Page 34 of The Book of Lost Hours

Azrael peered over her shoulder, his expression heavy. “An infant has no memories of its own. Her mind, her thoughts, they haven’t yet begun to take proper shape. Perhaps when she is older, she will no longer need food.”

“And until then?” Lisavet asked. “I’ve tried to give her food from memories, it goes right through her. Just like Ernest.”

The baby let out another heart-wrenching cry. Lisavet’s eyes darted between the shelves, searching for timekeepers. Convinced she heard footsteps, she moved farther into the shadows. Azrael followed her.

“Lisavet,” he said quietly. “You cannot continue like this.”

“I don’t have a choice. Like you said, it’s only a matter of time. It will get better.”

“It will get harder ,” Azrael pressed in a grave voice she had never heard before. “The child was born inside a memory. Inside the time space. She may never cease to feel hunger, even once her own consciousness becomes stronger.”

Lisavet shook her head adamantly. “I can handle it. I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t know if you can.”

“I have to.”

“Lisavet…”

“What else would you have me do, Azrael?” Lisavet asked, tears streaming down her face. “It’s not as if I can just leave her somewhere for Ernest to find. He wouldn’t know she was his. Who knows what would happen?”

Azrael gave her a deep, sad look. “I’m trying to suggest that you leave, Lisavet.”

“L-leave?”

“Leave the time space. Take your child and go on your own terms. Before they can force you out.”

“I can’t do that. You know what Ernest said. I might die.”

“If you don’t, she will die.”

Lisavet clutched her baby tighter, blinking back tears. “I’ll figure something out. I will ,” she promised, more to her daughter than to Azrael.

“All right, Lisavet,” Azrael said heavily. “I trust you’ll do what’s best.”

He left her to think. Lisavet took herself into the memory of the hotel in Switzerland, a place she had not been since the night she’d removed herself from Ernest’s life. There, she sobbed openly, stroking her daughter’s face as she slept.

In her sleep, the baby whimpered, her mouth opening and closing in search of food where there was none. Azrael was right. Her baby couldn’t stay here. Here, where there was nothing but memories. No food. No safety.

Lisavet began running through her options.

She could stay and pray that her dwindling milk supply would last long enough for the baby to stop needing it.

They could live inside of memories. Lisavet had a gun, she could keep them safe.

But could they really outrun the timekeepers forever?

Maybe if she gave up salvaging memories, they would decide she wasn’t worth it and leave them alone.

The very thought made her chest ache with guilt, but things had changed.

What had mattered to her before now paled in comparison to the child in her arms.

Her second option was no better. She could leave like Azrael suggested and hope that Ernest’s theory was wrong.

But even if she left, their life would not be an easy one.

She would be alone, no money, no connections.

She had seen enough of the world through memories to know how unkind it could be to a mother and child alone.

Her tears subsided as the baby opened her wide blue eyes.

Ernest’s eyes. Their daughter was more like him than she was anything like her mother.

Lisavet began to sing “Blue Moon” as the baby screwed up her face fitfully.

The song worked to soothe her. Lisavet choked out the last words and walked out onto the balcony.

Down below, her father and mother were walking hand in hand down the cobbled street.

“See those two people?” Lisavet asked quietly. “Those are your grandparents. I know they would have loved to meet you.”

In response, the baby made a small cooing sound.

Lisavet sniffled and wiped her eyes. She thought of her father and what he had done on the night the Nazis came for them, wondering what he might do now if he was in her position.

Only, he had been in her position, in a way.

When the world had proven to be unsafe for his daughter, he had taken her to the time space.

Even though at least some small part of him must have known that by closing the door between them to go after his other child, he might never see her again, no matter how hard he fought to get back to her.

He had chosen his children over all else that night. Even over his own life.

If only there was a place where she could be certain her daughter could be safe.

A third kind of universe where they could hide.

She shifted her daughter in her arms, feeling the tug of her bag against her shoulder.

The book of memories in its faded leather cover was heavier than ever before.

Lisavet took it out of the bag with one hand, propping it against the railing, and flipped through to the memories she loved most.

“Perhaps we should just hide in here,” she said lightly, tapping the pages of the memories. “I can bring us into the memories and it will be as if nothing ever changed.”

She meant it as a joke. A simple fantasy.

But then her spine stiffened. She looked back down at the child, a feeling of dread and knowing filling her simultaneously.

There was another option. She could feel her heart splintering the way it had the last time she’d stood on this balcony.

Like last time, to do what was right meant losing someone she loved, possibly forever.

Lisavet dried away the remaining tears with some effort. She held her baby tightly, savoring the warm, milky scent of her.

“Come on, little one,” she whispered, forcing herself to smile. “Before we say goodbye, there are some things I want to show you.”

She took her everywhere. Every memory that had ever meant something to her.

Every moment in history, showing her daughter the pieces of time that had made up her whole world in hopes that somehow, some small part of her might remember them.

That she might remember her . She took her to the field where she and Ernest had shared their first kiss.

To forests in Russia where the snow fell in perfect flakes.

To the gardens of Versailles, stooping down to brush her daughter’s fingers over soft rose petals.

She noticed that the baby had a particular fondness for the animals on the African savanna, her tiny eyes holding focus with the large looming beasts.

As she made her way across the tapestry of memories, she continued singing her lullaby.

She continued whispering, between each passing verse. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Azrael found her in the time space just as the baby fell asleep in her arms. Lisavet told him her plan, watching the contours of his face shift and change before settling into the same, accepting expression she wore herself.

“You know that if you do this, you can never take it back.”

“I know.”

“No one has ever done what you’re doing. No one has ever altered the past so entirely. You might be untethering her from Time the same way you are. Are you sure that’s wise?”

Lisavet didn’t answer. In truth, she wasn’t certain. It might be better if her daughter was untethered from the forces of Time. She would never be affected by the memory games played by men at war.

“And what about you?” Azrael asked. “You’re staying here?”

Lisavet swallowed the growing lump in her throat, never taking her eyes off the sleeping child in her arms. “If I’m still in the time space, I can protect her from whatever might happen out there. I can change the past. Stop the bad things from happening.”

“Bad things will always happen, Lisavet,” Azrael said softly. “You can’t protect her from all of them.”

“But I can try,” she said stubbornly. “I have to try.”

Azrael didn’t attempt to stop her as she reached into her bag to remove the two things she needed. The watch and the book containing Elaina Duquesne’s memories.

For the second time, Lisavet found herself standing in a hospital.

This time, she was in a quiet room, late at night.

No nurses or doctors were around, only the sleeping young woman in the hospital bed in front of her.

Somewhere in the nursery ward, Elaina’s infant daughter, only two days old, had just drawn breath for the very last time.

Lisavet removed her coat and set her bag on the floor.

She was still wearing the nurse’s attire she had taken from the Austrian hospital, almost as if her past self had known what was coming.

She bit back her tears and listened. Time shuddered open, letting her in.

Elaina sat up in alarm at her sudden arrival. Her eyes were panic-stricken. The eyes of a mother who had been informed earlier that day that her baby may not make it through the night.

“What is it?” she asked frantically. “Who are you?”

“I’m the nurse on the night shift,” Lisavet said, forcing her face into a gentle smile. The baby made a noise.

Elaina looked at the bundle fearfully. “Is she all right? They told me she was struggling to breathe.”

“Yes, she’s fine,” Lisavet said with difficulty. “She’s perfect. Just a cold it seems, but she’s got strong, healthy lungs.”

Elaina relaxed into the pillow, tears gathering in her eyes. “Thank goodness. I was worried. I had a nightmare that she…” The baby began crying in earnest and Elaina’s brow creased with worry again. “Is she hungry?”

“Yes. We were going to feed her in the nursery but since she’s feeling better…”

“No, I’ll do it,” Elaina said at once. “Please. I want to.”