The Art of Stealing Time

THREE

The fireworks were over, but Gregory Faa felt as if he’d been caught up in some sort of residual whirlwind that left him baffled, intrigued, and with an overwhelming sense that he’d just been duped.

“And I don’t like that feeling,” he announced after arriving at the spot where his cousin’s wife, Kiya, was sitting on a small woolen blanket.

“What feeling?”

“That someone has just pulled the wool over my eyes. A lot of wool. At least three or four sheep’s worth. Perhaps a small flock.”

Kiya scrunched up her nose, pursed her lips, and looked thoughtful. “That’s kind of odd, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not the easiest person to pull the wool . . . over . . . on. That got mangled. How should I end that sentence?”

“—‘on which the wool can be pulled.’ At least, that seems a fairly grammatically correct version.” Gregory scanned the area, but didn’t see his cousin. “Where’s Peter?”

“He went to the north gate to watch for the lady you guys are after. I’ve been stationed here with this”—she showed him the blurry printout from a security camera that showed a short, round woman stuffing a tiny elderly woman into a blue sedan—“and strict instructions that if I see either woman, I’m to call Peter immediately and not attempt to talk to the lady myself.”

“I take it you haven’t seen anyone?”

“Lots of people, but none who look like this lady.” She studied the picture for a moment. “She doesn’t look like a kidnapper.”

He continued to scan the crowds of people moving to and fro in the night, many of them beginning to drift out of the park now that the fireworks were over. “Finding her would be so much easier if it was daylight. There would be fewer people about, for one.”

“Ah, but then your canny kidnappers seldom flee to parks with their victims, since they would be noticeable there. In fact, I think it’s downright odd that she came here to begin with. I mean, why? Why would you go to the trouble of kidnapping an old woman out of a nursing home only to take her to the park?” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure she really kidnapped the woman?”

“I’m not sure of anything yet. The only thing we know is that a police report came across the radio, and they gave her name as being attached to the car.” Static and unintelligible conversation burst out of the small electronic device concealed in his pants pocket. He pulled out the police scanner that all Watch officers used when a case involved someone who wasn’t a denizen of the Otherworld, listened for a moment, then shook his head. “The mortal police are still trying to find her car. Thought they had spotted it, but it turned out to be someone else.”

“So she’s still in the park?”

“To the best of our knowledge, yes.” He made another visual sweep of the area, mentally cursing the fact that he and Peter had been there when the call came through that one of “their” cases had suddenly come to the attention of the mortal police.

Why hadn’t he left Wales two days ago, after arresting the man who had killed Gwen? The memory of that day rose up in his mind again, just as it had done approximately every hour for the last two days, the sight of the broken, bloodied body on the rocks before him driving him to do the unthinkable—steal time.

His shoulders slumped.

“You’re not still brooding over what happened, are you?” Kiya’s voice penetrated both the soft night air and the dark, twisted cloud of his thoughts. With a gesture of surrender, he plopped down on the blanket next to her, leaning his arms on his knees while staring glumly into the darkness. Pools of artificial light drove away some of the night, but the park was too big, and it was too late to find someone if she wished to stay hidden. “Gregory?” Kiya gently patted his arm.

“If I am brooding, it’s because I have every right to do so. If Peter ever wishes to disguise himself as a fish, he would be absolutely indistinguishable from a piranha. He certainly chewed me up and spat out my shredded remains just as good as any piranha.”

“That’s because you did something seriously illegal,” she said with a calmness that pricked his skin. He liked Kiya, he truly did, but he didn’t always appreciate her frankness. Not where his slipup was concerned. “Not that I think stealing a little time here and there is a big deal, especially since you saved a woman’s life while doing so, but still, you knew the rules about Travellers joining the Watch when you signed up.”

“I did, and I make no excuses now. I’m simply saying that when Peter found out what I’d done, he could have taken down a full-grown bull moose in about ten seconds flat.”

She laughed. “Now you’re being a drama queen, and that’s the last thing I ever pegged you for. Peter’s been very good to you, and you know it.”

“I do know it. He didn’t tell the Watch what I had done. He covered up the incident with Gwen. He read me the lecture of my life and came close to tearing off actual strips of my flesh with his tongue, but I’m still employed, and for that I’m truly grateful.”

She gave him a long look out of the corner of her eye. “Peter never told me just exactly why you saved that lady’s life. You didn’t know her, did you?”

“Not then, no.” He thought of how the light from the electric torches had shone in Gwen’s black hair. There was something about her that went beyond the appreciation that a mere buxom, pretty woman stirred in him. She was . . . mysterious. There were hidden depths in her, an undercurrent of tension that she tried to belie with light banter and smiling eyes, but he was no stranger to female wiles, and she was up to something. Just what that was, he had no idea, but he was a bit surprised to realize how determined he was to unveil her secrets one by one.

“So why did you?”

“Hmm?” He stopped worrying over whether or not his interest in learning more about Gwen bordered on unhealthy (the last thing he wanted was for her to consider him a stalker of sorts) and focused on what Kiya had asked. “Oh, Gwen? I didn’t really stop to think about it, to be honest. I simply reacted. And that’s why Peter was so furious with me: I stole the time as a gut reaction.”

“It’ll be all right,” she said, patting him again. “You’ve been a Traveller all your life, and you only just started having to rein back unauthorized time stealing. You’ll get used to reacting without automatically going into rewind mode. And to be honest, Peter isn’t a saint when it comes to stealing time. Sunil is proof of that.”

Gregory stopped brooding over the hell that was his life and looked around again, this time searching not for a short, round woman but for the slim young man who had formerly been a ball of golden light. “Where is Sunil?”

“He saw a carousel and couldn’t resist it. I’m so glad he got his body back. Being confined to a ball of light was hard on him when he has such . . . such . . .”

“Joie de vivre?”

She nodded. “That’s what comes from being killed when you’re only eighteen, I guess. As long as you’re here keeping me company instead of looking for that sweet little woman—”

“Gwen?” How did she know that he fancied her? Did it show? He slid a covert glance down to the fly of his jeans. No, all was well there. Not that he felt he was sporting an erection. Usually he had a warning of such things, and although he was perfectly willing to admit that Gwen could probably cause that result in him with very little effort on her part, all he’d felt while she dragged him across the park was a pleasant tingling that swept up his back and inner thighs.

“No, not the woman you saved. The other one. The kidnapper.”

Guilt drove him back onto his feet to resume the visual scan of the area. “What on earth makes you think a woman who sells magic to mortals as well as kidnapping them is sweet?”

“She looks nice. Did you guys ever consider that maybe there was a perfectly good reason for her taking this old lady out of her home? Maybe she was a friend and promised her a night out watching the fireworks. Or maybe she wanted to do a random act of kindness, and getting the woman out and about was that act. Or perhaps—”

“Perhaps she has a history of illegalities where mortals are concerned, and this is simply the latest in a long line of transgressions.”

Kiya got to her feet as well, stretching before shaking out the blanket and folding it into a square. “I just think that maybe Peter and you are jumping the gun a bit. All you heard on the police scanner was that she was seen driving off with the woman. Maybe the old lady called her and asked her to take her somewhere?”

“The nursing home would hardly be likely to call the police and say she’d been abducted if that was the case. Ah, there’s Peter.”

“I think you should take another look at what’s going on,” Kiya said, turning to smile at her husband. “There may be more there than you think.”

That was certainly the case with Gwen, at least. Why had she dragged him across the park? Had she been hiding from someone? Had she been nervous about being alone? Was someone threatening her? He dug through his memory of the cases he’d read up on in the last few months, but came up with nothing regarding Gwen Byron.

“No luck?” Gregory asked when Peter was within hailing distance.

“None. It’s an impossible task. I walked half the park, but everywhere I looked, there were a hundred possible hiding spots. If she’s here, we’ll never find her.” He stopped next to his wife, smiling down at her with obvious affection.

“I’ve come to exactly the same conclusion.”

Kiya leaned into Peter, kissed him, giggled when he squeezed her behind, and handed him the blanket while announcing, “I’m going to go see what Sunil is up to, and perhaps ride on the carousel, too. I haven’t seen one in donkey’s years, and if there’s one thing that living with a former-animus-now-turned-lich has taught me, it’s to embrace whatever life gives you.”

Both men watched as she walked off to the bright section of the park where a couple of carnival rides were running, their garish lights and tinny music enticing many people into nighttime revelry. Gregory smiled at the besotted expression on his cousin’s face, giving him a nudge with his elbow. “You’re going to be the one who’s arrested if the local coppers see you with that leer on your face.”

Peter grimaced, then smiled. “You have to admit she’s a sight for sore eyes.”

“She’s very pretty, but I prefer my women dark rather than strawberry blond.” That hadn’t been the truth until a few days ago, but it was perfectly natural that now and again a man’s tastes changed.

Peter shot him a curious look, and slowly the two men followed the path that Kiya had taken. “Since when?”

Gregory shrugged. “Brunettes usually have an air of mystery to them that bodes well for not losing interest after a few weeks. Have you ever heard of Gwen Byron? Full name Gwenhwyfar Byron?”

“Yes.”

Gregory stopped, startled.

“She’s the woman you saved the other day. At risk of not only your own life but your career, and quite likely mine as well,” Peter continued, giving him a dark look.

“Ah.” Gregory continued to stroll alongside his cousin. “I thought you meant that you had heard of her in an official capacity. Other than the events of two days ago.”

“No, the name doesn’t ring a bell, although we can always run it past Dalton.” He pulled out his cell phone and typed in a text to his boss. “You’re damned lucky, you know.”

“That you didn’t tell Dalton the full truth of what happened?”

“No. Well, yes, but what I meant is that the shuvani didn’t punish you for saving that Welsh girl’s life.”

“I’ve always paid my debts,” Gregory said somewhat stiffly. “That minion of Death was well rewarded for the time I took from her. Besides, she’s immortal. Yes, we have to pay for that which we take, but the shuvani only comes down hard on us when we steal from mortals. She minds less if you take time from someone who has the potential for a life measured in millennia rather than years.”

Peter held up his hand. “You don’t need to lecture me about the ways and hows of Travellers, cousin. I might not have been raised in the family, but I assure you that I am well versed in how we can be punished for thefts. Ah, here’s Dalton’s response.”

Gregory leaned over to see the text on the small phone.

No records for person with the name Gwen Byron. Are you sure it’s not an alias?

“Hmm,” Gregory said, mulling that over. “I have a pretty accurate mental lie detector, and it didn’t seem to me like she was giving me a false name.”

“It’s a bit odd that there’s no record whatsoever,” Peter said, frowning at his phone.

“But not unknown. After all, the Watch doesn’t maintain a database of all individuals in the Otherworld. It didn’t have me in it.”

“No, but you said that the lawyer had killed Gwen. The first time, before you rescued her. That would imply that she had something to do with him.”

“She isn’t Magdalena Owens. She’s not old enough, according to what Dalton told us yesterday.”

“That’s only because he found some updated records from a few months ago when there was a mix-up in an arrest of someone who was erroneously thought to be Owens. Your Gwen might be Owens wearing a glamour to look different. Younger,” Peter suggested.

Gregory shook his head. “No. I’d have known once she touched me.”

“She touched you?” Peter looked surprised. “After you saved her?”

“No, tonight. She’s here in the park.”

Both of Peter’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a bit of a curious coincidence, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Unreasonably, Gregory felt irritated by his cousin’s suspicion, and then was irritated at his irritation. He wasn’t so new to either women or the Watch that he couldn’t separate his own emotions from facts.

“She shows up two days ago when we were supposed to find the Owens woman. And now, after Owens has kidnapped a mortal, she’s here in the park at the same time.”

“There is a festival going on,” Gregory pointed out, gesturing at the people still present. “She probably lives around here. There had to be at least six or seven thousand people here tonight.”

“I’m just saying it’s a bit of a coincidence.”

His temper got the better of him, something that seldom happened. “Yes, all right, it’s a coincidence. And it’s true that Gwen is hiding something. It was quite clear that she had some motive for dragging me across the width of the park, but just because she didn’t inform me of her every concern and worry doesn’t mean she was up to something nefarious. She could have been uncomfortable about the nearness of an old lover. Or afraid of the dark. Or hell, maybe she just wanted to put her hand on my arm and that was the only way she could think of to do it! There’s any number of reasons she should be in the park on this night, and obviously keeping some secret from me! It doesn’t follow that she has anything to do with our case!”

Peter’s round, startled eyes gave Gregory pause.

“Did I just rant?” he asked.

“Yes.” Peter looked thoughtful. “Interesting. Very interesting. You don’t . . . uh . . .”

“Of course I do. She’s got a magnificent ass. But that is neither here nor there.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said as they continued forward toward the rides. “I think it’s pretty here. But I suppose your interest in the woman whose life you saved—again, I feel obligated to point out at the risk of your own life, your job, and possibly my job—being present at the park at the same time as the Owens female doesn’t necessarily mean they’re related. She dragged you across the park?”

Gregory laughed at the incredulity expressed in Peter’s last sentence. “She did. She was trying to be subtle about it, too, so I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by letting on I knew she was doing it. So I simply allowed her to pull me where she wanted me.”

Peter gave him an unreadable look, started to say something, stopped, then finally shook his head and spoke. “We haven’t known each other for long—obviously, I knew of you and the other members of Lenore Faa’s family—”

“Of which you’re one,” Gregory interrupted. Although Peter and Lenore, their grandmother, had somewhat made their peace, it was clear that Peter still didn’t feel that he was truly a member of the family. And given his past, and their uncle’s and a cousin’s actions of late, Gregory didn’t blame him one bit. But since they had started working together, he felt it important to remind Peter that he was, in fact, part of the family.

“Yes, thank you, of which I’m one.” Peter grimaced slightly before continuing. “Regardless of the length of time I’ve known you personally, I feel obliged to discuss something that could have an impact on your career.”

“What have I done wrong now?” Gregory asked wearily. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if being a member of the Watch was going to be worth all the sacrifices he was making.

“Don’t make that face,” Peter said, pointing at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I doubt that you do.”

“Then you’re fooling yourself. You’re thinking that you’re a Traveller, renowned through the centuries for your ability to manipulate time and lightning, and that it goes against your nature to deny access to both powers as you have been asked to do for the last few months.”

“I understood the rules of the Watch when I joined,” Gregory said carefully. Then he added with a wry smile, “All right, you knew what I was thinking. I only admit it because I know damned well that you think the same way. You just have better control over yourself.”

“And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about—control. I don’t question your dedication to the job at hand, and yet despite your desires to the contrary, you let a woman you hardly know haul you all over the place. You have to ask yourself why you did that, and whether you’re allowing your emotions and desires to rule your mind. I’m sorry to say that if so, it will affect your future as an investigator for the Watch.”

Gregory was silent while he struggled with his inner self, hating to admit that his cousin was absolutely right, and yet the truth was that he did feel resentment toward the loss of his natural talents. Why was he expected to deny his true nature, when other members of the Watch were not? Oh, he was used to being persecuted for who and what he was—Travellers had always been outside of society, both mortal and immortal—but the demands placed on him by the Watch had been more onerous than he had imagined.

And yet the reason for his being there with Peter was compelling, and one that he knew was right. Travellers as a whole were an insular group, not mingling with outsiders unless such contact could not be avoided. Over the last few centuries, they had withdrawn even more into their own society as the mortal and immortal worlds had grown more fearful of their powers. The mortals saw them as Gypsies, Romany folk whom they were unable to distinguish from the similar—but quite separate—Travellers. The members of the Otherworld were little better, viewing Gregory and his kind as thieves and worse.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said slowly, knowing in his heart that he couldn’t go back to his life of just a few months ago. Too much had happened since then; he had seen himself and his family through his cousin’s eyes, and he knew that he had to make a stand against the old way of life. “I can swear to you that I’m devoted to the job. To the Watch. To the idea that Travellers must be held accountable for their actions. But at the same time that I fully agree that our people must cease reveling in their status as outcasts, I recognize that it is our very nature to do so. To go against nature itself seems impossible at times. Perhaps you are able to control your need to use your powers because you are . . .”

“Mahrime?” Peter asked, his eyebrows rising slightly.

Gregory’s shoulder twitched at the word. “Mahrime” could mean simply an outsider, one who was not a Traveller, or when applied to one of their own people, someone who was unclean. Tainted. Impure. “I was going to say that you and Kiya have distance, growing up outside of the Traveller society, whereas I do not. To us, acting in accordance to our true selves is as natural as breathing.”

“You don’t need to lecture me about that. I’ve had ample proof that Travellers go blithely about their way regardless of who they hurt or how many laws they break.”

“And I don’t condone either. I’m simply trying to explain that what you see as impulsiveness is my way of coming to grips with this new way of life. It might be easy for you to not steal time as you go throughout your day, but I assure you that I’m aware every time I pass by a mortal of the potential to steal just a few seconds.”

To his surprise, his cousin gave him a swift, rough hug. “I know it’s hard fighting what is an automatic reaction.”

Gregory’s expression caused Peter to laugh. “Where did that come from?” he asked when the laughter died down.

Peter made a face and nodded toward the carousel. “Kiya. She says I need to hug more. She thinks it’s good for me to be more open with my emotions. She is probably right.”

“Possibly, but if she convinces you that you need to kiss me next, I warn you that I have a mean right hook.”

“Noted. Now—”

“Well, well, well. What a coincidence finding you here.” The voice that drifted through the blare of music was filled with suspicion. Gregory turned to see its source, his fingers tightening when he beheld a slight woman in a smart cherry red wool suit coat and skirt. The light flashed off the lenses of her glasses as she eyed first him, then Peter. “Two Travellers? How very interesting. You wouldn’t happen to know the location of my client, would you?”

“Who’s this?” Peter asked, sotto voce.

“Reclamation agent,” Gregory answered out of the side of his mouth before turning to face the woman, who now stood with her hands on her hips. “Good evening. To whom are you referring?”

“That woman who died on the rocks a couple of days ago. The one you were standing over.” Her eyes narrowed. “The one who was stolen from me a few seconds later.”

Gregory spread his hands in a show of innocence. Employment with the Watch prohibited him from lying except in the most dire of circumstances, and while he might have been inclined to play a little fast and loose with that rule in private, he couldn’t very well disregard it in front of Peter . . . especially coming on the heels of the grand speech he had just made about his dedication to the job. “I have stolen no woman, dead or alive.”

“Of course you haven’t. But have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”

He chose to answer the second question, since he could do so truthfully. “I have no idea where she is.”

“Odd,” the woman said, giving them both another once-over. “According to my sources, Owens was seen coming to this park in the company of another woman and a mortal.”

He exchanged a startled look with his cousin.

“Owens?” Peter asked. “What is your interest in her?”

“I just told you. She owes me a soul!”

“Are you saying that the woman who died on the rocks a few days ago was Owens? Magdalena Owens?”

“Yes, of course. Although I thought her first name was something else. Oh, it doesn’t matter. She’s the one, all right.” The woman made an impatient gesture. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. I have to find that woman and take what she owes me.”

“I don’t know for certain,” Gregory said with a nonchalance he was far from feeling, “but I suspect that she’s not going to want to give up her life just so your records will balance. Or whyever it is you are pursuing her.”

“Look, I have a job to do, one simple little job: I collect the spirits of those who’ve passed on. I’m responsible for those spirits, and when someone goes and gets herself resurrected”—here she gave them both a very stern look—“then I can’t go back to my boss and say, ‘Oh, well, that one got away.’ I mean, he’s Death! He’s just not going to understand! Plus it does throw the books out of balance, and the accountants get all pissy if you mess with their books. You wouldn’t know how to resurrect someone, would you?”

Gregory smiled a grim, grim smile. “I have no knowledge of resurrection at all. I believe that is the purview of necromancers.”

“Mmm.” She eyed Peter, then made a dismissive noise. “Very well. But I expect to hear from you if you see her. Drat, who’s this calling?” She moved away a few steps to answer her phone.

She could expect all she wanted; he had absolutely no intention of turning Gwen over to Death’s minion. Not when she was wanted by the Watch.

“She lied to me,” he said to Peter in a soft voice. It hurt to say the words, and he couldn’t understand why that was. Yes, Gwen—Magdalena—had betrayed his trust, but it wasn’t as if he’d invested any time or emotion in her. So why did it feel like he had? “She lied to my face. Looked me straight in the eye and said she wasn’t Magdalena Owens.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Peter said, his gaze on the reclamation agent. “I’m sorry to hear it, but on the other hand, it explains a lot. And will make it easier for us to catch her. Now we know exactly what she looks like.”

Gregory ignored the sense of foreboding that settled over him with those words. He didn’t like to contemplate what the Watch would do to Gwen (as he still thought of her) when they turned her over. Most likely she’d be banished to the Akasha, the place of punishment from which no one escaped. He hardened his heart. He couldn’t allow sentiment to taint his duty. Gwen had broken the laws, those governing both mortals and immortals, and she had to pay for her crime. The fact that she was a barefaced liar was just proof that she wasn’t to be trusted. “I won’t let her fool me again, that’s for certain.”

“Bah. I must go scour the park before the others get here.” The reclamation woman tucked her phone away and glanced around with distaste.

“Others? What others?”

“The mortals. The ones chasing her. I ran into them outside some psychology place yesterday.” She gave a little shrug. “They said something about a debt she owed them, but I didn’t pay much attention. The debt she owes my boss is much greater, and naturally takes precedence.”

“Naturally,” he said, thinking furiously. Someone else was chasing Gwen? A mortal someone? It didn’t surprise him—anyone who would kidnap a mortal certainly would have no qualms about double-crossing other mortal beings. But still, the idea that people other than him—and the annoying reclamation agent—were tracking her filled him with unease.

“I wouldn’t like to meet them in a dark alley—and I’m immortal,” the woman finished, flicking a piece of lint off her sleeve.

That didn’t bode well. Not for them, and certainly not for Gwen.

“Do you know the names of these other people—” Peter started to ask, but he stopped when the police scanner squawked to life. The first few words were lost in the noise of the carousel, but a man’s voice suddenly spoke with unfortunate clarity. “—Owens seen heading toward the Cardiff Shopping Centre. Units are in pursuit.”

Peter didn’t hang around to ask his question again. He simply ran for the carousel, gesturing at his wife.

“The game’s afoot!” cried the red-suited woman. She spun around, racing off into the night without another word.

Gregory swore at the timing of the police scanner, swore at the unknown people who were so threatening that even Death’s minion quailed at meeting them, and swore at his own stupidity for allowing a pretty woman to fool him.

By the gods, things were going to be different from here on out. He’d be damned before he believed a single word that came out of Gwen’s delicious mouth.