The Art of Stealing Time

looked relaxed and carefree, with a slight smile on his lips, but I knew without a single shred of doubt that he was furious. I could feel his tension prickle along my skin like the static electricity that we generated when things got hot and heavy between us.

“You have excellent timing,” I told him.

“It goes along with the whole Traveller thing.” His gaze held mine for a few seconds, and I suddenly understood why I felt the electricity in the air.

“Mom,” I said softly. “The egg spell. Do you remember it?”

Mom frowned, sliding me a worried look. “Egg spell? No, I don’t think I know a spell that has anything to do with eggs other than—” She stopped.

“I don’t know who you are,” Irv told Gregory, “but you’re not wanted here, mate. Best be on your way.”

“Ah, but I know well who you are, and I object to you holding Gwen’s mother in that manner. Let her go, and there won’t be any trouble between us.”

“Ooh.” Mom Two stopped being afraid for a few seconds, rolling her eyes over to examine Gregory. “Mags, this is him.”

“Is it?” Mom stopped whispering her spell, also giving Gregory the visual once-over. “He’s not what I expected. Gwen’s never liked blonds before.”

“Well, he is technically handsome, if you like that sort of thing,” Mom Two admitted.

“But she’s not been one for letting a pretty face turn her head,” Mom argued. “Do you know, Alice, I think that bodes well for her future. He’s totally different from all the other men she’s brought to see us.”

“Really?” I asked, turning to her. “Do we have to have this conversation right now?”

“All the other men?” Gregory asked at the same time, giving me a look that warned he had a lot to say about the subject. “Just how many other men has she brought home to meet you, madam?”

“None of your business.” I spoke loudly and pointed with the sword to Frankie. “Can we get back to what’s important here, please?”

“It’s not really that many,” Mom Two told him. “Maybe ten?”

“Twelve, I think, dear. No, I tell a lie. It’s thirteen.”

“Mom!” I gave her a long-suffering look. “I have not had thirteen boyfriends. Five, maybe. Six at most.”

“Thirteen,” Mom said with a knowing expression on her face. “The first was that poet who wore all the lace and that smelly hair oil. He went down with the Titanic, didn’t he? Then there was the politician who supported the suffragettes. He was quite nice, but mortal. And then you fell for your alchemy instructor, and after that was an actor. Do you remember him? He was so good at charades.”

“He was a very nice boy,” Mom Two agreed. “As was that young man in advertising she was with during the fifties.”

I glanced at Gregory. His jaw was tight, and his eyes glittered like particularly pissed blue topazes. “Maybe we can do this another time—”

“I do remember the clown.” Mom shuddered. “He was horrible.”

“Then there was the dog trainer, and the accountant—”

“He made her cry a lot. I didn’t like him at all.”

“And the astronaut, and then those twins that she couldn’t decide between, even though they were both clearly quite, quite gay—”

“Bi,” I interrupted, my cheeks hot. “They were bisexual, not gay.”

“And the man who created that vacuum cleaner, and finally, that rock climber. That’s thirteen.”

“Astronaut?” Irv asked, giving me an appraising glance.

I waved it away. “Everyone was dating test pilots and astronauts in the sixties. Besides, it’s not like I was a fragile little thing living in an egg carton.”

Mom caught the emphasis on the last words, and finished whispering her spell.

“I’m more disturbed by the thought of dating a clown,” Ethan said from where he was, back at his laptop. “That’s just creepy.”

“Thirteen,” Gregory said, his eyes glittering.

The hairs on my arm stood on end.

“It’s not important!” I yelled, taking everyone by surprise. Luckily, Gregory was waiting for it, and having gathered up enough electricity, called down the lightning.

Right on top of Frankie and Irv.

FIFTEEN

Gregory did the best he could to shield Gwen’s mother from the lightning that exploded around him in a brilliant blue-white ball of light, jerking her out of the hold in which one of the no-necks held her, pulling her close against his body so as to channel the charge onto himself.

She didn’t even jerk as the electricity crackled and snapped around him, and glancing down, he was astonished to see a protective glow of yellow light skimming her body.

“Mom Two!” Gwen yelled and ran to them.

“I’m all right. Your mother got that protection spell off just in time,” the woman said into his collarbone. He released her just as Gwen reached them. She hugged her glowing mother, ignoring the electricity as it embraced her, then turned a look on him that was so filled with admiration and gratitude, it had his chest swelling with pride.

“Thank you,” she told him, gently touching his face. Her mothers embraced, their voices a low murmur that seemed to fade when he caught that sweet wildflower scent that always seemed to surround Gwen.

He didn’t want her thanks. He wanted her. “My pleasure. It seemed you could use a hand. I hope you don’t mind that I interfered.”

“Mind?” She shook her head in confusion. “Why would I mind that you saved my mom?”

“Some women don’t hesitate to make it clear that they don’t need to be rescued by a man. I had an idea that you might follow that belief.”

“There’s not being a victim, and then there’s being stupidly stubborn and not taking help when it’s offered,” she said, giving him a swift hug. “My mom’s life was at stake. I am more than happy to have your assistance saving her from that bastard.”

“What the devil just happened here?” They both turned when Ethan marched over, scowling fiercely at Gregory. “You, sir! You stole the very lightning from the heavens and wielded it as if it was a weapon!”

“I did.” Gregory considered the two men who lay twitching on the ground before them. Both their faces were blackened, their hair standing on end in unruly clumps, with the faintest hint of smoke emerging from one of them. “My apologies about the smoke stains on the carpet.”

“You are not a thief as you said you were!” Ethan poked him in the chest. His other hand reached up and cupped his pectoral muscle in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

“Down, Diego!” Gwen said, glaring at the hand. “He’s mine. That includes his fabulous chest.”

“Er . . . think nothing about this.” Ethan grabbed his hand and pulled it back, quickly slipping in place the leather harness that held the hand down. “My hand gets confused about genders sometimes.”

“Your hand has issues,” Gwen said. “And not just with genders.”

“The fact remains that you lied to me,” Ethan ignored Gwen to tell Gregory. “You are not a thief. Therefore, you are up to mischief. You will tell me exactly what that is, and then I will call Holly and she will know how to deal with you.”

“I have not lied to you,” Gregory said calmly, wrapping an arm around Gwen. One of the two men at their feet moaned. The other moved his arms and legs in a motion vaguely reminiscent of swimming. “I have been engaged by the king as a thief. It is not my normal form of employment, however.”

“And what might that be?”

“I’m with the L’au-dela Watch.”

“They have no jurisdiction here,” Ethan told him, still suspicious. “And I have not heard that members of the