The Bewitching
Tale of Stormy Gale
Christine Bell
Dedication
To my Papa, for all those times you picked me up at school when I pre-
tended to be sick (and that one time I fell in the toilet). For teaching me
how to bait a hook, save a dime and appreciate the little things. For the
summer days we spent feeding ducks, collecting shells and picking veget-
ables. And most of all, for always keeping the cookie jar full. In the end,
those memories got tangled in the cobwebs, I know. But I’ll remember for
the both of us. I’ll miss you forever.
Acknowledgements
To my amazing editor, Rhonda Helms, for taking the meat and potatoes
of this story and making it into a stew fit for human consumption. Just
when I’d given up all hope of finding someone as twisted as me, the skies
parted and there you were. *cue harps*
And a big thanks goes out to my crit partner, Riley Murphy. You put your
heart into every read. I appreciate you so much.
Contents
Chapter One
London, England, July 4th, 1841
As the sun crested the horizon beyond the Park Village row-homes of Al-
bany Street, a turtle dove flew overhead. Shadows from the surrounding
magnolia trees dappled the ivory exterior of the building in a dazzling
display. From my hiding spot behind the hedgerow, I took a moment to
soak in the lovely view, then another to enjoy the horrified, high-pitched
scream that rent the cool morning air.
The sound warmed me right down to the cockles of my heart as I
closed the now empty rat-trap with a satisfied snap. I was like the fucking
Marines, right? Getting more done before 7:00 a.m. than most people do
all day. Oo-rah!
There was already some activity on the street so I stowed the trap in a
large basket I’d brought along with me. Despite the pleasant temperat-
ure, I pulled the coarse brown cape tighter around my shoulders, cover-
ing my telltale mass of black hair with its hood. Stripping off my leather
gloves, I took a furtive glance around. All clear.
I shambled along the stucco building until its end then shifted onto the
street. Buoyed by yet another successful mission, I magnanimously awar-
ded a merit point to Ms. Blakeslee for her newfound bravery. Beyond that
one initial scream, there had been no ruckus or fanfare this time. Appar-
ently the little chit had learned that dealing privately with whatever came
her way was preferable to running down the street in her unmentionables
like a lunatic. Even with that, in my mind, the score was thirteen to one,
with me in the lead. Not bad for a few weeks’ work.
I covered a good distance, skirting the perimeter of Regent’s Park, until
the narrow cobbled streets gave way to wider avenues lined with rows of
shops. Shielded by a large pickle barrel, I shucked my cloak, stuffing it in-
to the basket along with my trap. The air grew warmer by the minute, and
it was a relief to be free of the scratchy garment. Giving my hair a fluff, I
stepped onto the now bustling city street, melding into the crowd.
Mission accomplished.
As I began my long walk home, the initial euphoria at a job well-done
seemed to lessen with every step. Sooner or later, Dev would catch me
sneaking in or out and ask me directly what I was up to. The thought of
answering filled me with dread. He was going to be all, “You’re better
than that, love.”
And I’d be all, “No, you’re better than that. I’m exactly equivalent to
that.”
Then we’d argue, and he’d make me feel guilty. I didn’t want to feel
guilty. I wanted to feel righteous. Besides, no matter what he said, it
wouldn’t stop me. There was a job that needed doing and I was going to
do it until it felt done.
So far, it had been easy to avoid the question. He’d mentioned my ap-
parent fatigue recently but never asked the cause. We were busy enough
that our daily lives could be pretty exhausting at times, so it hadn’t been
all that odd. Lucky for me, he’d been obsessed with his latest invention
over the past month. He’d been waking up at around four o’clock each
morning and going straight to the workshop so my early starts hadn’t
even registered with him. Bacon and I typically wouldn’t even see him
until midday, when we headed over to Gilly’s House. I was on borrowed
time, though. Word was getting around and soon enough, word would get
to Devlin, if it hadn’t already.
I briefly entertained a fantasy of fibbing my way out of it, but rejected
the idea out of hand. Morality is a dicey subject with me, but I draw the
line at lying to my loved ones. After growing up without the luxury of
having someone to count on and believe in, I pride myself on people be-
ing able to count on and believe in me. Once Dev asked me outright, hon-
esty was the only option. Letting out a miserable sigh, I trudged down the
street, getting my sulk on.
I was still a good fifteen minutes from home due to the foot-dragging
when a crooked wooden sign advertising The Shoppe of Cavendish
snagged my attention. I’d never been in and it was as good a place as any
to put off the inevitable.
I stepped through the doorway and was instantly enveloped in the
comforting scent of worn leather and brass polish. Doodads covered
every available surface. Science-related items, hourglasses and tele-
scopes, but also an assortment of bells, violins, tuning forks and other
musical sundry was piled haphazardly on the shelves. Heavy, leather
tomes lined the walls running the length of the cozy room.
Score. The place was right up my alley. I could easily pass some time
pawing through the merchandise.
“Hullo there,” a voice called from above my head.
7/124
I craned my neck to see a portly man perched precariously on a ladder,
stacking boxes on a shelf. His voice carried a smile and sounded as if he
was talking through a mouthful of marbles. Between that and the bristly
white mustache giving him a walruslike visage, he appeared almost car-
toonish. I didn’t have to fake an answering grin.
“Hello, sir.”
“Anything I can help you with down there?”
“No, thank you. I’ll just take a look around, if that’s all right.”
“Very good.”
He turned his attention back to his work and I settled into the place
with a happy sigh, anticipating a leisurely hour searching through the
treasures. The rascals at Gilly’s House were always looking for something
interesting to fuel their imaginations and Dev had a running list of items
he wanted for the workroom. He’d been on the hunt for a specific style
music box, although he hadn’t told me for what purpose.
I’d lost track of time and had stacked a myriad of items on top of my
basket for purchase when the door jangled open a while later. A wiry little
man in a worn brown suit stepped through but didn’t spare me a glance
as he passed.
“Help you, sir?” the shopkeeper called. Back on terra firma, he wasted
no time, lumbering over to the other man with a welcoming smile.
“Indeed. I’m in need of a thermometer.” His tone was pinched and his
face looked as if he’d gotten a whiff of freshly minted dog doo.
“Fine then. I have at least two, if I recall.” The shopkeeper began to
rifle through items, easily laying his hand on one of the thermometers
then resuming his search for the second.
“I think I saw the other in the corner there, next to that globe,” I said,
tipping my head to indicate where it lay.
The shopkeeper nodded his thanks as he spotted it, but the strange
little man just gave me a cool once-over then dismissed me with a turn of
his head. Must be the pants. Some men couldn’t get their minds around a
woman wearing britches in the eighteen-hundreds. Whatever.
“I’ll take both. Do you know of any other shops in the area that might
carry them?”
Something about the question and his brisk tone sent my Spidey senses
reeling. “Collector of thermometers, are you?” Despite his apparent lack
of manners, I kept my voice light and friendly.
“Something of the sort.” Again, he brushed me off, gesturing to the
items on the counter. “How much for the two?”
8/124
My instincts had ramped up to code orange as the men continued their
transaction. I sidled closer to the counter, leaning in to give them both a
sweet smile. “My arms are getting tired. I’m going to set these things
down here if you don’t mind.”
In conversation about possibly sourcing more thermometers in the
coming days, neither paid me any mind. I stayed close and waited for
something—anything—to happen.
It was a short wait.
“I haven’t any money, but this will more than cover it.” The object of
my attentions held out a hand to the shopkeeper. I edged forward to see a
small ruby nestled in his palm.
The shopkeeper pinched the gem between a thick thumb and fore-
finger, lifting it close to his face to examine it with a practiced eye. He
drew back, wiry white brows rising high on his ruddy face. “Very gener-
ous, sir. Would you like to pick out another item to make up the
difference?”
“No, no. But please make sure you send word to me at Abernathy Man-
or, should you come across more thermometers. I’ll be there for at least a
fortnight. The name is Grubb. Dr. Phineas Grubb.”
“I’ll make sure of it, sir,” the keeper said as he jotted down the informa-
tion in the ledger that lay open on the counter.
In an instant, the tingle that had been vexing me morphed into gut-
clenching certainty. Something was definitely not right. It was one thing
for a person to be looking for thermometers in bulk. They could be used
for a number of purposes, especially by a man of science, but one thing
they could surely be used for was their store of mercury when needed in a
pinch. That, combined with the fact that he carried no currency and had
an accent I couldn’t place? It all added up to one hell of a coincidence.
Either that, or he was a time traveler.
If Dev had been with me, he probably would’ve laughed and called me
paranoid. To be fair, I do keep a vigilant eye out for other time pirates.
And there had been that time I’d tackled a guy on the street while
screeching, “Don’t let him get away—he has a Bluetooth!” only to find
that the gentleman had been cupping a small, funnel-shaped hearing
device to his ear, testing it with the sound of his own voice. Maybe that
had been a tad overzealous, but I hadn’t seen people walking around talk-
ing to themselves like that since I’d been in twenty-first century New
York City, so it caught me off guard. Better one bruised, angry priest than
an apocalypse, no?
9/124
I’m not even exaggerating, either. Time-travel is serious business. Like,
end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it serious. Gilly had drilled it into our
heads since we were kids. No one could be trusted with the knowledge.
If I’m a little fanatical about it, so be it. This time, though, I was pretty
sure I wasn’t imagining things. I shoved aside the image of Dev’s face
pleading me to proceed with caution and cleared my throat, pasting on a
smile meant to dazzle. “Please excuse the interruption, but I can’t place
your accent, sir. Where are you from?”
He paused for a moment before looking down his long nose and reply-
ing, “New Zealand.” Then he promptly turned his back on me again.
New Zealand, my ass.
I’d never been there, but I’d met a couple of New Zealanders in my
travels and none of them had sounded like that. In fact, his accent was
more upper-crust-Boston-trying-hard-not-to-sound-like-upper-crust-Bo-
ston than anything else. Granted, it had been more than five years since
I’d heard that particular mode of speech. Still, it wasn’t one that could be
easily forgotten.
I maintained my smile and gushed, “I love New Zealand! What part?”
His reply wouldn’t do me a whole lot of good immediately since, even
under threat of death by maggots, I couldn’t name a single part of New
Zealand. It would, however, give me a chance to hear him talk more and
see if his response seemed natural. Worst case, when I got home I could
look the town up in an almanac or, like, an atlas or something to see if
he’d lied.
God, I missed Google.
There was a long pause. “Bedford,” he said, sending me a glacial stare
over his shoulder. “Bedford.”
It was a good answer, as answers went. It certainly sounded like a
plausible name for a town. Although, coming from a person who would
have probably glanced around the room before blurting out a gem like,
“Books Upon Shelf…ington,” that wasn’t saying much. Sometimes I crack
under pressure. That’s why, back in my time-pirating days, I always
planned my back story well in advance. Maybe Grubb did too.
“Never heard of it. Do you have family here in London?”
He didn’t even bother responding this time, clearly through answering
my questions. He scooped up his purchases, said, “Good day” to the
shopkeeper then turned around and scurried out the door.
I stared after him, my mind racing. The weird little man had made
quite an impression on me. It would be near impossible to let it slide.
10/124
This merited some looking into and, luckily, I had two men in my life
willing to do almost anything for me. Now, to convince them that Phineas
Grubb was trouble.
* * *
I was having the best dream starring Ben and Jerry when I heard it: the
barely audible snick of a lock penetrating my sleep-fogged brain. The
lingering taste of Chunky Monkey faded from my tongue. My eyes
snapped open. Soft, fast breaths. Slow, measured footsteps dragging
along the Aubusson rug. My heart clenched with irrational fear.
A tense moment passed as I tried to determine the point of attack. It
was one moment too long. Something blue flashed in my peripheral. I
tried to sit up, bracing myself for the inevitable. The telltale creak of the
table behind me, then the raucous cry of “Geronimo-o-o-o!”
“Oof!” The breath exploded from my lungs like I’d been shot as forty
pounds of soft, warm flesh landed directly on my solar plexus.
“I got you, I got you!” Molly crowed with glee as she bounced up and
down on my abused stomach.
“Sweetheart, I told you just to give her a little shake.” Although his
words were reproving, the laughter was evident in Dev’s voice.
I’d been somewhat relieved when, earlier that day, I’d come home to
find he’d gone for the day to meet with a solicitor about some business
matters. His absence had given me a reprieve, as well as some time to
think about Phineas Grubb. It had been during my contemplations that
my eyes drooped and I decided to close them for a bit. Apparently, my
early-morning adventures had caught up with me.
I dragged air in through my nose as my husband sidled around the arm
of the sofa and came into view. My quest for oxygen was momentarily de-
railed at the sight of him.
Delicious.
He wore a lightweight, dove-gray waistcoat that fit him like a glove. His
wavy black hair was still damp from the bath and his lips twitched with
repressed mirth.
I managed to extract myself from his force-field of hotness and met our
daughter’s devilish gaze. “Hello there, Molls. Nice shot.”
She beamed back at me, nodding her head vigorously. “Yep. I know it. I
thought you weren’t gonna hear me at all since you were snoring real
loud.”
11/124
A muffled sound came from my husband. I shot him the stink eye be-
fore facing Molly again. “Mommy wasn’t snoring, sweetheart. You must
have come in when I was clearing my throat,” I teased.
She leveled me with an earnest stare. “Hmm. Your throat musta been
very full then, because you were doing it over and over again.”
She was too smart for her own good. Mine too.
“Right, then. Not important. Either way, good show, love.” I pulled her
in close and gave a squeeze, breathing in the sweet smell of her skin. My
heart hitched a little as she patted my head with her chubby hand. God, it
couldn’t be natural to love someone this much, could it? Thoughts of her
future ran through my mind as I tried not to let the depth of my love suck
me into a miasma of sickening fear.
The child gave new meaning to the phrase “a handful.” Since she’d de-
cided to start walking at the precocious age of ten months, it was like
dealing with a circus-trained monkey. Her dare-devilish ways and her
penchant for finding trouble made each day a chaotic adventure. She was
fearless and I not only loved her, I admired her. So did Dev. What we
couldn’t figure out was how to balance our desire to let her be her own
person with our desire to see her make it to adulthood unscathed.
Unscathed? Who was I kidding? Hell, we’d settle for getting her
through life in one piece. Scathed was definitely in her immediate future.
There was no way she’d get out of childhood without a few broken bones
and some stitches. Of this, I had no doubt. Even I’d had my fair share of
each, and she was like me, only magnified by a hundred.
I let out a deep, resigned sigh as I extricated myself from her embrace.
“How was class with Nan today?”
“Good. I can count now. One, two, free, seven, five, ten.”
“Wonderful. I always knew you were a genius.”
Dev came over and sat on the end of the couch, pulling Molly into his
arms. “A genius,” he agreed. “And a beautiful one, at that.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “For real?” I mouthed, not a second before
Molly jerked away from him. She scowled at her father, then down at her
navy muslin frock.
“I don’t want to look beautiful. I want to look adventurous.”
She savored the s at the end of the last, her lisp making it all the more
difficult not to smile. This was not the time to laugh at her, though. She
took adventuring very seriously and the last time we reminded Molly she
was in a dress, it wound up stuffed in the privy.
12/124
Still, despite her stubbornness, I couldn’t be more proud of our child.
She was undeniably beautiful, but, to my never-ending amazement, that
was the least of her attributes.
Dev chose that moment to shoot me a nervous look. He knew he had
stepped in it.
I shook my head, mumbling under my breath, “Hope we didn’t have
anywhere important to go.”
Molly’s face brightened. “Oh, but we do, ’member? It’s Uncle Bacon’s
birthday party tonight.”
How could I have forgotten? Well, at least it would give me a chance to
talk to Bacon and Dev about Phineas Grubb, assuming Bacon would even
be in the mood to listen. He was having a tough go of it recently. Maybe
this birthday party would cheer him up for a change.
I wondered with a twinge—not for the first time—when Bacon’s actual
birthday was. When Professor Gilbert Green had swept us away to the
twentieth century with his time-travel mechanism, we had made up
birthdays for one another. Gilly said it was only right that we have a cake
and a party every year like regular kids. We’d grown up orphaned on the
seedy streets of Victorian London and, up until we met Gilly, parties wer-
en’t exactly a priority. Neither were birthdays. Due to more pressing con-
cerns, like, you know, not freezing or starving to death, neither one of us
remembered what day we were born.
I said a silent prayer of thanks that my daughter would never know
what it was like to be hungry and resisted the urge to squash her in my
arms again. How Gilly would have loved her…
I swallowed past the sudden thickness in my throat. “That’s right. I’d
almost forgotten that it’s Uncle Bacon’s big day.”
We’d chosen the fourth of July for his birthday, mainly as a sort of
“screw you” to England. What can I say? We were young and a little bitter
for the first few years after we’d left. It took a long time for us to under-
stand that every place has good and bad, pain and sorrow. Since we’d
come back, it had been our life’s work to make it a little less bad and a
little less painful for kids like us by creating Gilly’s House, a home for the
street urchins of London.
“Is it almost time?” Molly asked, her little body practically trembling
with excited energy that seemed to be perpetual some days.
Dev glanced down at his pocket-watch and nodded. “It is. You can go
into the kitchen with Cook and help get the cakes ready while I help
Mummy get dressed.”
13/124
I let out a snort and Dev cocked his eyebrow at me.
Molly jumped off the couch shouting, “Cookie, Cookie, I’m coming to
help you-ooo!” as she raced out of the room.
I winced thinking about Cook’s reaction. It was a catch twenty-two. My
husband had effectively distracted Molly from the fact that she was wear-
ing a dress. On the other hand, he’d also earned us a minimum of a
week’s worth of burnt food with that stunt, depending on how much
chaos Molly caused in the kitchen and how badly Cook wanted to punish
us for it. I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping for a miracle.
Dev gave me a quizzical look. “You feeling okay?”
Guilt cramped my belly as I nodded. He still hadn’t asked, exactly…
His gaze swept over my body intently. “You’ve been napping a lot
lately. You’re not pr—”
“Bite your tongue.”
I shot him the death stare and he laughed. “All right, you can’t blame
me for asking.”
Taking his outstretched hands, I allowed him to haul me up and into
his arms.
“Well, my adventurous-looking duchess, how about we head upstairs,
get you out of these britches and into something pretty?” He pressed his
mouth to mine and I sighed, melting into him. He pulled me closer until
we were hip to hip then slipped his tongue between my lips. A shiver stole
over me as I gathered the strength to pull away.
“You should have woken me thirty minutes earlier,” I groused. “Now
you’ll have to take a rain check. I have thirty minutes to get ready for din-
ner. I’m afraid Cook might poison me if I add tardiness to my list of sins.”
“What’s a rain check? And by the way, what’s ‘Geronimo’?”
I smiled and led him to our room as we engaged in our second favorite
pastime. Since Bacon and I had spent the majority of our lives in twenti-
eth century, we often slipped into future-speak. We spent many a night
trying to describe inventions like the dishwasher, or drawing pictures of
styles like the mullet, both for Dev’s amusement and to satisfy his vora-
cious quest for knowledge.
By the time he and I finished our discussion on Native American his-
tory and engaged in our most favorite pastime, which Dev had insisted
was far too pressing a matter to put off until later, almost an hour had
passed.
I grabbed the closest thing I had to a party dress, tossing it over my
head without fanfare. “Let’s go.”
14/124
We entered the kitchens together a few minutes later. He strode in with
his spine straight and head high, apparently having decided to don his
“Master of the Manor” persona in hopes of avoiding Cook’s wrath. He
broke character for a second, shooting me a tentative glance. I nodded
and gave him the thumbs-up.
It was a misstep of epic proportions on his part, of which I took full ad-
vantage. Slowing my pace, I trailed behind him, affecting a hangdog look.
I even threw in some hand-wringing for good measure, making certain
that anyone watching knew exactly how distressed I was. I’d eaten
enough crappy food to last a lifetime. If this ship was sinking, Dev was
going down alone.
And this ship was indeed sinking. The tiny sliver of hope I’d had that
maybe the hour had passed uneventfully was dashed when Molly roun-
ded the corner, legs churning so fast they were a blur.
She skidded to a stop and gave me a grin that chilled my blood. “Mom,
Da, look what I made!” She opened her fist and in it sat a big, fat worm
covered in wet flour and what looked like some sort of sauce. “It’s an eel,”
she whispered, her eyes round with wonder. “I caught him myself right
outside the door.” The “eel” in her palm wriggled and she snapped her
hand closed again. “Hmm, I think he needs to boil for longer.”
Cook was in hot pursuit…or as hot of a pursuit that a three-hundred-
pound woman could manage. She stepped into view, great chest heaving.
Her cornflower eyes had a glassy sheen that spoke of borderline hysteria.
I knew the feeling well and a twinge of guilt nipped at me. She was a
trusted member of the household. Not only that, we couldn’t afford to
lose her. We valued loyalty greatly. Our lives were unconventional, to say
the least. Quality people weren’t exactly beating down doors to work for
the Loony Duke and Mad Duchess of Leister.
That said, we paid her very well and treated her, and all the staff, like
family. I hoped that and the fact that she truly adored Molly would be
enough to get her to stick it out through the rest of the more rambunc-
tious years. I vaguely recalled hearing about terrible twos. We were al-
most into the fours, so surely soon…
Cook—she actually preferred being called that—laid a hand on Molly’s
shoulder and bent low. “Listen here, little miss. You can’t be putting
worms in the pot with the other food. Now we’ll have to throw that all
away and start fresh.”
The devil in a blue dress nodded primly before turning on her heel and
skipping away.
15/124
Dev and I both moved to follow her, desperate to avoid being alone
with Cook. As much as we loved her, she was a vindictive harpy when the
circumstances called for it. I was hard-pressed to think of circumstances
that called for it more.
“Each of the four gorgeous cakes I made have bites taken out. Not
pieces, mind you, or even fingerprints, but actual bites with tooth-marks
and all.” Her voice was thin, reedy and steadily on the rise.
We both stopped in our tracks and turned to face her.
Dev cleared his throat. “Now, dear Cookie, I realize it might have been
less than ideal, but you must understand that as the ma—”
Her face had begun turning an alarming, mottled purple. Dear Lord,
she was actually going to murder him. Even I couldn’t throw him that far
under the bus, so I cut in.
“What Dev wanted to say is we’re very appreciative of how you’ve gone
above and beyond recently, taking on all those extra mouths with the new
wing at Gilly’s House and whatnot. We were upstairs talking and decided
that you need a holiday. To spend with your sister in the country. We’ll
pay for everything, naturally.”
Dev shot me a look. I knew what he was thinking. We couldn’t live
without her for any period of time. Literally. Neither of us knew how to
cook worth a damn and we had our family as well as the thirty kids at
Gilly’s House to feed. There were others who assisted her in the food pre-
paration, but a kitchen without a head cook was like a ship without a
captain.
I pressed on, noting that her face had already lost some of its color,
fading to a pretty shade of lilac. “Three weeks.”
Dev coughed and I elbowed him hard.
“Well, that does sound lovely. I have been working like a dog.” Her
glassy eyes turned sharp as she met my gaze head-on. She gave a deep
sigh. “Problem is, I haven’t a thing to wear.”
Ah, haggling. Fair enough.
“Of course we’ll outfit you for the trip. A new wardrobe, and even
something special to take to Dory.”
“Hats. I’ll also need some hats.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She gave a brisk nod. “Fine. I’ll send word and plan to leave early next
month. It’ll do me good to get some country air, I think.”
16/124
A loud crash followed by a peal of childish laughter rent the air, effect-
ively ending the negotiations. The three of us exchanged a glance then
ran headlong into the chaos that defined our lives.
17/124
Chapter Two
By the time we finished our celebration, sent the crew from Gilly’s House
back to their lodgings next door and put Molly to bed, it was almost mid-
night. Dinner hadn’t been without incident and we were all pretty
frazzled. First, it had taken a good half hour to coax Bacon from his room.
He’d only come down after we’d sent Molly up to get him. Then there had
been a small fire to deal with, as well as an overturned basket of cod to
clean up before we’d even had a chance to sit.
Finally, the three of us were alone. Bacon sat on the sofa toying with
the intricate mechanical frog Dev had made for him. My husband was an
amazing inventor, and his tiny animals were a huge hit with adults and
kids alike. He’d done dozens of others, including tortoises, dogs, even a
chicken, but this one was special. It was the only one that could hop and
swim, depending on how one turned the key. There were one hundred
and twelve tiny parts that made the magic happen, and Dev had spent al-
most a year painstakingly handling each one in order to create Bacon’s
namesake.
My brother wound it again and sent it hopping. For a moment, the sad-
ness fell away from his face as he watched it skitter across the table.
I took a deep pull from my wineglass. Despite my brother’s black
mood, I needed to fill them in about the curious Mister Phineas Grubb
and I’d put it off long enough. “Something odd happened to me today,” I
began. I managed to tell my tale—with a few omissions to cover my earli-
er whereabouts—without interruption. “So,” I finished, “what we need to
do now is follow him until we get to the bottom of this.”
All was quiet as I waited for the verdict. It didn’t take long.
“No,” Dev said, his tone flat.
“What do you mean, no?” Surely he could see that Grubb’s behavior
was suspicious?
“I mean, I am not going to stalk some stranger because you think he’s a
little too strange.”
I whipped my head to the left and arched a brow at Bacon. My tone
dripped icicles. “And what about you?”
He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Storm, there’s lots of things a person could
want a thermometer for. I think Dev’s right. I mean, remember what
happened las—”
“Christ almighty, will you two let that go?” One mistake, and they’d
never let me forget it. I wanted to scream.
“I, for one, would be happy to let it go. Just as soon as we make the last
payment to the church,” Dev said.
I rolled my eyes at him. When I’d tackled the monsignor on suspicion
of time-piracy, he’d agreed not to involve the authorities if we made a siz-
able, annual contribution to the church for the next five years. It was an-
other two years until our debt was paid in full. And they said the bastard
wasn’t a pirate. Could’ve fooled me.
“Whatever. But think of all those times I was right about other stuff be-
fore you decide.”
They looked at each other. Dev feigned deep thought and Bacon fol-
lowed suit, probably actually in deep thought. Both remained silent.
“Fine. Screw you guys. I’ll do it myself. I hope Jack the Ripper doesn’t
get me when I’m skulking around alone at night. Then you’ll be sorry.”
Bacon gave me the puppy-dog eyes. “I’m already sorry. I don’t think I
have the energy if Dev’s not going to help too, Storm. It’s been a tough
few weeks for me.” He let out a long, pent-up sigh and I knew the hard
sell was going to have to wait.
Earlier, surrounded by the children, he’d managed to put on a good
face and seemed to enjoy himself. We’d given him his gifts and he said all
the right things. Now that the kids were gone, though, he dropped the
façade. One look at his glum face on what was supposed to be a special
day and thoughts of Grubb faded to the background for the moment.
“I’m sorry, bro,” I said. “That was selfish of me. We’ll talk more about it
later, give you guys a chance to digest it all. How are you holding up with
everything else?”
He shot a longing look to the empty chair across from him that had
been occupied by his lady love so often over the previous two years. “All
right, I guess. Been better.”
At a loss as to how to cheer him up, I cuffed him hard on the arm and
took a stab at a pep talk. “You know, you dodged a bullet with that one.
She had such a lumpy bottom. Who wants to look at that all day?”
He managed a weak smile, turning his attention to his wine.
Clearly, it was going to take more than me cracking wise to get him out
of this funk. I bit the bullet, dreading the heart-to-heart I knew was in
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order. “All right, then. Let’s get it all out, shall we? Talk to me. Tell me
what’s happening. Not getting over her, I take it?”
He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Not really. I mean, it was getting a
little better. Or at least, it wasn’t getting worse. But then I found out she’s
got a new man.” He slumped forward and rested his ginger head in his
hands. “She’s taken up with Cecil Wentworth.”
I winced and he nodded forlornly. It didn’t need to be said aloud. The
fact was, Cecil Wentworth was everything Bacon was not. A savvy solicit-
or with a traditional life, he came from a respectable, normal family. His
relatives didn’t spend their lives inventing flying machines. His sister
didn’t wear britches like a man. He didn’t have dozens of little pickpock-
ets and rapscallions traipsing through his estate like Lost Boys.
But last, and certainly not least, Cecil Wentworth didn’t have a brother-
in-law known as The Loony Duke of Leister, who had spent time in Bed-
lam as a teen for “hallucinating” two children disappearing from an alley
with an older gentleman by way of time machine.
The guy sounded like a real snoozer to me, but I guess some girls like
that type. Go figure.
Bacon’s brow wrinkled as he continued. “Seems like a nice enough
bloke, I guess. She says he’ll be better able to care for her. I’m not sure
how that’s true, though. I’ve got plenty of money and we have a pretty
nice life here.”
“Aye, that we do,” Dev said with a gentle smile.
“Then I was thinking maybe it was the mustache that got her.” Bacon
looked to me for my opinion on the subject. I just stared back at him.
“Have you seen it, Storm? It’s magnificent. If I didn’t shave for a hundred
years, I still couldn’t hope to grow a luxurious handlebar mustache like
the one he’s sporting. She said that wasn’t it, but I’m not convinced.”
I was. Cecil Wentworth’s face looked like the place muskrats went to
die. You couldn’t even see the man’s lips, for crying out loud. Hell, maybe
he didn’t have any under there. It would serve the little twit right to find
that out on her wedding night.
“But that can’t be the whole of it, you know? So then I thought maybe it
was the name thing. ‘Catherine Wentworth’ does have a nicer ring to it
than ‘Catherine Frogs.’ Don’t you think?”
I did think, and he was definitely getting warmer. The weirdness of his
name was surely another straw on the proverbial camel’s back.
Back when we were small, about the time we made up birthdays for
ourselves, Gilly had encouraged us to leave our names behind, as well.
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We were all too happy to comply. He even went as far as to give us the
opportunity to name ourselves. I did all right, choosing Dorothy Gale in
deference to my Wizard of Oz obsession. “Stormy” came later as a nick-
name. Bacon had been much younger, though, and decided to follow his
sister’s logic. Might as well name yourself after what you love most, right?
At the tender age of six, it was a no-brainer, and Bacon Frogs was born.
While the names had been a source of joy for most of our lives, one had to
question Gilly’s judgment there.
My brother’s pained voice pulled me from my reverie, and the smile on
my face slid away. It wasn’t time for reminiscing. It was time for
listening.
“She said it wasn’t that either. It wasn’t until I went to her house last
night and serenaded her with my didgeridoo that she told me the real
reason she left me.”
A low, choking sound bubbled from Dev’s lips and I shot him a warning
glare as Bacon continued.
“I was feeling a bit lightheaded from blowing too hard during a particu-
larly tricky part of the song when I fell off her balcony. She ran down the
stairs to see if I was all right. At first, I took that as a good sign that she
still cared about me. Turned out she was more concerned with getting me
off her lawn so the neighbors wouldn’t see me. It was then she admitted
that some people still thought of our family as rather strange. She didn’t
want her future children to grow up being taunted or mistreated.”
My anger swelled to unchecked fury and I counted backward from
twenty.
“Thing is, I hadn’t even thought about children yet. That made
everything feel even worse. Catherine’s babies, Storm. Babies I was sup-
posed to give her.” He thumped a big fist to his chest before dropping his
head again, defeated. “Babies who will now come courtesy of Cecil Went-
worth, Esquire.” He paused to take a long gulp from his glass then swiped
at his mouth with his sleeve. “I’d already contemplated them kissing.
Shit, I’d even contemplated their wedding night—although, truth be told,
that one gave me the trots. But now? All I can picture is frolicking lads
with my red hair and her bright blue eyes slowly morphing into little
brown-haired boys—” his voice trembled as he added, “—with tiny
handlebar mustaches.”
Dev raised an eyebrow, held up a finger and opened his mouth to com-
ment but snapped it shut at my look.
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Logic wasn’t going to cut it here. It was time to let him ramble and get
it all off his chest.
“It’s been tough,” he said with a brave nod. “But I shouldn’t complain.
She’s been going through a rough time too. Last night she told me that
ever since our breakup, she’s had a terrible run of luck. In fact, last week,
she woke to a bedroom full of honey bees. She totally panicked. Ran into
the middle of Albany Street in her skivvies, flapping her arms and gallop-
ing around like a pony, trying to get away from the swarm. She wasn’t
hurt, but it scared the hell out of her.”
The tips of my ears began to burn as Dev turned his head, his gaze
drilling into me. I stayed steadfast, locked on Bacon as he continued.
“Then, the other day she tried a new face cream and it turned her skin
green. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen right away. She was fine when she
left her house, but halfway through the Sutherlands’ Summer Ball, her
ivory complexion started leaning more toward avocado. It took a good
week to fade. It’s been one thing after another for her.” He gave a sym-
pathetic shake of his head. “You have to wonder what else could possibly
happen to the poor girl.”
From his lips to God’s ears. I had started running out of material
halfway through week two. It was getting more difficult each day to come
up with fresh ways to ensure that young Miss Blakeslee was as miserable
as my brother. Not that I would do anything to actually hurt her. As much
as I’d like to at times, I have a standard to uphold. I preferred to deliver
my vengeance with a healthy dose of panache and minimal violence.
Things were coming to an end fast, though. Even if no one knew for
sure that I was behind the girl’s rash of misfortune, I was perilously close
to getting called out by the woman herself. She’d given me the stink eye
last time I saw her, and some others in town had their suspicions, as well.
Not Bacon though. Never Bacon, God love him. He couldn’t fathom any-
one doing something so nefarious, least of all me.
Which is precisely why I felt so compelled to do it. Not because I hated
Catherine. She isn’t a bad person. She’s just weak and pathetic. It is, quite
simply, that I love my brother. Dearly. He is the gentlest, most loving soul
in the world. So for each day his sweet face was scrunched up in despair
as he ambled around with his shattered heart perched on his sleeve, the
girl would pay. Dearly. Once Bacon had forgotten about her, so would I.
But until then, I planned to be on her ass like a tick on a hound, and that
was that. Dev would be mad, but he’d have to come around eventually.
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My husband’s frown encroached on my peripheral before I could turn
away. “That is terrible. Just. Terrible,” he said with a shake of his head.
Indeed.
His eyes never left me as he leaned in closer. “Stormy, darling, you look
very tired this evening. Trouble sleeping?”
The syrupy tone was more unsettling than if he’d shouted. My stomach
gave a jiggle. “I’ve been working on a project of my own, actually. Can we
talk about it later, maybe? Now’s not a good time.” I gave Dev the urgent-
eyes and his jaw flexed.
Bacon sat across from me, looking on with a moderate amount of curi-
osity. It was one thing to tell Dev the whole of it. He knew what I was and
married me anyway, so too bad for him. Bacon, however, was stuck with
me whether he wanted to be or not. He thought I was a paragon of virtue,
no matter how many times I’d proven him wrong. I couldn’t bear to see
the disappointment on his face if he found out what I’d been doing.
Almost as if on cue, he yawned. “If you’ve things to discuss, by all
means, have at it. I haven’t been sleeping well, so I’m off to bed.” With
that, he stood. “I promised some of the boys I’d teach them how to make
a toy horse out of wood tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be around in the
morning.” He gave Dev’s hand a hearty shake, pulling him in for a half
hug. Then he turned to me, scooping me up in his bearlike embrace and
squeezing hard. “Thanks, sis. I love you.”
“You too,” I muttered, making a show of trying to escape, mainly be-
cause it was expected. It took every bit of my steely time-pirate resolve to
stop myself from begging him to stay in hopes that his presence might
stave off the impending inquisition.
As Bacon trudged out of the room, he seemed to take every last bit of
warmth with him. Dev’s disapproval weighed on my chest like an anvil
and I busied myself picking some fake lint off my dress, still refusing to
look at him.
“Well, I’m pooped myself,” I said with an exaggerated yawn. “I think
I’ll head up to bed.”
Dev let me get halfway to the door before he stopped me. “You don’t
really think you’re going to walk out of here that easily.”
I shuffled back to my chair, plopping down with a sigh. “Fine. You want
me to say it? It was me. I’m the one torturing Catherine Blakeslee.” I lif-
ted my chin defiantly. “I’m not going to stop and I’m not one bit sorry,
either.”
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“I don’t believe that for a second or you wouldn’t be so defensive about
it. You feel guilty.” His voice was gentler than I’d expected.
Maybe he wasn’t that mad after all.
“That said, you obviously don’t feel guilty enough, or you wouldn’t be
so stubborn about stopping this nonsense.” His tone grew progressively
sharper. “You leave our bed to go running about town like some sort of
vigilante, punishing some poor girl for not loving your brother? Damn it,
you could have gotten hurt. You’ve lived on these streets. You know what
could happen to a young woman out in the dark on her own. You’re a
mother now—it’s not just about you and what you want to do anymore.”
My temper flared at that. “What, when I gave birth to Molly all my
common sense came out with her? I’ve been taking care of myself since I
was eight years old and I managed fine, daytime or night. I won’t be
treated like a child, Dev.”
“Then don’t act like one.” He cursed sharply under his breath. “Honey
bees. And what about today? What did you do to the poor girl this morn-
ing? That’s where you were when you ran into Grubb, I assume.”
I winced but didn’t answer.
“Forget it. I don’t even want to know. I do, however, want it to stop.
Not only because it’s wrong—although it is—but also because I don’t want
you out and about all hours alone.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he shushed me with a wave of his
hand. “It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself. I know you
can. It’s that I don’t know how Molly could live without you on the off
chance that something did happen.” He reached out and took my hand in
his. “And I know I couldn’t.”
My shoulders slumped as he sucked the wind out of my sails with his
sweetness. “But what about Bacon?”
“Bacon will be fine once time passes, whether you fill Miss Blakeslee’s
bathwater with leeches or not.”
Damn. That would have been a good one.
“Besides,” he continued, “he’ll be busy helping us tail the enigmatic
Phineas Grubb, so he won’t have time for wallowing.”
Relief washed away any residual resentment. I leapt up and threw my
arms around him. He was offering a trade I was only too happy to make.
Whether they believed me or not, something was fishy, and we were go-
ing to get to the bottom of it. Despite my blustering, maybe it was time to
let Catherine off the hook as well, at least for a while.
“I know you think it’s silly, but I have a strong feeling about this one.”
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“All right, then. When do we start?”
“First thing tomorrow. During the day we’ll take shifts. At night we’ll
go together so no one is out alone.”
“Your wish is my command. Once this is over and we’ve uncovered
whatever secrets Grubb is hiding, don’t think you’re going back to terror-
ize poor Catherine, either. Repeat after me.” He held up a hand. “I,
Stormy, do solemnly swear.”
I scowled at him then leaned back and lifted three fingers. “I, Stormy,
do solemnly swear.”
“Not to cut Catherine Blakeslee’s hair while she sleeps, or fill her por-
ridge with weevils or anything else of the sort, from this day forward.”
Damn, he was good. He probably had weeks’ worth of most excellent
material in that big brain of his and now I could use none of it.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you said. I swear it.”
He pressed a kiss to my lips before pulling back with a quizzical expres-
sion. “By the way, who’s Jack the Ripper?”
* * *
A short while later, I was snug in my bed wrapped in Dev’s arms, men-
tally rehashing the day. Bacon was a long way from being his old self,
which I hated, but it wouldn’t do to dwell on the negative. Time would
heal his wounds as surely as they’d healed the ones inflicted on us as chil-
dren. He’d be stronger for it, too. All things considered, my brother was
right. We had a pretty great life.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m very content with my lot. Bacon is
the best brother in the world. I didn’t even know the meaning of the word
family until we adopted one another. I love my husband more than I
knew I could love a man. My daughter is a blessing in spite of herself, and
Gilly’s House feeds my soul.
Every once in a while, though, I yearned for a taste of the old life. Trav-
eling through time, stealing from bad guys, causing mayhem. Every once
in a while, I wished for some excitement, the anticipation of a new job,
the thrill of the chase…maybe Phineas Grubb was exactly what the doctor
ordered to get back a piece of myself I’d been missing.
Had I known what was looming, I’d have been a little less careless with
my wishes.
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Chapter Three
“I still don’t get why we have to start this early,” Bacon grumbled.
I grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. “I told you already.
He was out and about early the other day. If we don’t catch him before he
leaves the manor, the whole day of surveillance is shot. Besides, it won’t
be so bad. I’ll be with you today to keep you awake.”
Dev and I had hashed it all out when he’d gotten out of bed that morn-
ing at the crack of too-fucking-early, eager to get to the workshop. I’d
wanted two weeks of round-the-clock surveillance but settled for a ten-
day commitment with eighteen-hour coverage starting at six in the morn-
ing each day. Dev grudgingly agreed as long as he didn’t have to do the
early-morning shift and screw up his lab time.
Since I liked to share breakfast with Molly and get her off to her les-
sons, Bacon got saddled with dawn duty by default. When I’d roused him
from bed that morning with the news, he’d still been less than enthusiast-
ic about the whole project. After some fast-talking on my part, by the
time we’d made it to the door, he’d resigned himself to the job, if not the
shite hours.
Since it was the first day, it seemed prudent for me to tag along with
him, despite having to go again that evening. My conviction was strong
and I wanted to get another look at the man in question as soon as pos-
sible to see if he still sent my bullshit meter whirring. Plus, there was no
way Bacon was going off on his own until I’d shown him exactly what to
do and how to do it. It’s not that I’m a control freak. It’s more that I’m
averse to catastrophes, and Bacon is like a sack full of napalm.
We headed out to the coach, Bacon with a cold mutton pie in one hand,
a boiled egg in the other and me with a still-steaming cup of coffee.
“So tell me again, what exactly are we looking for?” he asked, not both-
ering to smother a yawn.
We settled into the seats of the carriage and I handed him a pencil.
“Could be a lot of things. Something suspicious. Odd behaviors, clothes
that don’t quite fit in, mannerisms that seem a bit off, strange outings.
We need to jot down anything that will back my theory that he’s not what
he seems and could be from another time. Then, once we’ve examined
the evidence, we’ll lay it all out and see if it makes sense to take things a
step further and bring him in for questioning.”
“What about, like, clothes that do fit in, or unremarkable outings or
normal behaviors that don’t back your theory. Should we be jotting those
down too?”
There were times like this one when Bacon’s naïveté was such that it
could be mistaken for dry wit or cutting sarcasm. I squinted hard, search-
ing his face, but found nothing but genuine curiosity.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. The point is that we keep track of what he’s do-
ing so we don’t miss a pattern. Something that might seem innocuous by
itself might seem more suspicious when we compare notes and look at
the big picture.”
He nodded and gave me a snappy salute. “Got it, Captain,” he said,
then began whistling the tune to Mission Impossible. Upon inspection,
he looked decidedly less innocent this time around. I found myself pray-
ing that Grubb was guilty of something. Whatever it was had better come
to light soon. Because if I was wrong? My husband and brother were nev-
er, ever going to let me forget it.
* * *
It was seven brutally long, uneventful days into our recon when
something finally did happen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something good.
I was on my own doing the afternoon watch when Grubb left his
lodgings on foot. I tailed him, close behind, skulking in doorways and
dawdling at shop windows to keep things looking au natural. Everything
was going smooth as butter as usual, when I misread him and zigged
when I should have zagged. I’d given him plenty of time to turn the
corner, but he changed his mind, whipping around. All of a sudden, in-
stead of me hot on his trail, we were face-to-face, four feet away from
each other.
I looked away fast…too fast…comically fast, feigning interest in a
flowering shrub that wasn’t that interesting at all. In my peripheral I
could see him pause, midstep. His beady eyes drilled holes into the side
of my face as he seemed to contemplate whether or not to speak to me.
He must have thought better of it, because an endless moment later, he
headed in the other direction.
When he was out of sight, I let out a deflated sigh. Surveillance was
shot for the day. The best I could hope for was that he thought he’d had
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the misfortune of running into that weird, nosy lady from the shop again.
At worst, my cover was blown to shit and if he saw me following him
again, he’d likely call the police. Dev would not be happy if he had to bail
me out for stalking. I wasn’t taking any chances. It was time to call it a
day and head home. From that point forward, I was going to have to go in
maximum stealth engaged.
Even though it had been a close call, it was the next day when things
got really ugly. I was standing on Harmony Street, fake window-shopping
at a bakery while Grubb met with the watchmaker in the shop across the
street. I was getting a little worried. With less than three days left, I still
had no real proof that Grubb was up to no good, but I’d never been surer
of anything in my life. It was getting to the point that I actually con-
sidered fabricating a small untruth to get the guys to help for a few more
days.
It was unseasonably hot that day, and my gray wig was itching me like
mad. I couldn’t wait to get it off. I’d dressed in peasant rags, even having
gone so far as to create a hunchback for good measure. Despite my dis-
comfort I looked hideously awesome, and considered myself in the reflec-
tion of the storefront window. If only I’d thought to blacken my front
tooth.
Dev was going to die when he saw me. I’d told them what had
happened the night before but hadn’t said exactly how I planned to dis-
guise myself. Luckily our driver was so used to the strange goings-on at
Casa de Liester, he didn’t even blink when I came out of the house look-
ing like a crone from a Shakespearean tragedy.
As I milled around I took a quick glance at my watch. I’d sent the car-
riage to pick up Devlin and Bacon when Grubb had entered the shop.
They were on evening watch together that night and were scheduled to
relieve me so I could go home to eat with Molly. Once my relief spies ar-
rived, I planned on waiting for Grubb to leave. Then I was going to take
off my disguise and go into the watch shop in hopes of charming the pro-
prietor into telling me what Grubb had been doing there. Grasping at
straws? Probably. But I was getting desperate and he had been in there a
long time. Plus, a visit to the watchmaker combined with an interest in
thermometers could mean something. Either way, it was the closest thing
to a lead we’d had all week so I was fully prepared to run it down
mercilessly.
Dev and Bacon pulled up and stepped out of the carriage on the corner
I’d told the driver to meet me at. They both looked around for me. I
28/124
waited, watching. Bacon’s gaze passed over me three times, Dev’s twice
before they both stopped and stared.
“Bloody hell,” Dev muttered. “All you need is a broom and a familiar.”
I executed a neat curtsy. “Thank you, sir. And you look dashing as
always.”
Bacon gave my hump a poke and chuckled. “Nice touch.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything going on?”
I shot a glance to the watchmaker’s shop to see Grubb, still standing at
the counter. “Don’t know. He’s there—” I jerked my thumb in his direc-
tion, “—but he should be out pretty soon. It’s been almost half an hour.
When he leaves, you follow him. I’m going to try to find out what his
business was there.” I shrugged. “Never know, TTMs use all kinds of
watch pieces. Could be a lead—”
Bacon started to whistle that stupid theme song again, but I elbowed
him in the spleen. He stopped with an ooph, rubbing his belly.
“As I was saying, it could be a lead. No stone should be left unturned.”
“Fine,” Dev said with a nod. “Then straight home after that for you? It’s
getting dark.”
I was saved from answering when a voice cried, “Devlin, love!”
I whipped my head around in the direction of the lilting soprano, curi-
ous to get a look at the woman with the death wish. Heading straight to-
ward my husband, one white-gloved hand extended, was a glowing
blonde in a frock the color of ripe peaches. She was stacked on top, built
like a brick shithouse and positively effervescent. So much so, she looked
almost alien against the smudged gray backdrop of the London streets.
Even if she hadn’t been drooling in my husband’s direction, I would’ve
disliked her anyway on principle.
Dev stepped forward with a polite smile to take her hand as she ap-
proached. “Penelope. Pleasure to see you, my dear. It’s been a long time.”
“Almost eight years, darling. I just arrived back in London two days
ago and had so hoped to run into you. Tell me, what have I missed?” She
amped her grin up to blinding and slipped her arm through the crook of
his as if they were about to head off on an afternoon stroll.
Bacon stared on, agog at the vision in front of us. I rolled my eyes.
Some men were so easily snared. Throw a smile, some blond hair and a
little cleavage their way and they became cavemen. I barely resisted the
urge to toss a pebble into his gaping mouth and turned to look at my
29/124
husband. He had much the same stunned look about him. For him, I was
thinking a full-sized rock might be better.
I let out a loud cough, which seemed to startle both men out of their
stupor.
Dev motioned to me with his free hand and cleared his throat.
“Penelope, please allow me to introduce you to my…wife, Stormy, and my
brother-in-law, Bacon.”
Wide blue eyes flicked my way, reflecting her horror as she looked me
up and down.
I gave her a cool nod and absently scratched my hump. “Pleasure,” I
said, with a polite bob of my stringy, gray head.
“Wife?” she croaked, the smile finally wavering. She didn’t even spare
Bacon a glance.
“That’s right.” To Dev’s credit, he didn’t even blink. In fact, it looked
like a smile was tugging at his lips. “Stormy, Bacon, this is Penelope
Peab—actually, no longer, right, Penny? Fiorelli, isn’t it? Penelope and I
were acquainted several years ago. We enjoyed the same circle of friends.
She’s a seasoned traveler as well and met her husband Francisco on a trip
to Italy. How fares your husband, Penny?”
She gave a delicate shrug and a shake of her burnished head. “He
passed away over a year ago now.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” He patted her shoulder. She seemed to
wilt at his touch, leaning into him, assets first.
“It’s all right, truly.”
Her ample bosoms heaved then as she pulled in a shuddering breath,
pressing against my husband’s side.
Pathetic.
“He’d been sick for almost two years. It was getting more difficult every
day. I’ve done my mourning. This tragedy has made me realize how fleet-
ing life, health and youth can be. Now I’m back home, looking forward to
moving on.” She looked up into his eyes and gave him a tremulous smile.
It was very well-done of her. I couldn’t help but be a little envious of her
acting skills. “Remember the adventures we used to have, Devlin? Ah,
sometimes those memories were the only thing that kept me afloat dur-
ing those long, abysmal days…and nights.”
A long silence passed. I was a nanosecond from taking off my jewelry
to deal with the needy wench twentieth-century Philly-style when Dev
gave her another awkward pat and disengaged himself from her grasp.
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“We certainly did enjoy our youth. I hope you find London as welcom-
ing as ever. The three of us are on an errand, so we’ll have to be going,
but it was very nice to see you. I’m sure we’ll run into one another soon
enough.”
He took a step back and she moved toward him again. “I’m planning a
masquerade next month. I would be delighted if you would attend.”
“We might do that,” he said with a stiff bow. “Forward your invite to
the manor and I’ll see what we can do.”
Seemed like she finally caught on as she nodded and eased back. “Cer-
tainly. I—It was wonderful to see you, Devlin. And a pleasure to meet
your…family,” she said with nod, then turned and motioned to her
footman.
When she was gone, I squared off with my husband. “Oh, Devlin, my
love! I have dirty dreams about you while caring for my dying husband!”
I simpered, making my voice all whispery and Marilyn Monroe-like. I
squeezed my arms against the sides of my breasts to make the most of my
cleavage against the raggedy dress and pressed into him.
His lips twitched. “I recall someone else putting on a similar show at a
harvest fair not so many years ago.” He arched a winged black brow at
me.
“I thought she seemed nice,” Bacon said with a frown.
I dropped the act and snorted. “She’s nice, all right. Nice enough to
take my husband off my hands for a while. Remind me to send her a box
of chocolates and a thank-you note. And what’s with the perpetual smile?
You know who else smiles that much? Clowns. It’s fucking creepy then,
too. But hey, if that’s what you like in a woman.” I shrugged and shot Dev
a venomous glare, then turned and stomped away. I wasn’t really mad,
just enjoying the opportunity to yank Dev’s chain about it.
I’d only made it to the corner when I saw him.
And he saw me right back.
Phineas Grubb, scuttling down the street toward me, only a few yards
away.
I skidded to a halt. My heart thudded as I tried to think of what to do. I
let my spine cave, trying to affect the posture of a misshapen hag again,
but it was too late. Even with the wig and the hump, he knew me. His
close-set eyes grew wide as he processed the information. I debated
whether to speak. To ask him what he’d been up to, anything to break the
tension. The matter was taken out of my hands when he turned and star-
ted to run. Fast.
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Innocent people don’t run. Unless of course they’re just terrified of the
crazy lady hunting them. Somehow I didn’t think so in this case, and
there’d be plenty of time to figure out exactly what he was guilty of once I
chased him down. It didn’t take but a second to commit to the decision.
“It’s Grubb and he’s on the run,” I called over my shoulder to Dev and
Bacon.
I vaguely heard, “Shit. Not again,” as I tucked my arms tight to my
sides and bolted, tearing ass after him. My wig flew off, but I paid it no
mind.
Grubb was small but fast. He had a good lead from the get-go. By the
time he rounded the corner, I was a solid fifteen yards behind him. His
tiny legs were really churning when he risked a panicked glance over his
shoulder and stumbled on a loose cobble. I gained a few yards as he
righted himself, but my legs were burning and the stupid dress kept trip-
ping me up. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t seem to make up
more ground.
“Don’t hold back, go, go!” I called to Dev, who’d pulled up alongside
me.
He nodded and both he and Bacon poured it on then, Bacon edging
ahead by a few feet. They were closing the gap. It would only be another
minute or so until Phineas Grubb was in our grasp. Elated, I used up my
last stores of energy to keep pace. Bacon’s long strides ate up the ground
and it wasn’t long before he was within twenty feet of our prey.
Grubb tossed another look over his shoulder, but this time his face was
alight with triumph. Ice formed in my stomach as he hung a hard right
down an oh-so-familiar alleyway. No.
“He’s going to make his move! Dammit, don’t let him get away!”
Bacon was hot on his heels, Dev right behind him. My heart thundered
as I turned the corner. Grubb, still running, stuck a hand into each pock-
et. He yanked out a pair of goggles and slapped them over his face. Then
he stopped dead in his tracks. Only the shadowy silhouette of the second
object he extracted was visible in the dim light, but I didn’t need to see it
to know what it was. A second later, the air trembled around him as he
was sucked into the vortex. In slow motion, I watched Bacon close a giant
fist over the flapping tail of Grubb’s disappearing waistcoat.
“No! Let go!” I screamed. But my warning came too late and a second
later, they were gone.
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Dev came skidding to a halt right on the spot where Bacon had been
standing. His arm was outstretched, his hand clutching a fistful of air.
“Bloody hell!”
I dropped to my knees. Parts littered the ground as I pawed through
my pockets, emptying them.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going after him.” My hands were shaking, making the assembly go
slower than I liked.
“How? We don’t even know where they went.”
“Time-tail. I have one hour to catch it. Think of a snail,” I said absently.
“They slither along and leave a gooey path behind them. Eventually it
dries up, but for a time you could follow its trail. Time-tail.”
“So it will lead directly to their destination.”
I nodded. “I’ve only done it once. Back when a bum stole my TTM and I
had to follow him to Siberia. I got there a few days later, but yeah, it got
me there. Once I assemble the TTM, I’ll catch their tail and get Bacon
back.”
For the first time, I cursed myself for not carrying my time-travel
mechanism already intact. When I’d had it stolen and it had been so eas-
ily utilized by the thief, we made it a hard and fast rule to keep it disas-
sembled with the pieces in different pockets from that point forward.
That way, it was all there if we needed it, but the average person would
never be able to make it work. All well and good except in an emergency
situation like this one.
My stomach pitched. Don’t think about it. Focus on the task at hand.
“You need to head home and make sure Molly’s okay. They’ll be expect-
ing me and get worried. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” I tried to keep
my tone matter-of-fact as I fussed with the pieces.
The silence was deafening but said it all. I wasn’t getting off that easily.
After a moment, he squatted next to me. “That’s not going to happen.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out in a rush. “Dev,
we don’t have time for this. In one hour, Bacon could be gone forever.
Please. I’m trying to stay calm here, but I’m close to losing it. I beg you.
Go home.”
“If he doesn’t get the TTM back from Grubb and come back here him-
self any moment, then we have one hour. We’ll go get the carriage and be
home in ten minutes. We’ll tell the staff there is an emergency and say
goodbye to Molly. Get some supplies. You don’t even have anything of
worth on you to barter with. It makes no sense to run off unprepared. It’ll
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take us all of thirty minutes. Forty on the outside. Could be that he’ll be
back by then. At least give him a chance to try. Hell, you’d spend ten
minutes putting together your TTM anyway. You can do it on the ride.”
Panic had me tight around the neck and frustrated tears pricked the
back of my lids. “For the love of God. Please. Do what I’m asking.”
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t do that. Not this time. You have no
idea what you’re walking into and I refuse to let you go alone.”
“Exactly why one of us should stay. You said the other day that I’m a
mother now. Well, you’re a father. What if something does go wrong?
Then our daughter is an orphan. Do you know what that’s like?” My voice
trembled and cracked, but I was past caring.
Dev shook his head slowly, his face etched with pain.
I turned away.
“Don’t you get it? I can’t do it again.” He touched a finger to my chin
and forced me to look at him. “You see, I’ve been here before, love. I don’t
think I could live through it, watching you disappear again. Wondering if
you were all right. If you’d ever come back. Last time it took me thirteen
years to find you. Even if I did survive it, for Molly’s sake…” he paused,
scrubbing a hand over his face. “…She’d be better off without me. Please,
do not ask this of me.”
My stomach cramped as I looked into his chocolate-brown eyes, shini-
er than usual. I’d been so worried about Bacon, I hadn’t even thought of
how Dev was handling seeing him disappear again. He’d done it once, al-
most twenty years ago, when Bacon and I were children. Dev had taken
us, and all the Fenchurch Street urchins, under his wing at the tender age
of seventeen. He’d brought us food and clothes when he could, despite
his father’s disapproval. The day Gilly came to London and offered to
take us away to the future and a better life, Dev had been on his way to
Fenchurch for a visit. He’d watched as Gilly brought us into the alleyway.
Before he knew what had happened, or had a chance to stop it, we’d dis-
appeared right in front of his eyes. He never got over it. It cost him al-
most a year in Bedlam, and he spent much of his adult life searching for
us. Until the day fate brought us together again five years ago.
I tried to push that out of my head…to think clearly. What happened in
the past had no bearing on whether this was the right thing to do now.
But time seemed almost tangible at that moment, like watching sand pass
through an hourglass, grain by grain. Every minute we spent arguing was
one we couldn’t spare.
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“Fine, we’ll go back to the house,” I snapped, hedging my bets. “But if
the time-tail dissipates before we get back, I’m going to kill you. And once
Bacon is back home, I’m going to kill him too for putting me through
this.”
He nodded, relief washing over his stark features as he took my hand.
“Let’s go.”
We took off running, the acid in my stomach roiling like noxious brew
in a jostled cauldron. The threats I’d made were hollow, born of fear and
anger. Fact was, we both knew the truth, but my husband loved me far
too much to point it out.
There was only one person to blame for the predicament we were in,
and if I didn’t get my brother back, I’d never forgive myself.
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Chapter Four
The power of the human mind is an amazing thing. By the time we
reached Leister Manor, my terror had dulled to grim acceptance. In spite
of the overwhelming urge to crumple to the floor and sob like a wreck, I
pushed through. If we wanted to get Bacon back, the only option was to
turn off my emotions and work this like a puzzle as best I could.
We entered the kitchen a short while later. Cook approached with a
smile but it only took a second for her to assess the situation with her
sharp gaze. Her smile faltered, the color bleeding from her face.
“What is it? What’s happened?” She looked around me and Dev, her
face filling with dread as she clutched a hamlike fist to her chest.
“Where’s Master Bacon?”
A chunk of the ice wall I’d managed to erect around my heart crackled.
I turned away, unable to squeeze the words past my tightening throat.
“He’s all right, but we need to leave for a few days to make sure he
stays that way,” Dev said, his tone firm but gentle.
He went on to recite the story we’d concocted on the ride over, explain-
ing that Bacon had been kidnapped by ruffians. We’d come home to col-
lect the demanded ransom monies and were scheduled to meet at a tav-
ern two days’ ride from London. We’d be back once it was delivered and
Bacon was returned to us safely. It wasn’t an easy conversation. I could
tell Dev had a hard time deceiving her, but by the time he’d finished, she
seemed steady and focused on the task at hand.
“Don’t worry, Cookie,” I added, swallowing hard to dislodge the lie
sticking in my craw. “They have nothing to gain from harming him and
everything to lose.”
She nodded, her blue gaze becoming steely. “You get those bastards
good, Master Dev. And get my boy back in one piece, will you?”
After giving her instructions for the next few days, we asked that she
only tell the rest of the staff we were taking an unexpected trip. She
agreed without hesitation and promised to hold down the fort until our
return.
That done, we ran up to the study, where Molly sat with her governess
working on her letters. She leapt to her feet, thrilled with the unexpected
midday visit, but was less thrilled that we were taking a trip without her.
I squeezed her close and inhaled her little-girl scent, turning away so she
wouldn’t see the tears filling my eyes.
“We plan to bring you back the most amazing surprise, Molls,” Dev
told her solemnly then pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She perked up at that and, with all the adaptability of a child, turned
her attention back to her lesson as if we’d never been there.
We made a quick dash to the workroom to pack a few things. It wasn’t
easy to determine what those things should be, since we had no earthly
idea where or when we were going. We wound up filling my carpetbag to
brimming with clothes for hot and cold weather and a sundry of random
items, hoping something would come in handy. I went to my room to
change into a gray, innocuous dress that wouldn’t call an overt amount of
attention in almost any century.
When we flew out the door, there were twenty-five minutes left on the
ticking clock. Twenty-five minutes until my brother was lost to me
forever.
The carriage dropped us off in front of the alleyway with eight minutes
to spare. The panic I’d managed to squelch clawed its way back to the
surface again. The TTM was in my hand at the ready when we turned the
corner into the alleyway and into a pack of young ones scrapping over
some food, but no Bacon.
I didn’t waste a moment, plunging my hand into Dev’s pocket and
pulling out all the coin he had.
“All right, rapscallions. The money in my hand, split between you
equally, to clear out of the alleyway.”
They froze, flying fists halting in midair as they collectively turned their
grubby faces toward me. All five scuttled over, squabble forgotten.
“Thanks, milady,” a few mumbled as they snatched the coins.
“Empty your other pockets, Dev. Save us time later.” I gave him a poin-
ted look.
He pulled out his billfold and handed the tallest boy the five-pound
note within. The lad’s thin face went pale with shock as he stared gape-
mouthed at what was likely more money than he’d ever seen.
“Get some proper clothes for all of you. You don’t share, I’ll find out,
believe me. When you’re done, go to Gilly’s House on Peckham Street,”
Dev instructed him. “Tell them Devlin sent you. Warm beds, fresh bread.
You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he added as the initial sur-
prise on the boy’s face gave way to instinctive mistrust. These kids had
more than their share of disappointments and lascivious offers, and to
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their minds, this one probably fell under the heading of Too Good to be
True. “Nothing funny about the offer. Think about it. Ask around the
streets about the place first. It will change your life.” Dev held his gaze a
moment longer, then waved his hand dismissively. “Off with you, now.”
The oldest gave a curt nod as he motioned to the others. They followed
him, the younger ones chattering excitedly about their good fortune.
There was a tug on my wrist and I turned to face my husband. The
second the children had left, he’d latched on and now he wouldn’t release
me, despite my struggling. I tried not to meet his gaze, guilt nipping me
hard for what I was about to do. “Let go for a sec. I’ve gotta get my
APGs.”
APGs, or alternate perception goggles, were nifty brass contraptions.
They fit over a time traveler’s eyes so he or she could more easily detect a
ripple in the atmosphere, indicating the presence of a wormhole. Some
people were better spotters than others, but no one was better at finding
a wormhole with the naked eye than me.
Dev didn’t even blink as I tried wrestling away from him to no avail.
“Do you honestly think I’m going to let go of your hand for any reason,
even for a second? You’ve lost your bloody mind.”
I looked into his dark eyes, flat with fury.
“It’s done. I’m coming with you.”
“Dev, please. Think about it for one second and you’ll see it doesn’t
make sense for us both to ris—”
“Don’t say another word,” he growled through clenched teeth.
He wasn’t going to budge. I was one false move from cracking, so I fi-
nally let it go. “Fine. Get ready, and remember, eyes closed.”
Although his eyes were shut, mine needed to be open, at least for the
first part of this journey. Following a time-tail was tricky. Since we wer-
en’t actually setting the TTM with a date and location, we had to catch
hold of the residual energy to hitch a ride. It required the dexterity of a
surgeon and a level of concentration I could only hope to obtain in my
mental state.
All in all, the whole prospect scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I’d
done it only once. Even then I hadn’t been exactly on point, arriving a few
days later than I’d hoped. This time, it had to be perfect because we’d left
an hour after Bacon, so we would already be subject to the more volatile
fluctuations and vagaries of time travel.
Letting my eyes go loopy, I gazed around until a ripple in the air caught
my attention. I depressed the lever on the TTM with my free hand and
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held Dev tight with my other. Everything began to spin. The world went
dark. It was a struggle to keep my eyes opened despite the hideous
nausea.
Just when I thought I must have missed it, a trail of white, like the
lingering path of a jet in the sky, snagged my attention. I depressed the
lever again and we stopped so abruptly, Dev’s hand was nearly jarred
from mine. Gasping, I dug my nails into his flesh, my knuckle bones
grinding painfully against his. If we were to separate he’d spin off into
oblivion, to no place and no time. But there was hardly a moment to fear
it before we were off again, whirling like a top. Hurtling backward, to-
ward Bacon.
As we slowed, my stomach gave a twirl. This should’ve been the scari-
est part. We could just as easily have been barreling headlong into a
skull-crushing battle between rival Scottish clans as interrupting a tea
party for the Queen. But the fact that Dev’s hand was still clutched in
mine made either option seem less daunting than it should have. We just
had to hope Grubb was a good enough time traveler that he’d chosen
somewhere secluded to land.
We slowed to a stop. The vague sense of weightlessness abated. I’d
barely managed a sigh of relief when an icy gust tore the breath from me.
Flinching, I burrowed into Dev, dimly noting the crunch of snow beneath
my feet.
“It’s bloody freezing,” I gasped.
I fought the stinging wind to open my eyes. The sun was so bright it
took a moment for my pupils to adjust. As clarity returned, I noted with
relief that we were on a bluff overlooking a large village with big, snow-
clogged homes sprinkled around. Although the cold was unpleasant, it
was a blessing in disguise as, despite the fact that it was a reasonably
populated area, the residents were all indoors. It was likely our arrival
hadn’t been witnessed, which was ideal. Less ideal was that although
there was a thick blanket of crusty snow on the ground, it was unmarred
by visible footprints. I swallowed my disappointment.
The snow was at least a few days old, maybe more. So while we’d man-
aged to grab Grubb’s tail, we’d ended up arriving at least that far behind
them. The extra time we’d taken on the other side had cost us some ac-
curacy. Now we needed to figure out how much.
The other thing immediately clear was that we’d gone pretty far back in
time and wherever we were, it certainly wasn’t London.
39/124
Dev released my hand and did a three-sixty, taking in the landscape.
“Hard to say where this is. I’ve been all over the world, but with the trees
all dead and the snow on the ground it’s impossible to tell. Judging by the
architecture, I’d say America. New England?”
That had been my initial impression as well, but until we came across
something definitive, we’d have to live with the not knowing. I shivered
as I dug through the carpetbag, pulling out Dev’s coat and my woefully
insufficient cape, grateful that I’d at least worn my boots. A moment later
we started slogging toward the nearest house.
It was a large, staid monstrosity, as well-made as it was plain. Despite
the unwelcoming aura of the house itself, gray smoke curled invitingly
from the chimney and the amber light of a lantern flickered through a
small window. We approached and knocked on the heavy door. A man
with a thick beard opened it and peered out with suspicious eyes. He was
dressed in garb similar to what Bacon wore as “Pilgrim Number Three” in
his elementary school’s production of The First Thanksgiving.
“Hello, sir. We’ve traveled from London and seem to have lost our way.
We hoped you would be so kind as to tell us if there is a boarding house
nearby in which we might pass the night,” I said with a smile.
“I’m unable to assist you, travelers. Continue due east, less than an
hour’s walk even in this deep snow. You’ll find lodging when you reach
Ipswitch Road.”
He began to close the door but I stuck out a foot, wedging it open. “Sir,
I apologize for the trouble, but we’ve been traveling for some time now,
and our horses have succumbed to the cold. I don’t even know how long
we’ve been traveling. Can you tell me the date?”
“The twelfth of March.”
“Sixteen…” I coached him, trying to look faint and addled.
His fierce scowl grew fiercer as he stared down at me. “Hundred and
ninety-eight.”
Okay, so that narrowed it down. From his accent, manner and mode of
dress I was fairly certain he was a Puritan. I racked my brain trying to
think where the Puritans lived, but realized that Dev was probably right.
Where the hell else did it snow like this in March, besides in New
England?
The man at the door let out an impatient grunt and eyed my foot as if it
were a viper. I ignored him and continued. “A member of our party had
gone ahead. Have you seen him? Tall man, ginger hair?”
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Something flashed on his face but disappeared a second later as his
scowl deepened. “It is time for you to leave. ’Tis cold enough without the
door opened. The people of Salem Town, past Ipswitch, will assist you.”
This time, his face was set and I knew the situation with my foot had
escalated to “move it or lose it.” I moved it with a smile but my “Sorry to
trouble you” bounced off the door he’d slammed in my face.
“If you’re ever looking for a new investment opportunity, I’m going
with Charm School, center of wherever the hell we are right now,” I
muttered to Dev through the side of my mouth.
He didn’t respond with the expected chuckle. In fact, he hadn’t said
much at all besides commenting on the weather since we’d arrived.
“You feel okay?”
He gave me a grim nod and I realized he was still pissed at me for even
thinking about leaving him behind. I had nothing for him on that. The si-
lence hung heavy between us as we schlepped through the snow, hope-
fully toward shelter.
By the time we arrived, night had begun to fall, dragging the temperat-
ure down to five below snot-freezingly cold. Halfway into our thirty-
minute walk, Dev had wordlessly wrapped his greatcoat around me. I
couldn’t move my lips to even argue with him. My whole body quaked
and I was no longer sure whether my nose was still attached to my face.
Right about the time I thought we might be in danger of some serious
hypothermia, there it was. Ipswitch Road. Beyond it lay what appeared to
be a prosperous port town. Shops and smiths dotted the area and the
large homes were more elaborate than those in the village we’d first
stopped off in.
We bypassed a tavern that appeared to be closed and approached a
large structure marked Inn. This time Dev didn’t give me the opportunity
to knock. He rapped on the door twice and waited.
Ten minutes later, we were seated in front of a roaring fire. The propri-
etor handed us mugs filled with blessedly warm cider as we sat on un-
comfortable chairs, waiting for the servant to make up our bed. I gulped
down the first swallow of sweet, hot liquid, ignoring needles that jabbed
my frozen lips as they came back to life. Once I’d managed to thaw a
little, I risked a glance at Dev’s stony face.
Fact was, I’d underestimated how valuable his very presence could be.
Had I gone alone, I might not have been able to walk around the town on
my own, never mind secure lodgings.
41/124
Just then, a young maid scurried past with a log to add to the fire. Dev
gave her a sweet smile, holding out his now-empty cup. She blushed and
bolted away, only to return with a fresh mug less than a minute later.
Damn if that man couldn’t charm the habit off a nun. Add that to his
rock-solid confidence and worldly air, and the people of Salem were
already flitting around like hummingbirds to do his bidding. I had to ad-
mit, he stood to be a great asset on this mission.
More than that, though, I wanted him there. Not only logistically, but
emotionally. He was my rock and somehow over the past five years, I’d
come to rely on him…need him. I’d been on my own for a long time, and
sometimes that slipped my mind. Other times, even when I remembered,
I ignored it because, frankly, it’s terrifying to need someone so much.
I leaned into him, pressing my face close. “Sorry,” I whispered miser-
ably against his shoulder.
He didn’t need to ask what I meant. “We’ll speak of it later.” His
clipped tone let me know I was far from forgiven.
It hadn’t been easy to choke out the apology, so his continued icy de-
meanor stung. Before I had a chance to press him on the issue, though, a
petite woman in a simple gray dress stepped into the room. She motioned
us forward. “Please, follow me and I’ll show you your room.”
She led us up the stairs to a small, sparsely furnished room. It was
clean and warm, though, which was a huge relief. The thought of being
cold again didn’t sit well at all.
“This is perfect,” I said.
“I will send some supper for you shortly. Warm yourselves by the fire
while you wait, and rest from your journey. I’m Sarabeth. Please call
should you need something.”
“Thanks again. Oh, by the way, we’re looking for a friend of ours who
arrived in the past week or so. You wouldn’t happen to know if there’ve
been new visitors to town?”
She nodded. “This is a busy area, ma’am. Merchants travel in and out
in a steady stream. We see many strangers once the cold season has
passed.”
“The cold season has passed?” I asked, brows raised.
“Yes, ma’am. The past few days have been chilly, but not like last
month or the one prior. Trade starts up again, people begin to come into
town for supplies, travelers come through.”
“He would stand out, I think. Very tall, rather muscular, red hair. No?”
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She shook her head and turned toward the door. “I apologize, but I
have not seen him.”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you should hear anything, please let
me know.” I pressed a small gold-and-emerald ring into her hand and she
gasped.
“I couldn’t! The master would never let me keep—”
“Don’t tell him. Hide it away until you marry. You and your husband
can sell it if you like. Keep it, and if you hear anything about the man I
described, let me know.”
She stared at the ring, her eyes glassy with tears. “Yes. I swear.”
A moment later she was gone. The howling of the wind was the only
sound in the quiet little room.
“That was smart. She’ll do her best to find out where he’s gone for such
a princely sum.”
“I hope so. This weather is going to make things slow-going unless we
have some sort of lead to follow.”
“Speaking of which, if your clothes are still damp, you should change
into your second set and let those dry.” His tone was still cool, and every
word battered away at my bruised heart.
Reaching out a hand, I stepped toward him. “Dev—”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “I’m not ready to do this with you right now.”
“But—”
“Goddammit, woman! Will you never obey me, even when it is to your
own advantage? Believe me, what I would say to you now would not be
kind. Allow me the opportunity to remember how dearly I love you and
why before you press me thusly.”
Being around me and Bacon had relaxed Dev’s speech to some degree,
in the same way that us being back in London had added a little spit and
polish to our English. When we argued, though, his accent would grow
more clipped, his phrasing more formal. And when he reverted fully back
to the mother tongue, getting all “thusly” and “whilst” on me? That meant
trouble.
I gnawed on my lip, wanting to say more, to get him to talk to me, but
managed to keep it zipped. He was probably right. Nothing good could
come of me forcing a conversation. He would let me know when he’d for-
given me. If he ever did…
I let out a miserable sigh and tried to focus. Get warm, get dry, eat
food, then come up with a plan to find Bacon. We got through the first
three all right, if in total silence, but the fourth proved to be a lot more
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difficult. The flurries that dappled the sky since we’d arrived had since
changed over to needles of ice and were coming down by the bucket-load,
forcing us to abandon our plans to tromp through town poking around
until we found Bacon. We stood at the door, took one look and headed
back inside in tacit agreement.
Once in the room again, I decided to use our forced hiatus to brain-
storm some ideas. I pulled out a notebook to jot down questions we could
ask, and possible scenarios of what might have occurred when Bacon and
Grubb had arrived.
Dev had been sitting on the bed unlacing his boots. He slipped them off
and began to move around quietly, adding wood to the fire and stripping
down to his underclothes. I tried not to stare at his sleek back and narrow
hips, or his black hair gleaming in the firelight. Despite, or maybe be-
cause of, my fears for Bacon, I wanted nothing more than for those strong
arms to hold me tight. To love, and comfort, and forgive. For those firm
lips to cover mine. To make me forget that while we’d managed to follow
Bacon and Grubb, we still didn’t have my brother back.
I abandoned my notes altogether as Dev slid beneath the blankets. The
bed was nothing like ours back home, but it smelled of clean straw and
we’d both slept in far worse. I longed to join him, but it was better if I
waited until he was asleep. If I got in now, I’d end up badgering him.
He’d asked for time, and I was going to give it to him.
But if he came to me? Well, that was a whole other story.
Resolved, I sauntered over to the fireplace. I sat down and began unla-
cing my boots. Once they were off, I stood to face Dev, who was staring at
the rafters.
“Can you unbutton me?”
He sat up slowly but didn’t respond. I walked over and turned my back
to him, stepping between his splayed thighs. Lifting my hair high on top
of my head, I waited. He was still for so long, my arms started cramping.
Then he stood, his big body hulking over mine, crowding me forward, the
heat radiating from his bare chest seeping into my back.
His nimble fingers touched my nape, slipping each button from its tiny
hole before moving to the next. The warmth of his breath stole over my
neck as he pushed the cloth away. I tried not to move, to keep my breath-
ing steady in case he stopped.
He’d gotten midway down and paused. “You can get the others.” His
voice was strained but he didn’t move the fingers that rested on my spine.
“It will be difficult. Can’t you just do it?”
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“If you’re trying to seduce me, stop it. I’m not in the mood.”
“I haven’t even done anything,” I protested with faux-outrage. “Did you
want me to call the maid? It seems a little silly—”
“As long as you understand.” He resumed with the buttons, this time
more briskly. I was losing him. When he finished, he patted me on the
back dismissively. “All right, done.”
I didn’t move away and give him the chance to sit back on the bed. In-
stead I turned to face him as my dress slid to the ground in a pile at my
feet. He swallowed hard as my naked chest pressed against his. He
moved to step back, but the bed stopped his progress. If he sat, his face
would be level with my breasts.
He put his hands on my shoulders to push me away, but again, he
didn’t let go. His gaze dropped to rest on my naked torso. My nipples
peaked under the heat of his stare and he sucked in a harsh breath. His
fingers tightened, gripping my upper arms, holding me or holding me
away, I wasn’t sure, but the thought of him letting go made me want to
weep.
I stepped into him again, pressing myself flush against him. “I love
you,” I whispered against his collarbone, brushing my lips along the hard
ridge to the hollow in his neck. I nipped him there and he flinched but
didn’t pull away from me. I pressed my tongue against his thudding
pulse. “I need you, Dev.”
His throat vibrated beneath my tongue. “Bloody right you do. And not
just for this moment, either. But you don’t even realize it, do you?” He
shoved me back and gripped my hair in his hand, forcing me to face him,
letting his gaze travel the length of my body. Lust blazed in his eyes when
he finally looked up, but it was tempered with an icy anger that made me
want to curl in on myself.
His voice was low and fierce. “Is this what you’re looking for? Me to
want you? You win. I want you. But just because you flash your breasts at
me and I respond doesn’t mean everything is all right. It doesn’t mean
this is all fixed. You need to make a change in here.” His jaw was set and
his face was grim as he laid a hand against my heart. “You’re holding
back, Storm. Giving me the parts that feel safest to you. I deserve the
whole fucking thing. I won’t settle for less.”
My cheeks burned and I resisted the urge to cover myself. “Maybe your
darling Penelope would be more accommodating.”
He gave a weary shake of his head as he turned away. “Undoubtedly.”
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Slinging the overzealous blonde in his face had been my sloppy way of
trying to evade his accusations and redirecting the conversation, so I ig-
nored the sting of his response. As uncomfortable as it made me to talk
about this emotional kind of stuff, I knew I was acting like a baby. I
grabbed his chin, forcing him to face me. “Okay, okay, sorry. That was
off-topic and petty. But I’m not trying to use sex to manipulate you.” His
arched brow had me backtracking. “Well, I sort of am, but not for the
reason you think. I want to feel close to you. Melt some of this ice
between us. That’s all. And as for the rest of it…” I shook my head. “It’s
not about love. I couldn’t love you more than I do, Dev. That’s why, if I
lost you, I don’t know what I would do with myself.” My voice broke at
the end and I turned my face away.
“Since the day we met, when we were hardly more than children, I
knew caring for you was a risk,” he said, his tone softening. “Later, as a
grown man I had to come to grips with the fact that if I wanted to love
you, Stormy Gale, time pirate, it had to be without condition. I had to be
selfless enough to risk losing you. Because you have things you need to
do. Actions that define you as a person. You can go hurtling through time
to chase after your brother. You can land God knows where and risk your
life. You can traipse around London in the middle of the night collecting
ragamuffins.” He paused and cupped my chin in his hand. “But I’ll be
damned if you’re going to do it without me. If that scares you, I’m sorry. I
have things I need to do too, and protecting you is at the top of my list. I
won’t be shut out again. I won’t.”
He leaned down, crushing his lips to mine in a punishing kiss. It was
searing, terrifying and maddening. Longing, fear, anger expressed
through the gnashing of teeth and spearing tongues. I gave as good as I
got. He growled low in his throat as I nipped his lower lip. With the tilt of
his hips, the hard, thick length of him pressed against my hip. Heat rock-
eted through me.
The hand cupping my face trailed lower, down my neck, past my collar-
bone before lingering on the swell of my breasts. I gasped into his mouth
as he brushed a thumb across my nipple.
He pulled away, leaving barely a breath between our mouths. “I love
that sound,” he murmured, then kissed me again. His hands snaked
down my sides until they rested on my hips. He held me tight, grinding
himself against me. “This is what you do to me. I want to stay angry—hell,
I am angry—but I ache for you.”
“Me too.”
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He pressed his lips to my shoulder. I groaned as he blazed a path
lower, forgetting to breathe as his mouth moved closer and closer to
where I wanted him most. My nipple grew tighter, ready for his mouth
and tongue. He blew a cool puff of air against the stiff peak and I
moaned. A second later, he was there. His hot mouth, his quick tongue
making me forget for a little while. I arched into him, cupping his head to
my breast. He responded by sucking hard, sending a bolt of desire
straight to my core.
“Dev, please.”
“Come on then, love,” he murmured, turning me toward the bed. He
lowered me down onto my back but didn’t climb in after me. He stood
looking for a moment. “God, you’re beautiful.”
I held my arms out to him, desperate to have him fill them. He didn’t
hesitate, climbing onto the bed, covering me with his big, hard body. He
kissed my forehead, my nose, my chin. And in spite of everything, it made
me want to smile. He continued his sweep downward, but I stayed him
with a hand.
“No teasing. No fuss. I want you inside me.” My emotions were all over
the map, but every one of them was right at the surface and ready to
bubble over. I needed him to fill me, take it away, however brief the re-
prieve might be.
He nodded, black hair gleaming in the firelight, and his mouth was
back at mine. He rose on to one elbow then slid a hand over my ribcage,
tracing his fingers lightly over my hip bone. Slipping a knee between my
thighs, he spread me open to lie in the cradle between my legs. My body
quivered in anticipation, remembered pleasure making the tension al-
most unbearable. He claimed my lips in a lazy exploration but I was too
far gone. I shoved a hand between us to grasp his hard length. He pulled
back, letting out a hiss.
Pressing forward until he was poised, his swollen heat prodded my en-
trance. “Promise me. That’s the last time you’ll try to shut me out. Say it.”
“That’s the last time,” I parroted. By this point I was mindless and
would’ve said almost anything. But he knew that and needed to hear it
anyway. Even if it was just to get us through the next few days.
He arched forward and I thrust up to meet him. He filled me so com-
pletely I held him there for a long moment, savoring the feeling. Then the
dam broke, and we were like animals. The need driving us faster, harder.
He pounded into me, each thrust like a tiny earthquake, shaking me all
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the way to my center. I slid my hands over his sleek, muscled back and
dug my fingers in, wordlessly begging for more.
He gazed down at me, the slash of his cheekbones and his dark hair
making him look so intense, almost like a fallen angel. Even as he stared
into my eyes, his thrusts slowed, became long and measured…with in-
tent. He slid forward each time, hitching his hips at the end in a way he
knew drove me wild.
A tight ache built, low in my belly, and I pulled him closer. He threw
his head back at the sheer ecstasy of the moment.
With one more sublime thrust, I went over. I bit back a scream and the
tidal wave slammed into me, sucking me under, thrusting me up. His face
tensed, his mouth opening on a wordless yell as his body quaked against
mine.
A moment later he collapsed onto me, his heart pounding hard against
my chest.
“Thank you,” I whispered, trailing soft kisses over his jawline. He
grumbled incoherently and I smiled. “Now get off me, you big lug.” With
a pat on his bottom, I rolled him away. As the heat and weight of him left
me, so did my fleeting sense of well-being.
Not ready to let go, I plastered myself against his side and held on
tight.
“What if he’s not okay, Dev?” My throat felt thick and achy.
He didn’t hesitate, pulling me even closer. “Then we get him and take
him home, or wherever we need to, and make him okay.”
Right. That’s exactly what we would do. As long as he wasn’t—
I bitch-slapped that thought down before it took hold. Tomorrow was a
new day and we’d find out where Bacon was. I could only hope he’d be
somewhere warm and safe until we got to him. And if not? Well, he was
tough. He’d survived the streets of London at the age of six. He could sur-
vive this.
Right when I thought I’d never be able to turn my brain off to fall
asleep, I hit the wall. The day finally caught up with me, and my body
shut down. As my eyes drifted closed, my final thoughts were of Gilly and
how very much I wished he was still alive to tell me how to fix this mess
we were in.
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Chapter Five
The next morning, we entered the dining room as breakfast was being
laid out. The plan was to get a bellyful. After that, we’d head out into
town. We’d do our best to make some connections, chat some folks up
and see what we could find out.
To our pleasant surprise, when we gazed out the window, the snow was
melting. A warm front had passed through and the rain had eaten away
at the thick blanket until it was patchy and fading fast. The ground would
be a muddy mess, but the warmer weather and easier travel conditions
would simplify our job tenfold, as people were more likely to be out and
about rather than hunkered down in their homes.
By the time we finished eating with the other guests at the inn, we’d
gotten some good information about the area.
Apparently Ipswitch was much more than just a road between Salem
Village and Salem Town. It was a line that divided them, both literally
and figuratively. According to our breakfast companions, one side was
mostly farmers, daily churchgoers, the most pious of believers. On the
other, merchants and moderates flocked, creating an almost citified port
town not so different from Boston. Most in town still identified them-
selves as Puritan, either by name or by deed, but they seemed much more
relaxed, at least by Puritan standards. They wore stylish, but still staid,
clothes, and business was brisk at Goodwin’s Tavern in the center of
town.
Armed with information, we decided we’d keep to town for the time be-
ing in hopes of finding folks more willing to talk to strangers. If we got
nowhere, we’d make the trek to Salem Village the next day.
We went back upstairs to wash up and head out. As we finished, there
was a knock at the door. I opened it to see the maid, Sarabeth, standing
in the hallway, worrying the cloth of her apron with white-knuckled fin-
gers. Her face was an almost ghoulish shade of gray and she wouldn’t
meet my eyes as I ushered her into the room.
Dev had come to stand beside me and addressed her in a calming
voice. “Is everything all right?”
Her instinctive nod rotated into a decisive shake of the head. “No.
I—I’ve word on your companion. Earlier this morning when I went for
milk.”
My legs turned to jelly. I leaned heavily on Dev and braced myself for
the blow. “What is it? Tell me.”
“Two men arrived on the same day. The tall one, with the red hair?
He’s been imprisoned. In Ipswitch Jail.”
“For what?” Dev demanded.
The relief that swamped me was almost overwhelming and I sucked in
a breath. Jail. That was…okay with me. We’d get him out and everything
would be all right. I could deal with anything, really, as long as he was
alive. But that sense of relief was short-lived, evaporating with her next
words.
“He’s been accused—” she hesitated, her wide, dark eyes finally con-
necting with mine as she finished on a whisper, “—of witchcraft.”
“No.” I shook my head furiously. “No, that all happened more than five
years ago. I know my history, dammit. This can’t be right.”
Dev’s response was much more calm and he squeezed my shoulder
lightly, a warning to mind what I said. “We came to Salem under the im-
pression that the witch trials had long since passed. Is this not true?”
“Yes. ’Tis true, sir. As your lady said, it has been several years since the
last of the accused was released. But what I said is no less true. Your man
is indeed imprisoned. I learnt that on good authority. All of Salem Village
is talking. Even now, word has spread here to the townsfolk. People are
afraid. And well they should be.” She lifted a trembling hand to adjust her
bonnet.
“Are you afraid of us, Sarabeth?” Dev asked gently.
“I don’t think you are witches, if that is what you are asking. Your com-
panion either. I don’t believe witches exist. Most of the people in town
have denounced the practice of trying witches, but those who believe?
Their voices are loud and fierce, and they have many in the church be-
hind them.” She shook her head slowly, the sadness evident in her tone.
“So I am not afraid of you, but yes, I am afraid. It was a difficult time. I
was young, but I remember it well. People were killed. Many more im-
prisoned. We were afraid to leave our homes for fear of gazing on the
wrong person for too long or someone becoming sick in our presence. All
it took was one small thing.”
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“Do you know why he was accused? Or what happened to the man with
him? How long has he been there?” I asked, a million more questions
banging around in my brain, unspoken.
“Almost nine days now. If not for this late blizzard, I would have heard
the news last week. I do not know why the accusation was made,” she
said with a weary shrug. “In the past, the finger was pointed by one but
many more added their own complaints. Another man was also arrested
on suspicion of witchcraft but he posted bail. He is to remain until he’s
called as a witness. He is staying at a boarding house near the Ipswitch
Jail.”
Before she’d finished speaking I’d wriggled away from Dev and was
bustling around the room, gathering my boots and carpetbag.
She called to me urgently from her spot right inside the doorway. “Do
not go ill-prepared, ma’am. Be careful, lest you be looked upon with sus-
picion as well. These people can be vicious.”
Bully for them. They might be vicious, but they had no idea who they
were fucking with.
* * *
“I want to see Bacon Frogs.”
Five sets of eyes turned toward me and stared. Two of the men sat
hunkered over a chess board, while the other three sat around a table
drinking what smelled like beer from coffee cups.
A portly man with a long black beard eyed me suspiciously then set
down the rook he’d been holding. “And who might you be?”
I was all riled up and ready to jump down his throat, but Dev slid
smoothly between us and went balls-out “Master of the Manor” on him.
“Not that it’s any of your concern, good sir, but I’m the Duke of Leister,
and this is my wife. We are here to see Mr. Frogs. We have places to be
and this weather has already caused us to be delayed. And this? This trav-
esty causes us to be delayed further. Please, bring the man here at once.”
The man was wholly unimpressed and gave Dev a stern look. “I’m the
warden here. I’ll have you know that your man hasn’t even the coin to pay
his food and board. He shan’t have visitors unless they can pay what he
owes thus far.”
Dev reached in his pocket and pulled out a sack of the coins we’d
traded jewelry for on the way to the jail. “Take what he owes and return
the rest to me after we’ve had our visit.” He tossed the bag with a careless
51/124
flick of his wrist and turned toward the door, waiting to be led to Bacon’s
cell.
A moment later, the rickety chair squealed in protest as the man
struggled to his feet. “You have twenty minutes,” he grumbled, lumbering
past us to the door.
He led us down a long hallway to another wide doorway. A lantern sat
on a small table. He picked it up and opened the thick oak door. I stopped
in my tracks as a blast of cold air swept into the room. He didn’t turn
around at my gasp, instead stepping forward to begin his descent down
the narrow, stone steps.
Dev reached his hand back to grasp mine, giving it a reassuring
squeeze. We followed close behind Bacon’s captor, and I fantasized about
giving him a push to help him the rest of the way down.
As we reached the bottom, despite the increasing chill, my heart poun-
ded with excitement. We were going to get to see Bacon. We’d figure out
what the deal was, bribe or bust him out of this hovel, hightail it to the
wormhole and be on our way back home by midnight. Once he was safe, I
could come back to deal with Grubb on my own. Unless, of course, Dev
insisted on being a pain in the ass about it and made it a two-man job.
My initial excitement faded as we turned right down a dank hallway to-
ward a row of cells. It stank of mold and something long dead. I flinched
at the sound of nails scrabbling against the stone floor, squashing the fear
scurrying up the back of my neck. I knew what was causing the noise, but
refused to look down for confirmation. Rats. It was one thing to carry the
vile, red-eyed creatures around in a covered trap. It was a whole other
kettle of fish to have them scurrying around your feet. I felt a twinge of
pity for Catherine Blakeslee followed by a dollop of remorse.
“You have a visitor, Frogs,” the sloppy bastard boomed as we ap-
proached the row of tiny cells.
Bacon stood up from the filthy straw pallet he’d been lying on. He was
wrapped in a threadbare blanket, his whole body trembling.
I jogged the last few yards as he approached the bars. “It looks like
you’re freezing to death. Are you all right?” I took his hand, gasping as his
icy skin touched mine. The warden had already turned to go, but I
shouted after him. “Get him another blanket. This is ridiculous.”
I vaguely heard Dev speaking with him about compensation for the
blanket as I looked my brother over. He was pale, and dark purple
smudges darkened the skin beneath his haunted eyes. His filthy clothes
hung loose on his previously hulking frame. He must have lost ten
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pounds already. Cold, tired, afraid, he was likely all of those things. It
made me want to break stuff. But he was alive, and that was enough to
keep me from doing murder. For the moment.
I reached in my coat pocket and pulled out the cloth-covered loaf of
bread along with a slab of cold pork I’d stuffed there for him. He un-
wrapped the packages and tore the bread in half before taking a massive
bite.
“Tell me, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
He followed my lead and spoke in hushed tones. “I’m all right. Glad to
see you two. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find me,” he said through a
mouthful of bread. “I’m glad you brought Dev. This place is out of
control.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Well, I grabbed Grubb in the alley. We spun off. While we were en
route, we squabbled over the TTM. We landed on the bluff—”
“Right, us too. We grabbed your time-tail.”
“Thank God for that. So, anyway, when Grubb and I landed, we were
still fighting. I got the TTM from him, but it was broken.”
“That’s okay. That’s good, actually. At least we know Grubb’s not going
anywhere.”
“Doesn’t matter now anyway,” he said, shaking his head. “They took it.”
“Who took it?”
“The magistrate. As evidence. Grubb claimed I tried to steal it from
him.”
“No big deal. The three of us can all travel on mine. We’re going to get
you out of here. Take you home. I’ll come back for Grubb and his TTM.”
Bacon looked down but didn’t respond. Poor love, it must have been a
truly horrific nine days for him.
“Don’t worry. A few more hours and this will be over,” I reassured him.
“While I’m here, you give me all the info you have on the prison. How
many guards, how often they check on you, what time you go to bed, just
in case. On our way out, we’ll attempt to do things the old-fashioned way.
Dev’s going to try and bribe them. If that doesn’t work, we’ll come up
with a plan and be back tonight for you.”
“No.”
I’d already moved on mentally and gave no notice to his response.
“You’ll need to be at the ready so make sure you don’t fall asleep.”
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Bacon squeezed my hand tight and I paused to look at him in question.
His face was filled with regret and sadness as he shook his head. “I said
no. I can’t go with you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded.
I wanted to believe he was going to spout off some nonsense about be-
friending a mouse and not wanting to leave it or some such. We’d nip it in
the bud and be done with it. But somehow, I knew in my heart it wasn’t
going to go down like that this time. Because along with the regret,
something else shone clear on his face that I hadn’t seen when we came
in, or ever, really. Absolute determination. His eyes had taken on a fierce
light and his jaw was set.
I thought back to all the times since he was small that I’d taken advant-
age of his easygoing nature, coercing him into doing things the right
way…my way. In the face staring back at me, that boy was nowhere to be
found.
Dev walked over then and handed Bacon the blanket he’d procured
from the guard. “Glad to see you, old fellow. Gave us a scare there. You all
right?”
Bacon carefully wrapped the remaining half of his bread and pork in
the cloth and stuffed it into his pocket before accepting Dev’s offering
with a nod. They shared a look I couldn’t decipher. “Yeah, I’m all right.” A
moment later, Bacon returned his gaze to mine. “But I can’t leave. Not
without Emma.”
“Who the bloody hell is Emma?” Maybe it was a jailhouse pet after all.
“My friend.”
“Your…friend.” I tipped my head to the side and gave the miniscule cell
a thorough scan then eyeballed the remaining six empty cells. Maybe I’d
misinterpreted the expression on his face earlier. Daft could easily be
mistaken for determined in this dim light. Had his imprisonment driven
him off the deep end? Or maybe he’d eaten some bad gruel, or whatever
they were serving up in this shithole.
“You do know there’s no one else in there with you, right?” I said
carefully.
“No. I mean, yes, not here,” he amended.
Egads, this was getting worse and worse. I gave him the “keep it mov-
ing” wave of my hand. “We only have fifteen minutes left here with you,
so spit it out. What, you have an imaginary friend? A guardian angel?”
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He frowned at me as he pulled his hand away. “No. What do you think
I am, an idiot? She’s as real as you are. She’s the other witch imprisoned
here.”
“There isn’t an ‘other’ witch, because you’re not a witch, Bacon.” My
voice was steadily on the rise and my patience was wearing thin.
Dev cut in, recognizing I was about to lose it. “Ah, so someone else was
arrested with you. Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Dev asked
gently.
“See, when we first got here, when me and Grubb landed on the bluff,
apparently someone saw us. We didn’t realize it at the time because we
were wrestling over the TTM.” He looked at Dev. “You’d be surprised how
scrappy that little bastard is,” he said with a bemused shake of his head.
“At any rate, I finally got it from him and knocked him to the ground. I
tried to leave right away, to bring it back to London, figuring he’d be
stuck here. Once I got back to you guys, we could come back together and
decide what to do with him. Only it was broken.”
He held up his hands to demonstrate. “Needs a new mercury pin and
we need to weld the main gear back on tight. Anyway, I took off toward
town, hoping to get what I needed to fix it. But by the time I’d found a
store in town, there was mob of people coming for me, Phineas Grubb
hobbling at the front of the line. Right next to him was this pale little girl.
When she saw me, she pointed and let out an ear-piercing screech. All
hell broke loose, and they all came at me screaming ‘Warlock!’ and stuff.”
My heart lurched. He must have been terrified. All three of us had had
our share of hate spat our way in the past. Bacon and I as little beggars on
the streets of London, treated with indifference on the best of days and
rabid dogs on the worst. And Dev after being sent to Bedlam for his
“hallucinations.”
I turned to look at my husband. I’d been so caught up, it hadn’t even
occurred to me that being here in a prison, among the filth and inhuman-
ity, would be difficult on him.
He must have sensed my stare because he leaned in and kissed my
forehead. He gave me a reassuring nod as he turned back to Bacon. “So
what happened after that?”
“Well, at first I tried to fight them off, but there were women and chil-
dren in the bunch. I didn’t want to hurt them with my flailing around and
what-not. So I stopped and they grabbed me. Emma saw what was hap-
pening and came running from her shop to stop them.” He smiled at the
memory for a moment before continuing. “She was doing a fair job of it,
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smacking some of them back with a stick she’d picked up until someone
hit her from behind. She fell to the ground. I ran to help her, but they
jumped me.”
He shrugged. “Next thing I knew I was restrained, brought to the meet-
inghouse and a magistrate told me I was accused of practicing witchcraft.
Emma too. All because she tried to help me.
“More people showed up at the meetinghouse. A lot of them spoke up
against the proceedings, warning the magistrate that the governor
wouldn’t approve, but there was one group, the ones who chased me.
They were almost foaming at the mouth to have me arrested. The magis-
trate wasn’t about to just let me go. There would’ve been a riot.”
“I still don’t understand. Why you? If the other girl saw the two of you
appear together on the bluff, why not Grubb?” Dev asked.
“He got picked up first. Apparently, when she saw us pop through the
wormhole she went to grab some of the elders from the village. She
brought them back to the bluff to find us. Grubb had turned his ankle in
the scuffle and hadn’t managed to get far. They took him in for question-
ing. Rather than denying the whole thing, he managed to convince them I
was the culprit and he an innocent victim.”
“What did you say in your defense?”
“Not much. I mean, I said I wasn’t a witch and that he was lying. I told
them the timepiece was mine and that he tried to steal it. That was why
we’d been fighting. They asked how we’d appeared there, but I kept say-
ing the girl must have been mistaken. I didn’t offer any explanation bey-
ond that. Mainly because I couldn’t think of what the hell to say, but also
because I’d hoped you’d find me and I didn’t want to muddy the waters
or say the wrong thing.”
“Perfect. You did good, bro.” Even if they weren’t open to a bribe, all
they had on him were eyewitness accounts, one of them bogus. Surely we
could spin that somehow. Especially after the last debacle in Salem, they
wouldn’t find him guilty without hard evidence.
“Not as good as I would’ve liked.” He ran an agitated hand through his
hair and set sorrowful eyes on me. “Dammit, Storm. I messed up bad. I
was so worried about getting the TTM fixed.” His voice dropped to a
miserable whisper. “I didn’t D. I. E.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cold iron bars
separating us. As time pirates, we’re bound to a lot of rules. There are the
obvious ones, like don’t change anything that will alter the course of his-
tory in a major way. Don’t go back in time to try to save someone who’s
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died. Don’t steal from a Viking. Okay, the last one is good advice for any-
one, but still, we have a lot of no-no’s to keep track of. But the top three
are Time Pirating 101:
Disassemble your TTM.
Identify landmarks.
Empty your pockets.
D. I. E.
Every time we go somewhere new, there’s a chance we could be robbed
or even hit by a bus. If our TTM gets into the wrong hands in ready-to-
use condition, it could and almost certainly would be catastrophic. So we
disassemble our TTMs. If we go somewhere and need to get out in a
hurry—we’re being chased by Huns wanting their gold back, say—if we
can’t find the wormhole, we could wind up dead. So we always identify
landmarks to find our way back. And last but not least, the one Bacon
had clearly forgotten—empty our pockets. For a planned journey, it
would be done in advance, as Dev and I had done with the children in the
alley. For a trip like this, it should have been Bacon’s first thought when
he’d landed, or at least once he’d gotten the TTM from Grubb.
I had to swallow the bile that had suddenly risen to my throat before I
could speak. “What did they find? Something more than the broken
TTM?” That was easily explained as nothing more than a foreign
timepiece.
“My frog.”
The animatronic frog Dev had given him for his birthday. Breakfast
flipped in my belly. Had it been anything but that…had he dumped it
somewhere or hidden it near the cliffs, we might have had a shot of ex-
plaining his strange and sudden appearance or discrediting his accuser.
But now it wasn’t a few people pointing fingers. They had proof of
something seemingly uncanny, and no fancy talk or bribe was going to
get him out of it.
The shamed folks of Salem Village had finally bagged themselves a real
witch and there was no way they were letting him go.
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Chapter Six
After one last attempt at getting Bacon to reconsider, we promised him
we’d be back the next day and left. Dev led the way up the stairs and I fol-
lowed close behind with a heavy heart. My brother would spend another
night in that miserable cell, by choice, and I couldn’t figure a way to make
him change his mind.
I wanted to shake him, to scream at him, but I knew it wouldn’t do any
good. He’d never leave “Emma” behind. She’d tried to help him. Been on
his side when no one else was. He’d sooner rot in jail than repay her
kindness with disloyalty. He wasn’t going to budge without her. No point
in wasting time lamenting the situation. I needed to take that energy and
channel it in another direction. We needed to get them both out, either by
proving them innocent or by force.
The only problem was, if we busted them out, what the hell were we
supposed to do with the girl? Get her out of jail only to have her scooped
up again once we’d gone? That wouldn’t work, but we couldn’t tell her
about time travel, either. Taking her with us, even if she was willing to go,
was not an option.
The most important thing Gilly had ever taught me was the risk of
telling others about the existence of time travel. That knowledge could
corrupt even the nicest of people. Dev had been the only exception in all
my years as a time pirate and it took almost losing him to make me cave.
I did it for love. But not only that, he’d been close to making the discovery
on his own anyway and well understood the ramifications of changing the
past without heed to the effect on the future. For most people, it would
take nothing more than a sick loved one or a tragic accident before they
would be willing to risk the future of the world as we know it to change
things.
We definitely couldn’t take Emma with us, but maybe she’d be willing
to move away from Salem. Dev and I could take her to another state, set
her up with a cottage somewhere. She’d be safe then. Surely Bacon would
agree to that. But if she had family…
We’d deal with that when the time came. It was a big enough challenge
just figuring how to get them out. No sense looking for more problems.
Dev opened the door at the top of the stairs and we stepped into the
toasty room. The men were still playing chess by the crackling fire. Their
conversation halted as we approached. My resentment boiled to a head as
I took in the cozy scene. I opened my mouth to speak, but Dev beat me to
the punch.
“These conditions are unacceptable. It’s freezing down there, the rats
are more plentiful than the food and his cell is filthy.” His voice had an
edge I’d rarely heard. Seeing Bacon’s prison had affected him more than
he’d let on. He was an advocate for the mentally ill in our time. A tireless
crusader for more humane treatment of those afflicted and all but the
most violent of criminals. He wasn’t going to let this pass.
The warden gave a snorting laugh. “You should have seen the old
Salem Prison. The accommodations here at Ipswitch are much
improved.”
“I can’t see how.”
“Consider your man lucky he wasn’t among the first witches tried here.
It might not be home, but the magistrate insisted upon leniency. We are
treating him very well indeed. The preliminary questioning was fair, and
answers were solicited without impetus. He is fed daily and given a cloth
to wash with.”
“Why is he alone down there?” Dev asked.
“We have them sequestered from the other prisoners.”
“Them?”
“Witches. There is an accused woman down the opposite corridor as
well.”
I puzzled at that for a moment. Clearly that was Emma, but if she was
so far away from him, how had Bacon befriended her? Perhaps they were
allowed to socialize or meet in a common room for meals? I filed it away
for later and tuned back in to the conversation.
“Keep the remainder of the coins,” Dev was saying, waving off the
man’s reluctantly outstretched hand. “I expect both he and the woman to
be treated with respect. Decent meals, like you or I would eat. And for
pity’s sake, get them heavier blankets. We’ll be back in the morning to
visit.”
The last was issued as a warning, and the guard wet his fleshy lips in a
sudden show of nerves. “All right. That should cover expenses for both
for the remainder of the week.”
“Can you tell me, when is he set to be tried?” I asked.
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“Grand jury hears his case five days hence. Court of Oyer and Terminer
has been disbanded, so if the grand jury hands up a true bill, he’ll have a
formal jury trial within the month.”
“Five days? That hardly seems long enough to mount a defense,” I
protested.
“Seems more than enough time for the indefensible. They have hard
evidence. Just a formality, this.”
Dev laid a staying hand on my shoulder and I sucked in a steadying
breath. Okay, so five days. Not a moment to waste. Time to find Bacon’s
accusers. First Phineas Grubb, then the girl. We had no way of knowing
exactly what either had said under questioning, or planned to say at the
hearing. Plus, maybe we could find out what Grubb’s game was and use
him to make this mess go away. All else failed, we’d come back and bust
them both out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, I reassured myself.
For some reason, I had the sinking feeling it wasn’t going to go down
quite so smoothly.
* * *
As we approached the Tavish Boarding House an hour later, I started to
sweat. Although the day had warmed considerably as it passed, it was
most certainly not the weather getting me all hot under the collar. It was
the thought of confronting Phineas Grubb that had me out of sorts. We
were only a few short minutes away from talking to him. My whole body
vibrated with adrenaline and my palms literally itched with the urge to
strangle him.
Dev must have sensed my mood and massaged my neck lightly. “We’ve
been here only one day. Look how far we’ve come. We caught the time-
tail, found Bacon and know where Grubb is. Things couldn’t be going bet-
ter. Now buck up and let’s get this taken care of, shall we, love?”
As the carriage slowed to a stop, I let myself melt into him for a long
moment before straightening my spine. “All right, let’s do this thing.”
Dev took my hand as we walked up the narrow wooden steps of the
house. We knocked and waited for the proprietor to answer.
An older woman, maybe in her late fifties, opened the door and offered
a warm hello. She wore her white hair in a bun at the nape and had a
comfortable look about her, rather like I’d always daydreamed my grand-
mother would look, if I’d had one.
60/124
“We understand that you’ve Phineas Grubb here. We’d like to speak
with him if we could,” Dev said, taking the lead again. I was fine with
that. People responded so well to him. Maybe it was the dimples.
In spite of her initially cheery welcome, her twinkling hazel eyes
dimmed at the mention of Grubb. “If you are here to speak of witches, I
do not entertain such nonsense in my house. I have said as much to the
constables as well. No one else would take him. While Mr. Grubb is wel-
come to stay and share our food, that is the extent of my Christian duty.”
“Not at all. We’re here on other, personal business,” Dev said. “And we
don’t believe in witches either,” he confided with a conspiratorial wink.
Her cheeks grew pink and she barely managed to stifle a smile. “Cer-
tainly, come right in,” she said, stepping to the side. “The guests are fin-
ishing dinner. He is sitting in the common room by the fire. His ankle
seems much improved but he insists upon being served there separately
so that he might rest his foot.” She didn’t exactly roll her eyes, but there
was no mistaking her exasperation.
We stepped in and she closed the door behind us. She swept past to
lead us through the house.
“Smells divine in here, madam,” Dev said with an appreciative sniff.
She threw him a delighted grin over her shoulder. “Spice cake. Would
you care for a slice? There is plenty left over.”
“Once we’ve completed our business with Mr. Grubb, I would be
honored.”
“As would I,” I chimed in hopefully. He’d managed to charm her in un-
der a minute, but there was no reason I shouldn’t get a piece of cake too.
Sugar always made me feel better.
She slowed to a stop in front of a large oak door and offered us both
another pink-cheeked smile. “Lovely.”
She moved to open the door but Dev cut in, laying his hand on the
knob. “Oh, please, don’t trouble yourself further. I’m sure you have much
to do with the cleanup of your afternoon meal. We can let ourselves in.”
She tipped her head to the side in thought, eyed the door scornfully
and stepped back with a nod. “One of the servants has taken ill and I
should get back to assist. I shall bring your cakes shortly.”
She turned and toddled down the hallway. Apparently Grubb was as
charismatic as ever. Dev opened the door and ushered me into the large
room. At first glance the room seemed empty. There were several stiff-
backed chairs and a walnut chest of drawers on one side of the room,
while the center was dominated by a short bench and two larger chairs.
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“I’m not finished yet,” a petulant voice called out from in front of the
fire. Grubb was there, seated but he was too short to see over the chair-
back.
Neither Dev nor I responded. I signaled Dev to give me a second and
crossed the room silently to sidle up to the arm of the chair. My heart
kicked hard against my ribs as I looked down at Grubb’s ratlike
countenance.
“Hello there, Phineas. London too warm for you this time of year?”
Grubb jerked at the sudden interruption, and his plate crashed to the
floor. His shifty eyes widened as he saw me. Struggling to his feet, he
wagged an accusing finger in my face. “You. I knew it was you the second
time I saw you on the street. And when your brother chased me down, I
had no doubt. Gilbert Green’s ragamuffins. But how did you catch on to
me? And how did you figure out where we would end up?” he asked, the
confusion plain on his face.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I responded waspishly. In truth, I was
thrilled to learn he had no knowledge of time-tails, but the idea that he
knew Gilly sent my brain reeling.
“Doesn’t matter. None of it matters now. I want you out of here.” He
gave my shoulder a shove. “Or I’ll have you arrested for witchcraft too.”
“Don’t do that again.” Dev’s voice was positively lethal. I smiled as the
color drained from Grubb’s face.
He turned around slowly to see Dev towering over him. His six-foot-
two-inch frame must have seemed like a wall of man to the diminutive
Grubb. He stepped back, bumping against me. I didn’t move, making
sure he knew we’d boxed him in.
“We need to talk,” I said as calmly as I could manage.
“You better not hurt me or I’ll scream. And believe me, I can scream
really loud.”
“I have no doubt of it.” Dev’s tone was dry as he eyed the other man
with disgust. “But that’s neither here nor there. If we wanted to hurt you
we wouldn’t have come knocking in broad daylight. We’re here to talk.
Have a seat.”
“You sit too.” His eyes rolled around in his head like a crackhead as he
tried to keep both Dev and I in his line of sight.
I hooked an ankle around the chair closest to me then sat. Dev followed
suit on the little bench behind him.
“You want to talk, talk,” Grubbs said, jutting his pointy little chin out
defiantly.
62/124
“For starters, who the hell are you?”
He considered this for a long moment and shrugged. “I’m Dr. Phineas
Grubb, highly respected scientist of the twenty-first century.”
I eyed him dubiously. He looked more like a character from a comic
book. “Seriously?”
His eyes grew icy, and for a second I actually contemplated taking him
seriously. He stared down his thin nose at me, not an easy feat, consider-
ing I was a good six inches taller than him. “I won’t be spoken to like I’m
an idiot. I’ll have you know, I represent the—”
“Lollipop Guild?” I cut in, feigning awe. “Do you know the song? Be-
cause I can play it on the kazoo and we can do an unplugged vers—”
“Enough of this nonsense! You mock me, but you don’t know who
you’re dealing with. You think because you brought some muscle with
you, you’re in charge? I hold the cards here. Your brother’s life is in my
hands.” His rodent face twisted into a sneer. “Now, as I was saying, I rep-
resent the Washington Alchemy Tribunal. We’re an esteemed group of
scientists and inventors who for the past thirty years have been investig-
ating claims regarding time-travel to determine if they have merit so we
can capitalize on that information and create a time-travel device.”
I just stared at him. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but to clarify. You guys are
going to solve the mystery of time-travel but didn’t have the foresight to
realize the acronym for your little club is TWAT?”
His little face went red at that. “It’s WAT, damn it! You don’t use the T
from ‘the.’ Plus, we’d already ordered the letterhead and it was going to
cost—” He paused, took a deep breath and held up a talk-to-the-hand.
“You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you. Suffice it to say
that with the help of your—” he cleared his throat and waggled his brows,
“—benefactor, we’ve succeeded in our mission.”
“On the back of Gilly’s research? And you call yourselves scientists?
More like thieves,” I said, bitterness coloring my tone.
“Who are you to judge me?” He leaned forward and raked my frame
with his oily gaze. “A nothing. A nobody. I know where you come from.
You’re nothing more than street trash who managed to latch on to a dod-
dering old fool after he’d lucked into the discovery of a lifetime. I guess
even the octogenarian set can appreciate a nice set of tits. Tell me,
Dorothy, was a ride to the future worth having to put up with his musty
old paws on you?”
It wasn’t the last insult that got to me. I’d been called far worse than a
whore—by my own mother even. No, it was the insinuation that Gilly
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wasn’t a brilliant scientist, a hundred years ahead of his time. Saying he
hadn’t been the single greatest innovator in all of history made me see
red. Just because most people weren’t aware of his contribution to sci-
ence didn’t make it less astonishing.
When Dev finally pulled me off Grubb twenty seconds later, I was
gasping for breath, my knuckles throbbing.
“My tooth is looth, my tooth is looth!” Wild-eyed, Grubb crabbed back-
ward, cowering against the wall. His bloody lip quivered as he stared up
from the floor, running his tongue over his incisors. “Keep that crazy
bitch away from me, or I swear, I’ll let that buffoon brother of hers burn.”
I broke free and launched myself at the little fucker again, grinning
with savage satisfaction as I landed a solid right.
Dev grabbed my arms and yanked me hard against his unyielding
body. “You really don’t have a lick of sense, do you?” he asked Grubb,
shaking his head incredulously.
“Why don’t you worry about yourself and keeping that bitch on a leash
for a bit, Your Highness. I’m going to give you one last chance to play
nice. Unless, of course, you like your Bacon extra crispy.” He let out a
nasally chuckle and raised his brows at Dev as if waiting for applause.
“First of all,” I growled, “get it straight. The witches in Salem don’t
burn, they hang. Second of all, if you make one more comment about my
brother or Gilly. One. More. Comment. I will string you up by your woe-
fully miniscule balls and use your empty head for a punching bag.”
“Let’s stop with the insults and sit back down,” Dev interjected. “There
has to be a mutually beneficial way to deal with this all.”
“There is,” Grubb said as he climbed to his feet. “Give me your func-
tional TTM so I can get out of here. You guys stay, make another TTM
then leave your brother to hang. I get to go home and you’re not saddled
with Forrest Gump on steroids anymore. It’s a win-win.”
Dev gave up playing the diplomat and closed his hand around Grubb’s
throat. “You may not believe she’d kill you, but by God, believe that I will.
That is enough.”
Grubb made a gargling sound and nodded furiously.
Dev released him and motioned for us all to sit. I righted my over-
turned chair as I sat, ramrod straight, feet firmly on the ground at the
ready if he made one false move.
“Now, what is it that you want? What is your goal here, Grubb?” Dev
asked as he folded his big body back onto the bench.
64/124
Grubb blew out a sigh. “I want to get back home and bring the informa-
tion I’d promised back to the tribunal.”
“What information?”
He shifted restlessly in his chair, clearly considering how much to tell
us. “Obviously, we can time travel. I was given the honor of first journey.”
I bit back a chuckle at that. The first traveler wasn’t the most esteemed
scientist—he was a sacrifice. The tribunal’s guinea pig would face count-
less unforeseen problems and risks since there were obviously so many
gaps in their research to contend with. I would guess the odds of return-
ing at all were in the neighborhood of fifty-fifty. The odds of returning
unscathed were even worse.
“We’d been following your—” he eyed Dev before meeting my gaze
again, “—Gilly during much of the nineteen-nineties. There had been
rumblings for a decade about him. After five years of constant surveil-
lance, we finally caught sight of him passing through a wormhole. We
took readings, did tests. It was endlessly fascinating, what we found.
Proof that time-travel was possible, but we needed more. We needed to
find out how he did it. So we hired a crack-shot jewel thief to break into
his home. He copied all of Green’s notes and we began the process of re-
creating his research.”
I bristled at the gall of Grubb and his cohorts but managed to keep my
mouth shut.
“He was wily for an old man, and there were a lot of holes, incomplete
information, cryptic notes and the like. Enough that it took us ten years
to finally come up with a prototype. Once we had it completed, we
planned to recreate his journey to eighteen-thirty-six London where he
first found you, as that was the only wormhole he had ever noted the loc-
ation of.” He looked down at his hands and scowled. “I thought I’d made
it, the night before I saw you in the shop. But once I began asking around
I realized I’d stopped short. Apparently, the pin didn’t hold enough mer-
cury for that length of a trip, and I hadn’t brought a spare. Even so, the
time-travel had been something of a success. I would’ve gone home a
hero, armed with new information about fueling the mechanism and so
much more. But I didn’t have mercury to make the journey back.”
“So you made the rounds in town, trying to collect enough to return,” I
finished for him.
He nodded. “Right. And I had more than enough when you guys were
chasing me, so I figured I’d better get out of town while I still could. You
know the rest.”
65/124
“Why here, though?”
“Ha!” He snorted. “It was all cued up to take me home when your
numbskull brother started pawing at it and broke it. I have no idea how
we got here, but it seemed like it kept going as far as the mercury would
take us and then stopped. I need to get back to the twenty-first century
now.”
Dev’s voice was even and persuasive. “Not until you do the right thing.
Retract your statement. Tell them you were drunk. Don’t testify, or an in-
nocent man will pay the price. Not to mention the poor young woman
who jumped in to protect him.”
“That one, she’s as dumb as a rock. Shouldn’t have stuck her nose in it.
Regardless, it’s taken on a life of its own. Even if I take it back, he’s going
to have a hard time getting out of this. The girl saw us. Plus, he had that
stupid toy on him, for God’s sake! Even I know better than to carry
around stuff like that, and this is my first travel.”
“What did you tell them when they picked you up?” I asked.
“They accused me of being a witch.” He shook his head incredulously.
“You should’ve seen them—they wanted a witch and they weren’t going to
take no for an answer. So I gave them one.” He shrugged. “I needed to get
the TTM back, so I told them I was from Boston. I’d been walking down
the street when this guy grabbed me and stole my watch. I tried to stop
him but he turned and spoke some devilry. The next thing I knew, we
were here, in Salem. Through magic. I’d hoped they’d give me my ‘watch’
back and call it a day. I’d be out of it. But no go.”
“So, what now? You’re going to stay here forever?”
He shook his head. “No way. If you guys won’t send me back, my TTM
is in the hands of the magistrate. They’re going to give it back to me after
the trial. When they do, I’m going to fix whatever your brother did to it
and go.”
“And leave two innocent people to die.”
He leveled me with a glare so full of hate and venom, I recoiled. “Don’t
talk to me about innocent. None of you are innocent. You’re selfish, hor-
rible people. You have no right to keep this technology to yourself, and
neither did your benefactor. You have the power of the gods in your
hands, and what do you do with it? Take jaunts to the past, digging up
junk and selling it for charity? You’re a joke.”
“And what would you do with that power, Phineas?” Dev asked quietly.
His eyes blazed, suddenly unfocused as he stared into the fire. “Change
the world. Control nations—” he paused then added, “—and bring my
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father back to life so the Great Phineas Grubb, Senior can see what an
amazing scientist I’ve become.” His voice was miserable as he slumped
forward, holding his head in his hands.
The room was silent but for the crackle of the fire as Dev and I ab-
sorbed that tidbit. I didn’t want to feel even a pinch of sympathy for him.
It had been so much easier when I’d relegated him to Snidely Whiplash, a
character without any real motivation at all other than to be bad. Now, in
the span of five seconds, he’d become quasi-human.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Dev caught my gaze and shook his
head. He leaned forward in his chair and spoke in low tones. “I imagine
that’s a strong motivation. But surely there is something else that would
make your father proud, aside from world domination. Something that
might honor his memory in a positive way. But you can’t bring him back.
Time-travel doesn’t work like that. We’re not gods. Hell, even the little
changes we make every time we jump have ramifications. This techno-
logy comes with an enormous responsibility. We have to make certain the
use of the TTM doesn’t get out of hand enough to ruin the future of the
world, while still trying to do some good with it. It’s a terrible balancing
act that never feels exactly right, but we try our damnedest. There are
things that can never…should never be done.” Dev held up his hands.
“Changes to major historical events, going back in time to save the dead,
those actions can only result in catastrophe.”
Grubb lifted his head and looked at Dev, his narrow face breaking into
a slow and chilling smile. “Really? Well, the proof will be in the pudding,
won’t it? Let’s see if you subscribe to that philosophy once your brother’s
hanged and they toss his body into an unmarked grave.” He picked up
the blanket lying on the back of his chair and slung it over his lap, giving
a dismissive wave. “You two have nothing to offer me. Get out of here be-
fore I accuse you too and you both end up right next to him.”
My sympathy was as fleeting as a Hollywood romance. I rose to my
feet, all riled up again. “You have the next five days to change your mind.
Either you retract your statement to the magistrate at the hearing and
give my brother a fighting chance, or I kill you and find another way to
free him.”
I turned and strode out of the room before I took the choice out of his
hands. No matter how much he deserved it, killing Grubb wasn’t an op-
tion. We needed to have him around as a last resort in the event that our
other plans failed. Plus, while I could probably badger someone enough
67/124
to make them wish they were dead, I’d have a hard time living with blood
on my hands.
As I stared down at the blood on my hands, the fury that had been
holding my shit together suddenly abandoned me. All that was left in its
wake was the terrifying realization that my brother was in very real
danger.
68/124
Chapter Seven
The cold was relentless, and every frigid breath sent a bolt of pain
through my chest. I huddled into the corner, curling myself into a tight
ball. Only a few more hours until daylight. It would be warmer then.
A rattling cough shuddered upward and I covered my mouth quickly
with a trembling arm.
“Jayzus, will you stop with the bloody coughing, you inconsiderate
bitch? I’ve been up half the night making the quid to buy you that loaf of
bread, and this is what I get.” My mother’s voice was slurred as she
called down from the bed.
Loaf, my arse. The crust she’d thrown me had barely been enough to
bother chewing. If she’d made any coin on her back that night, she’d
drunk the profits soon after. But I was sick, and my ear still rang from
the blow she’d delivered the night before, so I held my tongue.
The wind howled and sent an arctic blast under the rickety door. I
tried to hold my breath, to keep it in, but it was no use. Coughs racked
my body, ruthless in their intensity and seemingly without end. But
even over the sound of my barking lungs, I could hear her shifting, mov-
ing…the impatient sigh, the muttered curse, and finally the bed rustling
as she leapt to her feet.
Panic warred with the need for breath and I buried my face in my
sleeve. It was no use. A moment and one swift jerk later, I was on my
back staring up at her, silhouetted in the silvery moonlight. Her hair
was a wild mass around her shoulders as her mad, almost feverish eyes
burned into mine like coals. She gripped my shoulders, nails digging
deep through my threadbare nightshirt.
Her hot, foul breath washed over my face as she screamed, “Stop it!
Stop it! Stop it!”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. The mantra ran through my aching
head as she shook and shook and shook…
My vision blurred and faded. Then I was Bacon, shivering on the
stone floor of Ipswitch Jail. My mother’s features morphed into those of
a crone, her sneering mouth twisting into a gaping maw, her nose a dis-
figured hook.
“Wake up, love. It’s all right now,” a gentle voice crooned in my ear.
Warm, familiar fingers replaced the icy talons on my shoulder. I sur-
faced, sucking in a breath that made my chest ache with remembered
pain. My teeth chattered as I tried to speak. “We need more wood on the
fire. P-Please.” The pitiful weakness of my voice sickened me and I
turned my face away to peer out the window into the gray light of
morning.
“Shhh. Give me one second. Let me hold you.” Dev gathered me to him,
his body an inferno.
I huddled closer and let out a long, shaky sigh.
“Been a while,” he murmured as he rocked me in his arms.
I nodded against his chest, soothed by the solid, rhythmic beating of
his heart. As much as I hated feeling helpless, I couldn’t deny the bone-
deep sense of relief at his touch. I almost wished the dream about my
mother had continued to its real-life end. Because the next day, still sick
as a dog but through being treated like one by the person I still loved
against all reason, I’d left. Packed my meager belongings and hit the
streets of London. As awful as that night had been, it marked the end of
me being a victim and the beginning of something new. It was rough at
eight years old to be on my own, but I made some friends and a few years
later, I met Bacon. Almost like magic, I had a family. Someone who loved
me without condition or reserve. Someone I loved that same way.
My throat grew tight. I tried to think happy, innocuous thoughts but it
was a long while before I stopped shivering. When I finally did, Dev re-
leased his death grip on me and got up to add a log to the fire.
He came back to sit on the edge of the bed. His brow was furrowed, his
eyes soft with concern. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not even a little.”
My tone had crossed the line from firm to sharp and his lip quirked in
a regretful half smile. “I figured as much. All right then. You want to lie
down for a while longer or get an early start and venture into town?”
Since I wouldn’t allow him to comfort me, he’d gone with the tried-
and-true method of distraction, for which I was grateful. Once I put my
mind to work, the gaping sinkhole of grief and self-pity would shrink
down to a hairline crack. I’d be up and running again in no time. And
frankly, under the circumstances, I needed to be up and running. My
brother’s life depended on it.
After we’d left Grubb’s the afternoon before, we’d spent some time
wandering around Salem Town. We’d been somewhat encouraged to find
that, although gossip about the new witches was rampant, the vast
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majority of people were skeptical. In the aftermath of the trials, many of
the accusers had recanted their statements or apologized. There seemed
to be quite a bit of guilt and embarrassment among the townspeople. On
the other hand, there was also a lot of talk about one particularly zealous
deacon named Mature Eller and his followers.
Eller had been loyal right hand to minister Cotton Mather during the
witch trials and had still not admitted any fault or wrongdoing for the
way things went down. Mather had since moved to Boston, but Eller had
stayed behind, taking over Mather’s dwindling flock. He’d been the one
to rouse the small but vocal crowd that had taken Bacon and Emma to
see the magistrate. Eller’s church was a stone’s throw from the bluff, and
he’d taken an active role drumming up as much hysteria as he could
among his followers.
If we weren’t able to come up with a plan to rescue Bacon and Emma
that night, we’d try to kill the snake by chopping off its head. Maybe have
a little talk with Mature Eller and see if we couldn’t convince him to see
reason. Abigail Winter, the young girl who’d witnessed Bacon and Grubb
appear, was one of his followers, so we might be able to speak with her, as
well. My fervent hope was that if he calmed the fuck down, everyone else
might too. It wouldn’t likely help Bacon’s case directly, but if this was
anything like the twenty-first century, public opinion definitely held sway
over the way cases were handled. In any case, going to see Eller couldn’t
hurt. Probably.
I rose to my feet and moved to the wash bin, thankful there was no
mirror nearby. I sensed Dev’s concerned gaze so I tried to act natural in
spite of my inner turmoil. He let me get away with it, and began gather-
ing up his clothes. We took our time, both of us aware that I needed a
little more time to collect myself.
I splashed my face with cold water, choking back a gasp. It was awful,
considering the nightmare, but my head felt immediately clearer. Dev
was right; it had been a while since I’d dreamt of my mother. This trip
and all the worry about Bacon was taking a toll on me. I couldn’t wait un-
til my family was whole again so we could go home.
My thoughts turned to Molly. Hopefully she wasn’t missing us too
much. Odds were that she was far too busy torturing the staff to give us
much thought. We’d gone away on short time-travel stints in the past and
she’d done fine. Still, it was tough being away from her. Not as tough as
the thought of going back to her without her uncle Bacon, though. That
wasn’t going to happen. We were getting him out that night.
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I slipped my boots on and nodded to Dev.
“Ready.”
By the time we stepped out of the inn, the town was already bustling. It
was warm enough that my cape was sufficient cover and we marveled at
the fickle weather. We decided to walk since the prison was only a few
miles away.
When we got there the warden was nowhere to be found, but a guard
occupied the same chair and another sat across from him. Both looked up
as we entered.
“We’re here to see Bacon Frogs,” Dev said in a tone that brooked no
argument.
He eyed us both suspiciously and his gaze zeroed in on my bag. “What
have you there?”
“Food. A heavier blanket we bought in town.” I held open the carpetbag
and he stood to peer inside. After he’d poked around a bit, he backed
away.
“Follow me.”
We trailed behind him, but this time I paid careful attention to my sur-
roundings, checking for windows, counting the steps and estimating the
distance between doorways.
“No chess matches today?” I asked conversationally.
“This evening,” the guard answered in a brisk tone.
After speaking with Sarabeth on the way out that morning, we’d
learned that what we’d witnessed on our first visit wasn’t out of the norm.
The prison was something of a hangout for the local men. They’d drink
beer, gossip about the prisoners and play games with the guards on duty
in the evenings when they weren’t in church.
It was apparently gearing up to be one of those evenings. I weighed
that mentally, trying to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Could be a great distraction and lend us some cover trying to get two
people out of there. Then again, more people upstairs meant more people
to get past and more people to chase us down if we were detected. I put
that problem on the back burner as something to chew on later.
As we approached the cell, the guard turned back toward the stairs.
“Twenty minutes.”
Straw rustled as Bacon stood. “Hey, guys.” His smile was strained and I
knew being trapped in the cell was getting to him. Thank God they’d done
away with the practice of shackling the prisoners in. He would have lost
his mind by now.
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“Hey, bro. Brought you some food.” I cracked open the bag and pulled
out a small wheel of cheese and some bread.
He snagged it through the bars and again, carefully split everything in
two, pocketing half before he began to eat.
“Saving some for later?”
He shook his head. “Half for Emma.”
“Did they feed you better since yesterday?”
“A little. Thicker pottage, some beer instead of plain water.”
“Well, this will be the last day you’ll have to put up with this nonsense.
We’re coming back tonight and we’re going to try to get you out.”
“I won’t go w—”
“Her, too,” I cut in grimly.
His green eyes lit with relief. “How?”
“We haven’t worked out all the details yet, but we will. Tell me, how of-
ten do the guards come at night?”
“Not often. Around nine, one of the guards comes around and puts out
the lantern.” He gestured to the weakly flickering light that stood on a
shelf at the opening of the corridor. He gave an involuntary grimace, his
gaze growing shuttered. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. I’d lived
in enough shitholes to know that varmints loved the cover of darkness. In
the pitch-black of this dungeon things probably got pretty horrible once
the lights were out.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued briskly, “Then at one
a.m., two of them come together and do a walk-through. We don’t see
them again until morning.”
“And in the ten days you’ve been here, they’ve never broken that
pattern?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure you maybe didn’t hear them come through earlier than
one o’clock? Maybe you slept through it?” Dev asked.
He cracked out a humorless laugh and shook his shaggy head. “No
chance. If you want to keep your fingers and toes in this place, it pays to
sleep lightly. I wake at the slightest noise.”
“Do you have any familiarity with the rest of the building? Is there an-
other exit?”
“No clue. But when I first got here, I was questioned and examined in a
small room upstairs. There were windows and stuff, but we came through
the front entrance. After that, they brought me down the stairs to the
main floor and down into the dungeon. I’ve been here ever since.”
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“Examined for what?” Dev asked, cluing in to something I’d wondered
about, as well.
“Devil’s mark.”
I’d read about such things but hadn’t thought of that happening to Ba-
con. “And?”
“They found one.”
“Yeah, sure, some freckle on your ass or something, right?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Nope. ’Member that time you shot me?”
I did. We’d been fooling around in the woods behind Gilly’s house,
shooting my slingshot at targets. He’d been running around like usual
and I hadn’t been paying close enough attention to where he’d gotten to.
I’d ended up hitting him right in the shoulder with a stone. Hard.
It was summer and he didn’t have a shirt on, so the rock broke the
skin, burrowing pretty deep. He was tough even then, though. In spite of
the blood, he’d stilled his quivering lip and agreed to not tell Gilly about
the incident. He also agreed to let me dig it out. Those concessions came
at a craftily negotiated price and ended up costing me my best slingshot.
I’d managed to get the stone out of his arm all right, but it had never
really healed properly. The scar stuck out like a little knot of puckered
skin.
“That’s the mark of the devil?”
“Guess what that makes you?” Bacon asked, brows raised.
I scowled at him. “Seriously, though. People have scars and stuff
around here, don’t they?”
“Sure. I imagine it doesn’t really matter—unless, of course, you’re a
witch. Then they aren’t scars or freckles, they’re what you use to suckle
your familiar.”
“Ew.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So where’s your familiar?”
“Great question. That’s what I asked, but they wouldn’t answer. Emma
explained it to me. Apparently they think I can turn my familiar into a
mechanical creature in order to hide its true nature. My last name only
confirmed their suspicion.”
It took a second to sink in. The frog. For a second, I marveled at the
strange string of events that had brought us here. All the stars had to
have aligned exactly right to produce such a perfect mess. It was like Fate
had manufactured this clusterfuck with meticulous forethought. My
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karma must be a hot mess. The thought was disconcerting to say the
least. “Did you tell them anything else?”
“Nope. Just my name. And I kept saying the same thing over and
over—’I’m not a witch.’”
“Good. Stick to that no matter what if they ask you anything else. We’ll
be back for you tonight. We’ll case the joint on the way out if we can, try
to find alternate exits. The plan is to come back at around nine-twenty
while it’s dark out and the guards are distracted socializing. Be ready.
We’ll get you out first, then Emma. It’ll be fast. This lock is nothing. Is
hers the same, do you know?”
“Not sure, but I imagine so.”
“All right. I don’t think they have anything that could keep me out for
long, in any case. All told, it should take thirty minutes, tops. That gives
us a couple hours to get you out of the building before they even know
you’re gone.”
“I’ll be ready.” Bacon’s cheeks were pink and he seemed much more
hopeful than he had when we’d come in.
I kept that image of him close to my heart as we prepared to leave
again. We talked a few minutes more, until the door opened and the
guard descended.
After saying a quick goodbye, we were ushered back up the stairs.
Once we stepped through the doorway, I hung back as much as I dared
and got a look farther down the hallway of the main floor. There was a
room opposite the “chess room.” As I craned my head around to peer in-
side it, I could just make out the start of a banister and stairs leading to
the second floor.
The guard was moving fast, so I didn’t see much more. Dev and I said a
pleasant goodbye as he led us to the door, then we stepped out into the
brisk afternoon air. It took a minute for our eyes to adjust to the bright
sunshine. We walked around the long way to the side of the building, tak-
ing the opportunity to view the house from all angles.
“I see two ways to handle this,” Dev said. “We can barrel right through.
Go in, dole out mickies, make everyone take a nice, long nap while we do
what needs to be done. The problem there is that we’ve no idea how
many people will be here. If it’s only the two guards, it would be easy. A
room of ten men? Not so. One might get woozy, warn the others and so
on. It could get very ugly, very quickly.”
“I agree. That’s last resort. I don’t mind fighting our way out, but it’s
not the simplest solution.”
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“The other, more elegant option is to sneak in through the upstairs.
Break in through the second-story window there. Sneak down the stairs,
pick the first lock and enter the dungeon. Get Bacon first and bring him
with us so Emma knows we can be trusted. Then, take them out the same
way we got in.”
I nodded in agreement. “It’s the better of the two options. As much I’d
like to think we could manage all four of us tromping up and down the
stairs in total silence, undetected, it’d be better if we had a distraction.”
“I would be a distraction,” a low voice said.
My heart pounded as I whipped my head around to see a petite woman
in a scarlet cape. She was a real show-stopper. Her glossy, midnight hair
fell around her shoulders in the fashion I typically preferred my own.
While I’d wrangled mine into a knot in deference to the style of the times,
this woman obviously had no such concerns. Her eyes were the lightest
shade of green, like the worn glass we used to collect on the beaches of
Nantucket with Gilly. Her lips were full enough to make me think dirty
thoughts about them, and I didn’t even swing that way.
“You would be that,” Dev agreed in a dry tone. “But I’m afraid maybe
you came in on the wrong part of the conversation. We were—”
She saved Dev from finishing his line of BS with a staying hand.
“You’re Bacon’s family. Don’t be afraid of me, friends. I’m Emma’s moth-
er, Millicent.”
She looked like no Millicent I’d ever seen and she certainly didn’t look
old enough to have a daughter close to Bacon’s age. I craned my neck
closer to get a better look. Still no wrinkles but she was starting to look a
little worried, so I backed up.
“You look very young.”
“I’m forty years old.”
“That is a good-looking forty.”
She nodded her thanks with a graceful bow of her head. “Now, please,
allow me to assist you with your quest, won’t you? Emma is my only
child.” Her eyes shimmered with tears that only made them even lovelier.
“I only just heard about the accusations. I’ve been away from this place
for many years now, but a dear friend managed to send word about
Emma and your brother. I came as quickly as I was able.”
“Does she know you’re here yet?”
She tossed her head from side to side. “No. I was on my way to see her
when I heard the two of you. I want to help.”
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She was a total unknown and might prove to be more harm than help.
Plus, I wasn’t exactly keen on adding yet another ill-prepared player to
this already over-casted tragedy in the making. I hedged my bets. “Maybe
it would be better if you could be ready, waiting for her once we get them
out. That way you can get her far away from here as quickly as possible.”
“I fear you may not succeed without me. Trust in me, I won’t disap-
point you. We must act quickly. If we don’t get them out soon, I fear they
will not get out at all.”
She wasn’t letting me off the hook. I looked to Dev, but he shrugged
helplessly.
“I would assist you in this,” she pressed, her voice getting stronger.
“The guards know me. The townspeople know me but I’ve been away for
a long time. If I go back to Emma’s and wait until tonight to come here,
my appearance would be something of a surprise. I would be able to keep
their attention while the two of you release Emma and Bacon. Please. I
won’t fail you.” The tears had evaporated and there was a determination
in her face that was making me start to believe her. It could certainly help
to have the guard’s attention elsewhere.
“What kind of distraction?” I asked.
Her full lips tilted in a bitter half smile. “Although women often avoid
me, most men are happy to engage me in conversation. Even the most
pious.”
She didn’t need to elaborate further; neither Dev nor I doubted her.
“All right. Come back here a few minutes after nine o’clock tonight. Do
your thing, and try to keep their attention until just before ten. We’ll
meet you on the bluff, hopefully with Emma and Bacon. We’ll have trans-
portation ready for the two of you to get away. Now, maybe you should go
to your daughter’s house and take the opportunity to pack her most im-
portant belongings. Make a small bundle and hide it somewhere near the
bluff so we can pick it up.”
“Yes. I’ll go there now.” She turned to leave, then hesitated. “I’m so
grateful to you both for this. I tried to convince Emma to come with me
when the accusations began the first time, but she insisted on remaining
in Salem. She can be so willful, but I love her dearly. Maybe now she’ll see
the sense in leaving this place. It’s poison, you know. I’ll be glad to see the
last of it for good.”
“Sing it, sister,” I muttered under my breath.
“Don’t thank us,” Dev warned. “We haven’t gotten her out yet. It’s not
going to be easy.”
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“And still, I thank you for trying. If we don’t succeed, we’ll find another
way.”
That we would. Too bad we had no idea what that other way might be.
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Chapter Eight
By the time nine o’clock rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves, despite
that things were going according to plan. The moon hung high and bright
in the sky, which was to our advantage since we’d opted to travel from the
inn to the prison entirely on foot. We’d kept off the road as much as pos-
sible and hadn’t run into a single soul since we’d left the inn.
A few hours earlier, we’d tethered a carriage and two horses a quarter
mile from the bluff, in the woods. Once we got Emma and Bacon out, we
were going to run to the bluff then send Emma off with her mother. Milli-
cent had assured us they had the means to start over and would be fine
once they got out of Salem. They would ride through the night until they
reached Boston while Dev, Bacon and I rode off at the same time in the
opposite direction, ostensibly in hopes of confusing any pursuers. But in
actuality, we planned to circle back to the bluff and leave the way we’d
come. If all went well, it would be our last day in Salem.
Wormholes were dicey, though. They could fade with little notice and
reappear without warning, so we’d double-checked. Lucky for us it was
open and didn’t appear to be in danger of closing anytime soon. If by
some tenet of Murphy’s Law it did close before we got there, we’d ride to
Connecticut, where I knew of another wormhole.
With that contingent plan in place, I put it out of my head. The top pri-
ority was to get Bacon and Emma out. Once we’d done that, the rest
would seem like a piece of cake.
I spared a glance at Dev, whose face was fierce with concentration as
we approached the small wooded area surrounding the jail. “Where are
we on time?” I whispered.
“Ten after. She should be here any minute now.” The words had barely
passed his lips when a flash of red in the dark caught my eye. Millicent.
She was walking down the road with a large basket, looking for all the
world like Little Red Riding Hood. To her credit, she didn’t seem to be
scouring the trees to see where we were. She strolled along, as natural as
could be. We watched in silence as she approached the jail, taking a quick
glance around before entering.
“Give her three minutes, make sure she’s in for sure, then we go,” Dev
breathed.
I nodded, stepping toward him. “Kiss for luck,” I said lightly.
He looked puzzled but bent low to accept my offer. When I was on a
mission, I was typically all business. It was rare for me to let myself be
vulnerable, and even rarer for me to seek comfort. I didn’t care, though. I
needed him to ground me, to reassure me, to remind me that once this
was done, everything would be okay.
His firm, familiar mouth pressed against mine. I closed my eyes, letting
the sensation wash over me like a warm bath. He hauled me up close and
gave my bottom a pat before letting go.
“There’s a girl. It’s going to be all right, yeah? Come on, time to go.”
I grabbed his face in both hands, holding him still for a long moment,
taking in the slash of his cheekbones, the tiny cleft in his chin, the glint of
determination in his eyes, committing it all to memory. What had I done
to deserve this man? This lover, this partner who was willing to lay his
freedom—his very life—on the line for my brother without hesitation?
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.
For a moment a smile erased the worry etched on his face, and the sur-
prised pleasure on his face eased mine. “And I’m even more glad to hear
it, love.”
I’d managed to shock him twice in under a minute. Once with the
lovey-dovey and once by admitting I was wrong. My cheeks burned at the
tenderness in his eyes. I reverted to my crotchety self. “Well, don’t go get-
ting all mushy on me now,” I groused, shoving him away.
He released me, giving my bottom one last pat. “Shall we?”
Before I answered, Dev started quietly forward, carefully picking his
way through the trees toward the back of the jail. I followed close behind,
keeping my eyes peeled and my ears opened. At first, the crackle of every
leaf and the shifting of every branch seemed to ring out like a rifle shot.
When no one came running out, I realized it was my hyperawareness
amplifying the sound.
We reached the edge of the woods and took a good, hard look around.
All was quiet. We sidled up to the back of the prison, where two large oak
trees flanked the building. One of them was close to a large window,
which was the target. There were no branches on the bottom fifteen feet
of the tree, but we’d known that going in and had prepared for it.
Dev set down the bag he carried. He pawed through it, quickly locating
the wide leather strap he’d purchased from the saddler earlier that day.
“You first, so I can give you a boost.”
I nodded, edging closer to the tree.
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He wound one side of the strap around my right hand then looped it
around the width of the tree before wrapping the other side to my left.
“Once you get to the branch adjacent to the window, drop the strap down
and wait for me.”
He bent his knees and locked his hands together. “Up you go.”
I stepped into the cradle carefully, making sure only the back part of
my boot sat in his hand. Dev had hammered three short spikes through
the inside front of our soles so we would get more traction going up.
Coming down was going to be a whole other mess, but I put it out of my
head. One step at a time.
“One, two, three.” He heaved upward with all his strength. An instant
later I’d made it halfway to the large branch that was my goal. “Put your
knees on the trunk and lean back until the leather is taut. Good girl.” The
hand that had anchored me now cupped my bottom. “I’m going to hold
on to you to make sure you don’t fall. Now shove off, use your legs.”
The bark dug into my kneecap like nails. I gritted my teeth but did as
he instructed. As I slammed back against the tree, I kicked my leg for-
ward. I was rewarded with the satisfying sensation of iron burying into
wood. One foot was firmly anchored. I moved a few inches upward and
rocked my arms back and forth, shimmying the strap up the tree until it
was at shoulder height. I kicked out with my opposite foot, burying the
boot spikes a little higher up.
It was painstaking, maybe eight inches at a time, but soon Dev’s hand
no longer touched me. Eventually, I was able to wrap my hand around
the branch. Once I had a hold on it, I released the leather from one hand
and swung myself onto the branch. I sat for a long moment on the wide
apex, panting. My muscles screamed and my shoulders burned. I vowed
to do some more upper-body strength training, but even at that, I felt like
Wonder Woman. I’d climbed the shit out of that tree.
“Toss it here,” Dev whispered.
I unwrapped my other hand then tossed the strap down to him. I was
still stretching my muscles, waiting for my pulse to slow when he swung
himself onto the adjacent branch with a grunt.
“Showoff,” I whispered.
“I’m a man, love. We’re supposed to be stronger. If not, what would
you even need us around for?”
I could think of a few things, but I wasn’t about to give him the satis-
faction of naming them. I turned to face our target window, noting with
relief that it was still dark.
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Dev uncoiled the leather from his hand and rolled it up, stowing it in
the bag he’d strapped to his back. “Ready?”
“Guess so.” I wasn’t, but it didn’t matter.
“Go slow, but set a steady pace. It’ll be easier to keep your balance than
if you keep stopping and starting. And don’t look down.”
I rolled my eyes even though he wasn’t facing me. No chance I was
looking down. It wasn’t that high, but it was definitely high enough to
break my face if I fell. Better not to see it coming on my way down.
Dev stood, using a branch above his head for balance as he slowly
edged his way across the thick limb to the window. About three feet from
the end, the branch began to sag. He couldn’t go any farther without
breaking it. He took a deep breath and leapt, landing cleanly onto the
wide sill and hugging close to the window. After a moment, he reached in
his pocket. This was going to be the tricky part—to break one pane so we
could release the catch and open the window. The room was far enough
from the common room that it likely wouldn’t be heard, especially if Mil-
licent was doing her job. But if someone was upstairs at the time, things
would come crashing to a halt and we could all be up the creek.
Dev wrapped the cloth he’d fished out around his knuckles. He leveled
a short, hard punch at the center of the glass. It shattered with a crash
and a tinkle.
Neither of us moved, waiting for the fallout. There was none. Dev sent
me a grin, reaching his hand in through the broken pane to unlatch the
window. He stepped to one side and swung it open. He climbed in and
looked at me expectantly.
I swallowed hard, trying to work some moisture up in my mouth. I
might get farther out onto the branch than he had, since he outweighed
me by a good sixty pounds, but at five foot seven and one hundred forty
pounds, I was no lightweight. There was some jumping in my near future
and I wasn’t keen on it at all.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to think of Bacon. All we had to do
was get through the next half hour, and we’d have Bacon back again. To-
morrow we would wake up in our own beds. This mess would be nothing
more than an unpleasant memory.
I stood and mimicked Dev, putting one foot in front of the other like a
tightrope walker. What felt like an hour later, it was time for me to jump.
I froze.
“Come on,” Dev whispered.
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I couldn’t even answer; I just shook my head. The pulse in my neck was
frantic and I pictured it as trapped, angry bee beneath the surface of my
skin, desperate to get through. My fingers were slick with sweat, my vis-
ion blurring.
“Breathe, dammit!”
Dev’s low voice broke through the haze. I sucked in a breath. The dizzi-
ness abated and my eyesight grew sharp again. Right. Breathing. We
hadn’t gone over that part in the planning of this caper, but apparently it
was key.
Dev held out his hands to me. I closed one eye and jumped. With a low
thump, I landed with one foot on the sill. The other stopped perilously
close to Dev’s gut. To his credit, he didn’t even falter, despite the iron
spike about to impale him. He closed his hands around my waist and lif-
ted me through the opening into the dark room, where I promptly col-
lapsed against his side with a groan.
“Remind me never to become a cat burglar.”
“Will do,” he said as he hugged me close. “That took twenty minutes.
The way out will be faster, but we can’t dally.”
He released me and closed the window. The large room was cold and
dark, only dimly lit by moonlight. It was empty, save for two small chairs.
A fireplace sat in the center of the back wall, but it appeared as if it was
rarely used.
Dev led the way, creeping forward until he reached the closed door. He
leaned close to press his ear against it. A few seconds later, he nodded.
“Some noise down there, carrying on, but nothing nearby as far as I can
tell. For this part, moving quickly is as important as moving quietly. Let’s
get down the stairs and into the dungeon corridor fast in case someone
happens to walk by. Ready?”
I nodded and looked away as Dev pulled out his revolver. God, I hoped
it didn’t come to that. He had no plans to use it, but if we did get spotted
we needed some way to convince them to let us out. The gun was a great
negotiator.
He cracked open the door and stepped through. I shadowed him, hot
on his heels. The hallway was cold and dark as well, indicating that it
wasn’t a much-used area, and I was buoyed by the thought. We sidled
forward, almost as one, to the top of the stairs. The noise grew louder the
closer we got. Male voices, a loud female voice. Comforting, if muffled
tones. What sounded like a broken sob. Millicent was doing her part.
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As we scurried down the stairs, it seemed like a blur. The blood poun-
ded in my ears so hard, I don’t think I’d have heard anyone even if they
were coming. Dev stopped, pressing against the wall. I followed suit. We
waited for a few seconds then rounded the corner to the dungeon door.
The turn of a door handle later, and we were in.
I closed the door behind us with a soft click, and the voices in the com-
mon room faded. Total darkness closed in on us but we’d decided that
lighting a candle would be a bad idea until we got to the bottom of the
stairs. Dev tucked the revolver into his pants and reached for my hand. I
let him take it. The creepy crawlies were easier to deal with when he was
touching me.
“Hello?” Bacon’s voice came low and harsh, startling me.
“It’s us,” I whispered as we came away from the stairs, approaching his
cell.
Dev rustled in his bag, pulled out a short candle stump. When he lit it,
Bacon covered his eyes, blanching.
“Ready to get the hell out of here?” I asked.
He nodded, giving me a weak but grateful smile. As his eyes adjusted to
the dim light, he moved his hand. His face was drawn and tired, much
like earlier in the day, but as I looked closer, it appeared to have taken on
a reddish cast. At first I thought it was the candlelight. It wasn’t. The
candle did cast a warm glow over everything in the immediate area, but
nothing like the crimson flush staining my brother’s cheeks.
“You’re sick.”
He shrugged. “I think I have a cold.” As he spoke he broke into a
ragged fit of coughing, deep, hoarse barks that made my chest ache with
empathy.
A cold, my ass. A cold doesn’t hit you in one day like gangbusters. He’d
probably been feeling lousy earlier but had decided not to mention it. If
he didn’t get it taken care of he was looking at bronchitis or, worse, pneu-
monia, although judging by the heat evident in his cheeks, some strain of
flu wasn’t out of the question either.
For one, gut-clenching moment, panic reared its ugly head as I mined
my memory for plague knowledge of the time period and came up empty.
At Gilly’s insistence, we’d had every inoculation known to man before
we’d started time traveling, so it was unlikely Bacon had caught
something truly horrific or incurable. Still, this new development made
me even more determined to get the show on the road.
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“Here.” Dev handed me my pouch of tools and held the candle to the
bars of the cell door.
“Did you tell Emma we were coming?” I asked, examining the lock.
“No. I didn’t see her today.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure she’ll be pleasantly surprised. Her mom is here
too. Upstairs keeping the guards occupied.”
I only half listened as Dev filled Bacon in on Millicent. My focus was on
the various picks as I tried to determine the ones that would work best.
Picking locks is kind of my thing, and I’m damn good at it. It’s not a skill
Gilly had taught me. I learned on my own at the age of nine out of neces-
sity. My knack for it had kept Bacon and I fed many a lean night. Despite
the questionable morality of such a gift, I cherish it. Gilly had given us
just about everything—a chance to escape the daily struggle for survival,
and the parental figure neither Bacon nor I had ever been lucky enough
to have. Cracking locks was the one tangible asset I’d brought to the
table. The rest was all him.
When would I stop missing him so damn much? I blinked hard as the
tools in front of me wavered like the blacktop on a summer day. Dashing
a hand across my eyes, I swiped the fat tears away. This whole Bacon-
getting-hanged thing was turning me into a Little Betsy Bawls-A Lot. I
needed to cut the shit and pay attention to what I was doing, before I got
us all locked up.
I refocused on the picks again. After a few moments, two stood out like
beacons, almost as if they had a golden aura of rightness about them.
“Gotcha.”
I plucked them from the velvet cloth on which they lay and got to work.
Inside thirty seconds, the lock tumbled open. Bacon stepped out of the
cell with a sigh of relief. He threw his arms around me, squeezing until I
let out a squeak of protest.
“Jeez, bro, you smell like hot garbage steeped in sewage. We need to
get you a bath.” I blinked away some more tears, which I tried to blame
on the stench, and stepped back from his embrace.
He groaned. “You have no idea how awesome that sounds.”
We shut the door behind him, and Dev motioned him forward. “Show
us where Emma is.”
Bacon led us back toward the stairs then took a hard left.
From about forty feet down the corridor, a soft voice called out. “Who’s
there?”
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“Emma,” Bacon whispered into the dark. “It’s me. Come on, we’re get-
ting you out of here. Your mother has come, too. She’s upstairs distract-
ing the guards but we don’t have a lot of time,” he urged as we ap-
proached the cell.
After seeing Millicent, I’d expected Emma to be a knockout. She
wasn’t, but she had a quiet kind of beauty that sort of snuck up on you.
Her thick, chestnut hair hung in a long braid over her shoulder. She was
petite, with gentle curves that may have been more generous prior to her
stay at the Bates Motel. Her eyes were wide and clear, but held less ex-
citement than I’d expected under the circumstances.
She stared at me for a long, intense moment before turning her gaze to
Bacon. “Your sister.”
“Yes. This is Stormy, and Dev.”
“Glad to meet you,” I said with a curt nod. “We don’t have a whole lot
of time, so we’re going to have to get cracking if we want to get out of
here.”
I opened my tool kit to get the picks when her words stilled my hand.
“I cannot go.” Her solemn declaration rang through the dungeon like a
death knell.
Fury hit me, hot and fast. “Jesus Christ, why doesn’t anyone want to
leave this place? Is it the food? Or the décor, maybe?” I was about two
seconds from slapping the bonnet off her stupid head when Bacon
stepped in front of me and pressed close to the bars.
“What’s the matter, Em?” he asked, his voice gentle. He held out his
hand and Emma took it without hesitation. “Come on. Come with me. I’ll
make sure you’re taken care of. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She tipped her head back, looking into his eyes in a way that chilled my
bones even as it warmed my heart.
They were much more than friends. They were in love.
The realization hit me like a blow to the solar plexus. I knew then, even
if we got them out, there was a very real chance we’d be leaving the sev-
enteenth century without my brother.
I tried to pay attention to her next words as I digested this new
information.
“The guard came with news this morning. There will be two more wo-
men joining me on the morrow. They were accused yesterday. They’re
still being questioned, but this is only the start.” She looked at each of us
beseechingly, her dark eyes begging for understanding. “What will
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happen if we disappear? They’ll be even more convinced of our guilt.
What of the others? It will never end. Innocent blood will be shed.”
She shook her head, lifting her chin as she settled her earnest gaze on
me. “I won’t leave them behind. I won’t leave at all until we’re all proven
innocent and this nonsense is laid to rest for good.” She stepped back, re-
leasing Bacon’s hand with a smile full of regret. “That is my decision
alone. It needn’t be yours. I’ll understand if you must go.”
I knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.
There wasn’t a person in the entire world more loyal than my brother.
Not in this time period or any other. And still, I flinched as his words
rained down on me like individual blows.
“No. I won’t leave you.” He cupped her face gently. “You’re right. We
can’t go. I won’t have anyone else suffer so I can be free. We’ll come up
with something.” He turned to me and Dev with a dopey, hopeful smile
on his pink-cheeked face. “Right, guys?”
I couldn’t get any words out past the shock and despair choking me.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. We were going home tonight with
my brother in tow, back to London. Back to Molly.
I looked to Dev, hoping he’d be able to talk some sense into them, but
he nodded grimly. “Yes. We’ll figure something out.”
As Bacon spoke in low tones to Emma, Dev slipped an arm around my
shoulders. “We’ll manage, love. We just need some time to think, but it’ll
happen.”
I didn’t answer as Bacon stepped away from the bars. “You guys should
go. Take me back to my cell.”
“But you’re sick.” The thought of him fighting a fever in the rat-infested
dungeon was making it really difficult for me to like his new girlfriend.
The woman in question looked at him hard now, nodding. “I see that
now. You should have told me you were unwell, Bacon. Mother is here
now, she will manage this.” She turned her big gray eyes on me. “Tell her
he has a fever and his throat aches. She’ll bring herbs and make him well
again. Trust that I will take care of him here. I would not let any harm
come to him. All will be well.”
I couldn’t even look at her. Nor did I give voice to the words bubbling
in my throat, which were, “Yeah, I’ll trust you. Because you’ve done a
great job of that so far.” Instead, I focused on my brother and tried one
last time. “Don’t do this. Don’t do it to me, bro. I can’t—”
“It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” He was going to risk it all for a wo-
man he’d met less than two weeks ago. Leave it to Bacon to rebound with
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a seventeenth-century convict. This had clusterfuck written all over it and
I had no idea how to fix it.
The idiot lovebirds said goodbye and we escorted Bacon back to his
cell.
* * *
A few minutes later, we were walking up the steps of the dungeon, once
again, Bacon-less.
“Maybe we should go back. He looks up to you. You can talk him into
coming. I don’t get it—you didn’t even try,” I said, my voice ripe with
accusation.
Dev let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s a grown man. You’ve got to get
that through your head. You are not the ruler of all things. He has the
right to make his own decisions. To decide what’s right for him, whether
you agree or not. I’m not going to even try to change his mind. Not only
that, but I agree with him. If he cares about this woman—hell, even if he
doesn’t—it’s the right thing to do.”
We were almost to the bluff by that time, but it was slow-going. I’d
banged my knee pretty hard when we dropped from the tree branch and
hit the ground. I was in no hurry at any rate. I wasn’t relishing the
thought of telling Millicent what had happened. Besides, I needed to
work on my rendition of the story, which so far ran along the lines of,
“Hey, Millicent, your daughter’s a real shit-for-brains.”
We’d gone back out the same way we’d come. On the way out, Dev had
dropped a large stone into the pile of glass on the floor. We’d planned to
pass off the broken window as a prank in the event that we hadn’t been
able to get downstairs to get Bacon out. No point in calling attention to
our failed jailbreak.
We trudged along, side by side, and I shot my traitorous husband a
dirty look. “Dev, be real. He hardly even knows her.”
He arched his brow at me. “You of all people should know that love
isn’t so pragmatic.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Pragmatic means sens—”
I cut in, giving him a withering stare. “I know what pragmatic means,
but why should I, ‘of all people,’ know?”
“Well, let’s face it. You don’t react rationally when it comes to your
loved ones.”
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“I disagree.”
His eyes almost popped out of his head. “You dyed a woman’s face
green.”
My cheeks got hot but I didn’t look away. “Not permanently.”
“And now you’re ready to cause a major rift in history to get Bacon out
of hot water rather than taking a little more time trying to find another
solution. Because you love him. That is not rational.”
I geared up for more arguing, mostly because it made me feel better
than thinking about Bacon, but Dev cut me off at the knees.
“I’m done. You know I’m right, and we’re wasting time debating when
we need to be thinking. The longer it takes us to get to that, the longer
Bacon remains behind bars. Our new task is to prove witchcraft doesn’t
exist. That whatever happened on that bluff was nothing more than a
misunderstanding of epic proportions. That’s key. Once we exonerate Ba-
con, the other cases all fall apart. His is the only one with any teeth to it.
The rest were born of panic.”
That much was true. I let my wasted anger go as we reached the bluff.
It certainly wasn’t helping Bacon any. Besides, Emma wouldn’t be in this
mess at all if she hadn’t been trying to protect my brother. Dev was right.
We needed to spend our energy coming up with a new plan. “Even if
we’re able to convince them the girl was mistaken, what about the frog?”
“I would tell them myself that it’s nothing more than a toy. Hell, if they
have a decent inventor or engineer, even a knowledgeable watchmaker or
smith, I could show them how it’s done. Granted, it’ll be hard to fathom
for the time period, but I could show them enough that they would have
to admit it’s possible without magic. Problem is, they know we’re here
with Bacon. Why would they believe me? And there are too many other
factors at play. Grubb’s testimony, the girl’s, the ‘devil’s mark.’ We need
more than just his brother-in-law claiming he knows how the frog
works.”
“You’re right. I wish I knew where they were keeping it. Maybe I could
get in and take it. No evidence…” I trailed off.
“You did a great job on the locks back there, by the way. God, I forget
how fast you are sometimes. Amazing.”
“Thanks, big guy. Lots of practice.”
In truth, I was being uncharacteristically modest. I didn’t have to prac-
tice at all. It was one of those inexplicable things. A gift, I suppose. One
that meant all the more to me because I was able to use it to help Gilly. I
was about sixteen, and we’d been living with him for a couple of years.
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We’d learned most of the ins and outs of time-travel through educational
time hops. When it came time for Gilly to round up some treasures to sell
and pay for his annual Christmas charity extravaganza that year, he’d
planned on handling the “gathering up” part of the job alone as usual.
The only hitch was, I’d grown pretty attached to him by that point and
was no longer willing to let him go alone. He wasn’t getting any younger
and his reflexes weren’t so hot anymore. I was young and strong and
craved the adventurous outlet anyway. So for the entire week leading up
to the trip, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight, and Bacon wouldn’t let me
out of his.
Despite that, Gilly still wouldn’t commit to taking us. He said it would
be irresponsible of him to bring children with him on such a mission.
Maybe that would have been true if we’d been like other kids. But we
weren’t. We’d seen things no child should ever see, and it ages a person.
To my mind, it would have been far worse for him to leave us behind
worrying when what we craved more than anything was the knowledge
that we’d be together through thick and thin. Someone constant and
ever-present in our lives for once. Eventually, he’d caved under the
weight of the guilt I’d heaped on him, with the understanding that I could
go with him to the job, but Bacon would have to stay hidden somewhere
nearby for the hour it would take us to complete the robbery.
I was beside myself with excitement, totally exhilarated at the thought
of being a young, female Robin Hood. It was like the last remnants of
smog hanging over me had dissipated and I’d finally found my true pur-
pose in life. We went through the planning stage together. He asked me
my thoughts on various aspects and took my input with grave contempla-
tion. We stayed up late at night for weeks, repeating the steps over and
over, until we could’ve recited them like lines from a two-man show on
Broadway. Finally, three weeks before Christmas, we were ready.
Our target was a known Egyptian slave-trader named Hasani Nazif. He
was notoriously ugly, both inside and out, and stories of his heinous acts
were legendary. Research had told us that on that particular night he and
his crew would be attending a wedding. There would be some security left
behind but the bulk would be gone for the night. Gilly loved the idea of
using ill-gotten gains for good and was dying to get his hands on Nazif’s
treasure.
From the very start, it all went as smooth as butter. We’d shot the two
guards with tranquilizer guns from almost a hundred yards away. They’d
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dropped like they’d been sniped. We went in, scooped up a small chest
filled with gems and gold chains, then made our way to the door.
It wasn’t until we were halfway out that we heard the broken sobs com-
ing from down the hallway. After a quick, whispered discussion, we
agreed we couldn’t just leave. When we entered the room, we found a be-
draggled young woman in torn clothes. She was bound to a chair by man-
acles, whimpering behind a gag stuffed into her swollen mouth. Gilly
tried everything to get the restraints off, but we were running out of time.
Nazif and his entourage would be back soon. We had to be long gone
when they showed up.
That’s when I piped up. After plucking some pins from the girl’s long,
dark hair, I did my thing. Gilly watched in amazement, as did the girl,
whose tears dried as she realized we were going to help her. The first
manacle fell to the ground with a clatter and she smiled. The second took
even less time, and we were off.
We brought her back to the spot where Bacon waited, nestled in a cave.
I’d been dressed as a boy so that, on the off chance anyone saw us, they
wouldn’t look twice at me. Through hand signals, I indicated that we
should switch clothes. She nodded in understanding. By the time she left,
she was almost unrecognizable with her hair tucked up and her boyish at-
tire. Her pockets were filled with enough gold to go wherever she chose.
Despite the language barrier, her gratitude could not be mistaken, and
there were tears shed by all as she left on foot, presumably to rejoin her
family.
After that I was hooked, and Gilly never tried to go on another trip
without me. His pride in my ability was one of my greatest joys.
Dev ran a hand over my hair. “You all right?”
“Good, yeah. Just thinking about Gilly.”
“He’d be very proud. It was a brilliantly executed plan, even if it didn’t
pan out like we’d hoped.”
“We’ve got to come up with another, that’s all.”
For the next twenty minutes, we batted bad ideas around while we
waited for Millicent to arrive.
She was right on time, looking resigned as she approached the
carriage.
“She would not come,” she said with a sad smile.
“You knew she wouldn’t leave with us?” I asked, disbelief jacking my
voice up an octave or three. “You think maybe you should’ve told us that
before we went in?”
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“I didn’t know until it was too late. The guards told me about the re-
cently accused only now. As soon as I heard…” She shook her head and
shrugged. “I know my daughter. She would never be rescued while others
remained imprisoned.” She trained her gaze on Dev. “What will we do
now?”
“We’re working on it,” he said. “Emma asked that you send some herbs
for Bacon. He’s fallen ill. Fever, sore throat, coughing.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll make up a basket and visit with him in
the morning. Where do you have lodging?”
“At the inn up the road.”
“Come, stay with me at Emma’s house. It will give us the chance to
speak more about what to do.” I opened my mouth to protest, but her
grief-filled eyes locked on to mine. “I would appreciate the company.”
“Actually, I think that’s a fantastic idea. We’ll go to the inn tonight,
sleep there, then pack our stuff up and meet you at Emma’s tomorrow,”
Dev said.
It wasn’t a bad idea, so I let it be. We led Millicent to the carriage and
brought her back to Emma’s, agreeing to return the next day to stay.
As Dev and I lay in bed that night, I stared at the ceiling for a long time.
For a while I let myself fantasize about going back in time to before we’d
started following Grubb and staying there, in the place where my family
was whole, forever. It couldn’t be done, no matter how much I wanted it.
There were no do-overs in real time travel. It was a one-shot deal. Once a
change in time had been made, it couldn’t be undone. Even if I went
back, the fallout of our escapades would remain. Bacon would blink out
of existence and caused an even bigger panic. Emma would probably die
in prison or be hanged. All the things the two of them hoped to avoid by
staying in prison would come to pass.
And that was only the half of it. Like a paper folded on the same crease
one too many times, the fibers of time weaken every time they are manip-
ulated. Going back to alter that which had already been altered could res-
ult in a time tear. A gaping wormhole capable of sucking in unsuspecting
passersby, hurtling them into the unknown. The fact that I was even con-
sidering it as an option, even in my daydreams, scared the crap out of me.
What scared me even more? The thought that Phineas Grubb was
right. Maybe we were all good people until we needed to do something
really bad to meet our own ends. And maybe that time for me had come.
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Chapter Nine
“Nope. Sorry. That’s not going to work for me.”
“I’m not asking,” Dev said, his dark eyes snapping with anger.
We’d been Millicent’s guests for less than half a day, and were repaying
her kindness by having a shouting match in her kitchen. Luckily, she was
downstairs in Emma’s herb store putting together a basket to take to Ba-
con so she couldn’t hear us. I hoped.
“And who are you, the King of England? We all have to bow to your
whims?”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. You know full well this isn’t a whim.
I’ve thought it over from every angle, and it’s the best way to go. We need
to discredit Grubb first and foremost. I have a way to do it. Now, you
need to let me take the reins and take care of this.”
“You want to take care of it? Fine. Go take care of it.” I rooted around
in my pockets, pulling out all the pieces of my TTM. “I’ll sit here and
worry myself sick about whether you’ll make it back in time. Or at all.
Does that make you happy?”
He closed his hand over the pieces. “Ecstatic.” He took a step toward
me.
I took a step back, unwilling to look at him.
“You know you can’t leave him here alone, or we’d both go. Someone
needs to be here to make sure he’s getting better, and that they don’t
move up the hearing without warning. Not only that, we still need to try
to sway Abigail. Grubb is only one part of the picture.”
That much was true, but it didn’t make Dev leaving any easier to
swallow.
He’d already starting stuffing things into a small bag to take with him.
“I’ll be back in a few days.”
“How do you know? What if you miss? I have a dozen years of time-
travel under my belt more than you, and even I miss by a couple of days
sometimes. The hearing is in four days.”
I was so confused by that point, I didn’t know if I should keep trying to
get him to stay or urge him to hurry up and go. On one hand, I didn’t
know if I could handle even one more ounce of worry without cracking.
On the other, after hours of discussion, we both knew that him going was
our best chance of getting Bacon back.
“We’ll have to hope you can get Abigail to change her mind and that’s
enough to get him released. If not, we’ll still have another chance to save
them at the trial in a few weeks. I know that’s not ideal, but it’s
something,” Dev said.
I nodded. At least I had a task to keep my mind occupied. “I’ll walk you
to the bluff before I go see Bacon,” I said begrudgingly.
“I’d like that.”
We stopped off at the little shop downstairs to say goodbye to Milli-
cent, who was still gathering supplies. I made a plan to meet her at the
prison and explained that Dev needed to go to Boston to ask for legal ad-
vice from a colleague. She didn’t question that, wishing him luck.
Dev and I didn’t talk much as we walked. We’d talked it to death all
morning, and anything else seemed pretty trivial at that point. When we
reached the wide, grassy hill, we faced one another.
My chest actually hurt as I looked at him. His jaw was set, his brilliant
mind already gone from where we stood and focused on the task to come.
“Well, see ya,” I said and turned to go. The last thing he needed was to
see me blubbering like an idiot.
With a growl he reached out and grasped my hip, hauling me into his
chest. He slanted his mouth over mine in a hard kiss then pulled away.
“You can be as angry as you like. You can sulk for as long as you want.
But you’ll tell me you love me before I go.”
I pursed my lips together for a moment, considering my options. “I
love you,” I mumbled.
“You too.”
With that, he took out the TTM and stepped toward the wormhole. We
both scanned the area one last time to make sure we were alone. My
heart stuttered as he fussed with the gears. I contemplated all the things
that could go wrong, the worst of which being that he might never return
to me. Then he gave me one last smile, nefarious dimples on full display,
and depressed the lever.
As the air trembled and the love of my life disappeared, it occurred to
me that I much preferred being the wait-ee over being the wait-er.
* * *
“This is the place?” I asked.
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Millicent and I stood at the center of Salem Village in front of a modest
home a short walk from the bluff. It was kind of spooky-looking. Very
austere, as most of the homes inside the village proper were. An ideal
breeding ground for the ghosts of mistreated servants or creepy
grandmothers.
“Yes. Her parents have lived here for many years,” Millicent replied.
We reached the front door and Millicent rapped on it softly.
The sun was setting on a cool and breezy day. We’d met at the prison
earlier and gone to see Bacon before taking a carriage ride to the Winter
home. He didn’t seem like he was getting any better, but he wasn’t any
worse either, to my everlasting relief. Millicent gave him her herbs,
promising he would be much improved by the next day. That remained to
be seen, but he seemed cheered by our visit.
Millicent went to see Emma as well, but I stayed with Bacon. In spite of
that annoying voice in my head telling me I would have done the same
thing she did, I wasn’t ready to face her yet.
After we’d had our visits, we decided it would be a good time to stop by
the Winter residence and pay the young woman a visit. Millicent knew
her mother in passing and Abigail’s father would not likely be home from
work yet, which was exactly the way we’d wanted it. We would appeal to
Goody Winter’s maternal side. Maybe we could work up enough sym-
pathy and doubt that she might get the girl to admit she could have been
mistaken.
The door swung open. A tall, willowy woman dressed in black and
white peered out at us, her already pale face growing paler. “Yes?”
“Hello, my name is, uh, Dorothy Gale, Duchess of Leister. I’d like to
speak to you about your daughter, Abigail.”
Her gaze flickered restlessly between me and Millicent as her fingers
tapped a staccato beat on the doorframe.
“Do you remember me, Patience? Millicent Black, Emma’s mother.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She spared a look behind her before returning
her gaze to us. “I cannot speak with you.” In spite of her words, she
hadn’t yet slammed the door in our faces, which I took as a good sign.
“Please. You know as well as I do, the punishment for witchcraft is
hanging. We’d at least like to hear exactly what your daughter saw, see if
there could maybe be some other explanation. We deserve that much.”
Patience hesitated.
I went in for the kill. “What if Abigail was the one in that dungeon?
Wouldn’t you do everything you could to try to get some answers?”
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Tears pooled in her haunted eyes. “Yes.”
“I promise, we won’t hurt her or even question her harshly. You can sit
with us the whole time. We mean her no harm.”
“I’ll speak with you, but I cannot allow you to see Abigail. She’s fragile.
I don’t think she can withstand any more upset. Come quickly—my hus-
band will be here soon. You mustn’t be here when he arrives.” The look
on her face was at once defiant and terrified as she swung the door wide
to admit us.
Millicent and I exchanged a look of surprise. We had expected—hell,
planned even—to stalk her for a few days before she cracked. This was a
boon indeed and gave me some real hope. If she didn’t have doubts, she
wouldn’t have let us in at all, never mind on the first try.
We followed Patience down a short, empty hallway to the common
room, where we sat at her urging. The room was sparse, no pictures ad-
orning the walls, no decorations except a small wooden frame encasing a
needlework prayer hanging above the fireplace.
“I am sorry for you both. I know you suffer along with your family dur-
ing a time such as this.” Her gaze was everywhere but on us as she wor-
ried the edge of her apron between her thumb and forefinger. “This has
been a difficult time for us as well. My son is ill, and my daughter…” She
trailed off, looking as lost as a lamb.
I nodded in sympathy. I didn’t even have to fake it, either. This situ-
ation sucked all the way around. Her daughter wasn’t some hysterical
ninny lobbing allegations left and right, fake-foaming at the mouth. She’d
actually seen two men appear out of thin air and it scared the piss out of
her. Who could blame her? I actually felt bad that I had to deceive her
and make her believe otherwise.
Patience sighed deeply then faced us head-on, looking stronger than
she had a moment earlier. “I know you believe they are innocent, but Abi-
gail is a steady child. She saw something out there. I believe that much to
be true with my whole heart.”
“As do I,” Millicent said with an encouraging smile. “I don’t believe she
is telling tales.”
“Me neither. But I wonder if she might have been confused? Overtired?
Maybe the sun was in her eyes? Because as surely as you know your
daughter didn’t lie about this, I know my brother is no witch,” I said.
“Abigail never said witch,” she said, her voice so low, Millicent and I
strained forward to hear her. “She said they appeared, as if by magic.
Master Eller was the one who said witch.” She shook her head. “Even in
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the midst of the trials, we—my family and I—were not believers. We did
not speak out against the accusers though, to my great shame. I always
wondered, if these ‘witches’ had such powers, would they suffer this
treatment? Would they bear such punishment without retribution? It did
not make good sense. To speak the truth, had Abigail come to me, this
might have been avoided. Alas, terrified, she ran to the nearest place to
tell what she saw. The nearest place was the church.” Her narrow lips
were pinched with pain and regret. “Now it has been done and cannot be
undone.”
“It can,” I insisted. “You can tell them she was confused. Tell them she
retracts her statement.”
“It won’t change anything. You weren’t there. You don’t know what
people become in the face of fear. They would say she was, herself, now
bedeviled. That, I will not risk.”
A harsh, barking cough echoed through the room, and Patience
winced.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“My son. He has been ill for many days. He’s becoming so frail, I fear
for him,” she confided.
Her obvious despair was humbling. Some small, narrow-minded part
of me had always kind of thought women that far back in history got used
to their children dying. That because they were prepared for it, and losing
a child was the norm, they wouldn’t feel it the same way we might. I was
clearly mistaken. My thoughts flew to Molly, making my stomach ache
for Patience Winter.
Millicent stood abruptly. “May I see him?” Her heart-shaped face had
lost some of its robust color as she began walking toward the sound,
without waiting for a response.
Patience bolted to her feet. “You musn’t. If my husband—”
Millicent was already rounding the corner without a break in her pur-
poseful stride. Patience was hot on her heels and I bounded after them,
the tension pooling in my neck once again. This little stunt could cost us
all the ground we’d gained with Patience, and then some. I tried to get a
read on Millicent, figure what the hell her game was, but I had nothing. If
we saw the child and he got sicker, we could be accused of witchcraft
ourselves. And if Millicent managed to cure him? Same Goddamned
thing. I was desperate for a silver lining but thus far had found none.
I wanted to kick something right now. Preferably Millicent’s ass.
The coughing grew louder as the door to the bedroom swung open.
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Patience hovered at the doorway but didn’t follow Millicent in or try to
stop her. Interesting.
“Hello, Benjamin,” Millicent said, almost in a whisper.
I peered around Patience to see a fragile young boy, almost invisible
under the sea of woolen blankets. His tiny face had a grayish cast, his
body little more than a bag of bones. I cleared my aching throat and
looked away.
Millicent turned sharp eyes on Patience. “This from only two weeks of
illness?”
“No,” she said, her voice trembling. “This has taken a toll, to be sure,
but he’s always been a sickly child.”
“Can you get me a grinding stone and some water?”
Patience hesitated, but only for a second, before leaving the room in a
hurry. I tried to remind myself that, in some ways, this woman was still
the enemy. It was difficult because, frankly, I was starting to admire the
hell out of her.
I stepped into the room as Millicent searched through the basket of
herbs she had left over from our visit with Bacon.
“What are you trying to do, Milli?” I whispered, glad when the sleeping
boy didn’t awaken.
“I am going to cure Benjamin,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“It will work.”
“Okay, what if it does? What if she says you healed him with magic?”
“She won’t. But if she does, I’ve healed him nonetheless, haven’t I? Is
saving the life of a child not cause for celebration?” Her tone held a gentle
reproach.
I felt like a total slug. Of course she was right. If she could save the boy,
she had to try. I said a silent, fervent prayer that we did not have to pay
for the attempt with Bacon’s and Emma’s lives.
Patience breezed back into the room with the requested items, and Mil-
licent went to work. Her long, graceful fingers were sure and swift, pluck-
ing herbs from the basket, inspecting them, rejecting some, selecting oth-
ers. Five minutes later, she was grinding. Patience added a log to the fire
and lit candles to brighten the rapidly darkening room.
“Please, hurry.” Patience shot a glance over her shoulder.
A noise at the doorway made us all start. I looked up to see a young wo-
man standing there, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old.
“Abigail, go back to your room.”
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“Is Benjamin all right?” she asked. She was a pretty little thing, but her
face was drawn and pale like the rest of the poor Winter family. Like she
had the weight of the world on her delicate shoulders. I wanted to feed
her an ice-cream cone or make her laugh…anything to give her a second
of her childhood back.
“He’s fine. He’s having some medicine. Now back to your room. We’ll
have a bit of supper when your father returns.”
Abigail nodded and left the room.
“Thank you for not asking her any questions,” Patience said softly. “She
does not have the strength for it now.”
Once I’d gotten a look at the kid, all thoughts of grilling her or trying to
sway her had fled. She was a straw away from breaking. I wasn’t about to
be that straw. I had to hope that Millicent and I had affected Patience and
her family in the same way they’d affected us. They were more than just
accusers. These were real people, with pain and love and depth. If they
could view Emma and Bacon as more than just the accused, maybe they’d
change their minds.
I’d always thought Puritans were much more black and white than
what I was finding during our time in Salem. Sure, there were some
close-minded, repressed fear-mongers. But the majority were good
people, real people who laughed and cried and even drank and danced
when the occasion called for it. Not villains or heroes, but like every soci-
ety, real people.
Millicent stood, handing Patience the mortar and pestle. “Mix a spoon-
ful of this in his water or broth three times a day. Come to the shop for
more if your store runs low. I’ve already given him his first dose.” She
placed a gentle hand on Patience’s shoulder. “Do not lose hope no matter
what. He’s very ill. It might take some time.”
“I understand.” She was still conflicted; it showed all over her face. I
was fifty-fifty on whether young Benjamin would be getting the rest of
that medicine, but Millicent had done all she could.
Patience led us to the front door.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” I said as I stepped out.
“What is this about?” a voice thundered from across the yard. Two men
marched toward the house. The speaker looked like a Puritan Abe Lin-
coln, only crazy. His eyes flashed with outrage. “Did you allow this wo-
man to speak with Abigail? To twist her mind and her words?” he
snarled, his craggy face twisting into a sneer.
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Okay, so obviously Patience had the right idea when she’d tried to
hurry us along. Her husband was a real charmer.
“I’m sorry, Master Eller. They came by only to speak with me,” Pa-
tience said, the terror on her face plain.
“Unacceptable, Goody Winter. That is no excuse,” Fake Lincoln
growled.
“Wait, you’re her husband?” I asked, pointing to the other guy—a
phrase which actually described him quite well. He was oatmeal personi-
fied. And not even yummy, maple-brown-sugar oatmeal. I’m talking the
Oliver Twist stuff. He had sandy hair, a face like a potato where none of
the features really stood out in any way, and a body that could only be de-
scribed as doughy.
The look in his eye rode the line between vacuous and apathetic as he
finally spoke up. “I am Goodman Winter, yes.”
“Fortunately, he saw you enter his home and rushed to retrieve me.”
Patience shot her husband a dirty look, which cheered me. It looked
like Goodman Winter was going to be sleeping on the Puritan equivalent
of the couch tonight, AKA the super-uncomfortable chair in their living
room. It wasn’t her husband she was afraid of. It was his weakness she
feared. Clearly he was controlled by Eller. She’d known if he saw us at the
house, the first thing he would do would be run and tattle.
“We’re leaving, in any case,” Millicent said as she stepped out from be-
hind Patience.
“You!” He extended a trembling finger to her face. “You have the nerve
to return here and insinuate yourself into this situation. If I had my way,
you would have hanged during the last trials.”
Her eyes narrowed but her lips stretched into a smile. “In that case, I’m
pleased you do not always get your way, Master Eller.” She emphasized
Master in a way that made it sound like an egregious insult.
A vein throbbed in his forehead and I briefly considered the possibility
that he might drop dead of a heart attack, until I realized we’d likely get
the blame for that too.
It didn’t take a genius to see that trying to talk sense into this fellow
was going to be a waste of time. I grabbed Milli’s hand and pulled her
down the stairs. “Well, this has been a lot of fun. Let’s do it again soon,” I
said with a cheery smile.
That got him going all over again. He shouted after us about hellfire
and hangings until we were far enough that we couldn’t hear him
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anymore. Too bad the distance didn’t stop the words from playing over
and over in my head.
“You’re going to hang. All of you!”
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Chapter Ten
The morning of the hearing, I stared out the window of Millicent’s store,
willing Dev to walk by. He still hadn’t returned and it was killing me. I’d
had the dream again, the previous night. Just like last time, I woke slick
with sweat and shaking. Only this time it was Dev in the cold, and when I
woke up, he wasn’t there to hold me.
I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to let my thoughts get away from
me. The things that could have gone wrong on his travels were innumer-
able. If I let myself start thinking of them, it would drive me insane. At
least until the hearing was over, I couldn’t let myself get sucked into that
whirlpool.
“We must go.” Millicent stood in the doorway, wrapped in her scarlet
cape. She turned to go, but hesitated. “I’m sorry your husband did not re-
turn in time.”
“Me too.”
“I pray that this ordeal has come to an end, regardless.” She headed
down the stairs and I followed her out.
On the short walk to the meeting house where the hearing would take
place, we were both silent. The road was thick with people heading in the
same direction. Seemed like much of Salem wanted to be there for the
show.
We got some long looks from passersby. Some were fearful, some sym-
pathetic, most simply curious. I felt like a bear in the zoo and wished we’d
taken a carriage.
When we arrived, the place was packed. The magistrate ordered some
of the attendees to the back of the room in order for Millicent and I to sit
near the front. When we did, he called the room to order.
The noise level dropped from cacophony to low din, but that must have
been standard, because he nodded his thanks. “Good morning, all.”
The crowd responded in kind. I was surprised to find that, on closer in-
spection, he had a nice face. The face of a science teacher or something
equally innocuous. Certainly not as formidable as I’d feared. This didn’t
look like the kind of guy to hang some young people for shits and giggles.
The thought cheered me a little.
“Do you know why you are here?” He posed this question to both Ba-
con and Emma, who sat on chairs side by side.
They both answered in the affirmative.
“This is not a trial. This is simply a hearing to determine if there is
enough evidence to merit one. The grand jury will hear the accusations
against you, and you will each have the chance to speak. They will con-
sider the evidence then render their decision.”
“And that decision will be guilty!” shouted Mature Eller.
The magistrate ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward with a
weary sigh. “Sir, now is not the time for you to speak. Please sit down. I
refuse to let this become some manner of spectacle. This is a serious mat-
ter and shall be treated as such.”
Eller blustered a bit, but did as he was told.
“We will start with the accusation of Mr. Bacon Frogs. I would first
hear from witness Mr. Phineas Grubb.”
“Doctor Phineas Grubb,” the little man sniped.
The magistrate sent him a cool glance and did not bother to correct
himself. “Come forward, sir. What, say you, happened on the afternoon of
March the second?”
Grubb stood and strolled to the center of the room. He turned sideways
so he could address both the magistrate and the observers, his gaze lock-
ing with mine. Any hopes I’d harbored of him having grown a conscience
fled as he arched a brow at me, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, Your Honor, I was minding my own business, walking around in
Boston, when this big guy comes up to me and literally grabs the watch
right out of my pocket. I fight back, because, you know, I’m a lot stronger
than I look. We’re wrestling back and forth and he gets this weird look on
his face. Then he says a bunch of nonsense words and BAM! We show up
on the bluff in Salem.”
He was really warming to his tale now, and the telling got more anim-
ated from there.
“At first, I didn’t realize what happened. I’m still fighting him for the
watch, right? I stumble back—he didn’t knock me down.” He aimed this
last tidbit to a pretty woman in the front row. “I would have won the
fight, but I tripped on my shoe. So anyway, I stumble back and suddenly I
look around and I’m like, ‘What just happened?’
“That’s when I realized—” He paused, let his voice drop low. “I’d been
transported by magic. He’s a warlock, I tell you! How else can you explain
that?”
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The room broke out into chatter. Grubb tipped back on his heels with a
smile.
“Can you identify the man in question?”
Grubb thrust a stubby finger toward Bacon and shouted triumphantly,
“There he is!”
People gasped, and I rolled my eyes. As if that was news.
From that point forward, it got nuts. There were no attorneys to guide
the proceeding so the Q and A was sort of a free-for-all. Over the course
of Grubb’s questioning, several people suggested he should be locked up,
as well. Then Goody Marks really went off script and accused Goody
Saunders of bewitching her husband. Apparently, she’d walked in on him
performing what seemed to translate into cunnilingus on Goody Saun-
ders the week before. Goodman Marks seconded the claim, suggesting
Goody Saunders be locked up, as well.
Toward the end, one guy suggested that anyone with a cat should also
be tried. You know, just in case. The shouting escalated as the accusa-
tions flew. It was like something from an Abbott and Costello routine. I’d
never seen anything like it.
I was getting ready to stomp my foot and demand for order myself
when the magistrate finally took control of the situation. “Let us not
make a mockery of this proceeding! The past should have taught us to
proceed with caution and without prejudice. Mr. Grubb, you are free to
return to your seat so we can call the next witness.”
“Will I be getting my watch back?” he asked.
The magistrate sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face in exas-
peration. “As I’ve told you, we have not yet determined who the owner is.
Once that has been decided, it will be returned to its owner.” Grubb
sputtered, but the magistrate ignored him and turned to the constable.
“Please retrieve the physical evidence.”
A constable stepped forward with a small wooden box in hand and laid
it in front of the magistrate.
He lifted the lid and peered inside. The crowd seemed to hold its
breath as he extracted the TTM followed by the tiny, mechanical frog. A
woman screamed. Another began to pray. Loudly. “Order, please!” he
shouted, waiting until they complied before continuing. “Jurors, before
you are the items found in the possession of Mr. Bacon Frogs when he
was brought to me. Constable, can you attest to that?”
The man nodded his assent. “I can.”
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“Sir, when you asked Mr. Frogs who the watch belonged to, did he in-
dicate it was Mr. Grubb’s?”
“He did not. He said it belonged to him, and that Grubb attempted to
steal it.”
“And the frog?”
“We questioned him about it more than once, but he would not
answer.”
The magistrate looked at the frog again for a long moment then picked
it up. He studied it from all angles before giving the key a tentative turn.
Setting it gently on his palm, he leaned back. The little toy promptly cata-
pulted across the table from his hand onto the banister before leaping to
the floor.
The entire room broke into shouts and squeals. A woman across the
room slid from her chair onto the floor in a dead faint.
Shit.
Grubb caught my eye, his face lit up in triumph. Prick. I shrugged as if
I wasn’t nervous in the least, but inside I was dying. I eyeballed the frog,
which had finally come to a halt in the middle of the room. It was a fine
piece of engineering out of Dev. The movement was so lifelike and
smooth. It was a flawless piece of machinery. He’d even enameled the
pieces green and had given it little black eyes. I’d been so proud when
he’d shown it to me for the first time. Now I found myself wishing it were
a little less spectacular.
The magistrate motioned to the constable to pick it up, which he did,
hesitantly. He handled it like it was made of explosives, setting it gently
back in the box. “Mr. Frogs, please step forward for questioning.”
Bacon rose, moving to the middle of the room.
“How did you come to be in Salem, sir?”
He looked to me helplessly. I gave him an encouraging smile, trying to
keep the fear off my face. We’d spent our last few visits preparing in
hopes of at least giving him a fighting chance. If the jurors liked him and
he gave an even halfway credible account, maybe they’d give him the be-
nefit of the doubt.
“We were visiting Boston—” he began slowly, “—my sister, brother-in-
law and I. They had business that was taking a while, so I was coming to
Salem a few days ahead of them to talk to some merchants about sailing
back to London. On the way, I ran into Mr. Grubb in a nearby town.”
105/124
His tone was sincere, his eyes clear. Who knew he’d turned into such
an accomplished storyteller? I gazed around the room at the spectators.
With the exception of Eller, they seemed to be paying attention.
Bacon’s voice grew steadier as he continued. “We chatted, as travelers
do. It was getting colder. The storm was brewing. We both planned to
stop at the nearest inn. He told me of a place he knew of in
Salem…Claimed he was going there too. We traveled together for several
miles until we reached the bluff. I took out my pocket watch to check the
time, and he turned on me. He grabbed it from my hand, and tried to
run.”
“And then?”
“The watch belonged to my father. He passed away last year, and I
wasn’t about to let it go.” He made eye contact with the jurors then, just
like I’d told him to the day before. If I didn’t know better, even I might
have fallen for it. My little boy was growing up.
“We struggled for a time, but I was able to get it back. I went to town to
have it fixed.”
“If he tried to rob you, why did you not report it to the constable and
have him arrested?”
The room grew unnaturally quiet. I could almost hear the pulse pound-
ing in my neck. That was a damn good question, wasn’t it? And one I
hadn’t given Bacon an answer for. His throat worked as he swallowed
hard.
“I—I thought I’d handled it. I didn’t feel as if he was a threat. I mean,
look at him.” He motioned to Grubb, who let out an indignant squawk. “I
just wanted to be done with it, get the watch fixed and find a place to stay
before nightfall.”
I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was a good answer.
A great answer, really.
“How do you explain the frog in your pocket?”
“I cannot.”
“Is it yours?”
“No.”
“So you happened to have a frog in your pocket, and your last name is
Frogs?” At this, even the magistrate looked dubious. Who could blame
him? Something smelled fishy. It must have been this half-baked pile of
bullshit we were hoping to pass off as truth-cake.
“Yes,” Bacon whispered miserably.
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I winced as the air in the room changed. Murmurs broke out; even the
jurors who’d been leaning forward listening to Bacon’s tale seemed to
withdraw from him.
Mature Eller must have sensed it too. “Guilty as charged!” he shouted,
leaping to his feet.
The magistrate ignored him entirely this time, his earnest gaze locked
on Bacon. “Do you know who it belongs to?” he asked, motioning to the
frog.
As he was poised to answer, the door crashed open. “He may not, Your
Honor, but I do!” a male voice boomed.
107/124
Chapter Eleven
A rotund man swept through the door with a grace that belied his girth,
almost as if the stiff breeze he’d let in carried him. All eyes swung his
way. His hair was a shocking tuft of white-blond, cropped close at the
sides. The matching muttonchops and full mustache would have put even
Cecil Wentworth to shame. He was dressed to the nines in a smart coat
the color of charcoal over a vest that, in spite of his size, managed to look
quite dashing on him. He was nobody’s handsome, but he had an almost
electric charisma about him that made it hard to look away. The question
was, friend or foe?
“There he is,” the man boomed. “Phineas the Filcher, in the flesh. I
must say, sir, you’ve led me quite the merry chase.” His massive belly
shook with silent laughter and he wiped a tear from his eye. He gave
Grubb a reproving moue of his lips as he wagged a long, elegant finger at
him.
And that’s when I knew. He’d made it. My husband had come, in the
nick of time.
Joy bubbled up my throat. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing
out loud in utter relief. I eyed him up and down in amazement. It was
more than a costume. He’d changed the very essence of himself. His
voice, his mannerisms…if not for the hands, I’d never have known him. I
was enthralled as he made his way up the aisle, bestowing a smile on
everyone he passed.
He stopped briefly by my chair and I felt something drop into my lap.
He continued past, approaching the bench. I didn’t look down so as not
to call attention to it, but couldn’t resist exploring the item with my fin-
gertips. It was a small stone, warm to the touch, smooth around the
edges.
My eyes stung. I had no doubt what it was. A gift to me from our
daughter.
Molly was a great collector of rocks: colorful ones, large ones, small
ones, but the smooth were her favorite. During the rare moments she was
quiet, she’d sit and worry them with her fingers. It was like they gave her
comfort. At that moment, it gave me comfort too. Once this was over, we
would be together again, and I couldn’t wait.
“Sir, we’re in the midst of a proceeding,” the magistrate began.
Dev bowed deeply. “I realize that, Your Honor, and I apologize for the
interruption. Your…hearing—” he said the last with such disdain he
might have been referring to the contents of a handkerchief, “—is exactly
why I’ve come. You see, Phineas Grubb was my apprentice. He has stolen
my invention and I’m here to get it back.”
Oh, this was going to be good.
The room erupted into chaos. The magistrate banged on the bench,
shouting for order. By the time he actually got it, a full minute had
passed.
He looked to Phineas the Filcher with an arched brow. “Mr. Grubb?”
“I’ve never seen this man in my life, nor do I have any knowledge of
this invention,” Grubb said, wetting his lips with a flick of his lizardlike
tongue.
“Sir, please identify yourself to the court,” the magistrate said firmly.
“Aloisous Aldicott, at your service. Master toymaker, come from Lon-
don to get back what is mine. I’ve even brought a writ from the king
himself.”
Murmurs broke out around the room as he reached into his pocket and
pulled out a very official-looking piece of parchment, complete with wax
seal and all. He glided up to the bench and handed over the scroll with a
flourish.
“This is total bullshit,” Grubb declared. “You’re not going to fall for
this, are you? This man is a total stranger to me!”
“That’s enough! You’ve said your piece. I will ask if I need to hear more
from you.”
Aldicott smiled as he reached for a pouch on his belt. “Thank you, Your
Honor. I appreciate that. As I was saying, it took me two years to create a
menagerie for the king as a gift for his closest friend and confidant, the
Earl of Portland.” He untied the leather bag with care. “I hadn’t yet com-
pleted the set when the most elaborate and difficult one to design was
stolen by my apprentice. I need it back.” His tone was at odds with his
words. He sounded almost jovial as he gently tipped the contents of the
bag into his palm. Four miniature mechanical creatures glinted in the
sunlight.
We all strained forward in our seats to get a better view.
“Moreover, His Royal Highness wants it back.” Methodically, he began
to wind each of the animals, setting them loose one by one. The duck
waddled across the floor, heavy bottom swaying to and fro. The snake
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slithered over the polished wood floor, its body contracting, propelling it
forward. They were enchanted. So much so, they were struck dumb. The
room was silent but for the sound of the animals skittering across the
room.
He went on, but I doubted anyone was listening by that point. “The
king is livid that his one-of-a-kind gift was stolen before he’d even
presented it and even more so that this man…this charlatan, had the au-
dacity to steal from him.”
The magistrate cracked the seal on the parchment and began to read,
his lips moving as he did. “This writ is indeed signed by King William the
Third, requesting that one Phineas Grubb be remanded into Mr.
Aldicott’s custody. Sir, surely he did not send you, a toymaker, all this
way, alone on such a mission?”
“No, no. I have two men escorting me, out by my carriage.”
I risked a glance out the window. Sure enough, there were two men
standing by a carriage like a couple of sentinels. Where the hell had he
gotten them from? I tucked that question away along with the rest and
sat back to enjoy the show.
“At this point, Your Honor, I would like to request that the charges be
dropped and Mr. Grubb remanded to my—”
“I demand Abigail Winter be heard!” Fake Abe stood, beard a-trem-
bling. “This testimony does not address the incident which started it all.
These men appeared on the cliffs from thin air.”
I did a quick search of the room until I found Patience Winter. She sat
with her arm wrapped possessively around her daughter, who seemed
even more fragile than the last time I’d seen her. When the magistrate
called her forward, however, she held her chin high and stepped to the
center of the room.
“Please state your name for the record, miss.”
“Abigail Winter.” Her voice quavered, but she met his gaze head-on.
“Abigail, you testified to the magistrate on the second of March that
you saw these two men—” he motioned to Grubb and Bacon, “—appear
from thin air, is that correct?”
“It is, Your Honor,” she said with a tentative nod. She paused before
adding, “That is what I thought I saw, Your Honor.”
“You…thought you saw?” Aldicott scoffed with a good-natured smile.
“Would you explain that statement further, miss?”
“Yes. I—I’d been sick recently. I thought I was feeling better, but I did
have a dizzy spell earlier that morning. I told Master Eller that right when
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I went to tell,” she hastened to add as a wave of grumbles passed through
the courtroom. “We’d all been sick, the entire family. My brother is only
recovering now.” She flicked a glance to Millicent before continuing.
“Master Eller told me that was not pertinent to this hearing and I
shouldn’t speak of it. But now, upon hearing your tale, sir, I fear I’ve
made a grave error.”
Abigail sought her mother’s gaze as her eyes filled with tears. “It could
be that I was mistaken and the sunlight off the incoming snow blinded
me. Or it could have been the fever come again. If I’m all that is left to
these accusations, I would not have this as a mark upon my conscience
when I can no longer in good faith swear to the truth of it.”
“Liar! I didn’t even have the frog. He did,” Grubb screeched, jumping
up to point an accusing finger at Bacon. He slumped back into his seat
with a scowl an instant later as the constable took a threatening step
forward.
“It’s been established that you’re an accomplished thief. It’s as easy to
put something in someone’s pocket as it is to take something out,”
Aldicott said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
I held my breath and looked to the grand jurors. They appeared to be
deep in thought, with the exception of the two Eller followers who had
stopped listening altogether the second things shifted in our favor. Their
minds were locked tighter than a chastity belt and there would be no
changing them, that much I knew for sure. Luckily, we didn’t need them
all on our side. Only more than half.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but my gut told me we had that.
“Given that Mr. Grubb’s testimony is stricken, and he has been proven
a deceiver, I respectfully request he be released to my custody per the
king’s command at this time. I would also beseech the court to release
these poor victims of Phineas the Filcher’s misdeeds so they might try to
recover from this horrific turn of events. The girl was clearly unwell.
Lives should not rest on such young shoulders.”
The magistrate considered this for a long moment before facing the
jurors. “What say you, the jury?”
All but the two let loose with a hearty, “Aye!”
Cheers erupted, and Patience Winter began to sob as her daughter ran
to her. Dev had done it. He’d saved the day. Pride and gratitude warred
for space in my full-to-bursting heart and I had to refrain from jumping
up and throwing my arms around the portly son-of-a-gun.
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The constable came forward and released the prisoners one by one.
They were promptly swarmed by family members and supporters.
Bacon and Emma immediately gravitated toward one another and
stopped a hair short of an embrace, sharing a secret, jubilant smile.
Grubb looked like he was about to make a run for it, but there was
nowhere to go. The crowd was a wall of pissed-off Puritans who didn’t
take kindly to almost being made fools of again, and they weren’t letting
him go anywhere. The constable restrained him as Aldicott opened the
door and called out to the “guards” by the carriage.
The excited crowd parted to let them by. They didn’t speak as they
marched up the steps and dragged Grubb unceremoniously out of the
courtroom. As they followed Aldicott down the stairs, my husband turned
to give me a broad wink.
Grubb let out a squeal and dug his ineffectual little heels into the
ground as realization set in. “Nooo! It’s her husband. This man isn’t—”
He stopped in midsentence, mouth still moving, but no words came out.
Dev continued leading him forward. In all the hubbub, no one paid
Grubb’s sudden silence any mind. I couldn’t look away, though, as his
frantic eyes searched the crowd. He scrabbled at his throat in a state of
total panic until his terrified gaze locked on a spot right over my
shoulder.
I turned to see Emma Black, her gaze drilling into him, so bitterly cold,
it sent a shiver up my neck.
112/124
Chapter Twelve
Later that night, Dev and I sat on the bluff, he with his legs splayed, me
nestled between them. The adrenaline that had kept me going after four
long, sleepless nights had been exhausted. I was running on fumes. I res-
ted my head against Dev’s chest and took a long, deep breath.
We’d done it. Bacon was free and we were going home the next day.
We’d left him and Emma under Millicent’s care. She was fussing over
both of them. Bacon was eating his fourth bowl of stew while Emma took
the longest bath in history.
As I replayed the day through my mind, I asked, “Where did you get
those guards from?”
Dev chuckled. “About forty miles from here. Just two drunks in a tav-
ern, willing to come and make some easy money.”
“I’m surprised Molly let you borrow her mechanicals,” I said with a
smile.
“It was a hard sell. I promised her another for her birthday. She’s not
going to be happy when I come home without the duck.”
After Grubb had settled into the carriage, “Aloisous” had gone back to
the front of the courthouse where Abigail Winter stood with her mother.
“For you, young lady,” he’d said with a flourish.
Her face had broken into a beautiful smile as she took the little toy in
hand. I had high hopes that eventually she would heal from the trauma of
the previous weeks. I’d spoken to Patience as well and was thrilled to
learn that Benjamin was indeed on the mend. Milli had given her more
herbs that morning. She was confident he would make a full recovery.
With all the excitement and people milling around all day, Dev had
been forced to hide out with Grubb in the woods until nightfall. We
couldn’t leave him in Salem, and we certainly weren’t going to take him
with us. The only alternative was to send him elsewhere, to a place he
wouldn’t have access to the making of a TTM and where the mean-spir-
ited little menace could do little damage. We chose the Scottish high-
lands, circa fourteen-hundred. Dev let me do the honors. Grubb bitched
and complained the whole way, but we’d sent him with enough gold to
live his life out comfortably. Or as comfortable as one could be under the
circumstances.
As we made the journey, I’d managed to block out most of his cursing
and threats. Still, one thing he said played in my head over and over
again: “She really is a fucking witch, don’t you get it? She put a spell on
me.”
“Do you think Grubb was right? Do you think Emma’s actually a
witch?” I asked Dev as I burrowed closer.
His chest rumbled against my ear when he answered. “I thought we
didn’t believe in witches?”
“We don’t. It’s…I don’t know, I have a weird feeling about her.”
“Well, this adventure has taught me that your feelings are almost al-
ways correct.”
Normally, this would’ve prompted an “I was right, you were wrong, so
suck it” jig, but I couldn’t work up the energy. It had been a rough road.
I’d rather have been wrong about Grubb if it would have saved us this
drama. And it wasn’t over yet.
Dev must have read my thoughts, because he stirred behind me. “It’s
getting late. We’d better get back so we can leave under the cover of dark-
ness as well. I suspect we haven’t seen the last of the fireworks. I can’t see
Bacon leaving here without Emma.”
I swallowed the golf ball wedged in my throat and nodded. “Okay.”
We took it slow, almost as if both of us wanted to prolong the fleeting
sense of well-being. When we stepped through the door of the shop, Ba-
con, Emma and Milli were talking in the back room. They cheered as we
walked in.
“We…sent Mr. Grubb on his way,” I said, giving Bacon the eye.
“No need for the caginess. They already know the whole story.”
“Bacon—”
“I know what you’re going to say. But Emma is my Dev and she had the
right to know the truth. Besides, she trusted me.” He shrugged. “We all
have secrets, sis. And we all need someone we love to share them with.”
“Trusted you with what?” I asked as a sense of dread crept up my neck.
Bacon looked to Emma and she nodded. “Emma can do magic.”
My stomach kicked up a fuss. I grabbed on to a nearby chair. “Let me
get this straight. You’re actually a witch?”
Her dark eyes grew guarded, but Bacon rested a reassuring hand on
her shoulder. She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Seriously.”
“Yes.” She said it a little more forcefully this time.
114/124
I pushed away from the chair, folding my arms over my chest. Science
was one thing, but magic? Hocus pocus? I needed more than the stink
eye and a declaration for proof. “Show me.”
Bacon stepped forward and wrapped a protective arm around her
slight form. “No. She’s not a circus monkey. She doesn’t have to prove
anyth—”
Emma turned and brushed her hand across his forehead. “Don’t fret,
darling Bacon. I am forever grateful you did not ask this of me. Your love
is deep and your trust complete. But your sister doesn’t know me. She
makes a reasonable request.” Emma turned to face me. She flicked a
careless hand toward the lantern on the table between us and it immedi-
ately shone brighter.
Even as the words came out of my mouth, I had a feeling I was going to
regret them, but that never stopped me before. “Meh. I mean, that
could’ve been a stiff breeze. Is that all you got?”
Her wide eyes narrowed. This time her flick was much less careless.
She aimed straight at me. A second later, I was braying like a donkey. No
matter how hard I tried, no words would come from my mouth, just “hee-
haws” and lips a-flapping.
Bacon doubled over laughing. I was tempted to cuff him one, but one
look at Emma convinced me that might not be prudent. She was kind of
scary. I shot a glance toward Dev. To his credit, he managed to wipe the
grin off his face almost instantly. I met Emma’s gaze and inclined my
head in as dignified manner as one might manage given the circum-
stances. She smiled and did another hand-waving thing in my direction.
My throat tingled and I cleared it, relieved that it sounded exactly as it
should. “Okay, I gotta hand it to you there. That was pretty good.” Then I
recalled the look in her eyes when she’d been staring at Grubb and things
got even more surreal as I heard myself say, “So, are you a good witch or
a bad witch?”
She flinched as if she’d been slapped. Her tone grew chilly. “I can as-
sure you, I’m a most excellent witch, sister. Maybe the best in the land.
Did you require more proof?” She lifted her arm and the back of my neck
prickled.
“No, no!” I waved both hands high in surrender. “That’s not really what
I meant. Although phrased that way, the question could be misleading. I
meant, like, do you always use your magic for good?”
She scrunched her forehead in thought. “Hmm, this is a much more
difficult question to answer, is it not? I ask you as well then, sister. Are
115/124
you a good woman or a bad woman? Do you use your gifts for only
good?”
It’s hokey to say my life flashed in front of my eyes, but I certainly took
a quick trip down recollection road. Memories—some pleasant, others
not so much—flickered through my mind.
Me as a child, stealing from a pie shop on Bleaker Street. Me as that
same child, giving Bacon the only pie I’d managed to snag and assuring
him I’d already eaten mine. Me at thirteen, running from some wigged
dandy as he tried to get back his lifted purse. Me, sharing that purse with
the rest of the Fenchurch Street urchins so we all could eat for a week. Me
two weeks before, piping bees into Catherine Blakeslee’s window. Me the
night before that one, catching fireflies in a jar with my daughter.
My cheeks burned as I met Emma’s knowing gaze. She was awfully
young to be so damn smart. She would be a formidable enemy and a
help-you-hide-the-bodies kind of friend, both qualities I could appreciate
in a person. “Right. I guess all I really need to know is that your heart is
in the right place and you aren’t some sort of crazy she-devil. I’d feel
pretty bad if we let you loose on Salem again, in that case.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “On this, you have my word.”
“Awesome. Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Of course.”
“If you’re a witch, why didn’t you save yourself? And Bacon?” I tried
not to sound all judge-y for fear of a repeat alakazam on my vocal cords,
but it wasn’t easy. “Why didn’t you, I don’t know, bippity boppity boo
your way out of the cell right off the bat and call it a day?”
“How do you imagine I was able to leave my cell to meet your brother?
Freeing myself wasn’t the concern. If I had done so, what of the countless
others who would come after me, others who could not… bippity bop-
pity? Leave them to be stoned? No.” She gave her head a resolute shake.
“I couldn’t leave, for the same reason I couldn’t allow you to free us. The
remaining townspeople who believed the teachings of Eller needed to see
that these people they were imprisoning weren’t the devil’s handmaidens.
Until they had a change inside their hearts, this would happen again and
again. The prophecy came to pass exactly as it was written—everything is
as it should be.”
I honed in on that last sentence, the rest of her words forgotten. “Wait,
what prophecy?”
116/124
She pulled away from Bacon and walked over to a long table with a
single drawer. She pulled it open to take out a small leather-bound book.
“Please,” she said, laying it on the table between us.
Dev looked at me questioningly. I nodded. He picked it up and bobbled
it, almost dropping it. “It’s uncommonly warm,” he said with a puzzled
glance at Emma. He opened the cover and we all peered down at the
blank page he’d revealed. As he flipped through, it became obvious that
the whole thing was blank. “I don’t understand.”
Emma leaned across the table and took the book from Dev’s unresist-
ing grasp then handed it to me. “Open it, sister.”
I shrugged and cracked it open. As I stared down at the previously
blank page, it began to fill with flowing script, painstakingly neat and
precise.
“It’s filling up, Storm!” Bacon said.
What the hell? I looked at Emma questioningly.
“The book only reveals its secrets to the ancestors of the great Americ-
an witch who created it, Hattie Board,” she said with a beatific smile.
I stared at her, nonplussed. “So…why did it—”
She raised her brows at me and waited for it.
“No. No way. Are you kidding me? You’re telling me we’re related
somehow? That can’t be. My family is from London. My father was a
wealthy London merchant, as British as they came, or at least that’s what
my mother told me. And she was a drunk and a whore who—”
She nodded slowly.
“My mother?” I gasped.
She nodded.
“How could you possibly know this?”
She motioned to the book again and I began to read. Ten minutes later,
I laid my head on the cool planks of the table. “Holy shit.”
“You can say that again,” Dev said, shaking his head incredulously as
he stared down at a page etched with an exact likeness of me.
“Amazing,” Bacon whispered.
We were all reeling, and the silence stretched for a long moment as we
tried to digest what we’d read. The book told the story of my ancestors
who, in all real terms, hadn’t even been born yet. My mother was the
daughter of Elisabeth Board. Elisabeth had married Bertram Peters, a
London merchant who’d gone to Salem on business. When they married,
she returned to London with him. They were together for several years,
until Elisabeth died giving birth to my mother.
117/124
“So, this book has all this information, over a century before it came to
pass?”
“Yes. Although, it changes in some small way with each choice we
make. Free will makes all prophecies fallible.”
An awesome and terrifying thought occurred to me. “Wait a second.
Am I a witch?” My heart thudded as I waited for her answer.
She considered the question for a long moment. “In a manner of
speaking.”
“Dear God, no,” Dev muttered.
“I can do magic?” Shock gave way to a glimmer of excitement and a
strange rush of power.
She grinned and inclined her head. “Yes, but very little. Simple,
mundane spells maybe, once we’ve spent some time with you.”
As I swallowed my disappointment, Dev let out a relieved sigh. I glared
at him. “What are you so happy about?”
“If you don’t know, I’m certainly not going to tell you.”
“I’d be a kick-ass witch. You don’t even know about it,” I said with a
disdainful sniff.
He nodded gravely. “I’m sure you would. I can see Catherine Blakeslee
now, braying like an ass forever more.”
I rolled my eyes like that was so beneath me and turned my back on
him. He had a point, though. There probably would have been some ini-
tial mismanagement of my witchy powers but I would’ve settled in even-
tually. Oh, well. Even doing simple spells would be a hoot.
“Have you never felt the tingling of the power?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Once in a while I get these floopy
feelings inside. Like, a gut feeling about something. And I’m good at pick-
ing locks,” I added dubiously.
“Yes! Precisely that manner of thing. That is your magic guiding you.
Even off-generations have a gift. They just have to find it.”
Well, wasn’t that a kick in the pants. I glanced back down at the book
and my own eyes stared back at me. The whole thing was still totally sur-
real, even for a time pirate. “So you’ve been expecting me all along.” It
wasn’t a question.
“That’s right. We thought you were coming a few years back, when the
trials had begun. I almost lost faith. I was so impatient when I was
younger. And now here you are, with my one true love. It was worth the
wait, Stormy Gale. But now we need to complete the rest of the
prophecy.”
118/124
We had stopped reading once we’d gotten to the story of our arrival to
Salem, but even as we flipped through the book, the pages remained
blank. The three of us faced her expectantly.
“There’s more?”
She nodded. “There will be. We’ll need to come with you.”
“Millicent too?” Once he’d spilled the beans to Emma, I’d already
figured on Bacon pleading for her to return with us, but taking the two of
them was riskier. The more we changed the past, the more the future was
altered. There was no way to know if it could be done safely until I
entered the data into the risk assessment module, which I had to go to
the future to use. I scrunched my brow as I considered all that it would
entail. “There are a lot of things to consider,” I began, but Bacon cut me
off at the pass.
“They’re coming with us.” His face was set, his gaze glued to mine.
There was no pleading in his face, no room for question in his voice. If we
didn’t take them with us, Bacon would stay behind. My stomach pitched
at the thought.
Emma gazed up at him, love shining in her eyes before she turned to
face me again. “There will be no repercussions for taking us from this
time, of this I can assure you. This is meant to be. We don’t do it for
ourselves, sister. Although I daresay it would be a better life. There is an
important and powerful witch in your time who needs our guidance in or-
der to fulfill her destiny.”
“But I thought you said only ancestors of…”
Her gaze never wavered as the last puzzle piece slipped into place.
“Molly,” Dev whispered.
The stomach-pitching thing got a bazillion times worse. “What?” I
whispered, scouring my memories with Molly for some foreshadowing of
this bombshell. “There’s never been any sign. How? I’m barely a blip on
the witch Richter scale. How is she so powerful?”
Milli spoke then, chiming in for the first time since we’d gotten there.
“At such a young age, mayhap she is not aware that anything is amiss.
She won’t reach her full potential until she becomes a young woman.
Without our help? She never will. As for the other, true power skips a
generation.”
“So, my mother? She was a powerful witch?”
“Ah, yes. She would’ve been very powerful, but without the guidance
and training of her mother, I’m afraid the power would be enough to
drive the heartiest of souls to the brink of madness. She must have been a
119/124
deeply troubled woman, unable to understand what was happening to
her. It would be a terrifying thing if one is unprepared for it.” Milli shook
her head, sorrow in her eyes for a woman she’d never met.
I opened my mouth to make the requisite acerbic comment at the men-
tion of my mother but came up empty. I’d spent the last twenty years
convincing myself it didn’t matter why she treated me the way she had.
At that moment, some small piece of the abandoned, abused little girl
still frozen inside of me thawed. It wasn’t my smart mouth or my stub-
bornness that made her hate me so much. She was a very sick and con-
fused woman. Did it make me forgive her? Not really. But it made me un-
derstand her a little better.
Emma continued, “Many a witch left to her own devices would take her
own life to quiet the power writhing inside her with no way to release it.”
Dev and I shared a long look and a decision was made in an instant.
“You’ll come with us, then, to take care of Molly. Make sure she under-
stands what’s happening to her. She’s a stout soul, that one. She’ll likely
take to it like a duck to water,” Dev said.
“It can be a most joyful thing if nurtured properly,” Emma said with a
smile. “Come now, let us prepare for our journey.” She leaned in and laid
a gentle hand on my arm. “All will be well, sister. You’ll see. We will make
sure your Molly is a most excellent witch.”
I didn’t know if that reassurance made me feel better or worse. All I
knew was that we were going home. And soon, my baby girl would be in
my arms and my family would be whole again. At that moment, it was
enough for me.
120/124
Epilogue
We arrived back to London, all five of us in one piece, about a week from
the time we’d left. Cook had wept in relief at seeing Bacon but recovered
like a champ. The tears had barely dried before she’d lumbered off to
pack for her trip to the country.
Molly was thrilled with her new aunties. She asked them no less than a
thousand questions in the first five minutes of meeting them. They were
totally charmed by her, and the lessons were going smashingly. The
thought of the next few years terrified me, seeing as how my daughter
hardly needed more excuses to put critters into pots and was a handful
before the magic. That said, if she’d been blessed with a gift, it was her
right to explore it and my duty to help her. It would all work out. The
prophecy said so.
Emma’s effect on Bacon was nothing short of mind-blowing. She’d
awakened a fiercely protective side of him and the almost reverent puppy
love he’d felt for Catherine paled in the face of the mature, deep emotion
he exhibited toward Emma.
Shortly after we’d arrived home, he’d sat me and Dev down and told us
it was time for him to run a household of his own. He asked if he and his
bride-to-be might build a cottage behind the house for the two of them.
We’ve been having a lovely time drawing up plans and buying materials
for decorating. And when he asked her if she minded being saddled with
his silly last name, she’d beamed at him.
“My sweet love. What better surname for a witch than Frogs?”
He’d grinned and swept her up into his arms for a kiss. I’d wanted to
kiss her myself, to be honest. Somehow, in the span of only a few months,
she’d become like the sister I never had and never knew I wanted. Milli-
cent was still a bit of a mystery, but one I felt compelled to unravel.
Maybe someday we’d share the same bond Emma and I had forged. Then
again, maybe not. For now, my daughter is wild about her and that’s the
important thing.
As for me? Dev and I are happier than ever. We’re gearing up for
Christmas here, and I can’t wait. The kids at Gilly’s House are going to
have the best holiday ever. We have big plans for a Christmas Carnival,
and there will be toys and games and food like nothing they’ve ever seen.
Come the New Year, though, it’s off to the future for some serious ass-
whooping. Phineas Grubb might not be a threat anymore, but the other
members of his alchemy society are. Their harebrained plot for world
domination needs to be thwarted, and Dev and I are just the time pirates
to do it.
For right now though, I’m happier than I’ve ever been and life feels like
an adventure again. I can’t wait to see what the next year has in store.
* * * * *
122/124
About the Author
Christine Bell is one half of the happiest couple in the world. She and her
handsome hubby currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of
teenage boys and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from
her duties as maid, chef, chauffeur or therapist, she can be found reading
just about anything she can get her hands on, from young adult novels to
books on poker theory. She doesn’t like root beer, clowns or bugs (except
ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits), but lurrves chocolate, going to
the movies, the New York Giants and playing Texas Hold ’Em. Writing is
her passion, but if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a
pirate…or, like, a ninja maybe. When she isn’t writing steampunk ro-
mance, she’s writing erotic romance under her pen name, Chloe Cole.
Christine loves to hear from readers, so please contact her through her
website,
.
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