Page 98 of No Place in Time

Then Isabel appeared, running from the direction of the stables. “Stop!” she cried.

Benedict whirled. In one swift motion, he grabbed her and yanked her against him. The dagger was in his hand. Benedict pressed the blade to Isabel’s throat.

“Stop,” Benedict said again. “Or she dies.”

Isabel’s eyes were wide with terror. The knife cut into her skin. A thin line of blood welled at her throat.

Julian’s face went white. “Benedict, no! She’s my sister. Your wife!”

“Then they’d better stop what they’re doing,” Benedict said.

Cecily’s fingers froze on the machine. Finn kept working the dials, but slower now, every movement deliberate.

“I mean it,” Benedict said. He pressed the blade harder. Isabel whimpered.

“Benedict!” Julian took a step toward him. “Let her go. You can’t—”

“Watch me.”

The machine began to hum. A low vibration shivered through the stone beneath Cecily’s knees, growing stronger.

Benedict’s gaze snapped back to Finn’s hands, still moving over the dials.

With a curse, he shoved Isabel away. She stumbled. Julian caught her, pulling her into his arms, shielding her with his body.

Benedict was already running toward Finn and Cecily, his face twisted.

Benedict closed the distance. Ten paces. Eight.

Finn grabbed Cecily and pulled her inside the machine’s frame. The hum deepened to a roar.

Benedict was six paces away. Four.

Finn slammed the final dial into place.

Light exploded outward—white, blinding. The roar swallowed Benedict’s shout. He threw up an arm, stumbling back, then vanished in the glare.

Finn wrapped his arms around Cecily, pulling her tight against his chest. One arm locked around her waist; the other braced against the machine.

“Hold on!” he shouted over the roar.

The courtyard tore itself apart around them. The solid cobblestones of Veyron Hall dissolved beneath Cecily’s feet.

Finn’s face was so close she could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, the fear and determination burning there.

It felt like they were falling together, flying together.

“Cecily,” he yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. “When I saw Lady Veyron, the other you, so ill, so frail, it made me realize… I can’t… I won’t…” He stopped, his jaw working.

“Stop talking, Sir Know-It-All,” Cecily said, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Brat,” he choked, and then his mouth was on hers.

His lips were warm and urgent. The roaring light, the tearing world, Benedict’s shouts—everything else fell away. There was only Finn. Only his arms locked around her as if he could anchor her in a universe coming apart.

They were falling, spinning, tumbling through something that wasn’t space or air or anything Cecily had a word for. It felt like being taken apart and put back together all at once.

Finn’s arms around her never loosened. His mouth stayed on hers, and she kissed him back with everything in her, kissed him as time flew away.