Casey took me to the blocked-off staircase that led to where she said the Gate rested. This had to be it—not a Gate, but the clock Tesla had conceived. I couldn’t think of anywhere else Tesla could have hidden a doorway into the very dreams of the world. Faulty it might be, but I’d cross that bri...
The UCLA campus kept the bars along the main drag hopping, even at the late hour. Pete rolled slowly with the ever-present molasseslike slog of traffic, guiding the Fury onto side streets, along a row of gates and low-hanging trees. Each home was more brightly spotlit than the last, security syst...