Page 50 of Borrowed Time

“Do you think Seth and I will be able to travel to the future now?” I asked eagerly, but at once, Jeremiah lifted a quelling hand.

“I don’t think you should go that far. Not until we’ve performed a few more experiments to see if your control stays consistent when you’re working with larger segments of time.”

That didn’t sound very good to me. “What, do you want me to travel days or even weeks, and just leave the rest of you to catch up?”

A glint showed in Jeremiah’s black eyes, one I thought was probably of amusement and not just a reflection from the fire. “I don’t think I’d ask that much of you. But perhaps a good portion of a day, possibly six or even eight hours. This is something you would need to discuss with Seth, of course.”

Yes, because I certainly wouldn’t abandon my companion for such a huge chunk of time without making sure he was on board with the idea. What would he even do with himself while I wasgone? Hang out with Jeremiah? Go visit some of the saloons down the street from our hotel and get wasted?

I somehow had a hard time imagining Seth doing anything so reckless. Yes, it seemed he was all right with drinking a little now that he was in a time when such a thing wasn’t against the law, but he’d still been very moderate about his consumption. It wasn’t as if he’d gone out and bought himself a bottle of whiskey so he could tipple in private while I was sleeping.

“Sure,” I said, then paused. Technically, we still had some time to work, since Mrs. Barton wouldn’t be back for another forty minutes or so.

On the other hand, I didn’t know whether I felt up to much more time travel today. I’d been lucky so far…and I didn’t think I wanted to press that luck.

The same sort of thoughts must have entered Jeremiah’s mind as well, because he said, “I think we’ve done enough for today. You’ve made excellent progress. Now you need to talk to Seth and decide what you want to do next. Send me a note when you’ve come to an agreement.”

“And you’ll arrange some other errand to keep Mrs. Barton busy for a few hours?” I asked with a grin.

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Yes, I am sure I’ll be able to come up with something.”

“What about this?” I asked, holding out the hand that still held the amulet.

He reached over and took it from me. “It’s probably best if I keep it here. Hotel rooms are not always the most secure places in the world.”

No, I supposed they weren’t. Someone more suspicious might have thought Jeremiah wanted the amulet so he could claim it as his own, but I knew that wasn’t his intention here. His powers were already vast, and he had his little empire here in Flagstaff firmly under control. He really didn’t need the thing.

Especially because I knew, even as powerful as the amulet was, it couldn’t grant him the one thing he truly wanted…to have the Wilcox curse broken.

“I’ll contact you soon,” I promised.

“I’m sure you will.”

A pause to collect my shawl and hat from the coat tree in the foyer, and then I was saying goodbye before heading down the front steps. As always, the street around me was peculiarly empty, and I knew Jeremiah’s spell was holding, ensuring that I’d be able to come and go from his house without anyone — including his family — knowing that I’d been a visitor there.

However, that little bubble of luck collapsed the second I began to walk up the front steps to the Hotel San Francisco.

Coming down them was Samuel Wilcox.

Somehow, I curbed the impulse to bolt, since I knew doing so would only call more attention to myself.

Instead, I put on a smile that I prayed didn’t look utterly false, and tilted my hat-bedecked head toward him. “Good morning, Mr. Wilcox.”

“Good morning, Miss Prewitt,” he said, then paused so he was blocking my way.

A thrill of fear went down my back, but I told myself I had nothing to worry about. We were standing near a busy street, with people coming and going from the hotel as well. No way in the world would even a scoundrel like Samuel Wilcox attempt something in front of so many witnesses.

On the other hand, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still get his jollies by giving me a hard time.

He smiled then, an expression that might as well have been worn by a shark. In fact, something about those cold black eyes reminded me exactly of the eyes I’d seen when my little brother was greedily consuming as much of Shark Week as he possibly could.

“And what has you out and about on this fine morning and all by your lonesome, Miss Prewitt?”

I wouldn’t let my own smile budge even a fraction of an inch, not when I knew doing so would let him see that he’d gotten to me. “Oh,” I said airily, as though I didn’t have a care in the world, “I’ve just been to Brannen’s to get a new packet of hairpins. I’m always seeming to run through them and never have enough on hand.”

Those black eyes narrowed slightly, then tracked to the reticule I held. I’d purposely chosen an item for my excuse that would have fit easily in my bag and would also explain why I wasn’t carrying an obvious parcel.

Samuel’s smile grew even more unpleasant, although I wouldn’t have thought such a thing was possible.

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