Page 3 of Borrowed Time

“She told me she’d come to Jerome because she wanted to explore Arizona,” Seth said. “In her time, it sounds as if that’s something witches and warlocks can do — travel, I mean. But she never said anything about her father traveling to Flagstaff in the past.”

Jeremiah’s brows had pulled together at the phrase “in her time,” but then he gave the faintest of nods, as if acknowledging something to himself.

“No, I suppose she wouldn’t have. However, I believe the details of her past are something Deborah should tell you for herself.” He paused there, his gaze moving to the glass of brandy Seth held. “You should have some more of that, I think.”

For a moment, Seth wanted to refuse, to tell the other man he certainly had no intention of taking advice from the likes of a Wilcoxprimus.

On the other hand….

He allowed himself another swallow, a much more measured one this time, and then deliberately walked over to the table that held the decanter and placed his half-drunk glass of brandy there. This second dose didn’t burn quite as much, but he could tell that if he had any more, it was going to make him lightheaded. He assumed this was a condition sought after by the men who drank moonshine in the bars down on Main Street, and yet it didn’t seem like a very good idea to lose control when he was standing here in the heart of enemy territory.

“What year is it?” he asked, and while Jeremiah didn’t exactly smile, something in his expression still appeared amused.

“It is November sixth, in the year of our Lord 1884.”

Right then, Seth was glad of the brandy he’d drunk, if only because the faint swimminess it induced offered a sortof cushion between his brain and the terrible news Jeremiah Wilcox had just told him. Yes, he’d somehow known this couldn’t be 1926, not when the man standing a few paces away should have been dead for years, not when these Victorian mansions looked as if they’d been built within the last year or so and not decades earlier…not when he hadn’t seen a single motorized vehicle, only a horse and carriage.

“And your own time is…?” theprimusprompted.

Seth couldn’t help grimacing. “Nineteen twenty-six. June,” he added, although he supposed the month didn’t matter so much when they’d apparently jumped back in time more than forty years.

“Interesting,” Jeremiah said. “Is that your gift? Time travel, I mean.”

“No,” Seth responded at once. Part of him didn’t want to reveal what his true magical talent was, but again, he had a feeling Jeremiah would find out soon enough, even if he didn’t volunteer the information. “My gift is traveling in space. Translocation, some of the people in my clan called it.”

For a moment, Jeremiah didn’t say anything. But then he nodded. “It is a powerful talent to have. My brother Samuel has the same gift.”

As he said the other man’s name, something in theprimus’sface seemed to darken, although his voice had been neutral enough.

Bad blood between the two brothers?

Maybe. The Goddess only knew that Seth had his own set of problems with his brother Charles, a commonality he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge right then.

Of course, thinking of Charles only made him wonder how on earth his brother had reacted when Seth and Deborah disappeared right before his eyes. True, Charles was used enough to Seth’s gift that he might not have been too startled,even if everyone had thought Seth didn’t have the power to move anyone except himself through magical means. All the same, it probably wasn’t too fantastic to believe that he might have summoned some extra strength during that moment of crisis.

But he hadn’t sent himself home, or to his cousin Helen’s house so she could tend to Deborah’s wounds. No, for some insane reason, he and Deborah had been brought here, to a place he hadn’t believed would ever offer them the sort of assistance they required.

At least he’d been wrong in that. She might have been a Wilcox, but there seemed to be something quietly efficient and calm about Jeremiah’s sister Emma, a quality that told Seth she was a very strong healer and would do everything in her power to make sure Deborah recovered from the wound she had suffered.

“I believe the ability to move through time is something Deborah Rowe must have inherited from her mother,” Jeremiah said then. “While it’s true that these gifts don’t always pass from generation to generation, I don’t have any other explanation for your presence here.”

From the way he spoke, it sure sounded to Seth as though Jeremiah Wilcox must have known both Deborah’s parents, not just her father.

How many secrets had she been hiding?

Far too many, and he knew he wouldn’t get any of the answers he needed until she awoke…whenever that was.

“My sister is a very skilled healer,” Jeremiah said quietly. “I have no doubt that she will be able to bring Miss Rowe back to us. In the meantime, though, we should make some plans in order to explain your presence here in Flagstaff. I trust Emma to keep her own counsel, but I feel it is probably better to hide your identities from my brothers. There was some…ill feeling…between them and Deborah’s father, and I do not think it advisable for them to know who either of you are.”

Just what the hell had happened here?

As much as Seth wanted to know, he also understood that Jeremiah wouldn’t budge on that point. It was Deborah’s story to tell, and he would just have to wait until she was well enough to relate it to him.

In a way, that felt all right, if only because it got him believing she really was going to survive that horrible gunshot wound.

And although he obviously had no idea what was happening now in 1926, he had to hope that Charles had decided to finish the job and had thrown Lionel Allenby right off that cliff to follow the revolver that had been tossed over the side only a few minutes earlier. The man deserved it after shooting an innocent woman. There would be inquiries, of course, but Seth knew it would be easy enough to steer any suspicion toward the bootleggers once the man’s nefarious dealings were brought to light.

“So, what do you propose?” he asked, and something about Jeremiah’s stance relaxed slightly, as though he hadn’t been sure whether his McAllister visitor would cooperate with his plan.

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