Page 45 of Borrowed Time

Did he really care about me enough to do that?

I didn’t know. This was the first time I’d ever been with anyone who made me feel this way…and I thought Seth was in a similar boat…but still, raging hormones weren’t always the best measure of a relationship’s longevity. Even if I left all that behind — even if I managed to ignore the way the slightest brush of his fingers against mine was enough to get my blood raging all over again — I couldn’t ignore the way we worked well together, were easy with one another in a way I’d never been with a man.

That would be a hell of a lot to give up if Seth decided he just couldn’t live anywhere except the time and place he knew.

Or if I decided the same thing and we had to part ways.

Apparently, Seth was feeling the same kind of impatience I was, because he said, “I guess Devynn and I were hoping for a little more than ‘interesting.’”

Rather than take offense, Jeremiah only smiled. Although he’d been a little surprised to see the two of us show up thismorning rather than just me as promised, he hadn’t let that small change in plans rattle him. No, he’d only ushered us into his study and said that he’d given Mrs. Barton the morning off, and so he needed to go to the kitchen to fetch another teacup for Seth.

At least it was good to know we’d have the house to ourselves, if only for a few hours. Jacob was safely in school, of course, and it didn’t sound as if the housekeeper would be back before lunch, so we had a good chunk of time to get some business taken care of.

“I’ve seen oblique references to these sorts of artifacts in some of the books I’ve collected over the years,” Jeremiah said. “It seems there was a brief period during the Renaissance when some witches and warlocks experimented with expanding their powers by creating these external foci for their abilities. However, it also seems as though they had far too high a risk of falling into the wrong hands, and so they were destroyed.”

“But not all,” I commented, and he gazed down at the bronze amulet for a moment before he inclined his head ever so slightly in agreement.

“It would seem that way,” he said. “I haven’t made a study of such things, but I believe the symbols etched into the bronze are sigils of power, ways of concentrating magical energy. Whoever the witch or warlock was who created this thing, they would have somehow placed some of their very essence, their magical talent, inside the amulet. That is what your ‘Lorenzo the Magnificent’ was drawing on when he used the artifact to create a performance that truly was magical.”

Even though I’d known it had to be done, I was still feeling guilty about stripping the man of his one true claim to fame. The show Seth and I had caught on Saturday night was the last one of the troupe’s run — it sounded as though they were headed to San Francisco after this — so I had no way of knowing whatLawrence Pratt had decided to do next. Stick it out but modify his part of the show so he was only doing the minor sleight-of-hand tricks he could manage on his own without a magical boost? Announce an early retirement and get on the first train that would take him back to Minnesota?

I hoped it was the latter. Yes, it would be hard for him to go home to a much more mundane life than the one he’d experienced on the road, but as Seth and I had both told him, witches and warlocks needed to be with their people. He wasn’t so old that he couldn’t still find someone and settle down. Magical talent was a capricious thing and didn’t always seem to be tied to genetics, so it was entirely possible that his children wouldn’t suffer from the same handicap he did.

“Devynn and I were wondering,” Seth said. “Do you think we could use the amulet in the same way, except to boost the power and accuracy of her time-traveling gift? It might be the one thing that could get us where we need to go.”

Jeremiah didn’t answer at once, and instead laid the amulet down on his desk. Except for the leather-encased blotter that rested there, it was noticeably bare, just like it had been the last time I was in this room. I didn’t know whether he tidied up before he had visitors, or whether the desk was mainly for show.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

“That’s one possibility,” he said. “You say that Lawrence Pratt told you he used the amulet to create his illusions?”

“More or less,” I replied. “He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but it sounded as if all the amulet needed was the intention to do a certain thing. From what he said, he didn’t have much magic of his own, only the small stuff like unlocking doors and lighting candles, that kind of thing.”

Dark eyes thoughtful, Jeremiah said, “He probably has more abilities than he thinks, or the amulet would have had nothing to tap into.”

Seth and I exchanged a glance. “But if he actually had some real magic,” Seth said, “why wouldn’t it have manifested when he was younger?”

Although Jeremiah didn’t exactly smile, I got the feeling he was somewhat amused by our youthful ignorance. “Magic, as many people have observed over the years, is not an exact science. Nor is it an ‘if this, then that’ sort of proposition. It could be that there were circumstances within his family that led him to block his own powers — something I don’t think is that unreasonable, considering how eager he was to leave his clan and travel the world — or it could simply be that every single witch and warlock hides far more potentiality than they could ever imagine.”

Except it seemed that Jeremiah had imagined such things…and found the key to unlock them. That was why his magical experiments had led him and the rest of the family to be driven from their homes in Connecticut, and why he was so much more powerful than any other warlock I’d ever encountered.

And even though the current generation of Wilcoxes didn’t like to discuss their lateprimustoo much, not when the man had been dead and buried for more than twenty-five years, it had probably been much the same situation with Damon Wilcox, Connor’s older brother. He’d investigated his magic with the same keen mind that had allowed him to get a Ph.D. in physics, and I’d always wondered if he’d used some of his knowledge of how the universe works to get his powers to expand far beyond those you’d expect of even aprimus.

His understanding of the human heart, on the other hand, had had quite a few gaping holes in it.

“At any rate,” Jeremiah went on, “you did what you had to. I would have done the same, as it would have been far too dangerous to leave the amulet in Lawrence Pratt’s hands when it was clear he had no real concern about exposing therest of us.” He paused there, and for a moment, his gaze met mine, reassuring, as though he knew I needed the external confirmation that Seth and I had done the right thing. When Jeremiah spoke again, though, his tone was brisk. “I propose an experiment. Not with your talent, Devynn, as there are too many variables right now for me to be comfortable with, but with yours, Seth.”

For a second or two, he could only stare at the Wilcoxprimus,clearly nonplussed. “But we all know how my powers work.”

“We do,” Jeremiah said calmly. “Which is why your gift is a good one to experiment with. You told me when you first arrived here that your power of teleportation only works to move yourself around in space, and not anyone else. I propose that you take the amulet, set the intention to send the two of you to your room at the Hotel San Francisco…and see what happens.”

“What if nothing happens?” I asked, which in a way might be the best outcome. Although I knew Seth’s power functioned in an entirely different way, I still couldn’t help having visions of some sort of terrible transporter accident like I’d seen in one of those oldStar Trekmovies that my brother Patrick was fixated on for a while. Materializing inside a wall wasn’t my idea of a fun time.

“Then we’ll try something else,” Jeremiah said, not looking too daunted by the prospect. “But I think this is a simple enough experiment that it shouldn’t cause too much of a problem.”

Hopefully.

Something about Seth’s jaw hardened, and I knew he was set on trying this as well. Even though he must have realized deep down that it wasn’t his fault, I knew he hated that his gift hadn’t allowed him to take me immediately to his cousin Helen’s house after I was shot. If he’d been able to do that, then possiblynone of this mess about being caught in 1884 would have even happened.

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