning."
"I'll pass," he said.
"Though finding out how long Poe sided with the confederacy makes him a lot less appealing now," Sam admitted. "Anyway, I was also pretty smitten with photos of young Albert Einstein."
"Hey, that's my Dad!" JB feigned a gag, and they simultaneously erupted with laughter.
When she could breathe again, Sam said, "Don't worry, I'm over him. Plus, he's got an even better looking son." The words were out of her mouth before she realized it, and from the deep crimson in JB's face, she knew he'd caught the meaning.
"Hans!" she yelped. "His son Hans is who I meant."
"Uh huh, sure."
She flicked his ear. "Oh, shut up. If I really thought that about you, why would I be stupid enough to say it out loud?" A very good question, she thought.
"I'm sure there's some Freudian explanation."
"Well, Freud is overrated!" Change the subject, change the subject!
He softened. "Hey, hey, listen. I'm just joking. Come on, what's your next question?"
Relieved, she took a moment to recover, then asked, "Why does Cira call you K'tah?"
He nodded, like this was a question he got often. "Well, my on-paper name is—wait for it—Alonzo Alfred Aloysius K'tah. Long names with alliteration were a big trend when my parents adopted me. But Cira and her people are the only ones that still use my legal name. The Skidmores called me JB and then that was the name Mileva Einstein used when she revealed what happened to Tete—er, me—I still have a hard time thinking of us as the same person…anyway, I prefer JB now. Alonzo was the man who tried to send over thirty kids to their doom. I'd like to think I'm not that person anymore."
"You deserve to forgive yourself," she said. "You saved all those children and I know that now you'd never even think of sending someone else to an uncertain fate."
He offered no response and his silence felt heavy, sad. He must really miss those kids.
Maybe talking about the Skidmores would cheer him up, she thought, and so she continued: "How did they come up with the name 'JB' anyway?"
He paused. "It's…kind of silly."
"You realize that only makes me want to know even more, right?"
Sheepishly, he sighed, "Ugh, Fine. But you have to know the context first. I was dressed as a janitor for the FBI to blend in at one of their offices—it was my only way to talk to Jonah at the time," he explained. "And since Jonah and Katherine didn't know my name, they started referring to me as JB…which stood for 'Janitor Boy.'"
Sam snickered. "That's adorable, Janitor Boy."
"JB is fine."
"Oh, sorry, would you prefer Janitor Man?"
"Okay, off you go." He straightened out his arms to feign releasing her into the abyss, and it would have been a good joke if her natural impulse to scream hadn't startled him. His hold on her waist loosened and she felt the rushing current of outer time pull her out of his arms. She cried out his name as she drifted further into blackness. His expression contorted in distress. At least his face is the last one I'll see, she thought.
She closed her eyes and waited for the void to devour her, but a tug on her back jolted her to attention. JB was pulling on a rope—no, a ribbon. Her sash! He was reeling her in to safety. So close…so close…Riiiiiiip! Her sash snapped off and the current swooped in to claim her again.
"NOOOOO!" JB screamed, and he flung his arm forward in a final attempt to reach her. Their fingers fumbled at first, but eventually locked. He yanked her back into his orbit and clasped her with trembling arms. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he whimpered. "I'm such an idiot. God, what have I done?" He was squeezing her so tight, she could feel his racing pulse.
Sam closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of licorice. "I'm okay," she gasped. "Everything's okay."
A cluster of lights appeared below them, growing larger every second. JB glanced down and took a short breath. "Here it comes."
With one final spin, darkness shattered and color burst through the empty. They'd arrived.